Fatal Accord

by Trevor Scott

  He could see Liam and the Ansaran guard take notice and draw their weapons. The sick Dinari was closing in, only twenty feet away. Nix fired another shot and the crimson laser found its way through the Dinari’s back, coming out through his chest and absorbing into the sand mere inches from Liam’s feet. The sick Dinari stumbled, blood spewing out his mouth as he gasped for air. But his feet kept stumbling forward.

  The sick Dinari fell at Liam’s feet face down, close enough to reach out and touch. The Ansaran guard kicked the man over onto his back with his sand-colored boots. Blood pooled at the Dinari’s mouth and dripped down his cheeks on either side, finding its way down into the sand and mixing with the dust to create a cruel sort of mud.

  Liam put his hand up above his eyes to shield the sun, scanning the rooftops for the source of the laser. Nix ducked down and hugged the rifle to his chest. He waited a moment before cautioning another look over the roof’s edge.

  The Dinari was still alive, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. Liam knelt down beside him and gripped the white bandages that swathed the Dinari’s diseased body. Liam was asking him something, but Nix’s translation chip wasn’t able to read his lips given the angle. He felt his blood pressure rise, his heart pounding and reverberating throughout his body. There was no way to know if a human could catch the Phage Sickness, but it wasn’t a fate he’d wish on anyone. The survival rate was abysmal and the pain excruciating to see firsthand.

  Nix cried out as loud as he could but his voice was negated by the building breeze. All he could do was watch as the Dinari coughed out his final breath, spouting droplets of blood up into Liam’s face and eyes.

  “No!” Nix screamed, tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. He dropped his laser rifle and collapsed onto his stomach. Nix made a fist and slammed the clay rooftop, creating an imprint with several cracks crawling out from the center.

  He rolled onto his side and looked up at the harsh orange sun, feeling his vision blur. His large golden eyes were glazed with a layer of tears he couldn’t control. He couldn’t stop it. He could have taken the kill shot right away and prevented it, but he didn’t. It was his fault. He was weak.

  Nix heard the engine of a hover bike and his mind snapped back to the moment. He edged over to the rim of the roof, looking over the side. It was only for a second, but he saw him. Nix took in every nuance of the rider clad in blue. His armor was made to emulate hardened scales and was dyed a deep shade of azure. The short man’s helmet was oblong, coming down flat in the front and jutting out at the back with a black visor that reminded him of the helmets of the Ansaran guard. Every space not covered by armor was clothed in a black material. It was clear the rider was muscular, though still very lean.

  Nix had no doubt that the rider was involved with the sick Dinari. It could have been an assassination attempt. He worried his fears were coming true and Liam had stepped over some sort of line. But whose? When he’d told Saturn that Liam was going to get himself killed, he never expected something like this.

  •

  Liam’s vision blurred as he wiped the blood from his eyes. His heartbeat hastened, fingers going numb. He tried to focus on the source of the laser blast. There in the street a few hundred feet away was a figure clad in blue armor. He squinted, trying to make out every detail, but his mind was fading quick. A sudden pain sprung up behind his eyes. Liam used his fingers to wipe at them to no effect. He wanted to scratch them out if it would make it stop. His eyes sought out the Suryan sun and he stared into the light, praying that the agony would stop.

  7

  “No more questions,” Ju-Long said gruffly, waiving off Saturn’s advances.

  Saturn leaned against the clay wall across from Astrid and Ju-Long, one brown combat boot planted against the cracked and dry façade. She crossed her arms and scolded her crew member.

  “This was part of the deal, Ju-Long. Her usefulness to this crew is based on what she knows. We’re not protecting her so she can be your plaything.”

  Ju-Long scrambled to his feet, furious, and struck Saturn across the face. She stumbled back a couple of steps, dazed.

  “It’s okay,” Astrid said gently, pulling Ju-Long back. Her blue and green eyes glowed faintly in the dimly lit room. She placed a soft scaled hand on Ju-Long’s face and turned his chin toward her, his eyes following and connecting with hers. “Some people just don’t have any tact. I’ll answer her questions if I know the answers.”

