The Betrayal of Ka (The Transprophetics Book 1)

by Shea Oliver

  Chapter 44

  A Secret to be Kept

  Only a couple of months after Mexico, Atticus saw Dylan on his bike and was surprised to see that Bjorn wasn’t with him. With his bow strapped to his back, Atticus was sure that Dylan was heading to the nearby indoor archery range where the boys had a membership. Bjorn almost always tagged along with Dylan, but not today. As it was only a few blocks away and a sunny Colorado day, Atticus decided to walk to the range. It might finally be time to have the serious discussion that he needed to have with Dylan.

  The adults had spent hours trying to sort out the future and how to deal with the invasion. In many ways, they were trapped in a catch-22. The only thing that they had that might be considered proof was Bjorn’s abilities. However, the more people that knew about Bjorn’s talents, the more the boy was at risk when the invasion began. It was frustrating and overwhelming, but at the same time completely surreal. It was hard to believe that there even was another world that would invade Earth.

  The range was empty when Dylan arrived. The clerk greeted him and bid him to have some fun with the range to himself. He walked through the retail space of the store, barely glancing at the products, making his way into the enclosed range. The space itself was nothing more than an old warehouse that had been converted into an indoor archery range. A few fake trees and shrubs had been placed in various spots to give some minor illusion of the outdoors, but the bullseyes placed a few feet apart on the far wall were the reason that people came.

  Atticus came into the back of the range and quietly sat down. Dylan didn’t notice that his family friend was in the back watching him. Dylan filled three of the tubes for holding arrows with six arrows each. The first target was at twenty yards, the second at thirty, and the fourth at forty yards.

  He started at the twenty-yard mark. The first shot was sloppy. It hit the blue outside ring of the target, and Dylan cussed at himself, demanding that he focus. Taking a deep breath, he set his stance. He let the bow hang by his side for a moment, making sure he was gripping it in the correct place. He raised the bow and notched the arrow. In a fluid motion, he pulled back the arrow, his hand coming to his jawbone. Focusing on the target, he released the arrow. It hit the target with a thud, barely outside the yellow bullseye. The next four arrows flew true, each landing within the small yellow bullseye.

  Dylan stepped back to the thirty-yard mark. Atticus remained still, and Dylan didn’t notice the man as he began the same routine, shooting at a new target thirty yards away. The six arrows scattered across the target, but all in all proved a decent set.

  Dylan, having stepped back to the forty-yard mark, notched another arrow. In rapid succession, he let all six arrows fly. Each one smacked into the yellow bullseye of the target, crowding the center of the plastic sheet. Dylan walked up to the targets and pulled all eighteen arrows out, refilling the six tubes. As he finished placing his arrows in the last tube, he realized that his friend was sitting and viewing him. He smiled and trotted back.

  “Hey, Mr. Freeman,” Dylan greeted Atticus. “I didn’t know you were here watching. How long have you been here?”

  “It’s good to see you, Dylan,” replied Atticus. “I’ve been here for a bit. Go ahead and shoot your next set.”

  When Dylan moved over to the twenty-yard mark, only three of the arrows found the yellow bullseye, but the others were close. He moved to the thirty-yard mark, only getting one of the six arrows into the bullseye. The first two arrows from the forty-yard mark were wide when Dylan felt Mr. Freeman’s hand on his shoulder.

  “Put the last four into the bullseye again,” Atticus told him. “I want to see you do it again.”

  Dylan looked at Mr. Freeman, not sure what to think. The man had come to his brother’s aid in Mexico and killed one of the men who were likely going to kill Bjorn. In many ways, Atticus was like a grandfather that Dylan never had. He didn’t know what the coming days would hold, but he felt like he would need Mr. Freeman’s help. Closing his eyes for a moment, he knew that he could trust the one person he knew from the planet of Koranth.

  Dylan spun and released the three arrows one after another at lightning speed. Each of the arrows slammed into the yellow bullseye with tremendous force. Dylan and Mr. Freeman both stood for a minute, looking at the target.

  Dylan was notching the last arrow when he felt Mr. Freeman’s hand on his shoulder. Mr. Freeman took the last arrow from Dylan and studied it. Looking back at Dylan, he said, “Do this one without the bow,” and then tossed it into the air.

  The arrow ripped through the air, sending a shrill sound through the room. Its point drove through the nock of one of the arrows in the bullseye, splitting the shaft in half and burying itself deep in the target.

  “How long have you known, Dylan?” asked Mr. Freeman.

