StarFlight: The Prism Baronies (Beyond the Outer Rim Book 2)

by Reiter

  “Is it just me or did that give you a shiver?” he asked J’Raldri who shook her head ‘no’.

  “Not as much as the name the Great Mother has given him. What of his advice?”

  “That one’s easy,” Isaiah answered. “Sound the silent High Alert!”

  ** b *** t *** o *** r **

  A big, bright smile was stretched across Adleon’s face as he walked out of the administrator’s office. He looked at his wrist and how the Imperial Seal sparkled; pale in comparison to his prideful grin. He pumped his fist once into the air and then started running. He hurdled a few shrubs and a couple of hover-cars on his way off the grounds and into the city, losing his false smile the moment he was beyond the gates.

  His pace of transit only increased when he walked out on to the open streets, bustling with people of various strides of life. Adleon managed to weave in and out of the foot traffic without running into anyone as he made his way down the boulevard to the transit station. From there he rode the air-rail to the other side of the megaplex. The station where he exited the tram was visibly different from the one he had left, in need of new paint, new light bulbs, and in some cases, new fixtures. That grade of condition continued as he strolled out on the street amidst the many apartment buildings and warehouses. This was nothing like the scene around the Temple, but more like the area of the city where Adleon had been born. It was getting dark and fairly windy; he was outside the environmental shield and he could feel the less than honorable intentions of six young people who had chosen larceny as their means of dealing with despair. Adleon Veej could understand their perspective, but he could not condone their resolution. Still, he had pressing matters to see to, and it was all too simple to reach into their minds and have them think of something they would rather be doing. As they started exercising, making a contest as to who could do the most handstand push-ups, Adleon turned up the long sidewalk into the orphanage. The front doors were unlocking and opening before he had reached them and he smiled at Nurse Porodee as she welcomed him, quickly ushering him inside.

  “We weren’t expecting you until the morning,” she smiled, kissing the young man on the cheek.

  “I received some pretty good news today and I wanted to share it with the others,” Adleon admitted. “Is that alright?”

  “Don’t be silly!” the kind woman said, waving off his concern. “Of course it’s okay. The kids are just going to light up to see that you’re here. I’m just glad you showed up after dinner.”

  “If it is all the same to you, I’ll just wait for them in the attic.”

  Nurse Porodee nodded and Adleon made his way to the stairway. He was halfway into his six-story climb when he stopped on the landing with a cross look on his face. He had missed something and it had taken a good length of time to realize the problem.

  “I saw the smile on Porodee’s face,” he thought. “… but I didn’t feel her elation! Was I simply too preoccupied with my own elation for being awarded the status of Chevalier?” he considered as he extended his senses, feeling absolutely nothing! “… or am I being blocked?!”

  “Is there a problem, Chevalier?!” Adleon looked up to see Racidio standing on the top floor. The smile carved so deeply into the young man’s face as he glared down on Adleon shook the newly promoted Temple man, which was exactly the reaction he was hoping to receive as he revealed that he had already drawn his weapon. Quickly aiming, Racidio’s eyes flared as he pulled the trigger. “Die, traitor!” he screamed.

  “Don’t!” Adleon cried out as he swung his hand across the path of the laser bolt, slapping it into the wall. Racidio’s cold and evil smile gave way to shock. Adleon was also surprised by the outcome and he looked at his hand. There was slight bruising at the center of the palm, but nothing of what he should have seen in the way of damage. “It worked!” Adleon muttered as he looked back at Racidio who was firing a second shot, this one was easily dodged and Adleon started running up the stairs. He streaked up half a flight of stairs before he stopped, feeling a surge of energy coming from the bottom of the stairway. Adleon looked down to see a gravity pad forming, and Racidio was jumping down the middle of the shaft.

  “No!” Adleon whispered as he set his feet and cleared his mind. Using telekinesis to augment his actions, Adleon jumped across the shaft, landing a solid flying kick to Racidio’s chest. His back slammed against the banister and bounced off. Adleon landed on the gravity cushion as the anti-gravity field encapsulated his body and brought him down for a gentle landing. Racidio collided with the concrete floor and Adleon could hear bones breaking… one of them might have been his neck!

