Worlds Without End: Aftermath (Book 2)

by Shaun Messick

  John, again, seemed to read his thoughts. Smiling warmly at him, he said, “We have another mission for you and your team when you are ready.”

  “We are willing to serve, sir.”

  “Good,” President Thompson interjected. “We have another target that needs rescuing.”

  “Who’s the target?”

  “Adrian Palmer,” John replied.

  The name stunned Chris for a moment. Adrian Palmer was a name that every school-aged child learned about in elementary school. He was the man that led mankind’s first mission to Mars, only to disappear without a trace. “You mean, the Adrian Palmer?”

  John nodded. “The one and only, and he needs your help.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Earth Time: 1 week later, July 4, 2042. – Washington D.C., the White House . . .

  Dorange Gar sat with his feet propped up on the Presidential desk inside the Oval Office of the White House. Dressed in his black Gnol officer’s uniform, he sat staring at the walls within the office, lost in his thoughts as the smell of burnt wood permeated his senses from the partially destroyed presidential home.

  He had always dreamed of power. And now here he sat in the chair of the most powerful person on Earth. He relished this opportunity. However, he knew it would be short lived. Soon, Koroan Chast would arrive to oversee the conquering of his new world. The thought made Dorange cringe. Why couldn’t Koroan just leave it alone? Why couldn’t Koroan leave him in charge of Earth and give him dominion over this newfound kingdom? After all, this was Dorange’s native planet.

  Reaching up with his left hand, he scratched at the bandages bound around his neck. The bandage was annoying. He hoped soon that the doctors in his charge would let him take it off. But the doctors wanted to be sure the near fatal injury that he suffered from Adrian Palmer was completely healed. Just after Adrian had inflicted the wound, he was rushed into emergency surgery. His doctors were successful in saving his life and even his vocal cords. Dorange tried to clear his throat as he sat up. The pain was almost unbearable.

  He stood up and turned to look out the window of the Oval Office to get his mind off the pain. As he peered outside the three large windows that faced south, he could see one of his slave transport shuttles leaving the Washington D.C. area.

  He scanned what he could see of the once great capital city of the United States of America. No longer was this the city that represented freedom and democracy. Washington D.C. now lay in ruins with most of the city’s population dead. Dorange let a small smile curve along his lips as he thought about his victory. His forces had successfully destroyed almost every major city on Earth, killing roughly one-quarter of the planet’s 8 billion people. Now, his forces were busy gathering slaves for the slave camps that were being constructed all over the world. But there were problems.

  The sheer numbers of Earth’s military forces still outnumbered the Gnol forces, especially with the Gnol forces split between Terrest and Earth. There were also various rebel groups forming throughout the world to fight the Gnols, particularly one group that caused Dorange to clench his teeth and tremble from absolute hate. The thought caused him to think about his oldest enemy, Adrian Palmer.

  Adrian and his family were still being held in the Secret Service holding cell of the White House. Dorange had not had any contact with Adrian or his family. He knew that if he were to have contact with the prisoners, he would kill Adrian right on the spot. Killing Adrian without allowing Koroan to probe his mind would infuriate his master. He only hoped that Koroan would give him the honor of killing his sworn enemy as a reward for the successful attack on Earth.

  Dorange was startled out of his thoughts as he heard one of the doors to the Oval Office open. He turned around and met the piercing green eyes of his most trusted colonel, Colonel Leonidis Ubel. Colonel Ubel stood at attention and gave the standard Gnol salute, crossing his right arm across his chest and bowing his head.

  “Sorry to bother you, sir. But I’m here to inform you that our lord’s shuttle will arrive soon.”

  With a raspy voice and in obvious pain, Dorange responded, “Very well, Colonel. Prepare the troops guarding the White House for their lord’s arrival. We shall give our god a welcome worthy of deity.”

  Colonel Ubel nodded. “Understood, sir.” He saluted again, spun on his heel, and left the office.

  “Leave me be for a few hours,” Dorange said before the colonel got to the door. “I do not want to be disturbed.”