  Ju-Long nodded, his eyes absorbed in Astrid’s vertical pupils, large in the half-light and in steep contrast to the slender glow behind their colored edges. His demeanor calmed at her graceful touch.

  Saturn wiped her lip and shook off the blow. She asked, “You said that the Quantum Trigger wasn’t the only device made by Vesta Corporation. What other devices exist?”

  “Right to the point. I’ve heard rumors of two other objects with strange properties. One was in the shape of a sphere, the other a pyramid, each similar to the Quantum Trigger.”

  “What do they do?”

  Astrid hung her head and said with disappointment, “That’s where the stories differ. Some say the Three were prototypes for the Quantum Trigger but that they created something else entirely. Instead of creating a bridge from one part of space to another, one of them ripped a hole in space that was irreparable. Others suggest an alternate reality or dimension, a world existing in the empty space between atoms all around us. Many think they’re weapons, with powers unfathomable to us.”

  “Vesta Corporation wouldn’t have the technology to do any of those things. It’s only a result of Ju-Long’s work that they were even able to create the Quantum Trigger.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Ju-Long huffed.

  Astrid continued, “There are stories, myths really, that I was told as a child. Have you ever heard of the Corsairs?”

  Saturn exchanged looks with Ju-Long, who shifted uncomfortably where he stood. Their ship, The Garuda, was one of the long-lost Corsair-Class ships stolen from legend. However, Nix had made it a point not to tell Astrid until they were sure they could trust her. That time had not yet come. Saturn offered her a non-committal shrug in response.

  “The Corsairs were fearsome ships developed by the Dinari during the War of a Thousand Years. Almost a hundred if the accounts are accurate. Each held the caged soul of the most feared creatures in existence. There was a great battle over Ansara and they were all lost.”

  “What’s your point?” Saturn asked.

  “Lost. Not destroyed. As a child I was interested why the tales always said they were lost and not destroyed. Surely the Ansaran fleet defeated them all. There was no mention of how the battle ended, so I asked an elder on Taleris. He admitted that no one knows what happened to them, but that he imagines a few may still be out there. So, what happened to the rest of their ships?”

  Saturn shrugged and said, “Bad record-keeping?”

  Ju-Long spoke up, “Are you sure that’s how it went?”

  Saturn shot a cautioning glare his way. “I was at The Sand’s Edge having a drink with some Dinari friends and they said the Ansarans destroyed all of the Corsairs.”

  Astrid shook her head. She seemed genuinely distressed, crossing her arms uncomfortably and averting her eyes from Ju-Long.

  “The histories are different depending on who you talk to. Some say there were a hundred ships, some fifty. Some say they were destroyed; some say they’re only in hiding, waiting for an opportunity to strike. I’ll be the first to admit my race’s tactics aren’t delicate when it comes to recording the past.”

  Ju-Long asked her, “Are you suggesting the Ansarans spread tales of the Corsairs’ demise to crush the Dinari’s spirit?”

  “As I said, not exactly delicate. From what I could gather, my people don’t know what happened any more than the Dinari. It was a hundred years ago, so who’s to say for sure?”

  “How does this relate to Vesta Corporation?”

  Astrid smiled and asked, “Wha
t is a wormhole?”

  “A bridge across space,” Ju-Long responded.

  “Or time,” Astrid interjected.

  “You can’t be serious,” Saturn argued.

  “Well,” Ju-Long hedged. “In theory, but after what I’ve seen it doesn’t actually seem that far-fetched.”

  Astrid said, “It’s just a thought, but what if one of the other devices played a part in their disappearance? It could have destroyed them or sent them somewhere else entirely.”

  “I don’t want to think about it,” Saturn said, uncrossing her arms and pushing off from the wall. “I’m tired of speculation. What do you know?”

  Astrid was growing visibly frustrated and shot back in a chilly tone, “However or whenever the devices came into existence doesn’t matter. I don’t know why Vesta Corporation made them or who or what they were intended for, but I do know that the Ansaran High Council intends to use them. They will colonize more worlds and crush the Kurazon or the Dinari if they try to interfere.”

  “They don’t have the numbers,” Saturn remarked. “How do they intend to colonize anything when they’ve messed with their genome so much that they can hardly manufacture a female?”

