The Veil Rising

by Brandon Ellis

  “Captain Stripe, do you have concrete, conclusive evidence that he was with the Knights Templar before the attack?”

  Louise slowly squeezed Lyle's hand. He pulled back, unlocking Louise's grip. He leaned back in his chair, clutching his hand and then shaking it back and forth. His lips formed a weak smile. “Strong grip.”

  Louise cracked her knuckles. “Yes, I know.”

  Lyle lowered his eyes. “What do you have to tell us, Louise?”

  She glared into the camera. “That I do, indeed, have evidence. Evidence that some higher ups tried to erase.”

  Lyle cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

  The screen quickly changed from the interview back to the carrot topped reporter. She smiled brightly. “You can watch the rest of the interview tomorrow morning at 9.”

  “Off,” said Admiral Byrd, turning the holovid off. He clapped his hands loudly and shook his head back and forth. This wasn't good, though. Louise was clearly going against the desires of Zim, even to the point of dropping a seed of truth to the public. Louise’s life might now be at stake. They'll edit out what she said and show the masses a nicely cut holovid in the morning.

  The admiral stared at the wall, folding his arms across his chest. This was a mess. He was the scapegoat, an accused traitor, and now Captain Stripe's life was at stake.

  A loud knock made him jump. He twisted around to see someone outside of his cell, opening the door.

  “Who is it?” the admiral demanded.

  The door opened, with nothing more than a dark shadow on the other side. A chair came sliding through the doorway, moving across the smooth ebb floor. It stopped when it hit the admiral's feet.

  “Hi, James.” It was Prime Director Zim, holding another chair proudly by his side while entering the admiral's cell. Zim gestured for the admiral to take a seat and nodded his greetings, his eyes trying to burn their way into the admiral's soul.

  “The brilliance of politics,” said Admiral Byrd. “Tell a lie long enough, often enough, and people will believe it.”

  Zim plopped his chair down and sat, slouching and crossing his arms while emitting a jovial laugh.

  Admiral Byrd kicked the empty chair back across the room. “What the hell are you doing to me, Zim!?” Spittle caught at the corners of his mouth as the veins on his neck bulged. “You set me up!”

  Zim looked over his shoulder and gestured for someone to close the cell door. When it closed, Zim turned back to the admiral. “So you say.” He pointed to the empty chair lying on its side. “Do me a favor and sit.”

  Admiral Byrd shook his head. His pulse was elevated twice the normal rate and pounding within his ears. “I'd rather sit on my own dung than do as you say, Zim!”

  Zim grinned. “It's not wise to piss off the Prime Director, James. Now, either do as I say, or I'll force you to sit. I'm fine with either option.”

  The admiral remembered the last time they’d gotten into a scuffle. Just because Zim was a politician didn’t mean he didn’t possess incredible physical prowess. The admiral hadn't fared too well in that conflict. A strong punch to the gut had nearly doubled him over. Perhaps trying to reason with him would prove the better tact.

  Admiral Byrd walked over to the wall, grabbed the chair off the ground and headed back to Zim. He set the chair down and took a seat.

  “Thank you, Admiral.”

  Byrd glanced at the holovid. “When are you going to inform the public that this is all a mistake and that I'm innocent?”

  Zim uncrossed his muscular forearms and clasped his hands together as he leaned forward. “I'm afraid I can't do that, James.”

  “You know I didn't do it, Zim.”

  Zim leaned back and tilted his head. “I don't know that at all. That's what I'm trying to determine. But, isn't it strange that once you were captured, no more attacks occurred? It looks very suspicious to the public, you know?”

  Antagonized, the admiral forgot about being reasonable. “You’re fabricating everything!” With a sudden rush of adrenaline, the admiral’s chest swelled and muscles contracted, ready. “I'm here because of your bullshit! You’re jeopardizing the safety of an entire population!”

  “You called the damn Knights Templar, James! What am I supposed to do?!”

  The admiral blinked rapidly, looking left and right, trying to decipher Zim's implication. “What do you mean? I did what my instincts told me to do. I felt I had no other option.” He paused, catching his breath. He looked down at his feet, thinking a million thoughts all at once. What a strange thing for Zim to say. “What do the Templars have to do with this?”