  Colonel Ubel turned back around. “Yes, General.” He then spun back around and left the room, shutting and locking the door behind him.

  Sitting back down in the soft leather chair, he opened the desk drawer and pulled out the silver case holding his precious syringes. There were only two people that knew about the contents within the syringes, and one of those individuals was dead. After opening the case, he traced his fingers along the four remaining tubes, which held crimson red liquid. He sighed, knowing that this supply wouldn’t last long. He needed to prepare more of the solution, containing the god-gene that the Gnols possessed.

  After his late wife and Koroan’s own daughter, Raqel, rescued him, she had provided him this gene therapy so that he could emulate the same abilities the Gnols possessed. Despite being a human from Earth, he was able to hone those skills into becoming one of the most gifted Gnols in Koroan Chast’s ranks, and thus moved rapidly up the chain of command. Raqel had shown him how to create the solution prior to her death. But now, he didn’t have the resources available to him to make the solution last.

  He rolled up the sleeve on his right arm, tapped his veins with the fingers of his other hand until he could see them clearly, and then proceeded to inject the solution into his veins. The sensation was intoxicating with every injection. The energy and power that resonated throughout his body was indescribable. And he would need that power for what he was about to do next to his sworn enemy, Adrian Palmer.

  * * * * *

  Adrian sat with his back against the concrete wall of the Secret Service holding cell in the basement of the White House. The only light to illuminate the room was a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. He scanned the small cell. In the center was a small table with two chairs facing each other. Ashley and Adam were both sitting in the chairs, their arms folded, and their heads resting in their arms as they tried to sleep. Across the room from Adrian, Kevin sat with his back against the wall. His brother squirmed, obviously trying to find a comfortable position in which to sleep.

  Adrian, however, wasn’t tired at all. The only thing Adrian had done in the weeks since his return to Earth was sleep. He was becoming restless, despite the one meal provided to them each day and small rations of drinking water. The only times any of them were allowed outside of the cell was when they needed to use the facilities. Of course, each prisoner was allowed only two trips per day under an armed guard. Nevertheless, Adrian was grateful and surprised at the way he and his family were being treated by the Gnols.

  He took in a deep breath, but nearly vomited. Even though he had tried to wash himself in his two trips per day to the restroom, his and the others’ stench within the holding cell was beginning to become unbearable. In fact, Adrian was still dressed in his flight suit, Kevin in his white dress shirt and navy blue dress slacks, Ashley in a BYU t-shirt and blue and white satin pajama bottoms, and Adam in a pair of baggy red basketball shorts and a black Nike t-shirt.

  Adrian finally decided to succumb and try to get more sleep. After all, the little food and water he was given didn’t provide many calories for energy. Just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard laughter outside of the holding cell door. Curious to see how many guards were outside of the door, he stood up and looked outside of the small one-foot-by-one-foot window. He could see three Gnol guards, this time dressed in green battle fatigues, sitting at a small round table and playing a Gnol card game.

  He shook his head and turned around to resume his position on the floor. Just as he was sitting down, he mad
e eye contact with his brother. Kevin gave Adrian a small smile. “How many of them are there now?” Kevin asked.

  “Three,” Adrian responded.

  “I don’t get it, Adrian. Why are they keeping us alive?”

  Adrian sighed before he spoke and looked at Adam and Ashley, who were now awake and listening. “I can only guess that they are keeping us alive so that Koroan Chast can torture us when he arrives to visit his newly conquered planet.”

  Looks of fear spread over the faces of Ashley and Adam. Adrian noticed and gave them both an apologetic look. “Sorry, I don’t mean to scare you. But from what I know of Koroan Chast, he will want to visit his new world and take revenge on me personally for leading the rebellion on Terrest.”

  Kevin was about to speak, but Ashley beat him to it. “Uncle Adrian?”

  “Yeah.”

  “This Koroan guy … he’s the one that you told us about … the one that has all of those powers – like moving things with his mind and reading our thoughts, right?”

