by Ryk Brown
“Not yet, I’m afraid. I told my son to take extra precautions this time, so it may take him a bit longer than usual.”
“That doesn’t make him suspicious?”
“Not in the slightest,” Ellyus replied. “He knows I handle some very big clients… clients that prefer to remain discrete, for market reasons.”
Jessica leaned back, looking at Ellyus for a moment, thinking.
“Something wrong?”
“It doesn’t worry you, that you’re putting your son in harm’s way without his consent?”
“I’m not,” Ellyus insisted. “He has no knowledge of my true identity, nor my mission here on Earth.”
“Still, guilt by association, and all that.”
“Not with the Jung,” Ellyus insisted. “They don’t need to. They have the ability to tell, beyond a shadow of doubt, whether or not you are telling the truth. If he was arrested with those documents, and the Jung determined the true nature of those documents, he would claim to know nothing, and they would believe him.”
“Still, it must be hard to keep such secrets from them.”
“Not at all,” Ellyus assured her. “It is what it is. I chose this life. It did not chose me. Furthermore, I technically have not yet committed any crimes against the Jung or Koharan society, as all I have done is to collect information. I have yet to pass it on to an enemy of this world.”
“But, you are about to,” Jessica reminded him.
“Indeed I am,” he admitted. “So you can see how I might have a vested interest in making sure that whatever is about to happen, is as successful as possible… for my family’s benefit more so than for my own.”
“Life is that bad here?” Jessica wondered. “Because to be honest, compared to other Jung worlds I’ve seen, this one isn’t bad at all.”
“You’ve seen other Jung-occupied worlds?” Ellyus wondered, looking genuinely surprised.
“I was referring to Earth, when it was occupied by the Jung.”
“Of course,” Ellyus said. “Actually, the Jung occupation of the Tau Ceti system was not all that bloody. I did not experience it firsthand, as it occurred about a year before my arrival. You see, the Cetians had no significant military forces. In fact, although all three worlds had been in contact with one another for nearly a century, they had only recently developed an interplanetary space program. The Jung actually brought all three Cetian worlds together again, for the first time in nearly a thousand years. Now, people can travel between the Cetian worlds with relative ease. Not everyone, mind you, but most. It is a bit on the expensive side. However, the trade opportunities that it has opened up have been quite lucrative for all worlds.”
“Then, the Jung are welcome here?”
“I don’t know that I would go as far as to call them ‘welcomed’, but the number who oppose the continued occupation are definitely in the minority, as best I can tell. It’s not like people talk about it openly. After all, Jung cameras and listening devices are everywhere.”
“Everywhere?”
“Well, in most public places, anyway.”
“And that doesn’t bother the Koharans?” Jessica wondered.
“You’d be surprised what people are willing to put up with, in exchange for peace and security,” Ellyus told her.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”
* * *
Guards dressed in blue jackets with scarlet trim patrolled the grounds in pairs. Pitora was absent from the skies this night, and Hermes and Arkana were both too low on the horizon at this later hour to provide significant light. Because of this, the guards walked more slowly than usual, taking extra time to examine the shadows in greater detail. On occasion, they paused to shine their portable lights into areas not properly illuminated by the lantern posts scattered throughout the ornate and meticulously landscaped compound. In addition, the fog that normally rolled in from the nearby ocean had reached inland earlier than usual. The effect was a dark, mysterious scene that was both magical and frightening. The combination was what the locals referred to as ‘tal-sharet’.
Two guards passed their counterparts patrolling in the opposite direction, nodding recognition but exchanging no further information, as per protocol. Each team continued on their designated patrol route along the garden pathways that wound their way around and between the buildings. As each team turned their respective corners and fell out of view from one another, they stopped for a moment to examine the new area revealed to them, also according to protocol.
Two tiny projectiles silently pierced the fog, causing it to swirl for a moment, after which the two guards dropped to their knees, their heads exploding to their sides and their bodies toppling forward to the ground.
Around the opposite corner, in the direction from which the first guards had come, the fog again swirled as fast-moving projectiles silently found the other pair of guards, dropping them to the ground in similarly gruesome fashion. As puddles of dark red blood began to spread out from the heads onto the pavement, hooded men clad in flat-black combat attire floated down from above, landing gently on the grass nearby. The men began to scurry toward the fallen guards as the black parachutes that had carried them down automatically detached from their backs and fell away behind them. The first two men who landed jumped over the fallen guards and moved quickly down the path toward the next building. The next two grabbed the fallen guards and dragged them into nearby bushes, then joined the first two men to enter the building.
All about the compound a similar scene played out in near-simultaneous fashion. In the blink of an eye, four pairs of guards, eight highly trained men, had been struck down in complete silence. All without causing any alarm to those inside. To anyone who might step out into the garden from some fresh air a minute later, it would appear to be just another night filled with the tal-sharet.
“Whoa,” the security guard exclaimed as all of his camera feeds suddenly went black. “What the hell?” He began pressing buttons on the console in front of him, trying to determine what had gone wrong, and more importantly, how to get the cameras back up.
“It has to be a problem with the main control unit,” the other guard said.
“Better call it in.”
