Repo Earth

by Jeff Walsh

  He paused a moment and pressed down on the table with his left index finger. The touch-pad he'd been using earlier slid around and stopped in front of him. He worked the pad for a moment then turned his attention back toward the screen.

  A symbol appeared for a moment but faded. In its place appeared a long list, twenty columns stacked side-by-side, each running the length of the screen. Across the very top of the projection were the words: Heezarian Bounties. At the bottom right of the screen they saw: total – 8,764,310 jewles.”

  “This is who has taken you,” Sir Halen said. “This is who came to your home. Without a doubt he's lied to you, kidnapped you, and drug all three of you into space. I assure you these are not good men. They are most assuredly an element you would avoid if they were known on your own home world. They are, the both of them, wanted criminals in most civilized sectors.”

  Genny and Anthony remained silent.

  “I know, at this moment,” he continued. “It feels as though I am now pitting you against them. Trying to convince you that I, and those whom I represent, are the good guys. While those who you unknowingly traveled with are the unseemly of the universe. And while that is the truth, that is not my intention.”

  “Then why show us that?” Anthony asked.

  “Because,” Sir Halen said. “This either matters to you or it doesn't. In either case, I felt that you should, at the very least, know who it is you've been traveling with.”

  “Okay,” Genny said. “So now we know.”

  “That you do,” Sir Halen responded. “But if you'll allow me a moment longer, I have another piece of information I believe you'll find most interesting.”

  Genny and Anthony showed no sign of interest or disinterest.

  Sir Halen smiled as he looked at them.

  “I can see why they chose you,” he said. “But no matter. The information I now offer is this: I've been authorized to make a deal with you directly.”

  Genny and Anthony stole a glance at each other

  Sir Halen grinned slightly.

  “Do you wish to know the details?”

  Chapter 11

  Bartl's feet drug behind him as the two soldiers walked and pulled him from the Council room.

  “Remain posted,” the soldier said to his comrades. “We're taking this one to section eight. Phoal, you're in command until I return.”

  “Yessir,” he said and saluted. “You,” he pointed to another of the soldiers. “Come with me.”

  The group watched as the two men unsealed the door and entered. A moment later the hum indicated the door had sealed once more.

  “You lot are so formal for scavs,” Bartl said. “Former Kzar military aren't you?”

  One of the soldiers released his grip on Bartl, balled his fist and struck him over and over across the face. Blood fell from Bartl's mouth. A gash opened under his eye.

  “There,” the soldier said. “That's the only warning you're getting. Another word and I dark-matter blast you right in the face.” He patted at a pistol holstered on his hip.

  “That's three,” Bartl coughed out quietly to himself.

  The two soldiers pulled Bartl to his feet. One pulled a small rectangular box free from a pocket. The other gripped Bartl's hands together. The soldier then clicked a small button on the box and threw it down toward Bartl. A loop of red light appeared and wrapped around his wrists. It tightened and the other soldier shoved him forward.

  “You can walk yourself to the scalping,” the other soldier said. “I'm tired of dragging you.”

  The three proceeded down the corridor and made a right at the first cross section. Every twenty or so steps one of the two soldiers shoved Bartl forward as he slowed his pace.

  “Keep moving.”

  Bartl stared forward, never once looking back. He kept silent as the three made several turns. As they approached a pair of sliding doors, one of the soldiers stepped forward and reached his gloved hand up toward a panel. His vac-suit broke into small squares and rolled backward revealing a scaly yellow'ish skin. The soldier pressed his palm against the panel. A light passed up and down quickly.

  “Tirian Jbvoa,” a computerized voice said. “Clearance confirmed. State section destination.”

  “Take us to SL8-3,” Tirian said.

  The doors to the lift opened and the three stepped inside.

  As they shut Bartl said, “I knew you were Kzar, and Kzar only get three from me.”

  “I thought I told you to...” the soldier said as he turned toward Bartl.

