Hubard pressed the ‘on’ button with his elbow, and nodded that it was okay for Cherish to speak. Her voice came out a little louder than intended at first. With the new upgrades, even some of her typical functions had to be adjusted. It was nothing she couldn’t modulate on her own. “Hello, Cierra! I assure you that I’m doing better than ever. Hubard gave me some upgrades!” She gushed about her internal changes the way some of the women in the Souk twittered over new shoes. The jovial tones she used were clearly meant to put Cierra at ease.
“I’m so glad to hear your voice!” Cierra’s voice cracked when she spoke. “I wish I—”
“Ahem!” Hubbard cleared his voice huskily, to pause the conversation.
The automated voice overhead chimed, as Seneca walked back into the sickbay, followed by Danthois. The two of them were talking in hushed tones. Hubard was able to catch one phrase: “He’s in there.”
As they approached Hojae’s room, the door slid open. Danthois stood erect with his arms tucked behind his back. “Senator Philo would like to see you now.”
“I suppose it’s my turn for questioning then?” The Josti slid off of the metal table he was on and cracked the knuckles on all four of his hands.
“Follow me.” Danthois stepped aside, and waited for Hojae to emerge from the room. The three men exited through the sickbay doors.
Hubard waited until they were out of earshot. “I guess they still haven’t pinned down the traitor yet.”
“I was able to catch some of what they were saying before they came in. Gyrra was questioned for several hours. While they find it suspicious that she was the only one that survived, Philo was unable to find anything incriminating. Gyrra wasn’t even with the Brotherhood when the Grand Council became suspicious that there was a spy in the organization.” Cherish reported what had been too hushed for the rest of her team to hear.
“I can’t imagine losing everyone at once like that.” Cierra’s voice sounded wistful. “It was hard enough losing Yareck, and now Kurga. Do you think they were afraid at the end? I know that’s something we don’t really talk about, but every time we go out, we may not come back. At least they weren’t alone at the end.”
“What do you mean?” Makram’s voice joined hers over the speaker.
“Hojae was with Yareck when he was shot. Kurga was in the cockpit with the other when the ship went down.”
“Wait.” Something clicked in Makram’s head. “Hojae was the only one with Yareck when he died. No one else saw it happen, or saw the body. Hojae was also the only one on Turtiez for several days, before the rest of us got there. That would have been plenty of time to fill in the Yasta about our mission. Then he just happens to escape from the guards, when we are about to be thrown out of the air lock?”
Hubard could see where his line of thought was going. “You don’t think…”
“Yes, unfortunately, I do.” Makram bolted from Cierra’s room. “How could I have been so stupid?”
“Wait!” The commander paused only long enough for Hubard to toss something through the air. “You may need this.”
From under the table where he had been performing maintenance on Cherish, Hubard unsheathed a lasana blade. With a skilled hand, Makram caught the blade by the hilt. He nodded his thanks. Being without a weapon had made him feel naked. Now that he was armed again, there was going to be hell to pay.
The sickbay doors registered the chip, and opened easily to let him pass. His footsteps pounded down the hallway and echoed into the distance. A body was slumped up ahead. Danthois. Makram jabbed his finger against the cyborg’s neck to check for a pulse. He was still alive–just. Making a mental note to send help back for his fallen comrade, Makram continued running. Hojae couldn’t have gotten far.
Gyrra was pressed against the bars of the holding cell. She called out to him, “It’s the Josti! He knocked out Danthois, and took off towards the docking bay!”
“You had him! You had him in your custody, and you let that Yasta scum get away!” Makram bellowed, as Philo exited an interrogation room
Philo puffed his chest out defensively at Makram. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Hojae! Hojae is the traitor! He took out Danthois, and now he’s escaping!”
“Over my dead body!” Senator Philo set his jaw, and charged down the passageway that led to the reception chamber and out to the docking bay. “All the ships seem to be accounted for. I’m not pulling up any recent departures in the past hour. He has to be close by.”
“If the ships are all still here, he had to have found another way out.”