  “Nice moves, son.” Adleon looked up to see a man walking down the middle of the corridor. It was Master Surshad, clad in clothing more suited for fighting than talking. The well-known Endowment Ethos Northerner took slow, deliberate strides. “They say it is a more fitting death when you do not die alone! You have seen to that. Now let me see to you!”

  “What is the meaning of this?!” Adleon shouted, looking for a means of escape.

  “Is that the way you wish to play this out?” Surshad asked. “Very well. It is, after all, your death. You should have some say in how it comes about. You have been accused of teaching against your sworn Temple standing. Upon investigation, we found this orphanage where you decided to hide your little class.”

  “It’s only been five days!” Adleon thought, recalling the effort he had taken to carefully observe and recruit who he thought would be fitting students. They had only exercised one full period of meditation, but Adleon had been amazed at what eager minds could achieve.

  “Don’t worry, we’ve already taken care of all eleven students. They’re waiting for you in the Next Stride, son.”

  “You killed them?!” Adleon shouted, using his anger to shield his thoughts. “Animal!” He reached to his side and removed the housing for his En-Blade. Closing the circuit, only sparks flew from the end of the device.

  “And you enter the field of battle with an untested weapon,” Surshad said, shaking his head. “Better to be an animal than a damn fool, eh?

  “And don’t think for a moment I didn’t notice your reaction to the number I stated. So, there were more than eleven. I thought that one… Dovl was his name, I think… he was a bit too eager for my tastes. Now it seems that he was hiding something after all.

  “Kill the woman,” Surshad commanded, shouting over his shoulder. Porodee protested, but not for long before gunfire silenced her. Adleon reached for his brace-com and activated it.

  “Now how did you manage that?”

  “Much like how I managed this!” Adleon hissed, hurling a MannA bolt down the corridor. It was smaller than a fist and easily deflected by a quickly drawn En-Blade, but the burst blinded Surshad from Adleon’s approach and the heels of his boots pounded against the Master Chevalier’s jaw. As the Chevalier flew back from the attack, the veil blocking Adleon dissipated. The building was surrounded by Magistrates, commando Magistrates – which were called Interstellar Angels – and at least three additional Master Chevaliers… but that was not all he could detect. There were two small souls posing well as shadows, but their fear would soon increase and give away their presence and position.

  In a simultaneous action, Adleon brought Surshad’s weapon to his hand as he removed and threw his brace-com and necklace into the stairway. They never landed on the floor, but instead ascended to the top floor where a pair of eager hands took hold of them, putting the brace-com on one slender arm as the necklace wrapped the other’s neck. Once the connection was made, an exercise of ThoughtWill – which had been stored in the brace-com – was activated and the two souls were away.

  Adleon ducked low under a lightning fast attack from Surshad whose fist shattered the wall when it passed over Adleon’s head. A force beam from Adleon’s free hand thrust Surshad’s face into what remained of the wall.

  “Come with me brother,” Adleon said as stepped forward into a swing, removing the stunned Master Che
valier’s head. “The Grey Realm awaits us all.”

  The blade of light receded back into its housing and Adleon braced himself, feeling so many minds attempting to seize control of his. The young Chevalier had already been struck blind and he was beginning to go deaf. He dropped to his knees, knowing he did not have long before the powerful minds would rip through what remained of his defenses.

  “Dungias, protect her!” he pleaded softly. He was sad, and he was crying… not out of pain… but out of rage.

  “I failed your wisdom, Z… but JoJo is cloaked in it. See that woman to her fate!” As the suggestions to recall each student in his class grew in strength, Adleon focused his thoughts on Dovl, placing the emission port of the En-Blade under his chin. The images started to crack when he closed his eyes and activated the weapon.

