by Mack Maloney
He'd been tipped by his security men that three arms buyers from the nearby system of Slingerlands 7 were on their way op. This was good news. Though the Slingers were usually nolent and volatile individuals, they always bought the most expensive stuff, such as e-mines, sonic torpedoes, and thermo-erenades. And they always carried real money. No chits; no credit sales for them. They were VonRexx's kind of customer.
He saw them coming. Deep Durole uniforms, hieh black boots, lots of tattoos. The three Stingers pushed through the crowd by the door and started making their way across the dark, congested room.
Once the trio was within twenty feet of him, VonRexx waved half of his girls away, clearing a path for the three men to approach. But oddly, they did not go to him. Instead, they veered off for the opposite corner of the room, where a very tight circle of party goers had formed without VonRexx realizing it.
Mystified, he climbed off the couch and wandered over. Music was playing, guests were imbibing, and sexual antics were quietly going on throughout the room — yet an entirely different thing was happening over here. True, the penthouse was dark and crowded, and VonRexx couldn't keep his eyes everywhere at once. But he was surprised he'd missed this.
About a dozen well-known arms dealers were standing around a huge individual under a bare light in the corner. VonRexx himself had OK'd everyone who'd been allowed into the castle's top suite. He could not recall clearing someone this large to pass through. The man had his back to him; VonRexx could only see the faces of those gathered around. They all looked fascinated. Whatever this man was saying to them, he seemed to have put them in a trance.
Two of the arms dealers were having a particularly hushed conversation with the mystery man. Then came a round of handshakes and hugs, and the two men departed. They walked by VonRexx without giving him so much as a nod and hurried out the door. Strangely, each man had a dab of oil on his forehead.
Finally, VonRexx moved close enough to see the big man's face. He was shocked.
He knew him. He was one of his old competitors.
His name was Zarex Red.
Zarex had once been very famous in this part of the Galaxy. A rare combination of gunrunner and explorer, he had specialized in getting weapons to people who were in desperate need of firepower and willing to pay his premium prices. In turn, he used his profits to explore places so deep in the Five Arm, few people ever dared to venture to them. Of late, though, the rumors had it that Zarex was either dead, lost among the stars, or had taken up with a band of rogues who were trying the impossible: the overthrow of the Fourth Empire.
Which was why VonRexx was so surprised to see him here now, a very large, uninvited guest. How had he made it past security? How was it that he could so cavalierly draw the attention of the unsavory weapons dealers and rivet them so? VonRexx studied him from afar, fascinated that so many of his potential customers were hanging on Zarex's every word. The huge ex-explorer was charismatic, he supposed. But he'd never seen him draw a crowd quite like this.
He looked different, too. To VonRexx's eyes, Zarex seemed bigger, if that was possible. More muscles, more height, but there was also a strange glow about him, a halo of sorts around his head. This aura was not the greenish haze that could be seen trailing someone who'd spent a lot of time crashing stars. This was something else entirely.
VonRexx made sure Zarex did not see him, hiding himself in the dark crowd of holo-girls and guests.
The man's presence here was a mystery but also an opportunity. His former dual-occupation had made Zarex wealthy by saving some of the Five Arm's most famous freedom fighters. But it had also made him some big-time enemies as well. Gunrunner and explorer, Zarex was also a wanted man — and not just by the Empire.
And his robot was nowhere to be seen.
Interesting, VonRexx thought.
Day turned to night and back to day again, a matter of just a few hours on Rocks 32.
With the dawn, two men arrived at the castle's front gate. They were wearing long, black cloaks with their hoods pulled up. The ground-level security team ran them through the rigid scanning procedure, but they passed quickly. They had done business with VonRexx before, and they'd just been in touch with the weapons king before they arrived. That was enough for them to proceed directly to the forty-fourth floor.
Here they were scanned again. They were also checked for that most important thing of all: cash. The pair did not disappoint. They were carrying thirty solid aluminum pieces, a huge amount of money in this part of the Milky Way. The security troops let them in and sent word to VonRexx that they were in the house.