  Zim suddenly bolted out of his chair and grabbed Admiral Byrd by his collar, his immense physique towering over him. “They have everything to do with this, Admiral!”

  Taken off guard by Zim’s sudden outburst of aggression but ready, the admiral automatically tried to stand, but Zim’s immense size blocked the admiral’s move, forcing him to remain seated. Through gritted teeth, Zim’s hot breath hissed into the admiral’s face. “We had over 800 years of peace with the Knights Templar…and now you go and call them?! Do you know how powerful they are?! This was supposed to be a one-and-done; now everything has changed so it's my ass on the line!”

  “What are you talking about—you said it yourself, they’re just a myth.”

  Uncontrollably, Zim cocked his arm and delivered a right hook to the admiral’s jaw, knocking him out of his chair and to the floor. Blood filled the admiral's mouth. He shook it off, spitting on the ground. He looked up at Zim, wondering if any teeth were knocked loose. “What are you so afraid of, Zim? I don't understand what you're doing, and why.”

  Zim rubbed his fist. “Afraid?” He laughed softly. “No, not afraid... I just have to do a lot of clean up because of you and the Monarch doesn't like that.”

  “The Monarch? What are you talking about?” responded the admiral, spitting out more blood.

  Zim nodded. “Yes, the Monarch.” He snatched both chairs, strode to the door and gave it a kick with his big boot. He glanced over his shoulder at the admiral. “Don't think this is over for you, James. It's just begun, and no matter how it works out—you’re dead.”

  The door to the cell opened and Zim walked out, yelling orders at the Matrona Guard.

  Admiral Byrd rubbed his mouth as he sat on his bed, using his sheets to stop the bleeding.

  ∞

  It had been two days since the invasion and Chase Byrd was already back on the job. Today, however, he had just two duties—first, as a political figurehead; second, as a spy.

  Two weeks ago, Chase had achieved one of the highest positions in governance—the Prime Overseer of Sphere 9. It was the highest rank he could attain with his short height of 6 feet, 2 inches. The largest men, and especially those taller than 7 feet, 5 inches who desired office in governance, usually bypassed overseer positions to find themselves slugging it out in the political debates for the Prime Director's role every five years.

  Charismatic 7 foot, 7 inch Zim Nocki had won the last four races by a landslide.

  On this day, Chase hoped that being a spy would be short term, yet he suspected that it might take much longer. He was doing this for his uncle, Admiral Byrd. He was family…blood. Chase felt duty bound to protect his family honor by exposing the truth. What Prime Director Zim was doing to his uncle was blasphemy. A coup d'etat? His uncle would never...!

  Chase rested his elbows on his desk while he read his uncle's letter. He didn't know how the letter had made it to his desk, or who had delivered it. He didn't know why it hadn't been intercepted by Zim’s people. It was lying on his desk when he entered his office this morning.

  Who put this here? His uncle was in lockup, so it couldn't have been him. Perhaps one of his crew? Captain Stripe? He shrugged. Who cares, thought Chase. Regardless, it's for me.

  Although, the deliverer had to be off Zim's radar. If the Prime Director believed his own assertions about his uncle, he'd have many eyes on hi
s uncle's crew. This letter would have been unsealed and read long before it landed on Chase's desk—if it reached his desk at all.

  He shifted the desk lamp and turned it on, pointing it at the letter. He'd already read it a number of times, but each time it felt like he was missing something.

  He wants me to uncover as much as I can on Zim? How? What am I supposed to look for, Uncle? He tapped his finger. What do you want me to find?

  Chase shifted in his seat and shot a leery glance over his shoulder, feeling like someone could be watching him. Of course, no one was there. Only the wall, which as of yet displayed no pictures, framed certificates, or Sphere Nine's Prime Overseer licensing that he was so happy about receiving a few weeks ago. He was new at this job and he hadn't done much of anything other than paperwork, unenlightened political meetings, and shaking hands with high ranking business men and women. This was turning out to be a high paying joke.