  Astrid’s mouth hung open, hurt by Saturn’s words. Her eyes began to glow as though the shining light behind her eyes was some kind of defense mechanism.

  “No offense,” Saturn added, much too late.

  Saturn had nearly forgotten that Astrid had been grown in a lab like some kind of experiment. Though she didn’t have any experience with other Ansaran females, she seemed like any other walking, talking, breathing person. It sounded strange to Saturn to think of Astrid in such a way, no matter what she thought of her as a crew member.

  “War has devastated the population of this system. Countless billions have died as a result of the War of a Thousand Years. But do not count us out so easily. There are facilities like the one on Narra whose sole purpose is the propagation of my species.”

  “Breeding programs?”

  “One could say that. The Ansarans will not perish even if we have to fight another thousand-year war. If the Ansarans are the only species that remain, the High Council is prepared to go to great lengths to ensure our survival.”

  “What kind of lengths are you talking about?” Ju-Long asked.

  “During the long war, researchers at the facility on Narra created a super virus that only affected the Dinari anatomy. They also made a cure. Its release shortened the war by decades, but at great cost. Too many died. More than anticipated. A deal was eventually struck in which the leaders of the Dinari resistance agreed to cease war efforts in exchange for the cure. It was this deal that secured their subservience to my people. Mere mention of the Dinari Phage Sickness became taboo. It reminded the Dinari that it could be redeployed at any time. That fear led them to accept the reeducation process more readily. Those who dissented were made to be examples.”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  “Some of it is common knowledge among my people. We were taught that our mastery of the genetic code of this system’s species won the war. I learned the rest at the facility on Narra. After it was evacuated, I was searching through records for hints of my birth and anything else I could find related to the facility. I stumbled upon more than I bargained for.”

  Ju-Long paced the small room and spoke almost to himself, “If the Dinari rise up again, the Ansarans will decimate them with this virus. It’s the perfect weapon.”

  “I don’t know how much of the virus remains. I destroyed what I could at the facility on Narra. But I doubt the Ansarans would use it again so readily. Last time there were…unforeseen consequences. The Ansarans need the Dinari more than they realize. The Dinari provide most of the labor in this system. Without them we’d likely starve.”

  A raspy voice said from the open door, “You’d be wise not to forget it.”

  Sestra stood there eyeing the Ansaran coldly, scaled arms crossed over her chest. She approached Astrid slowly, her golden eyes conveying every ounce of hatred she bore the blue-skinned woman. Saturn noticed that Sestra’s tight clothing had become speckled with sand, clinging to the dark fabric. The Dinari was solely focused on Astrid, sizing her up before snarling, “You would dare speak of the Phage under my roof?”

  “She asked and I answered. I meant no offense.”

  Saturn felt her left wrist buzz and checked the curved display that enveloped her lower forearm like a bracer. The buzzing was loud enough that Sestra and the others were quieted, staring in her direction. A yellow dot was flashing rapidly on the screen. She pressed it and a hologram projected up out of her forearm in the shape of a grainy Dinari face.

  Nix stared back at her, a tenth his normal size and frantic. The projection lit the room so that each of their faces reflected the orange hue. Nix was clearly distraught, almost like he’d been crying. His mouth opened and before he could say anything, he shut his eyes tight and looked away.

  “It’s Liam,” he told her. “I need you back at The Sand’s Edge. He needs you.”

  “What’s wrong? What happened?” Saturn asked quickly.

  “Just get back here,” Nix said before turning to Sestra and adding, “Except you, Sestra, it’s probably best if you stay where you are.”

  “Very well,” Sestra replied, curiosity tinting her gritty voice.

  Saturn interjected, “Nix, tell me what’s happening.”

  A scream pierced through the transmission and Nix quickly looked over his shoulder. He turned back and demanded, “Now, Saturn! And bring the Ansaran.”

  Nix cut the feed and Saturn was left, mouth ajar and unable to think of a satisfying response.

  Ju-Long appeared at her side and lowered her wrist for her.

  “Come on,” he said softly, gripping her arm to ensure she didn’t stumble. “Let’s go.”

