The Pathfinder Trilogy

by Todd Stockert

  “Captain Saou has no intentions of giving up this ship,” Vasten stated simply. “Even accounting for the damage from the supply ship on the starboard side, he believes that this vessel is far superior to the Pyrhh. Just a friendly warning,” he hissed under his breath. “Don’t start anything you can’t finish.” He glanced down briefly for a moment after noticing the green blood dripping from the bottom of the sack tied to Adam’s waist, but to his credit he didn’t say anything.

  The Mess Hall itself was filled with Zaketh, dozens of them. Adam counted at least eighty men, all of whom were armed to the teeth. Most of them had minor wounds of one kind or another, but were tough enough to shrug off those injuries at least temporarily, just long enough to hear what their Captain had to say. There were a lot of men present, even though it was obvious that the Pyrhh crew had taken heavy casualties. Adam took one swift look at the layout of the room, noting that it could easily become another bloodbath if he didn’t work carefully to avoid creating one.

  Accessing his tactical database, he requested information as to just where in the room gunfire would have to be minimized in order to avoid catching friendlies in the crossfire. The victorious Zaketh were cheering loudly, trying to maintain their positive mood after a heavy day of fighting. Some of them were seated while the rest stood in back, and it seemed obvious that their Captain was about to take advantage of their rowdy enthusiasm. Saou was a fairly large man, muscular like everyone else in the Wasteland, with graying hair and the beginning of wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. He spotted Snee Vasten talking to Adam and slowly made his way through the crowd, moving hurriedly to join the pair. Glancing cautiously over his shoulder, Adam jerked his chin sharply toward the hatch, letting his Crasel friends know that – for now at least – they should wait in the adjoining corridor. I don’t want them anywhere near what’s about to happen, he thought silently.

  “So you are the Crasel allies who managed to seize control of the engine room,” noted Captain Saou smoothly, looking Adam up and down carefully as he folded his arms somewhat defensively in front of him.

  He deliberately left out most of his own glaring errors during the past few hours, so Adam made the decision right then and there to call him out in front of his own soldiers. “I had no choice, he declared loudly,” cutting off the conversation of a half dozen officers surrounding them. “Your foolishness and greed led the Pyrhh into a trap. When it became clear that the supply ship was irrelevant and your own ship might fall, you ordered your soldiers to return to the Pyrhh to protect you.” More people in the room began falling silent as elbows nudged other elbows and more and more soldiers began to listen in. “By doing so, you left behind my Crasel friends and I – people you had only hours earlier sworn to serve honorably with.”

  Now, the room had quieted entirely and everyone was listening. They were also watching their Captain’s face redden in response to Adam’s words with growing anger.

  “That is your version of things,” the Captain snapped sharply. “Usually we airlock all survivors, so leaving you behind was in no way unusual.”

  “I see,” grunted Adam. “Your word to serve honorably therefore means nothing.”

  “That is not true,” snarled the Captain. “You would be wise to watch your tongue, or I’ll have it cut out.”

  “Where does Clan Yakiir get new ships and weapons, along with entire supply ships filled with food, ammunition and fresh water?” Adam asked curiously. “How are they overtaking the other clans in the Wasteland so easily? Have they established a foothold somewhere, in a solar system not yet destroyed? Or do they have even more resources than anyone suspects.”

  “That is something hopefully this ship and crew can tell us,” interjected Snee Vasten, doing his best to play the role of diplomat. He was looking sharply in rebuke at Adam, stunned that he had initiated a confrontation that could lead so easily to his immediate execution.

  “I do not fall for traps,” shouted Adam loudly, walking slowly away from Vasten and his Captain, slowly easing his tall frame toward the precise position that the tactical database indicated he should stand. “And I will not leave valuable soldiers unprotected, unfed or helpless. My job, now, will be to take control of this warship and serve with anyone honorable, anyone who wants to help me discover where the Yakiir have gained their foothold. Once we have done so, we will put an end to all of the nonsense, and move toward ending the wars in the Wasteland.”