  Adrian nodded. Again, a look of sheer dread graced his niece’s face.

  Adrian smiled. “Don’t worry, Ashley. We are going to be okay.”

  Kevin shook his head. “How can you say that, Adrian? From what we have learned from the guards, most of the world’s major cities have been destroyed. That means there are no more governments left to organize their militaries for a counterattack. How are we going to be rescued, let alone survive?”

  “Trust in the Lord, Kevin.”

  Kevin, obviously annoyed with Adrian’s answer, let out a small sigh. “I don’t know Adrian. From where we sit, it looks pretty hopeless.”

  “I know it looks pretty hopeless now,” Adrian said. “But sometimes out of the greatest despair, the greatest miracles arrive.”

  Kevin tried to give Adrian a small smile. “I wish I had your faith, little brother.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Near the slave camp of Zikf on Terrest . . .

  Captain Noran Belzar stood on top of a tree-covered hill about a mile north of the slave camp of Zikf. Making sure that he was secluded, he wiped the sweat that was dripping down his dark forehead with his left forearm. He took in a couple of deep breaths, breathing in the hot, humid air. He was exhausted. The heat was almost unbearable. Just that morning, he had checked the temperature at the camp’s weather station – 112 degrees. That temperature could have easily jumped up another 20 degrees this late in the afternoon.

  He tried to wipe the sweat from his forearm onto his green t-shirt, but his shirt was soaked as well. After scanning the camp one last time, he turned around and looked at Skip, who was sitting on the ground with his back against a tree. He watched as Skip gulped from his water canteen. Skip had grown on him the past few weeks. Ever since Belzar had decided to help Skip, he had grown to admire the man. He was astonished at Skip’s strength and resilience.

  He continued to watch as Skip put down the canteen and wiped the remaining moisture from the full beard that covered his face, using his left forearm. Belzar couldn’t quite put his finger on it. There was something special about this human being. Even though Skip didn’t possess Belzar’s strength, nor the mental and telekinetic abilities, there was something stronger about him – something that made him feel at peace whenever he was around Skip.

  Belzar took a few steps, sat next to Skip on his right side, and looked up into the sky. The sun’s rays, sneaking through the jungle trees, created a kaleidoscope effect of yellow and orange light all around them.

  Skip finally broke the silence. “Okay, Tiny, are you going to tell me why we hiked all the way up here in this heat and so far away from camp? I don’t think Commander Schaal will be too pleased that I am gone.”

  “Schaal won’t know. Schaal left camp about an hour ago. Top secret. I don’t even know all of the details. But apparently all of the slave commanders on Terrest have been called back to Chast for a secret meeting with Vlamer Kreuk.”

  Skip turned his sights back on the camp. “Interesting.”

  Unsure of what to say next, Belzar grabbed his own canteen from his pack and guzzled the ice-cold water. The water was refreshing as he let the coolness soak his parched throat. Sensing Skip looking at him, he turned and met Skip’s dark brown eyes. He quickly turned, stood up, and took a few steps to the last tree that kept them hidden from the camp.

  “What’s going on, Tiny?” Skip asked. “You know you’re not allowed to take me out of the camp.”

  He sighed and turned around. “I brought you up here because it is the only way we can talk without the chance of being heard from the millions of bugs Schaal has implanted throughout the camp.”

  Skip nodded his head in agreement, knowing full well the security within the camp.

  “I told Major Elahad that I was taking you to the slave quarters section of the camp to update slave records. He bought the story, but we have maybe at most a couple of hours before he notices we are missing.”

  “Well, then, you better tell me what’s on your mind because we don’t have much time,” Skip said.

  Belzar hesitated and then spoke. “We have got to figure out a way to get that computer virus implanted into the camp’s computer system.”

  “I know. I have been going over and over it again in my mind, but I just don’t see how that is possible. The only way to install the virus is through the main computer terminal within the camp’s headquarters. It’s guarded twenty-four, seven. Even with the four guards, only one guard has the password that will grant access to the computer terminal.”

