The Seryys Chronicles: Death Wish

by Joseph Nicholson

  The sun had finally gone down, one moon was already out in full and the other was rising in the west. That was his cue. He packed up and headed out. It was a quiet night; the sound of local insect life chirping filled his ears and the cool night air enveloped him. He took a deep breath through his nose filling his lungs with the fresh air, and let it out through his mouth. I should retire out here, Khai thought. I could get used to being out here. No traffic, no jobs, living off the land. I could get used to this.

  He had been sluggishly walking for nearly ten hours. He decided to call it quits for the day. There was no sense in pushing himself after falling several hundred feet and being buried alive under a pile of rocks. Besides, after the first two hours of walking, he realized that he had indeed suffered some injuries in the fall on top of the injuries he acquired on Orbital Station 12. He was pretty sure that his shoulder had been dislocated in the fall, but it had set itself. The wound in his chest from the shrapnel had dug in pretty deep, deeper than he originally thought—which was just shy of two inches. His neck hurt where it met his shoulders, he had broken ribs, a puncture wound from the assassin’s knife that hit his ribs and the one that found its mark had punctured his lung. He was still dribbling blood, and his breathing was wheezy. At this rate, he wasn’t going to make it to Tanbarder.

  Maybe, after some rest, he would have more strength to go on. He had suffered worse injuries than this on the battlefield and pushed on. But that was when he was in his twenties and he was able to shrug off pain more easily. He found a spot to set up camp under a large jutting outcropping of rock that would protect him from the rain and satellites.

  He slept like the dead. No dreams or nightmares entered his slumber.

  He slept through the next day, the next night, and into the following day. When he woke, he slowly ate some rations and took another long draught from the river. He then realized that he needed more rest. So he slept.

  He slept like the dead. No dreams or nightmares entered his slumber. And when he woke, it was nightfall once more.

  He was barely able to get to his feet. He couldn’t decide if waiting and getting some more sleep was a great idea or the complete opposite. All he knew was that now he was in so much pain, he could barely walk, whereas yesterday he could push on for almost a whole day. He rummaged through the medikit for anything that could help. He found about six feet of bandaging and, thank the Founders, a full bottle of Kryylopax, powerful painkillers that were so potent, they were illegal to citizens in the Seryys Sector. They were mostly used on the battlefield to ease a soldier’s passing if he was mortally wounded.

  He popped two of the pills and waited for them to kick in. When they did, he wished they hadn’t. His head spun. Or… was it the planet that was spinning? The planet is always spinning, stupid, he told himself. So… maybe it was just the canyon…

  Khai shook his head and fell to his backside. As the world began to slow down—or was it his head or the canyon? —he wasn’t able to form single, cohesive thoughts or perform simple functions. He used the gauze to patch up his wounds the best he could. Now, feeling absolutely no pain whatsoever, he pressed on. It was a weird feeling, he had the distinct impression that when he walked, the world moved with him. Like a giant treadmill, he could control the spin by how fast he walked, or how slow. If he sprinted, he got the hilarious image of people being sucked, face first, into a wall and sticking there like the GravDefier ride at a carnival as he ran.

  His jovial, laughter-filled romp through the canyon was stopped by the sound of a single shot that echoed in his ears. He froze, looking around at the canyon walls for the shooter. He instantly ducked into an alcove in the rock wall and pulled his 92-30.

  Another shot rang out. Khai scrambled to a large boulder for cover.

  When he peaked around his cover, he saw the ugliest sight he’d seen in years.

  Vyysarri! Hundreds of them. They were marching in ranks down the canyon corridor. They all seemed to be looking straight at him. He turned to run when he realized that he was standing on the edge of another cliff. He turned to face the Vyysarri. His cover was gone and only one man stood between him and the now thousands of Vyysarri warriors. That man was Sergeant Moon’Sinder Moore.