“The base is underwater! How else is he going to get out? Unless he has developed the ability to hold his breath for an extremely extended period of time—and trust me, if he had we would have known about it.” Philo scoffed under his breath.
“All due respect, Senator, but he was a Yasta spy, and you didn’t know about that. So, forgive me if I’m not too keen on trusting you right now.”
“Me? The man was on your team!” Philo’s face turned red with anger. Suddenly, something lit up in his eyes. “No. Oh, please, no!”
“What is it?” Makram watched Philo rush over to a cargo ship with its back hatch open. The senator pounded his fist on the side of the cargo ship. “This was loaded with Relissarium. Now it’s empty!”
Makram put his hands on his head, and looked up in exasperation. That’s when he saw it. The apex of the dome was no longer covered by water. On top of that, there was a hatch that had been flung open. “Gotcha.”
Following Makram’s gaze, Philo saw the hatch. He rushed over to the lift. The cables from the elevator had been slashed with a lasana blade. “This is hours of major repairs! We don’t have that long before the tide comes back. We have to get the hatch closed and the lift back up and working before the next shipment comes through.” Philo rushed off, swearing and murmuring about getting more men.
There was no time to lose. Makram quickly searched the area. There had to be something! From the corner of his eye, he spotted a jetpack in one of the ships. Strapping the jetpack on, he climbed onto the ship’s hull. One of his hands clung to the rungs spaced up the side of the ship. The other one clutched the lasana blade that Hubard had given him in the sickbay. His shoes slipped against the metal that had not yet dripped dry. Makram felt his stomach bottom out. Hanging by one hand, he managed to scramble, until his feet were once again firmly on the rungs.
The top of the cargo ship was close to the open hatch, but it was still out of jumping range. If he was going to trust his life to a jetpack he had just found, he would much rather depend on it for as short a distance as possible. Makram positioned himself under the open hatch. Finding the ignition control on the jetpack, Makram prepared himself for the sudden upward thrust. It never came.
“Oh, come on!” Makram smacked the steering rod. Part of him briefly considered running back to get Cherish, but his pride nixed that. It was his fault that Hojae had been on the loose as long as he had. If anyone was going to bring him to justice, it was going to be Makram.
Fiddling with the controls some more resulted in a sickly sputtering from the engine. Makram smacked the pack around a little more. He only needed it to work for a short while. The guttural rumbling of a poorly maintained jet pack sounded like music to his ears. In circling swoops, Makram made the ascent towards the hatch. A firm kick of his shoe after he cleared the rim forced the hatch back down into position. He heard the hiss as it pressurized. Over the surface of the water was a tower built into the top of the dome.
The air around the tower and the dome shimmered like a mirage. From outside the field, it would appear to be empty. No doubt to someone who had never been inside, it would look like any other empty fly zone. The field would guide the ships and aircraft around the area as if a strong wind was blowing it around. Ships manned by the Brotherhood were all equipped with technology that allowed them to pass inside unharmed. It protected the base and the Brotherhood. Towards the top
of the tower, Makram spotted a platform where a fleet of monowheel-aquacopters were perched. If Hojae was able to leave the base in one of the Brotherhood’s crafts, it would give the Yasta a golden ticket to one of the best-hidden bases the Carbonari had left. That was not a risk Makram was willing to take. Whatever it took, he had to make sure Hojae never left the base.
The wind buffeted him, and made him turn sharply to avoid being dashed against the tower. Almost to the top of the tower, Makram spotted Hojae climbing, very quickly. Another gust of wind threatened to blow the jetpack and its pilot off course. He was barely making any progress. With one determined swallow, Makram killed the engine.
Seven
The wind screamed in his ears. Makram clutched at the rungs as his body fell victim to the pull of gravity again. His heart jumped to his throat. Clinging to the rungs, he could feel the metal sway in the breeze. The hinges creaked under the force of the unrelenting gales. It made his stomach churn. Makram made the mistake of looking down. He was about halfway up the tower. Beneath him, waves crashed angrily.