  He eyed the office door. “Open,” which it did, displaying a larger office of busy workers shuffling papers and speaking over the com link. Some were touching holographic buttons on the HDCs while others frantically rushed past his office, more papers in hand. Oh, Dear Guild! What have I gotten myself into? This was Sphere 9's governance headquarters that occupied almost all of level forty-four in this three hundred level sphere on Starbase Matrona.

  He started to stand up, but then immediately sat back down again. He forgot. He didn't have to get up to ask for someone's help. In fact, it annoyed a lot of his workers when he did. He pressed a button on the small HDC on the corner of his desk. “Connie?”

  Connie's animated face, young and vibrant, came over the holographic display console. “Yes, Prime Overseer Chase?”

  Chase rolled his eyes and swatted at the air as if the word Prime Overseer Chase was an irritating fly. “Just call me Chase.”

  “Yes, will do, Prime Overseer Chase.”

  Chase lowered his head, slowly wagging it. “No, forget the Prime Overseer part and just call me Chase.”

  “Yes, Chase.”

  “Connie, can you get me Zim Nocki's office?”

  “Yes, immediately, Prime Overse...I mean—Chase.” Connie's image disappeared.

  Chase sighed, and then thought he should practice. He opened his mouth wide and stretched his lips over his teeth, working his mouth muscles and relaxing them. A moment later, he did a giant smile. He'd be seeing the Prime Director face to face in a matter of seconds and had to put up a good front—a good, fake smile.

  He smiled again and relaxed. He did this over and over again.

  “This is Prime Director Zim Nocki's office. How may I help you?” said a female's voice.

  Startled, Chase slammed his palms on his desk and stopped his smiling session. His eyes grew wide when he saw a woman smiling back at him. She was gorgeous.

  He couldn’t stop himself from smiling at her and his smile grew larger the longer he stared at her. She was attractive, a true beauty. Long blond hair, blue eyes, and dimples accented by high cheek bones. A strange scar swept across her cheek, somehow making her very sexy.

  He pinched his adams apple as he cleared his throat. “Yes, this is Prime Overseer Chase. I'm wanting to speak with Prime Director Zim Nocki. Is he available?”

  The woman gave a giggle and batted her eyes. “I know who you are, Prime Overseer. I voted for you. But, I'm sorry to say that Prime Director Zim is out of his office for the day. May I do something for you? Perhaps, take a message?”

  Chase grinned, exposing his white teeth against his dark complexion, something the girls always seemed to like. “I have something to drop off. It's time sensitive. Would it be rude of me to show up and set it on his desk personally?”

  The woman frowned. “I'm afraid he doesn't allow anyone into his office unless he’s here. You can drop it off with me?”

  “I can't go into his office at all?”

  “No, just leave it on my desk, Prime Overseer.”

  Backfired. He didn't want to look suspicious, so he nodded. “I'll be on the first hovertrain. Expect me there in a half hour.”

  “Excellent. I look forward to meeting you. Until then...” she blinked softly.

  “Yes, until then.”

  Her hologram blinked out and Chase brought his fingers to his teeth. What am I going to drop off? And, what was he going to do when he got there? Bull over anyone in his way and break into Zim's office, steal some infovids and leave as though nothing happened? He sighed. He'd have to wing it when he got there.

  Standing up, he slid his hands down his sleek suit, turned and walked through the doorway leading into the busy outer office. He stepped over to Connie's desk and placed his hand lightly on her shoulder.

  “I'll be heading to the Prime Director's office. I may be out for the day. Keep all messages in my HDC locked under my code.”

  Connie tilted her head with a confused look on her face. “That's an interesting order.”

  “I've become a little paranoid after the attack, Connie.” He wasn't the paranoid type, but Connie would understand. It's an excuse that would work for a while, since the attack was so recent.