  Moon looked back at Khai and gave him a wink and a grin. He charged in, cutting down Vyysarri by the tens and twenties. He mowed down several hundred with his machine gun. Khai watched in sick satisfaction as his former commanding officer/father figure/mentor tore the Vyysarri scum to shreds. But, all good things must come to an end. The tide turned and Moon was struck by a bullet that passed straight through him. He froze, eyes wide with surprise that these lowly scumbags could even touch him.

  Khai screamed, noticing his voice was cracking like that of an adolescent boy.

  “Moon!” he cried out.

  “Run, Khai!” Moon shouted. “Get the others to the bunker—now!”

  “Not without you!” Khai screamed.

  “That’s an order!” Moon snapped, kicking a Vyysarri soldier to the ground and killing him execution-style.

  “Yes, sir!” he said, snapping a crisp salute and moving into action.

  He rounded up the other recruits and herded them into the bunker. He spared one last look at his mentor. He was as good as dead. A Vyysarri had his fangs deep in Moon’s neck. Crimson blood ran freely down the front of his camouflaged shirt. He reached out for Khai. Khai closed the impenetrable door of the reinforced, Ti’tan’lium-covered bunker.

  Moon died that day along with Khai’s innocence.

  Khai’Xander Khail found himself sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, rocking forward and back, his clothes stuck to him with cold sweat, cornered in a small cave-like alcove. Tears streamed down his face freely. He hadn’t had his pills in days now and the Kryylopax was compounding the problem. He forced himself to stop crying and stand up.

  He walked to the river, drank and splashed water over his face, head and back. Get a hold of yourself, Khai! He had lost precious time in his incapacitated state, and now, he had to make up for it. He popped another two pills and started running. After consulting his computer, he still had over sixty miles to cover.

  He ran.

  It had been three days since Khai’s final transmission. If he had survived, he would’ve contacted Dah by now. All this he thought about as he walked through a bustling market with Bria. This was their second date and he was growing quite fond of her. They were both on the mend from their ordeals and were trying to get out and find some peace and quiet. Beyond the market was a city park with a medium-sized reservoir where people came to swim, sunbathe and play with their pets.

  “What’s on your mind, Dack?”

  “Huh?” Dah asked, his voice distant. “I’m sorry. What’d you ask?”

  “What’re you thinking right now?”

  “Oh, sorry,” Dah shook his head. “Just… thinking about Khai.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely.

  “Not your fault,” Dah said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and squeezing her gently.

  “He died to save the city, you know.”

  “No one knows that more than I do. But…” Dah took a very contemplative expression. “Did he really save the city or just delay the inevitable? I mean, Trall lived. He’s still the Prime Minister.”

  “Yeah, but two of his attempts to destroy the city were thwarted. He’s going to be hard pressed to come up with another idea.”

  “So,” Dah said, with a very concerned look on his face. “Khai really only bought us some time.”

  “It kinda looks that way.”

  “So, it looks like I need to up the ante. I still have Rashad’s findings on a memstick. But how do I get them authenticated? You know Trall’s first reaction will be to discredit the information… and me. And he has the power to do both with the flip of his limp wrist.”

  “So, we need more evidence,” Bria said simply.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know! You
’re the cop, not me.”

  “Oh,” Dah laughed. “That’s helpful!”

  “Hey,” Bria said, changing the mood. “Is this our first lover’s quarrel?”

  “Are you saying we’re lovers?” Dah asked, hope filling his voice.

  “I…” She turned away from Dah, pulling herself out of his grasp. “I don’t know. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

  “Don’t be,” Dah said. “If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. I understand.”

  “That’s just it,” she said. “I am ready. But I shouldn’t be. It’s only been like a week since Ran was murdered. I should still be upset about his death.”

  “Well,” Dah asked pointblank. “Did you love him?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, he was a great man and he was an amazing lover. But he still didn’t leave his wife. He kept telling me the timing wasn’t right. But, was it love that drew me to him, or was it stability?”