  “For over a year,” replied Dylan. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.”

  “That’s okay. Does your family know?”

  “No one knows, except for you,” replied Dylan, relieved to finally have let this secret out, but starting to shake a little. “When I started to figure it out, I was like, ‘Whoa, this is cool!’ But then I watched how a couple of the kids at my school are treated. They are different.”

  “Dylan, it’s all okay,” Mr. Freeman assured.

  “Everything was so wrong in Tennessee. For a while, I thought maybe I was the demon that everyone was so scared of. What if it was all me? I don’t want to be a freak. My brother can pull this off like no one else. I can’t. I just want to fit in. I don’t want people to think of me as a freak.”

  “I understand, Dylan,” Atticus offered compassionately, as he put his arm around the teen’s trembling shoulder. Dylan’s sniffle turned to tears. The teenager began to sob a little bit harder, and Atticus held him tighter.

  “You don’t understand, Mr. Freeman,” Dylan choked out between the sobs. “I killed that man. It was me, not Hector.”

  “I know,” replied Atticus.

  “What? You knew?” asked Dylan.

  “Well, up until a few minutes ago, I had a strong feeling that it wasn’t Hector, but was you,” Atticus confided. “He just looked too shocked in that moment after I killed Dr. Tarea. Someone else in the room had to have the focus and determination to protect us. It wasn’t Hector. Plus, whoever it was, had to get that knife out of Hector’s belt and put it into that man’s neck. I just had a feeling it was you.”

  “Please, don’t tell anyone,” Dylan pleaded, as he began to regain his composure. “I have to protect Bjorn, and it might be useful that I can do what he can do. But I don’t want anyone to know.”

  “I think for now,” began Atticus, “that might be a very good idea.”

  “Thanks. And, um, sorry for crying. I didn’t mean to.”

  “You are one of the most determined, brave souls that I have ever met. I am your friend, and I will be here for you, no matter what,” Atticus swore. “You are an amazingly strong young man. I can’t predict the future, Dylan, but I do know this—the strength that you have will be needed, by your brother, by your mother, and possibly—by everyone on Earth.”

  Chapter 45

  And Now it Begins

  Commander Shakastan Zuaberi stood up smartly, as he climbed out of the tube. He’d ridden through the accursed things many times and was well versed on how many people would vomit and be weak after being transmitted from one end of the galaxy to another. He was no different. Traveling between portals in the tubes was miserable, but as he stood up, his iron will commanded his body to ignore the effects.

  The Wooranti Portal on the planet of Aechmea had been in place for well over a decade, and the infrastructure had been built out as magnificently as any portal on Koranth or Zoranth. Today, Commander Shakastan Zuaberi stepped onto the first-class platform and declined the employee’s offering of a shot of Coronit to calm his nerves. Usually, he would be stepping out into the military transport facility, which was far less posh than this facility.

  He p
ushed a junior officer, who looked lost in the elegant surroundings, out of the way, and strode back to the tube that was arriving directly behind his. As the hatch on the tube popped open, Commander Zuaberi held his hand out, locking it with Tomar Donovackia’s. He helped the Chairman out of the tube.

  Tomar released a loud laugh. “You bastard! You look as if you actually enjoy having your soul sucked through space on these damn tubes!”

  Commander Zuaberi chuckled in response, “No, sir, I’ll be much happier to be on my spaceship traveling through space without feeling like I’m being pulled inside out.”

  Tomar Donovackia threw back the shot of Coronit, enjoying the stinging sensation as it moved down his throat. “Every portal offers a different shot when you arrive,” noted Tomar. “This Coronit they serve here is a bit harsh, but I like the aftertaste.”

  Tomar stood for a few more minutes, letting his body recover from the tube ride. Through the decades he’d taken thousands of trips to dozens of planets. In his mind, they were all his planets, and he was about to have another one. He loved this part—launching the mission that would invade another planet, so that he could begin to “develop” it.

  His research department had scoured the reports and artifacts sent back from Earth. The planet had an ample and widely varied supply of products, and an infrastructure to support global trade. In addition to the profit that would be made from Earth’s products, it was simply exciting to try new things. He looked forward to products called coffee, chocolate, beef, truffles, mangos, chicken, and potato chips. Over the last decade, he’d created new revenue streams—planetary tourism and planetary settlement. He’d launched more portals to every planet and even connected distant planets with portals that didn’t lead to Koranth or Zoranth. When he had taken over the Corporation, distant planets were only suppliers of products. He had changed everything. Trade flowed in every direction, and he had a little piece of it all. Of course, all of that meant an enormous expansion of his military machine.