  ** b *** t *** o *** r **

  Dungias cleared his throat before speaking. “Wakey, wakey!” he said as he nudged Amosse with Alpha. The young man jumped, nearly coming up off the floor by sheer will alone. Amosse rolled over and scurried to his feet, looking at the squatting Traveler as he tried to gather himself. He reached to his shoulder and gasped when his hand did not grasp the strap of his bag. “No, the bag is not there,” Dungias clarified. “In fact, the bag never existed. I have never made a bag to operate like the holding pockets on your weapons belt. Sorry, the weapons belt.”

  Amosse looked down at the same time his hands reached for his belt. His hands could not grasp what was not there for his eyes to see. He then put his hand to his hip and felt a projectile pistol in a holster that had been clipped to a regular and very non-Z belt.

  “On the other side of your hip, you will find two clips, at their maximum capacity, ready to be loaded into the gun and fired. I put your knife at the rear of the belt and one throwing knife in either boot. You will find that the wrist-com is already linked with the computer here at Black Gate.”

  “Black Gate?!” Amosse repeated as he looked around. The looks of things, and the incredible stench, he was not anywhere near the university campus. They were up high, on the scaffolding of a large advertising display, in between the main power units and the display screen.

  “To be up this high and still have the smell,” Amosse thought as tried to see the ground level. There was too much smoke and steam to allow a clear view. Amosse tapped the side of his head only to find his goggles had also been removed. Dungias held up a slender rectangular box.

  “The closest I could come was safety glasses,” he offered.

  “What is going on here, Z?!” Amosse shouted.

  “I think I have had enough of you yelling at me,” Dungias said as he stood up.

  “I’m sorry,” Amosse said quickly, patting the air with his hands. “I am so sorry.”

  “Yes, I believe you are, Amosse,” Dungias agreed. “But allow me to give you what will amount to the last of my assistance to you, as you have only one possible means to be of any assistance to me.

  “Don’t bother begging,” Dungias directed. “It will simply be a waste of time and energy. You’re going to need every bit of both, for your life is on the line tonight, Amosse… and I am betting against you!

  “By now you realize that the past few days of your adventure have been an ongoing, interactive simulation,” Dungias said. “You did not really liberate the MannA Keys. You did not manage to use one of the Keys to destroy me, though I took note of how quickly you initiated action toward that objective. You also did not teleport to NayFall and receive asylum from the Olasson.

  “While I will talk to Satithe later on some of her programming decisions, I will say that the expediency and hostility you demonstrated in directing the power of the Keys at my Captain is one of the reasons why I believe I am talking to a dead man!” The glare that Dungias directed at Amosse left no question as to how he felt about the young man.

  “You can’t be serious,” Amosse mumbled.

  Dungias shook his head in disbelief and shrugged his shoulders. “I can now conclude you have chosen to ignore my first directive; that pseudo declaration and inquiry comes very close to begging, Amosse. You have never known me to be one who engages in pranks, and you would have to admit the Bowels of Black Gate would be a poor place to start such a trend.”

  “Why don’t you just kill me then?!” Amosse screamed before lunging at the Traveler.

  The right overhand punch was filled with rage, and fear, and very little technique. It would have been easy to sweep across the wrist and force the punch to go wide of its intended target. There was, however, all too good a chance the power behind the blow would take Amosse off the scaffolding and down to the street far below. A fall from that height would have been fatal, and Dungias was not yet ready to let him die. Alpha was swung to smack down on the quickly approaching knuckles, and Dungias heard two of the fingers break from the collision.

  “Because I am not interested in showing you any mercy,” Dungias said calmly before thrusting Alpha lightly into Amosse’s chest. The man took in air to yell again, but nothing save compressed air came out of his mouth. “It is amazing that if the vocal chords are not allowed to vibrate, you cannot speak.” Dungias turned as he spoke, looking toward the streets below. He could feel Amosse weighing his options and it took a few moments for the young man to convince himself that attacking Dungias a second time would not yield him anything useful. As he came to that point of clarity, he could hear the sound of voices, a good number of voices, shouting as they drew closer. It sounded like a mob!