Makram closed his eyes, and summoned his inner strength. Deep inside of him was a well of calm, like the eye of a storm. Makram clung to it. He opened his eyes, and began his climb once more, with renewed vigor, hand over hand. He was a man spurred on by loss, and vengeance. There would be justice for his men, for the Brotherhood, for everyone the Yasta had brought down in cold blood.
Makram heard a curse word from up above. One look up showed a laser gun plummeting towards him. Makram deftly caught the falling weapon, and tucked it into the waistband of his pants. Hojae had seen that he was being followed, and would clear the lip of the platform in a matter of seconds. Makram had to go faster. Much faster. He could feel the rungs rubbing blisters into his palm, but he fought through the pain. Overhead, an engine whirled to life. Hojae had made it to the mono-wacs docked above.
Makram could almost reach the platform. He steadied himself, and lunged upwards and out, on a leap of faith. For a brief moment, he hung there, caught between life and death. He instinctively tuned into his inner calm again.
Makram’s hand gripped the edge. The pressure blanched his fingers white. Makram heaved himself up, and swung his leg over, until he was able to wriggle onto the platform. Ripping the laser from his waistband, he took aim, and blasted the charging airwheel. The copter dropped back down to the platform. Black smoke billowed angrily from its midsection. Hojae roared with frustration, and pulled out a lasana blade. Makram took aim again. This time, he wasn’t pulling any punches. The laser’s scope lined up a deadly shot on Hojae’s chest. Somehow, the Josti blocked the shots with his blade, as though he already knew where they would land.
“Is that the best you’ve got, Makram? There isn’t any practice sword here. There’s no helm to hide behind. Do you think you can take me? Even Theo smashed your head in when you tried to show him up in training, and he’s just a puppy!” Hojae tossed the blade back and forth between his top two hands, taunting Makram.
Makram shoved the laser back into his waistband, and raised his sword. He wasn’t going to let Hojae get inside his head. “Are we going to talk, or are we going to fight?”
“Do you know why you were chosen to be the next commander? It’s not because you were the best. It’s because you were the easiest to control. That’s why the Council chose you. You’re nothing but their little pawn. They send your team in like fodder for the fire, and you’re so high strung on the moral fictions they feed you that you don’t even bat an eye. You don’t think for yourself. That’s why you’re so perfect for them. I don’t want to kill you, Makram. You’re like a little flea, always jumping for the chance to die for your beliefs. It’s a sad existence really. On second thought, maybe I should put you out of your misery, huh? Just like I did for Yareck.”
The last sentence was the final straw. Blind fury drove his blade upwards, to counter Hojae’s incoming swipe. The two traded blow after blow. Sparks flew when the lasana blades collided. The tower beneath them roiled and swayed in the wind. Their footwork was a deadly dance. Makram barely dodged an attack aimed at his knees. Hojae swapped hands, making Makram change tactics slightly. It was a move he had seen used before in training, but seeing it and going up against it were two different things. Makram managed to parry, but the move caused him to move closer to the edge than he would have liked. His balance faltered. Makram’s arms flailed over the sides trying to save himself, but it was no use.
The second before he fell, Makram felt Hojae’s hands wrap around his wrists. He was fully aware that the only thing keeping him from falling was the Josti’s grip. “Why draw it out? Just kill me already!” Makram barked at his former friend.
“Oh, did you think I was saving you?” Hojae laughed in his face. His grip on Makram’s sword hand tightened until the lasana blade clattered to the platform they were standing on. “Say hello to Yareck for me.” Hojae shoved Makram backwards with one, powerful thrust.
Makram felt the world rush past him as he plummeted backwards off of the platform. In one fleetingly brilliant moment, his hand found the control for the jetpack. He dared not to hope, but by some miracle the engine sputtered to life. Guiding himself back toward the rungs on the tower, Makram once more grabbed on and began to climb.
This time, when he reached the top, he saw Hojae’s puzzled expression as he leaned over the edge, twenty feet away, looking for Makram’s body. The Josti’s cackling laughter stopped as he heard the laser charge. Makram had pulled it from his waistband and once more aimed it at Hojae. The blast landed squarely between his shoulders. There was a sickening sizzle and burst of flame. Then Hojae fell over the edge.