  Bartl kicked at the side of the man's knee snapping it. He spun as the man collapsed and gripped his pistol, pulling it free.

  Tirian screamed in pain. The other soldier barely had time to react as Bartl crouched and launched himself upward. The top of Bartl's head crashed up and under the other soldiers chin.

  The doors to the lift slid shut.

  After a few moments the lift slowed to a stop at the science lab level eight. The doors slid open revealing both soldiers unconscious on the floor; the same red light restraint that was once around Bartl's wrists was now wrapped around each of their necks.

  Bartl had relieved the soldiers of their weapons. One rifle he'd slung over his shoulder, Tirian's pistol was now strapped and holstered to his waist, and the second rifle was raised and ready to fire. Within the lift, Bartl stepped left then right peering outward for any signs of trouble. Convinced all was well he stepped out. Bartl slowly looked around for any signs of movement but found none; the section was empty.

  “Guess they weren't ready for me yet,” he said to himself. “I bet you two had all kinds of fun things planned once we got here.”

  He turned back and spit toward the two unconscious soldiers.

  “Kzar,” Bartl said. “Almost as bad as the Zorg.”

  He took three more steps away from the lift and alarms began to sound. The doors to the lift slammed shut. Bartl peered at the access pad knowing he could no longer access the lift.

  “Well,” Bartl said. “Looks like I go exploring.”

  Bartl lowered his rifle and sped down a corridor to his right.

  “C'mon old man,” Bartl said to himself. “Figure out where you are on this blasted heap of scrap.”

  ҉

  The group of soldiers standing outside the High Council Chamber snapped to attention as the lighting shifted and alarms rang.

  One of the soldiers pressed a button on his wrist unit and asked, “Captain Tirian come in.”

  The comm line remained silent.

  He looked to the other soldiers, paused for a moment and pressed another button on his wrist unit.

  “We have a situation out here,” he said.

  Phoal, now inside the Chamber with Sir Halen, Genny, and Anthony, raised his hand to his earpiece. The scene within remained unaffected by the commotion beyond.

  “Report,” Phoal said.

  Sir Halen glanced toward the soldier. His distracted attention caused Genny and Anthony to turn and look.

  A moment later Phoal strode across the room, leaned down and spoke to Sir Halen.

  Genny nor Anthony could hear what he said.

  “As you can see,” Sir Halen said. “All is as it should be. You may send your men where they're needed.”

  Phoal saluted Sir Halen and walked back to his position at the door. He pressed a button on his wrist unit, “Go.”

  ҉

  Bartl sped through the corridors making turns whenever possible. He bolted down another dull gray corridor and made left at the cross section. A click above caught his attention. He looked upward. Sections within the ceiling, all down the corridor, began to open.

  Bartl stopped and watched as the sections slid open. He squinted attempting to peer into the darkness above. His eyes grew wide.

  “Frack,” Bartl blurted out.

  He made a mad dash down the hall and turned the corner. From behind he heard the loud thumps of something large landing on the floor. Once more he heard the clicks above.
<
br />   Bartl spun on the spot and turned back the way he came. Down the previous corridor stood machines on four spindly legs. The torso of these spidery machines were comprised of dual plasma cannons. Bartl took aim and fired.

  His rifle blazed out with a beam of orange light. As it struck the first of the machines, white hexagonal lights lit up. The beam redirected and struck the wall; the section burst into flame.

  “Blatnards have shields,” Bartl aired out.

  He turned and dashed the other way. Above another dozen or more machines began to unclip, one by one, all down the corridor. Bartl barely stayed ahead of them. The last of the machines landed just behind Bartl; he threw himself to the left down a cross section.

  Less than a second later the entirety of the corner behind him lit up as blue orbs of light crashed into it. Thunderous booms rang out as each orb struck the wall behind Bartl. He spun and watched as the walls themselves rippled from the energy.

  “Frackin ship just absorbs it,” he said.

  Above another series of clicks was heard.