  “Impressions,” Dungias said softly. “They can be used as a most fascinating tool. Take for example the impression I gave a particular man of power in this community. You see, he has lost something very valuable to him, I gave him video records of you stealing said item, followed by the promise that I could track you down and…” Dungias fired off a flare from Alpha, “… signal him!

  “The zip-line, which you will find at the end of the scaffolding behind you, will take you approximately three hundred meters to a rooftop where you will find a parked sky-bike,” Dungias spoke slowly as he looked at his brace-com. “… by now, it no longer has the power to reach the main lift shaft, but it does have the speed and power to liberate you from the immediate area. I would wish you well, Amosse, but I see no reason to be disingenuous.”

  Amosse did not wait for another word. He leaned into his best sprint. He jumped and grabbed hold of the handle for the zip-line. The catch holding the apparatus in place was released and Amosse started down the line. He could hear the yelling voices fading behind him as well as a few desperate gunshots.

  “I am going to live through this, Z!” he silently vowed. “And then I’m coming after you and the Keys!”

  “Z!” Brattle called up to him from his hover-car. “Was that ‘im?”

  “Aye,” Dungias answered, “… and from my scans, he has your data bin on his person!” Dungias watched as the short man signaled the commencement of the chase. He dropped down into his seat as his driver throttled up on the hover-car.

  “Remind me to never get on your bad side,” CK stated.

  “That is not an option that exists for you or your saytrah,” Dungias replied as he reached back and drew the hood of his cloak over his head. “Do you have a location on the three targets?”

  “You mean at the risk of making you mad if I don’t?” CK jested. “You better believe I do. Uploaded to your goggles.” Dungias smiled at the subtle hint as his goggles formed over his eyes. A three dimensional map formed over the landscape he was looking at, and a blinking arrow pointed to his left. Turning in that direction could see a target marking the location of what he sought.

  “They have not moved,” Dungias commented.

  “And the guard at their location has been tripled,” CK informed. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get on the telnet and signal Jocasta?”

  “You have enough to do looking after Satithe,” Dungias replied as he leaned forward into a run. “Besides, I think it is time for Z to have
some fun!”

  “Uh, did I just hear you right?” Dungias chuckled as he dove off the scaffolding and glided on the wind. “Okay, never mind, we’ll get into this later… you’re in BAM!” Dungias laughed as he turned away from his target and dropped to near street level, gaining speed and finding something of a jet stream. His laughter echoed off the close walls of the buildings and through the dark alleys. “Seriously in bad ass mode!”

  “Who brought ‘im down?” Brattle asked as he stepped out of his hover-car with his Rod of Correction in his hand. The wrought iron club was the scepter of rule in these parts of the Bowels. It had seen many masters and logged many great feats. It had even blocked the En-Blade of a Temple Chevalier once… before the arms of that master were removed by that same weapon. Now, it belonged to Simmons Brattle and, being a metal worker, he had added to the greatness of the club by wiring it with power lines. He kept the battery under his jacket and electricity sparked as he dragged the club along the ground as he walked. He kept his eyes on the young man who had a body pinning each limb and a fifth man who held on tightly to two handfuls of hair.

  “He brought himself down,” one of the men reported. “That sky-bike is for shit!”

  “Take it to Mission n-way,” Brattle ordered. “See if that freak can do anythin’ wif it.”

  “You got it, Brattle,” the man said before he turned to retrieve the downed vehicle, signaling for three men to follow him.

  Amosse looked up long enough to see Brattle. He had stopped struggling and started laughing. His overhand right had finally landed on someone and managed to deck the first of the people who had reached him. The punch had taken too much time and power, as Z had told him time and time again, and he stumbled after landing it. The steps he had taken to regain his balance left him open to a flying drop kick. The slender girl might have looked like she was starving, but she knew how to hit.

  She had also been quicker than Amosse to get up from their collision. He was not quite up when he had swung up for her face. She side-stepped the punch and drove the sole of her boot into his ribs. Her fist had hammered down on the back of his head and Amosse had not been given the opportunity to get up from that moment.