  Belzar, with a look of disappointment spread across his face, gritted his teeth and cursed. “There has to be a way.”

  Skip thought for a moment. “There may be one way.”

  He gave Skip a questioning look.

  “Skyler Green,” replied Skip. “We need to get Skyler Green out of the Enforcer’s mind control. He’s the key to unlocking the computer terminal.”

  Belzar lowered his head and kicked at the underbrush. Looking back up, he said, “I’ve tried to find a way to get Green out of the control of the Enforcer. The problem is the computer system is so advanced, it will alert the Enforcer and Commander Schaal the moment one of the slaves is out of a mind lock. They will know.”

  Skip nodded his head in the direction of the camp. “Look at the guards.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “How have the guards been behaving since Green has been in the continual mind lock of the Enforcer?”

  The light suddenly flickered on in Belzar’s mind, and he gave Skip a small smile. “About a quarter of them are in withdrawal.”

  “Exactly,” said Skip. “Ever since Green has not been able to make his drugs that he traded for preferential treatment, those guards down there,” Skip pointed toward the camp, “have not been doing their jobs that well. And some of those guards that were addicted are guards on the computer center rotation.”

  “I know. I have spoken with Commander Schaal about their addictions. Commander Schaal wants them replaced, but there just aren’t enough Gnol soldiers available with our forces split between Terrest and Earth.”

  “That’s to our advantage, Tiny.”

  A look of concern graced along Belzar’s face. “But that still leaves us with the problem of getting Green out of the mind lock to make drugs for the guards.”

  Skip nodded in agreement as he turned and looked at the camp again. He thought for a long moment and then turned back to face Belzar. “Maybe there is a way.”

  “How?”

  “You said that Schaal can’t replace those guards because your forces are spread so thin. Maybe you can convince him to take Green out of the mind lock. If he is able to make drugs for the guards that are suffering withdrawal symptoms, they may do their jobs better.”

  Belzar shook his head. “There is no way Commander Schaal will take Skyler Green out of the Enforcer’s mind control. Green is crafty. He is one of the prisoners Schaal is most worried about inciting a rebellion besides …
”

  “Besides who, Noran? Who else is Schaal worried about?”

  Belzar knew that he had to tell his new friend the truth. Sighing, he said, “It’s not necessarily Commander Schaal. It’s Koroan Chast. Koroan is worried about you, Skip.”

  Worry flashed across Skip’s expression. “Me? Koroan Chast doesn’t even know me. Why would he be concerned about me?”

  The captain paused and looked at the camp while he spoke. He couldn’t look Skip in the eye. “Commander Schaal issues monthly reports to the command center in Chast. Koroan reads through every report. The Gnol doesn’t sleep. Of course, he would know about you. Schaal wouldn’t leave that technological wonder of a leg you have out of his reports.”

  Skip gently grabbed him by the shoulder. “Noran, just tell me. What does Koroan want with me?”

  Noran Belzar turned and looked at the man who was becoming more like a brother. He sighed again. “Koroan Chast has ordered that upon his return to Terrest from Earth, you are to be transported to Chast where Koroan will personally read your mind to gather intelligence, and …”

  “Kill me? He will kill me.”

  Belzar nodded. “And it won’t be a quick death either.”

  Skip turned and looked at the camp again. “Well then, we don’t have much time.”

  * * * * *

  Rebel Base on Terrest . . .

  “No! I won’t allow it, Jake! Your father …” Scott Hauler stopped speaking upon the mention of his closest friend.

  Jake furrowed his eyebrows in anger and leaned back in his chair. He looked at Celeste, who sat across from him at the large oak conference table within the rebel base. He shrugged his shoulders as he kept his gaze on the most beautiful woman he had ever met. Celeste’s black hair was longer now, reaching down to her mid-back. Her crystal blue eyes met his, and she gave him a small smile, letting him know that she agreed with him, but there was nothing she could do. Jake then looked around the table, trying to gain an ally with his eyes. Everyone was dressed the same; green camouflage fatigues.