The two men still had to fight their way across the very expansive room; it was like hiking through a forest of dazzling women and very drunk men. Finally, the cloaked pair reached VonRexx's location. No one saw them hand VonRexx their money pouch. Thirty pieces of true aluminum, VonRexx took it without a blink.
The men then made their way across the crowded room to the far corner where Zarex was still holding court. They saw the fascinated faces of the hardcore weapons men, many now with dabs of oil on their foreheads. Just a few minutes of eavesdropping confirmed what the two men had expected to hear. Zarex was not buying or selling weapons; he was asking for volunteers to help him fight some great battle that was about to take place on the Two Arm.
The two men had heard that the explorer had been visiting many planets in the region in the past few days; in fact, there had been several reports of him showing up on two different planets simultaneously.
And he was doing then what he was doing now: addressing some of the most noxious arms dealers, the sleaziest and the chronically dishonest, and trying to convert them — that was the only term applicable — to join him on this mysterious crusade to the Two Arm.
What was truly amazing was that many of the weapons dealers were agreeing to go. As a group, most gunrunners were patently dishonest and habitually greedy, the hazards of the trade. While they had easy access to fully stocked weapons ships and men to run them, they never did anything that would be considered idealistic. And they never did anything for free.
Yet this seemed to be exactly what Zarex was getting them to do. At least two dozen ships stocked with weapons and technicians had been reported leaving the Five Arm for the Two over the past few days. And several more were in orbit around Rocks 32, apparently ready to embark for the same location. One of these was even a ship from Slingerlands 7.
But all this was really of little concern to the two men. Why a group of slimy arms dealers had so suddenly found religion did not interest them.
They were here for a different reason.
One of the two men finally approached Zarex and shook his hand.
"I understand there is a big fight brewing somewhere?" the man asked Zarex.
Zarex looked him directly in the eye. "Yes, and I am here to recruit souls turned good to help in the cause. Are you interested?"
"Maybe," the man told Zarex. "We've both felt the need for redemption lately."
"For what crimes, my brother?" Zarex asked him, bending slightly to hear the man.
The man just shrugged. 'Take your pick," he said.
Still locked onto his eyes, Zarex thought a moment, then breathed four words: "My guess is betrayal…"
At that moment, a small ship suddenly appeared over the castle. It could be seen clearly through the glass roof of the penthouse. Zarex looked up at it for a moment. When he looked back down, the two men were holding blaster guns on him.
Zarex laughed out loud. "What is this?" he asked. "A holdup?"
The men did not reply. They just simply pulled their capes off to reveal combat uniforms beneath.
They were not arms dealers. They were Bad Moon Knights. Hands down the worst, most ruthless mere army on the Five Arm. They'd been after Zarex for nearly a century.
The partygoers scattered at first sight of them. A few women screamed. Somewhere, a blaster gun went off. Wine goblets crashed to the floor. The ship above the castle d
rew closer. A pulse beam appeared from its bottom, smashing through the glass roof and engulfing Zarex in an ice-blue ray. He was instantly frozen in place.
"Getting very sloppy in your old age," one of the two men: old him.
"Or maybe this is the way it's supposed to be," Zarex managed to gasp.
Suddenly, a second red beam came down from the bottom of the hovering spaceship. It hit Zarex with the force of a sonic blast. He crumpled helplessly to the floor, unable to move, barely able to breathe.
Slowly, painfully, he faded away.
The next few hours went by in a dull, red haze for Zarex.
He was bundled aboard the small ship that had appeared above the castle and brought up to orbit, where he was transferred to a larger ion-powered vessel. Still encased in the crimson force field, he was placed in the control room of this second spaceship and put on display for the crew. A sign grafted onto the field read simply: Zarex Red— Criminal Condemned to Die. Many of the crew spat at him or tried to punch him through the force field. Some succeeded, some didn't. He was completely frozen and couldn't retaliate though, not that he would have anyway.