One slow step after another, Makram made his way to the edge of the tower. He watched as Hojae’s body was devoured by the crashing waves below. Orange blood billowed in swirling clouds, against the azure water.
Makram’s knees collapsed underneath him. His shoulders shook with rage and relief as he finally allowed all the grief and stress inside of him to emerge in a howl of despair. A light rain dripped down from the sky and melted into the tears on his cheeks. It was done. The traitor was gone.
Eight
Theo stirred. Above him, bland lights bathed him in a slightly blue glow. He took a deep breath, and cursed as pain shot through his chest. Broken ribs. With a groan, he lifted his head and looked around. He appeared to be in some sort of bedroom, but the lack of color and the faint smell of antiseptic reminded him of the medical chambers back home.
His eyes rested on a head of tousled hair resting on the edge of his bed. Cierra had fallen asleep in a chair beside him. Her arms formed a pillow on the side of his bed. Theo smiled softly to himself, and reached over to brush a few locks of hair out of her face. Even though his touch was light, her green eyes fluttered open. It took her a moment to realize where she was and what she was doing.
“Hey.” She rubbed her eyes with her palms. “How are you feeling?”
“Like hell.” Theo tried to sit up, but winced and laid back down.
“Take it easy. You’ve been out for a few days.”
“Days?!”
Cierra grabbed a pouch of water and a straw. She punctured the pouch, and handed it over. “Drink this. It has some electrolytes and vitamins in it. It’ll help you feel better faster. Our ship crashed before we even made it to the base. They sent a recovery team to collect us, but most of us were hurt pretty bad. Kurga didn’t make it.”
“Oh.” Theo appeared stunned, for a long moment. “Is everyone else okay?”
“For the most part.” Cierra blushed, and scooted her chair away from him a little. She could feel his eyes checking her for any wounds. Her reaction made her feel silly. It was what any concerned teammate would do. It meant nothing. She cleared her throat, and continued filling him in. “They found the spy.”
“Who was it?”
“Hojae. Makram managed to beat him in a duel. He killed Hojae. The Council managed to find the body fairly quickly after the inci
dent. Seneca was wanting to try a new technology that might be able to extract memories. From what Hubard told us, the technology is still very controversial, and they aren’t even sure if it will work on a subject that is technically braindead. They were going to let Seneca try with the spy, but since Makram got to him first, the doctor had to try to salvage what he could from the remains. Hubard said it can only show the subject’s impressions of the facts, and should not be viewed as absolute truth. He was also concerned about how the tech would translate the memories of different species. I get the feeling that Seneca was developing it behind Hubard’s back.”
“What is it? There’s something else, isn’t there?” Theo was getting better at being able to read Cierra’s facial expressions.
She wasn’t sure if she was flattered or annoyed that he was able to pick up on her underlying hesitation. “Back on Relisse, right before the bomb went off, I thought I saw something. Hubard thinks it was just a trick of my mind, but I’m not so sure.”
“Well, what do you think you saw?”
“I…I think I saw the Yasta use the Relissarium as some sort of cloaking device. I know it sounds odd, but the more I think about it, the more I think that there is more to this new mineral than we know. It was like they were there one moment and gone the next. What if the Yasta have already found new applications that we haven’t discovered yet? What could we possibly be going up against now? I just…I don’t want to lose anyone else.”
Her voice broke. Theo grabbed her arm and pulled her close to him. He wrapped one arm around her head and buried her face into his chest. The closeness made her feel safe, but she soon became aware of her heartbeat. It was racing. She told herself it was because she couldn’t breathe with her nose and mouth covered up like that. Cierra pushed away from him. At first, he resisted and held her even tighter. Theo realized that he may have taken too much of a liberty with his sister-in-law, and suddenly loosened his grip. The two avoided eye contact for a moment as Cierra sat back down in her seat. She was careful not to even touch his bed again. The room filled with a palpable silence.
Firestorm: The Relissarium Wars Space Opera Series, Book 4 Page 4