“Lieutenant Dante, Control. We have lost all cameras.”
“What? Did you check the controller?”
“Yes, sir,” the second guard insisted over the communications system. “Three times. We’re rebooting it now.”
“Did the automatic distress call go out?”
“Yes, sir, the moment the power went out, the distress call was transmitted to Answari security.”
“Very well. Alert all principals, as well as the barracks officer of the watch. Wake everyone. I’ll notify the major.”
“Yes, sir,” the guard replied. They were the last words he would speak.
The sound of tiny pieces of broken glass hitting the console and the floor was heard, as more projectiles stuck each guard in the forehead, blowing the backs of their skulls open and spewing blood and cerebral tissue across the wall behind them. The door opened, and two hooded men in flat-black attire swiftly entered the room. A few presses of buttons on the console and the lights went out all over the compound.
“I miss Mama,” Nalaya said.
The sadness in her voice broke Casimir’s heart, as it was his fault that she had been killed. The moment he had seen Jalea with Nathan and his entourage, he knew that things were about to change. He could have simply refused the inquiry, lied to them and told them that he had no more molo for sale, and then referred them to one of the other vendors. Had he done so, his wife, his children’s mother, would still be alive.
“I miss her as well,” Casimir admitted, appearing sympathetic yet stoic. He stroked her fine, golden hair, gazing in her green eyes. She was the spitting image of her mother, all the way down to the slight bump on the bridge of her tiny nose. “However, I am sure that she is happy to see how well your new life is going. All the pretty dresses, the
comfortable beds, and the yummy desserts. She is also very happy that you are talking again, as are we all.”
“Not Miss Parlette.”
“Your teacher?” Casimir wondered.
“She says I ask too many questions.”
“You tell Miss Parlette that if you don’t ask too many questions, then you will never have enough answers.”
“I shall, Papa.”
“Good.” Casimir kissed her on the forehead.
“Papa?”
“Yes?”
“I’d rather be back on Haven, with Mama, than have all the pretty dresses in the world.”
“Me too, little one. Me too.”
The lights went dark.
“I’m not sleepy yet, Papa. Will you…”
“Hush,” Casimir interrupted, concern in his tone. He glanced toward the window and saw no lights in the garden as well.
The door burst open and two dark figures charged into the room.
“Sire, we must go!” one of the men exclaimed as he rushed toward Casimir.
A sense of relief washed over Casimir as he recognized the voice of Sergeant Paloma, one of his personal bodyguards. “Nalaya,” he demanded.
“I will see to her, sire,” the second guard replied.
Casimir recognized the second guard’s voice as well. It was Nalaya’s personal bodyguard, Sergeant Whittaker. Both men had been waiting outside her bedroom door. “What’s going on?”
“Papa!” Nalaya cried out in fear.
“It is alright, little one!” Casimir replied.
“All power is down,” Sergeant Paloma explained.
“Come with me, Nalaya,” Sergeant Whittaker soothed as he snatched her from her bed.
“Comms as well,” Sergeant Paloma continued.
“Papa!”
“Go with Sergeant Whittaker, Nalaya!” Casimir instructed. “He will protect you!”
“Papa!”
“I will be right behind you, Nalaya!”
“We have to go, sire!” Sergeant Paloma insisted.
“What about Deliza?” Casimir demanded.
“Everyone will rendezvous in the safe room,” Sergeant Paloma reminded him, “per protocol.”
Sergeant Whittaker stood next to the open doorway, his back against the wall, Nalaya in his left arm, his energy weapon in his right.
“Follow me, sire,” Sergeant Paloma instructed. They moved to the open doorway, pausing for the sergeant to glance down the dark corridors.
“In my right boot, sire,” Sergeant Whittaker urged, “a weapon, take it.”
Casimir did not hesitate, raising the sergeant’s pant leg and extracting the small energy pistol from the man’s boot.
“It’s clear,” Sergeant Paloma whispered.
“I’m scared,” Nalaya cried.
“You must be quiet,” Sergeant Whittaker urged Nalaya, trying to offer as soothing a tone as possible.
“Do as the sergeant says, Nalaya,” Casimir urged. “Quiet as a dongarro,” he added as he followed Sergeant Paloma out the door and into the corridor.
“What is happening?” Deliza exclaimed as the lights went out in the dining room.
“I don’t…” Yanni’s words were cut short as four men burst into the room.
“Princess!” one of the men called out in a loud whisper. He noticed the two of them in the darkness, sitting off to one side, and moved toward them. “We must go!”
“What is going on?” Deliza pleaded.
“Possible security breach,” the guard explained. “No lights, no comms. Protocol says we take you and Mister Hiller to the safe room as quickly as possible.”
“Don’t you have any lights? I can’t see anything,” Deliza wondered as she stood to leave.
“Can’t use them,” the guard insisted. “If there are snipers outside the windows, the lights would give away our positions.”
“Snipers?” Yanni wondered.
“Oh, my God,” Deliza exclaimed.
“We must go, now,” the guard urged.
“My father! My sister!” Deliza said.
“They will meet us there, come!”