  Bartl stepped down the corridor only slightly. He turned and pressed his back against the wall, flicked a switch on the rifle and it broke open. He pulled three wires free and twisted them together, and snapped the rifle closed. Taking aim at the opposite wall Bartl pulled the trigger. The rifle hummed for a moment as if charging up.

  A pulser drone landed on each side of him.

  “C'mon you blasted thing,” Bartl said. “Fire!”

  Just then his rifle launched out a blast of orange energy. The force of the blast sent Bartl up and off his feet. He slammed into the wall opposite of him, then crashed to the floor. The wall across from him smoked and a thin line of searing hot metal formed a rough circle that could be seen through the smoke.

  Bartl hopped to his feet and dove through the hole he'd just punched in the wall.

  From behind he heard another dozen pulse blasts thunder out and strike where he'd just been.

  Bartl caught his breath for a moment. Then, click, came from above. He tossed his now useless rifle to the floor and darted down the corridor. More drones could be heard landing behind him as he made his way through. He pressed forward and followed the corridor around as it turned right.

  Bartl slammed to a halt.

  In front of him stood the other eight kvar soldiers from earlier. All with their backs to him.

  ҉

  “I apologize,” Sir Halen said to Genny and Anthony. “The bridge crew needed my approval of some personnel. As I was saying, I am not unfamiliar with your world as you can see. I've read up on your planet. It is always interesting to me that planets, even those who've not yet entered into the colony of space, govern themselves so similarly to the rest of the universe.”

  “Is that so?” Anthony said snidely.

  “Yes,” Sir Halen answered cordially. “Your world was governed by kings and queens, rulers of all varieties. You have your presidents and dictators, your councils and sovereignty. The titles are endless really: sultans, barons, cesars, emperors, monarchs, czars. Then of course you have your moguls and your tycoons. It's like your little world was just a smaller version of the universe around it.”

  “Is there a point to all this rambling?” Anthony asked.

  Genny had remained silent from the moment Baartl had been removed from the room.

  “Yes,” Sir Halen replied happily. “I'm merely stating that you are not unfamiliar with governments of all types. I,” he gestured to himself dramatically, “represent such a government. You see, here in the universe, chaos runs rampant. A desire for balance and order stemmed from a great need of all who traverse the stars. The universe was practically calling, crying out, for order and balance. And of course, the brave souls who answered that call: the Prime Command.”

  “I thought you called yourself the Central Core?” Anthony asked.

  “You misunderstand,” Sir Halen responded. “The Central Core is the alignment of planets; it is the title of the greatest government this universe has ever known. Prime Command is the sword by which that government rules. We are the military power of the great Central Core. We are a system of operations meant to watch over the aligned planets. We care for them. We protect them.”

  “That's a lot of words just to say the Central Core's established nothing more than a universal tyranny,” Anthony remarked.

  “We rule because we stand unopposed,” Sir Halen responded. “We stand unopposed because we bring peace, order, balance, and harmony to those who wish such.”

  “And for those who don't?” Anthony asked.

  “Well,” Sir Halen said. “There are always...agitators. Like your friends the Heezarians, the outlaws.”

  “Well,” Anthony responded. “For a couple outlaws they've managed to save our lives a couple times now. And when we were still on Earth, someone, maybe you, was shooting at us while Bartl was attempting to help us get away.”

  “Ah yes,” Sir Halen said. “You see, you do respond a desire to help. And help is exactly what I'm trying to provide. It is my job to cultivate order. I am at odds with those who wish to cause disorder, and at times I must deal strictly with such. I try to help those who need help. Your planet needed help. But, in all of this, you and your friends, the Heezarians, have caused so very much...disorder.”

  Anthony quieted and looked to Genny who was now staring straight ahead peering at the wall across the room.

  “But I am not unreasonable,” Sir Halen announced. He stood and strode to the head of the table once more. “And I do not believe either of you to be responsible for the disorder that has been caused. So I offer you this token of goodwill: name an amount of your Earthly currency, it does not matter how large. Each of you will receive that sum once our short order of business is concluded. After which we will return you to your world.”