  Leaving a room filled with almost a hundred armed men completely silent was a difficult thing to do, but that is exactly what Adam achieved for almost thirty seconds. Finally, Captain Saou glared at Adam heatedly and sneered angrily at him. “You can’t do any of those things,” he snapped accusingly. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I owe you nothing. This ship is mine to do with as I please. I led the attack and my soldiers took this vessel with minimum casualties. Victory belongs to the Zaketh!”

  There were several grunts and howls of approval. Adam waited until just before everyone else would have joined in the rousing cacophony of voices and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Your victory was achieved because the Crasel and I destroyed a shuttle filled with most of this ship’s officers and then crashed into the starboard hull, giving you an opportunity. Your victory was achieved because those very same Crasel warriors and I took over the engine room and shut down all power to the internal defensive systems. Had we not done this, your day would have ended in mass death and injury for all of your crew members. The Pyrhh would now be in Yakiir hands with most – if not all – of you dead.” He folded his arms sharply in front of him, mocking the Captain’s posture. “You may return to your ship along with those who still choose to serve you. I will stay here with my captured warship and look further into what the Yakiir are doing in their space.”

  The Captain acted fast – very fast – yanking his sidearm from its holster and raising the pistol toward Adam’s helmetless head. “You have NO authority here!” Saou howled with uncontrolled rage. “Insubordination can only be rewarded with death!” Two shots rang out, followed almost immediately by golden colorful fireworks as both of the expended shells impacted against Adam’s personal defenses and disintegrated in a spray of fire. The action occurred so swiftly and unexpectedly that everyone in the room again fell completely silent, all attention riveted on the two men standing at the front of the Mess Hall near the entrance to the kitchen.

  Adam moved his left arm outward, in what he hoped would look like a casual gesture to all who were watching. In reality, he triggered the release of a medium-sized energy pulse from the invisible wrist gun strapped to his forearm. The effect was astonishing to behold, appearing to those watching as though he simply waved his hand. In response, there was a loud, deafening CRACK that reverberated through the small Mess Hall. The Captain was blown backward, lifted completely off of his feet. He sailed across the room until his body thumped loudly against the far wall before slumping to the floor.

  Immediately the Captain’s personal bodyguards turned their rifles on Adam and opened fire. More golden showers of energy exploded against Adam’s defenses as the bullets rained in on him and simply exploded into useless fragments that were quickly consumed by the heat. And once again he appeared to gracefully wave his hands in a gentle gesture that sent both men spinning across the room with a second, even more deafening CRACK. They landed against the same wall, dropping heavily next to their Captain, both of them knocked completely senseless by the force of the impact.

  All of the Zaketh rose to their feet in response, howling at him and yelling and demanding to know what was going on. This was the point in his presentation that the tactical database had warned Adam to be careful about – the point where he tried to rally men to his cause from a man they already respected. In order for them to do so, the implant’s link cautioned, there needed to be a plausible reason for them to do so. No words alone, regardless of what they were, could accomplish what he needed to do. Not even a few unexpected stunts –
like the wrist guns that appeared to be acts of pure magic – would be enough. That was why he had taken a few minutes earlier to claim a heinous souvenir, even though the nausea was overwhelming, by going back into the cargo bay where the quashing missiles were stored.

  The cloth sack from his waist was already in his hands. Reaching in, he pulled out Bok’s severed head and held it up high above his own head, dark green blood still dripping from the veins inside its neck. The dog-like snout was curled back in a snarl that fully revealed the double row of sharp teeth, and its eyes still blazed a hellish orange and red. Holding the gruesome trophy aloft for all to see, his eyes drifted toward the far wall, where Captain Saou now looked up to stare at him with utter astonishment… and undeniable, white-faced fear.

  “Didn’t any of you notice that my uniform is stained with the blood of two species?” demanded Adam, carefully injecting fury into his tone of voice. “Didn’t you know that this thing was walking around, disguised as one of the Yakiir officers, whispering orders into the Captain’s ear?” He continued to hold Bok’s head high above him, insuring that everyone, now completely speechless, got a good, long look at it. “Perhaps these same types of creatures walk amongst the Zaketh too, disguised as lesser men and whispering lies to your Captains.” He smiled menacingly, shifting his gaze to the stupefied Captain Saou.