  “Well, if you have to question it…” Dah let his sentence trail off meaningfully.

  “I know,” she said, her voice filled with guilt.

  “Let’s not talk about these things anymore,” Dah said cheerfully, trying to change the subject. “Let’s go for a dip and forget about our troubles for a day.”

  “I think that’s a great idea.” Bria shoved past Dah. “Race ya!” She ran for the water.

  “Oh!” Dah laughed. “You little…” He ran after her.

  They make a cute couple, she thought ruefully. Too bad I have to kill them both. But not now. All she was ordered to do at this point was survey and report. It was obvious that Captain Dack’Tandy Dah and Bria’Nah Briar knew too much and she was sure that Trall would have her kill them in time. It was a pity, she thought. Captain Dah was a fine specimen. Under different circumstances, she might have taken him as a mate. But that skinny, weak bitch he was with had captured his heart with her batting eyes and charming smile. She was attracted to Captain Dah the moment he came in to the SCBI Building to investigate Rashad’s death… and she let him know at that point.

  She almost had him that night at Rashad’s residence, but he proved to be more resourceful than she originally thought. That move with the hovercar was clever. And the one named Koon, well, he was just practice. It was regrettable that her counterpart had to die, but he served his purpose to give away Koon’s sniping position. Running her blade across his throat was a very satisfying, almost orgasmic, feeling; her arousal only heightened by licking Koon’s blood from her knife.

  The other regret she held was that Colonel Khai’Xander Khail, the legend and savior of Seryys IV, had died on Orbital Station 12 and would not die by her hand. It would have been a great battle, worthy of songs and films. Maybe, if she was lucky, he would have fallen for her in the heat of battle and bedded her at that moment, covered in each other’s blood.

  Kay’Lah Kayward, code name: Agent 13 of the SCIIA, was a highly-trained, physically-altered, cold-blooded killer who stopped at nothing to accomplish a mission. She reported directly to Prime Minister Trall, and had served Prime Minister Puar during his time in office. Though Kay didn’t know the particulars of Trall’s ascension to power, she didn’t particularly care. She was trained to follow orders at all costs, whether it was morally right or not. She knew she was a monster. And she forsook the Founders so the Seryys System would remain a safer place to live. She saw herself as a messiah of sorts, she sinned so others wouldn’t have to, and that suited her just fine.

  Once she was done with her surveillance, she secured her binoculars in her utility belt, pushed her jet-black hair away from her green eyes, stood then turned and ran, swan-diving off the far side of the building. In her freefall, she flung a grappling hook that latched onto the roof of an adjacent building. She swung on the line from building to building until she reached her dwelling, her home. Outside this place she was a fearless, deadly warrior. But inside… inside she was a frail, vulnerable girl. The couch and bed were covered in colorful stuffed animals; the walls were covered with posters of the latest teen heartthrobs. Inside this room, Kay’Lah Kayward was a sixteen-year-old girl, taken from her home at a young age and trained to be an unstoppable assassin.

  When she was ten, she took a test; a government-issued, standardized test designed to evaluate a child’s aptitude. Kay’s results were off the chart. She was “recruited” by a highly secretive society for “gifted” children several decades before Puar’s terms started, but Puar was not happy to hear that the government was turning children into highly-trained killers. He tried to do away with the whole program, but the cabinet vetoed him only a few hours after his proposal. They felt that a child made the perfect assassin because one would never expect a child to be such a brutal killer. And, someone would have more qualms with killing a kid than an adult. And Kay was no exception.

  She sat on her bed, legs crossed, hugging one of her biggest stuffed animals. It was time for her conditioning. She hated this part. She could kill and it didn’t bother her, but watching it was another story all together. The Net’Vyyd automatically turned on and she was forced to watch horrible videos of death and dismemberment. People getting cut open and their heads being cut off and Vyysarri feeding frenzies were among the desensitizing material she was required to watch. Every night, she sat there and cried, watching these videos, wishing she were dead in those moments. Then, the next morning, she was better and could go about her life as a killer.