That his captors were hard-core Bad Moon Knights was without dispute now. He'd had many close calls with the bloodthirsty meres over the years and escaped a number of assassination attempts by them.
If anything, he knew them too well. Their black uniforms and perpetual scowls were hard to mistake.
And he was sure this particular crew was in for a huge reward, now that it appeared they had him for good.
But then all this changed, for somewhere along the way, the BMK ship was attacked by the Solar Guards. Not ordinary SG, either. These raiders were outfitted in bright red uniforms and armed with bizarre weaponry. Zarex watched from the relative safety of his force field as the SG troopers — enormous every one of them — flooded aboard the BMK ship and ruthlessly mowed down the black-suited meres. It wasn't a battle as much as a slaughter, strange because the SG and the BMK
had shared many shady alliances in the past. Zarex actually felt sorry for the helpless BMK soldiers as the SG's strange weapons carved them into two or three pieces before each slice slowly dissolved away.
Their screams were so loud, Zarex could hear them clearly, even through the force field.
The Solar Guards were here for him, of course, and no sooner had the firing died down when they moved Zarex to yet another ship. He knew by its interior that this was an SG Starcrasher; odd, too, as everywhere he looked, he saw the color red. Walls, floors, ceilings, men, weapons, wires, bubblers, tubes — all red. Back in Paradise, the SF3 man, Bonz, had described his executioners as strange SG troops dressed in crimson battle suits. That description matched these characters exactly.
They were acting strangely too. Zarex was again placed right up in the control room of the ship, but this time his captors all but ignored him. The SG crewmen running the ship seemed particularly robotic, with little interaction and zero conversation. It was almost as if they were under a spell or maybe a very strong hypnotic suggestion. How they'd known that the BMK had captured him, this after VonRexx had tipped off the BMK, Zarex had no idea. His proselytizing for help in the battle to come had carried him to many of his old haunts on the Five Arm, and he knew going to VonRexx's fire party was like walking into the belly of the beast. But that's exactly what he was supposed to be doing in these days since his return, transformed, from Paradise.
Now, all he could do was wait and see what his new tormentors had in store for him.
After a wild ride at Supertime speed to a destination impossible for him to determine, the SG ship made rendezvous with another vessel, the shape of which Zarex could not see. He could tell there was a meeting only because the SG ship came to a dead stop in space, and dark figures began beaming aboard just out of the corner of his eye.
Then he was moved again. This time under a blackout, meaning the force field was increased to the point where he could not see anything. He relied on his memories of friends and good times to get him through this very dark period. When he was able to see again, he realized he'd been released from the force field and was being dragged down a passageway by two huge SG soldiers. He'd been stripped of everything, including the Twenty 'n Six containing his faithful robot, 33418.
The guards remained mute as they pulled him along the corridor. This was definitely not a Starcrasher he was on now; the passageway was curved, a design element not found on any Empire starship. They eventually arrived at a doorway that was covered with strange hieroglyphics. Suddenly the door opened, and Zarex found himself staring into a dark and very strange control room. It was cramped, oval-shaped, and stuffed with odd, almost unrecognizable metallic gizmos, some of which appeared to be alive. They were full of tubes and glands and pumping and spurting weird liquids. Sections of the control room floor were covered with vomit. The smell was overwhelming. Zarex felt his stomach do a flip. He couldn't imagine a place as disturbing as this.
One of the guards pushed him through the open door. The moment he crossed the threshold, he was hit by a bright yellow beam. It struck him with the force of a Z-gun blast. He dropped to the deck — hard.
His body began trembling uncontrollably. He went blind. The screeching in his ears became deafening. It felt like he was being ripped in two.
He was dragged to his feet and thrown into a hovering chair. It was covered with a sticky red substance Zarex could only guess was blood. He heard a crack and felt something tear across his face.
The pain was unbearable. Another crack, this one ripping through the skin on his shoulder. Incredible pain, blood spurting everywhere. A third crack; this time it felt as if a slice had been taken out of his torso. Excruciating pain— but then he was able to open his eyes.