  He kept an iron like grip on the Corporation and his military. On distant planets, he’d meddled more and more with the politics and governments, and in many cases, he simply installed his own government. The Donovackia Corporation had become the quintessential essence of business perfection—and it was all his.

  Commander Zuaberi and Chairman Donovackia boarded a shuttle and settled in for the long ride to the Marator Space Station, orbiting the planet. The days of launching a deep space mission from a planet’s surface were long gone. Various parts of a spaceship were ferried through the portals from Koranth and Zoranth, where shuttles would take them to orbiting space stations for assembly.

  Only a few decades before, a single ship would leave Koranth with a portal, and that one ship would slip into a planet and power up the portal. Now, a portal might come from Koranth to a planet like Aechmea on a single ship, but the invasion was different. A dozen ships could be built on Aechmea to accompany the portal-carrying ship from Koranth. Additionally, a matched set of portals might be built on Aechmea, with one portal staying on Aechmea and another being installed on another planet. For the last two decades, Tomar had built a network of portals between planets.

  For this next invasion, which was, of course, still called “planetary development,” eight ships, in addition to the portal-carrying ship from Koranth, were being prepared.

  The Marator Space Station was, for all practical purposes, a city in space. “It makes me feel as if I am a boy again,” Tomar remarked, as he looked out the window of the shuttle. “Every time I travel to one of my space stations, the sense of wonder and exploration explodes inside of me. It is such a thrill to know there is so much still to be discovered and conquered.”

  “Yes, sir,” Commander Zuaberi agreed. “It is impossible not to be awed and excited as you step into the station and see the activity and preparation.”

  “And, how goes the preparation?” asked Tomar.

  “Right on schedule. We are two days from launching,” replied Commander Zuaberi.

  “Outstanding!” proclaimed Tomar. “I am eager review the final preparations and give my send-off speech.”

  The shuttle landed in the open bay, and the force field closed behind it. Tomar marched onto the landing zone, eager to begin his tour and confer with the invasion force commanders. As with each previous invasion, this one was bigger and grander than the previous. Part of the fleet would begin attacking one part of a planet while the portal-carrying ship slipped onto the planet to install the portal. It was a simple matter of distraction. Once the portal was installed, the Donovackia military machine would pour through the portal like water.

  An entire landing bay had been converted into a banquet hall for the final night before the fleet departed. Tomar had decided that he would address all of the soldiers who were part of the invasion and have a grand feast. Food and drink were served, and speeches were made, with Tomar addressing the invasionary force with his usual flare and circumstance. The atmosphere was like a festival, with everyone having a grand time on the evening before the fleet would leave to invade the planet called Earth.

  A recent book that he had read from another planet had convinced Tomar that he should occasionally mingle with his soldiers, even though he found them to be terribly common. After the meal and the speeches, many of the soldiers stayed to enjoy a final round of Coronit or other beverage.

  As Tomar and Commander Zuaberi approached the huge bar that had been set up for the event, Tomar grabbed the Commander’s arm.

  “Lords of the Fourth System!” declared Tomar quietly pointing to one of the soldiers, “That man is freakishly gigantic!”

  “Yes, he does catch the attention of those who see him,” replied the Commander. “He’s a bit of a unique case. It took him many, many years to qualify for the program, but he is one of the many prisoners that converted his containment sentence to military service.”

  “Now that I look at him, he is a bit older. And what is his role in this mission?” asked Tomar.

  “He is simply part of the defensive detachment that will protect the portal. Often we need to subdue the locals without revealing any advanced weaponry while we get the portal up and running.”

  “I can completely see how a man like that would be useful,” Tomar agreed. “I would be absolutely frightened to face that man in any type of confrontational situation.”

  “Yes, indeed,” replied Commander Zuaberi. “I pity any man on Earth that has to face Jackos the Giant.”

  FROM THE AUTHOR

  Thanks for reading my first published novel. I hope you enjoyed it. Would you please take a moment and offer an honest review and rating on Amazon or Goodreads?

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Shea Oliver lives in Niwot, Colorado, near the base of the Rocky Mountains. He can often be found wandering through mountain forests and alpine tundra. An avid hiker and photographer, he often uses his time in the mountains to work through various characters and plots. When he is not enjoying nature, Shea is a devoted father of two teenage sons and a serial entrepreneur.

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  www.SheaOliver.com