  “What in Mott’s name is that thing?” demanded someone from the crowd.

  “It was the true Captain of this ship,” Adam replied coolly, whipping the severed head furiously back and forth, sending its blood droplets flying across the room. Everywhere he looked, grown men cowered or flinched noticeably wherever the strange green ichor touched or came near them. He made certain to take full advantage of their poorly concealed supernatural fears. “I witnessed it counseling the Yakiir Captain in the starboard cargo bay. When he wouldn’t agree to its wishes, this beast killed him and feasted on his heart. I saw this with my own two eyes.” He pointed to the open hatch behind him. “Snee Vasten has dispatched soldiers to the starboard side of this vessel to capture the remaining Yakiir. Anyone who doubts me need only walk over there and look in the cargo bay. The rest of this demon’s body is still there, lying right where it fell when I killed it and sent its soul back to the underworld.”

  Bok’s head hung from the fingers of his left hand, so Adam raised his right and used its wrist gun to fire a high energy pulse into the wall above Saou’s head. Again the room was filled with the deafening CRACK of his primary weapon set to full intensity. The Pyrhh Captain was still seated on the floor, staring in shock at what he was seeing, along with all the others, still somewhat stunned from the blows he had received. He moved quickly however, upon watching the energy pulse blow an eighteen inch hole through the steel wall only inches above his head. Its edges were charred and small streams of white smoke wafted steadily upward as one of the bodyguards lifted himself to his feet and turned his head to look through it.

  “Are you a magic user?” another man asked him, the whites of his terrified wide eyes plainly visible.

  “I am an ALLY,” Adam countered forcefully, wishing to define his presence properly to these people right from the start and thereby minimize as much of their superstitious fear as possible. “I have access to resources that your clans do not, and many friends in powerful places far outside the Wasteland. I have come here because demons walk among you and aid the Yakiir. Someone must restore balance to this region of space and end the wars here. If we don’t do something, everyone but the Yakiir will be extinct within a decade.” He noticed the first nods of agreement with his statements as most of the soldiers conquered their initial fears. They were still visibly rattled, but the Yakiir’s sudden rise to power was no secret anywhere in the Wasteland. Everyone knew of them, knew what they were doing, and everyone had lost many they cared about to Yakiir attacks. Most of them, in fact, had thought they themselves would die only hours earlier.

  “How do you know it is a demon?” asked the same man who had spoken earlier.

  Adam lowered Bok’s head far enough so that the people in the front rows of the tables lining the Mess Hall could inspect it more closely. He was holding it by one of its horns, the skin of which had transformed into a flesh tone that closely matched the skin on Adam’s hand. “Can a normal man or beast do this?” he asked them in response. Moving closer to the open hatch, he held the Kuth head in front of the wall, less than an inch from its surface, hearing the cries of awe and astonishment as the head swiftly changed color in response, matching the color and texture of the gray steel. A line of rivets passing behind the forehead area was also replicated, giving the head a camouflaged appearance that so precisely matched the wall it would have been almost completely invisible if those watching had not already known it was there.

  “I bear no ill will toward your Captain, despite how he has treated the very Crasel he allied himself with,” Adam continued confidently. “Captain Saou is welcome to return to the Pyrhh and go his separate way, taking with him as many soldiers as he needs to guide that vessel safely back to Zaketh territory.” He paused poking a sharp finger toward the deck flooring beneath his boots for added emphasis. “But this ship needs to stay here and continue to explore Yakiir territory. I am the one who has defeated this demon, and I am the one who can safely discover the remaining secrets of their clan. Those who would choose to join me on this quest are most welcome to do so.” Without another word, he tossed Bok’s head on the table next to him and turned, leaving behind a Mess Hall filled with angry, suddenly shouting soldiers.

  Why don’t you give them one of your impressive speeches now, Saou? He pondered the matter silently with a distinct note of satisfaction, wondering if the Captain would risk trying to do just that.