He was looking at about a dozen individuals. Crowded around his chair, under a single bright light, they were looking right back at him. Half were wearing red SG uniforms. They were huge, with strange weapons hanging from their belts, and skin that was also the color of blood. One of them was holding an atomic whip. A well-known favorite of torturers across the Galaxy, Zarex had already tasted the weapon three times — and was about to have a fourth. The other six figures were standing back in the murk. Zarex could barely see them. They were very short, half the size of the huge SG soldiers, and appeared to be wearing gray uniforms. It was impossible to see their faces, impossible to see anything more than shadows. But Zarex was sure at least a few of them were standing in the pools of vomit.
He was hit again with the atomic whip. This time across his throat. Then it came again. And again.
And again. Blood flowed into his eyes; he was half-blinded once more. His chair suddenly went horizontal. Now he was on his back, facing straight up. The light was shining directly above. A gaggle of probes dropped from the ceiling and began violating him in every orifice. Even while this was happening, he was hit by the atomic whip again. And again. And again.
He finally passed out; the pain was that intense. But even then, there was no relief. In his unconscious state he saw horrible little beings with large heads, huge eyes, and no mouths poking him, pinching him, sticking awful things into him. He tried to scream but couldn't. He tried to fight, but his arms would not move. The little beings were swarming all over him. The horror seemed like it would go on forever.
He woke from this nightmare somehow, only to find he'd been beaten with the whip even while unconscious. Judging by the burns and welts on his body, the flogging had gone on for several hours, even though in his experience lately, seconds seemed like eternities and an eternity could pass by in a second.
He was back sitting upright in the blood-sticky chair. He could not move now; he could barely see.
The room was darker but at the same time seemed to be glowing an even deeper bloodred. And twice as many figures were standing around him, most of them Solar Guards, again all dressed in red, with sickly crimson skin. They looked as demonic as he did angelic. The probes were gone, but now he seemed to
be held in place not by bonds but by the force of will of his tormentors. In a strange way, Zarex understood this.
One of these characters drew close to him now. This man stank; his body odor was overwhelming, his breath like a bilge trap. He was dirty and sweating and had an aura of disgust surrounding him.
"What do you want of me?" Zarex finally wailed, not out of pain but out of frustration.
"We want nothing from you except the pleasure of torture," the man hissed back at him. "There is no need to beat any information out of you. We already know what your cohorts are up to. We know their plans."
Zarex laughed in his smelly face. "That's a lie…"
"Is it?" the man asked back. "How so?"
Zarex didn't mince words. "Because only a handful of people within your reach know what is to take place, and they are all beyond reproach."
The man let out a horrible laugh. "You assume we have a spy in your midst? We are above such things. Look at us. Don't you think we can just look in on your friends anytime we want?"
"We are as powerful as you," Zarex shot back. "What protects us from you is that we are the exact opposite of you."
The smelly man laughed again; Zarex heard some gurgling noises coming from behind him.
"You are new at this game, as we once were," the man hissed at him again. 'Too bad for you."
Another crack of the atomic whip lashed Zarex across his face; it hurt tremendously. He decided to play their game.
"If you know what our plans are, then tell them to me," he said to the smelly one. "Prove you're not lying."
"You really doubt that we know?" his torturer asked.
"You cannot know," Zarex taunted him, "because you cannot read my mind. And you have not successfully captured any of my friends and made them talk. If you had, you wouldn't be bothering so much with me. So I dare you, then; tell me of our plans."
The smelly one laughed again, but this time it sounded like a shriek. He came up very close to Zarex's face.
"There is a point in space," he began in an ominous whisper. "It is inside the Two Arm, inside the Moraz Star Cloud, inside the No-Fly Zone. You simpletons have termed it Zero Point. You are very familiar with this place because it is where you so cleverly disappeared just before we were to drive the stake into you the first time. It is also where you reemerged when you foolishly decided to return to this side of things."