  There were days she wished she could eat a bullet. But under the ever-watchful eye of her superiors, she didn’t dare do so. The terms of her service—no, slavery—were that upon any attempt to do away with herself, to end her own life, her family would be the ones made to suffer. She had a mom, dad and two little brothers. From time to time she would spy on them. She liked to see what her family was up to. Her little brothers would grow ever bigger every time she saw them. She loved them more than anything and would never do anything to jeopardize their safety. As far as they were concerned, Kay was killed in an airbus accident. There was even a body. A girl, very close in appearance to her who died in a similar fire, was her body double and coroner documentation was falsified to prove it.

  Someday, maybe she would be able to come back from the dead. But until then, she had work to do, people to kill.

  Khai had been running all day and most of the night. He stopped to eat. The cool night was no comfort at this point. He was still losing blood and the consistent taste of blood in his mouth was starting to get old. To hell with safety, he thought. He would keep moving whether the thermal scanners could track him or not. He stopped for a long drink from the river and kept running. Come hell or high water, he was going to get to Tanbarder, or die trying.

  His trek along the canyon floor was taking its toll, especially with the laundry list of injuries Khai had suffered on the station and from the fall into the canyon. His body ached and protested with every step. He had to dig down deep and muster that youthful resilience he once possessed.

  “Keep moving, cadet!” Moon’s voice echoed in his head and ears.

  Khai stopped. He looked around and there he was. Sergeant Moon stood with his fists on his hips and a scowl on his face.

  “Sarge?”

  “Did I say ‘stop’?”

  “No, sir,” Khai said, straightening.

  “Then Move... Your... Ass!”

  “Yes, sir!” he shouted.

  He started running, Moon keeping up with him.

  “Come on, Khai! You’re running like a fat, old general! Move like a soldier!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Khai ran as hard as he could. He wasn’t about to give up with Sergeant Moon on his heels. The last time he did that, he got whooped with a baton until he caught up with the others.

  After several hours of running, he stopped for a breather just as it started to rain. It began as a small trickle and quickly escalated into a deluge—which was typical of Seryysan weather this time of the year. Khai ducked back under a long ledge
along the wall of the cliff. The rain pattered down. He popped another pill and leaned back against the rocks.

  “Now that was a good run, son!” Moon said. “I expect nothing less from you.”

  “Thanks,” he said, breathing hard.

  “You’re gonna make it,” Moon remarked. “You don’t know how to fail.”

  “Yeah?” Khai asked, pulling out the micro-comp. “According to this, I have about forty miles left.”

  “Hell!” Moon said. “You’ve run that several times in boot. You’ll make it and still have energy to give me fifty pushups!”

  “I’m not as young as I used to be,” Khai admitted.

  “Bah!” Moon’s scoffed with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You still have another thirty good years in you!”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I know I’m right.” Moon’s stern features softened a little, showing the side of him few people had ever seen. “Now, get some rest, son. You need to be ready for another hard day tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir,” Khai said, his eyes already growing heavy.

  His eyes slowly became slits, then eventually shut. He slumped over and dozed. He dreamed of the old days, but certainly not the good old days.

  Khai woke up to a foreign sound; it was the sound of a window being broken in. Khai was immediately on his feet and walking down the short hallway of their very small two-bedroom apartment to his dad’s room.

  “Dad?” he called quietly.

  Suddenly, a loud clatter made him jump. Looking straight ahead into the bathroom, he saw bottles fly across the view of the door. There was frantic scuffling coming from that room.

  “Dad?” There was still no answer.

  As Khai approached the bathroom, the man made himself known. He stepped out into the doorway downing a bottle of pills and chewing frantically. His hair was disheveled and greasy, his eyes wide with some kind of wild rage, his hands shaking violently, uncontrollably.