  *

  Snee Vasten found Adam in the engine room less than an hour later, working with the computers and attempting to access critical functions. It bothered the hardware specialist that he couldn’t locate key information that he wanted additional details on – apparently the only work stations that would allow that kind of data retrieval were located in the ship’s Command Center. I’m not ready yet to restore full power to this ship, Adam sighed inwardly, resigning himself to the fact that additional answers would have to wait. He noticed Vasten enter the chamber, watched closely by Janney Stox and Arte Kasik. Shutting down the console he had been working with, Adam’s eyes met Vasten’s.

  “Captain Saou would like to speak with you for a moment,” reported the Zaketh with a wide grin. “He claims to be ready to accede to your demands.” Adam harrumphed in response, causing Vasten to shrug helplessly. “Hey, how am I supposed to know what the man is thinking?” he asked. “He might be sincere…”

  “Where are the Yakiir survivors?” queried Adam curiously.

  “We locked them all in the starboard cargo bay just like you instructed,” Vasten told him. “The stink in that bay is one I will not soon forget, and part of it looks like a human butcher shop.”

  “I’m counting on that,” Adam nodded with a smile. “I had to smell it so they should too. And I wanted them to get a really good look at the thing that their Captain has been taking orders from. After an hour or so in there, at least some of them will undoubtedly be willing to change their allegiances. Their officers have been keeping some nasty secrets from them.”

  “What about the Yakiir still aboard the two shuttles? Essentially, we’ve left them stranded out there.”

  Adam thought about that point intently for a moment. “Right before this ship and the Pyrhh initiate a Point-to-Point transit to a new location, we’ll send out a distress call from the Command Center. Eventually, someone will show up to claim them.”

  “It might not be the Yakiir who do so,” observed Vasten. “You’ve got a bit of a mean streak.” His expression soured as he studied Adam curiously. “You’ve really raised some doubts among my men,” he stated bluntly. “They’re wondering whether or not more of those things are running around among our crew.”

>   “So far, I haven’t noticed any,” Adam replied crustily. He glanced toward Big Cren Hollis while walking slowly with Vasten toward the port exit. “No one comes in here for the time being and all power remains off,” he instructed firmly, tapping the transceiver in his ear for emphasis. “Just give me a ‘head’s up’ if someone tries anything… unwise.”

  “Count on it,” grunted Hollis, flashing Snee Vasten a glowering smile.

  The first thing Adam noticed soon after was that Captain Saou appeared to have gained control of his emotions since their last encounter. He immediately labeled the observation as cause for concern. Saou smiled warmly and even put an arm around Adam’s right shoulder as he and Vasten arrived back at the Mess Hall. “Walk with me Adam Roh,” the Captain oozed coolly. “We have much to talk about.”

  “I’m going to need at least an entire armed company to supplement the thinned out Yakiir crew,” decided Adam pleasantly, watching Saou struggle mightily to contain his inner fury.

  Carefully hidden perhaps, but the anger is still there.

  “That… is quite a lot of men,” decided the Pyrhh’s commander. “I don’t know if I can spare so many.”

  “It’s not nearly as many as you would have lost if I hadn’t fired up the engines on that supply shuttle,” retorted Adam more crassly than he probably should have. He matched the Captain’s malevolent smile with one of his own. “I’ll tell you what… we have plenty of armor and brand new rifles over here on the warship. I’ll just take a company of men and we’ll call everything even.”

  Snee Vasten cringed noticeably at Adam’s behavior, his former attempt to play diplomat fully on hold this time around. He hadn’t said a word throughout the entire conversation. On his inner eyeball, Adam watched a warning appear on the HUD display, cautioning him that he was in extreme danger. Curious, he submitted a request to the tactical database and asked for a rating on a scale from 1 to 100. He was not at all surprised to see the red blinking number ‘95’ appear less than ten seconds later. Glancing around, he noticed that – other than the three of them – the surrounding corridor appeared to be completely empty. The Captain was about to move through an open hatchway, but paused long enough to smile wryly and wave Adam through first. Curious to find out just what was going on, Adam went ahead and complied.