Red bolts of energy streaked across the foyer, blowing holes in the wall, and lighting everything they touched ablaze. House Ta’Akar security forces returned fire, sweeping the entrance with their own energy weapons, but the attacking forces were far too precise, picking the defenders off one by one without a single casualty among the attacking forces. The house security forces tried to call for help, but got nothing but static from the portable comms. In less than a minute, there was no one left alive to call for help.
The leader of the attacking group stepped forward, examining the fallen guards of House Ta’Akar. “Prepare the data cores for departure!” he ordered in a deep and gravelly voice.
They paused briefly at the end of the corridor, squatting down at the corner as Sergeant Paloma peered cautiously around the corner. The next corridor was as dark as the last, with almost no light shining in the windows. He could hear the sound of distant energy weapons fire, coming from outside the building. “Do you hear that?” he said to Casimir behind him.
“It’s coming from the lab,” Casimir realized. “They’re after the cores!”
“There are ten men assigned to that building,” Sergeant Paloma reminded him. The weapons fire stopped. The two of them stood silent for the moment. “You see, they have undoubtedly defeated the attackers.”
“Or the attackers defeated our guards,” Casimir replied. “We cannot let those cores out of our control…”
“My orders are to get you to the safe…” Sergeant Paloma’s head came apart as an energy bolt slammed into the left side of his head, causing the right side to explode, spraying Casimir’s face with scalding hot blood and brains.
Casimir gasped in shock and horror, the effect of which lasted but a second. He spit out bits of the dead sergeant that had landed in his open mouth, as he brought his weapon around the corner, above the headless torso of his dead sergeant still leaning against the wall, and returned fire. Another bolt of energy slammed into the dead sergeant, heating up his torso and blowing more blood and tissue out his back. Casimir was forced to duck back behind the safety of the corner. “Withdraw!” he ordered Sergeant Whittaker. “Back the way we came! We can escape through Nalaya’s window!”
Casimir fired three more shots blindly around the corner as Sergeant Whittaker turned and headed back down the corridor the way they had come. Four energy weapons shots sounded from the opposite end of the corridor, two of them streaking over Casimir’s head and slamming into the wall beyond, causing him to cringe and duck. He heard his daughter scream. His eyes opened as the sergeant collapsed to his knees, releasing his grip on the child and letting her fall to the floor as two more shots slammed into his chest, sending sizzling tissue spraying in all directions as his body fell backwards.
Casimir ran toward his daughter, firing wildly at the black-clad intruders at the far end of the corridor. He scooped her up with his left arm, pulling her in close to his body as he turned to his left and continued firing to his right. Two more steps to his right and he pivoted, falling into the door to one of the many guest rooms and causing it to open.
Casimir found himself on his back, still clutching Nalaya against his chest. He heard a scream; that of a young woman, followed by more weapons fire. His mind raced. He considered escaping through the window, but he knew they were outside as well, and out in the open, he didn’t stand a chance. He felt a panic wash over him as he heard the screams again. He had to help her. He had to help Deliza, but he also had to protect Nalaya.
Casimir looked at his youngest. “Go and hide, Nalaya. Hide so no one can find you. Do not come out until I call for you. Go!”
Nalaya climbed off her father’s chest and ran across the room, crawling under the bed. Casimir scrambled to his feet, moving to the wall next to the door. He peeked out as best he could, but could see nothing. Yet, he could still hear weapons fire from somewhere in
the house, and the sounds of men yelling, and his daughter, Deliza, screaming.
Lights began to shine in the window from the courtyard outside. The sounds of vehicles… men shouting… then more weapons fire. The intensity increased. He heard a man barking orders at others in a calm, controlled fashion. He heard the sound of sizzling flesh in the corridor, and the agonizing screams of the dying.
Then the sound of heavy boots on marble floors… and the sound of body armor… the unmistakable sound it made when its wearers were running, moving, fighting. The sounds of the battle raging in the corridor grew closer and more ferocious. Then, just as quickly as they had begun, they stopped. No more weapons fire, only the sound of armored troops moving about with practiced precision. Squad leaders barking orders, and the occasional groan of the dying.
A man appeared in the doorway, startling Casimir for a moment. He was of average height and weight, and was clad in black body armor, and the distinctive helmet of the Ghatazhak. “Sire,” the soldier called out to him. “Are you injured?”
Casimir shook his head, still in shock. “No,” he mumbled. His attention suddenly turned back to his daughter. “Nalaya!”
The Ghatazhak soldier watched as Prince Casimir dropped his weapon and scrambled across the floor toward the bed, as Nalaya crawled out from underneath. He grabbed her and scooped her up in arms, struggling to get to his feet. He turned to the Ghatazhak soldier. “My other daughter?”
“She is fine,” the soldier promised. “If you will follow me, I shall take you to her.”
“Of course,” Casimir said. “Thank you.” He followed the soldier into the corridor, immediately turning his daughter’s face toward his chest and covering her head with his free hand so that she could not look down at the bloody, still smoldering bodies of their would-be attackers. The stench of burning flesh, blood, and clothing filled the air, as did swirls of multicolored smoke. Some of the clothing of the men was still burning as he followed the soldier, stepping over the burning bodies along the way.