  “And of course,” Anthony said and paused a moment before continuing, “this short order of business would be?”

  Sir Halen smiled slightly.

  ҉

  Bartl snatched the pistol off his hip and fired three blasts into the backs of the soldiers. The dark-matter energy blasts sent the three soldiers crashing forward, bodies limp, into two others knocking them off their feet. Bartl dropped and rolled forward as the remaining soldiers spun. With a quickness he took aim and fired a shot at the knee of one soldier, pivoted and kicked the legs of another out from under him. As the group of soldiers fell Bartl fired off another shot; the energy of the blast carried the standing soldier up and off his feet and into the wall behind. The soldier slumped to the floor unconscious.

  The remaining soldiers attempted to get on their feet.

  Bartl leapt to the side as one of the soldiers took aim and fired from the floor. Fire burst forth from the ground as the shot missed. Bartl rolled, leapt to his feet and shot the soldier square in the chest. The Soldier slid back for a few feet before slamming into the wall. The other three men, one with shattered knee, hobbled to their feet, rifles raised and ready. Bartl, hands up in the air, just stood and watched.

  “You're dead,” the wounded soldier said.

  Bartl just pointed at the ceiling.

  Click.

  Pulser drones began unclipping from the above, one of which landed on the wounded soldier and one of his commrades. The third barely jumped out of the way.

  Bartl spun and darted down the corridor once more. This corridor was slightly different than the rest; it had doors, which were evenly spaced, all along the left wall. Each of these doors had an entry pad used to access the rooms, and Bartl didn't have the codes. As the drones came to life, Bartl determined he didn't have time to blast though one of the doors. A moment later he heard the drones power up after which they spun to take aim. Bartl began to weave himself in and around the drones hoping they needed a clear line of sight before firing. It was a fairly typical safety protocol in attack drones, and one he desperately hoped these had been programmed with. He pivoted left and slid under one of the drones. As he came
out the other side a slight indent in the wall caught his eye: a doorway with no entry pad. Taking a deep breath, Bartl leapt to his feet and dove for the door.

  It slid open.

  Bartl crashed to the floor and the door slid shut behind him. Pulser blasts thundered, but no damage was done as the walls absorbed the energy.

  The remaining soldier watched as Bartl made a mad dash into the room.

  “The target is in op-room seven,” he said into his comm. “I have eyes on the door and the drones have it covered. He's not going anywhere.”

  He stepped forward a few feet. “I want all attention on that door,” he said addressing the drones. “If it so much as cracks open, I want every one of you heaps of metal to keep firing until your batteries die.”

  The entirety of the drones shifted and focused on the door. As more drones converged each took a clear position and focused on the door.

  A second later the soldier heard the sounds of a rifle overcharging.

  The wall to his left exploded. The soldier was thrown across the corridor and slammed into the opposite wall. His vac-suit was charred and visor shattered. Short breaths came and went.

  Bartl stepped through the smoldering hole he'd just created. He bent down a grabbed the soldier's comm unit and listened.

  “...units are inbound. Keep him locked down until they arrive,” A coordinator said. “Sir Halen has the female. The other is locked down in S7; a contingent of guard is watching over both.”

  “Good to know,” Bartl responded through the comm. “Oh, by the way...man down.”

  ҉

  “Just continue to abide as our guests until this Volja mess is settled,” Sir Halen said.

  “Guests?” Anthony asked. “We're guests are we?”

  He stood and stepped toward the door. The two soldiers brought their rifles up and took aim. Anthony turned and sat back down.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Guests.”

  “These soldiers are here for your protection,” Sir Halen said. “You believe Taam and Bartl to be noble creatures. You are misguided. However, should you choose to stay aboard the Imperium, you'll be given rooms far more luxurious than you could ever dream. You'll partake of delicacies the people of your home world could never imagine possible. Entertainment, pleasure, anything and everything you desire will be yours.”