  Saturn nodded and followed Ju-Long and Astrid out the door. When she looked back, she saw Sestra’s gaze lower as though deep in prayer.

  8

  The Sand’s Edge Bar

  “Hold him down,” Nix cried, his voice muffled by a leather breathing mask that was strapped snugly around his face.

  Two large Dinari also donning full-facial masks and thick gloves held Liam down against one of the rounded tables near the bar. One of them was Riken, Zega’s barkeep and prize fighter whose scarred body had added a few extra burns after his loss to Ju-Long in the fighting ring. Riken strapped a mask over Liam’s face that bore the likeness of a blackened lizard’s skull. It was a symbol that was said to ward off death and would also serve to abate the spray of blood from Liam’s mouth during his many coughing fits.

  Nix cautiously approached his friend with his hands out in front of him defensively, stopping just shy of him to be safe. “Don’t fight us, Liam. We need to get you upstairs until we can find a way to treat you.”

  “What the hell is happening to me?” Liam struggled to say through the burnt Death Shroud.

  “It’s the Dinari—” Nix stopped and hardened his voice before continuing. “It’s the Phage Sickness.”

  Nix turned to Riken and ordered, “Get him upstairs to a private room and then set up a perimeter for decontamination. I don’t have to remind you that if any of his fluids enter your body it’ll mean your death. Burn your clothes when you’re through.”

  Riken nodded to the other Dinari and they lifted Liam together, carrying him up the curling staircase and out of sight. Once they’d gone, Nix’s eyes remained entranced on the table against which Liam had been held. Droplets of blood remained on its surface and there was a trail of drips leading to the door. Nix backed up until he could feel the high edge of the bar underneath his shoulder blades.

  How could this happen? The Phage Sickness had been gone for decades. If this was the Ansarans’ doing, then they’d broken the treaty. But who else could it have been? The Dinari had never had access to the virus in its nascent state. They were going to need help if they were going to get through this w
ithout losing him. Or without contracting the virus for that matter. For a moment his mind brushed against his childhood nightmares. The piles of dead. The flames. The smell.

  Nix focused on the nearest droplet of blood and cursed aloud. Saturn and the others would be there shortly and they couldn’t enter the bar unprotected. Nix pushed off from the bar with his gloved hands and skirted around the blood-stained floor to a short staircase that led down into Zega’s cellar. He descended the stairs quickly and used his muscle to push through the thick door.

  Inside, a single globe illuminated the long room. Zega’s chamber was empty, but for the elongated stone table which ran along the center. The bar’s proprietor was nowhere to be seen. Nix moved fervently to the back of the room and pushed aside a tightly-woven green rug made from the reeds that grew at the edge of the great sea. He fumbled with a circular latch that was cut into the stone floor and pulled up hard against the aging metal bracket. The fake stone was lighter than wood and was easily raised above his head, where it clicked into place. Nix stepped gingerly down the steep dark stairs that led down below.

  He rummaged along the shelf to his right for one of the small globes, which vivified at his touch. The tiny space in which he found himself was nothing more than an underground shed, lined with Dinari pulse weapons, Ansaran lasers, and all of the trappings of war. Nix moved toward the back to the breathing masks. He grabbed a bag and shoved three masks into it, along with gloves and extra cloaks. It wasn’t ideal, but it’d have to do.

  On his way back up to the bar, Nix’s mind was brought back to the sizzle at the tip of his laser rifle. His hot breath came out cool compared to the air around him. The seconds that followed felt drawn out. He was reliving the moment in his head, trying to think of what else he could have done. It was a dangerous game.

  How could he have let this happen? Getting Liam back to the bar had been a task in itself. Luckily, Riken responded to his call and brought help and supplies. Even then, Nix remained intimately aware of his body, staying alert for early signs of the virus. He recounted the symptoms that he’d learned by heart as a boy. If anyone felt the effects, they were to immediately isolate themselves for the greater good. Fear, however, had a funny way of distorting one’s priorities. It was that same fear that gripped him as he continued to run through each precaution he’d taken, taking stock of every moment. Had he been exposed? If so, he wouldn’t have to wait long to find out. One Suryan Day. That was how long it took for the virus to kill most Dinari.