  He walked out of the building, onto the sidewalk of Sphere 9's main street. The buildings were a long string of large rectangles. Above, the sky consisted of clear ebbed striated glass lining the outer walls of the sphere, displaying outer space and the strange green planet that was here when they had jumped. The governance had named it Tanza, although the public didn't know that yet. There had been no opportunity to inform them because the news and public were so focused on his uncle. Everyone was watching in stunned silence as Prime Director Zim's office uncovered conspiracy after conspiracy. Instead of being paraded as a hero for saving everyone, his uncle was being set up, but why? That's what Chase was going to find out.

  He stared at the green planet as he walked down the sidewalk, wondering if it was habitable. Did it have an atmosphere like Lumus? Did it have plants and life like Matrona's biosphere? Was the gravity suitable?

  The ding of a bell took his mind off Tanza as he looked at the hovertrain station up ahead. Instead of the usual rectangle, it was dome shaped and always full of people traveling here and there. Arriving at the main entrance, he pulled the door open and stepped inside.

  The station was large and mostly empty, as was typical of large spaces. In reality, however, it was full of people, and more so than usual. Ticket booths, all for different zones within Starbase Matrona, lined the walls.

  Thirty feet up and just above Chase were numerous hovertrains, each floating above its own magnetic thread.

  He walked to Sphere 8's ticket booth, displaying his I.D. to an older man across the counter. He glanced at Chase and looked at the I.D. The man didn't smile.

  “83 bolvas,” he said, extending his hand, palm up.

  Chase handed him his silver bolva card. The man scanned it, eying Chase as if he was the enemy that had just killed thousands of people. “I have to ask...are you related to Admiral Byrd?”

  Chase hesitated and smiled brightly. “Guild no! I'm thinking about changing my name as soon as I can.” Apparently, the man hadn't been watching the recent elections. If he had, he would have seen that Admiral Byrd's nephew, Chase, had won one of the closest races in political history.

  The man pointed at the silver bolva card, slowly nodding his head up and down. “You do look familiar, though.”

  “People say I have that kind of face.”

  The man gave a curt nod. “Yeah, you do.” He handed the silver card back to Chase. “83 bolvas less in your account.” He handed Chase a light blue ticket. “Give this to the hover guard and have a nice trip to Sphere 8.” He gave a proficient smile, dropping it a second later. “Next!”

  Chase walked over to an elevator and was lifted up to the hovertrain deck. A guard gave Chase a nod. “Welcome, sir.” He took Chase's ticket. “Right this way.” He helped Chase board one of the hovertrain cabs and bid him a safe journey.

  The cab was full and because
so, conversations were louder than usual. They were talking about the invasion, the wounded, and those who had lost their lives. His uncle’s name spattered throughout the conversational thread, as well. Some couldn't believe it, while others said they knew he had been up to something for years.

  “Isn't his nephew our Prime Overseer?”

  “Yes,” replied a man. “He should be ousted from the governance. He can't be trusted.”

  Chase sat in the seat furthest from the front and slid low, doing his best to hide himself. He stared innocently out the window.

  By the time the hovertrain released from the hover deck and sped toward Sphere 8, Chase had his coat nearly blocking his entire face from view. Word of him as the newly nominated Prime Overseer of Sphere 9 was becoming a controversy.

  It was a long twenty minutes later when the hovertrain finally came to a halt. He was at Sphere 8, the capital. Although this sphere had its own Prime Overseer, it also housed Prime Director Zim Nocki's office.

  Gathering himself, he exited the hovertrain as quickly as he could and made it down the elevator, then found himself nearly running all the way to the Prime Director's office—the biggest building on Starbase Matrona. He entered the building, bent over panting, sweat dripping from his temples and down his cheek. He hadn't realized how out of shape he’d become.

  He patted his stomach. I have to lose some baby fat.

  “Welcome, Prime Overseer Chase.”

  He lifted his head, his mouth opening in surprise. It was her—the gorgeous woman from the com link holovid.

  She stepped around her desk and walked toward him, her long white dress punching out at the knees during each stride. Her blond hair bounced with each movement and her blue eyes seemed to dance. Then she smiled; the final straw that captured his heart. She extended her hand. “I never gave you my name. I'm Nyx.”

  He stood up straight. “Chase.” He grabbed her hand and shook it. “Chase Byrd.” He bent down to kiss her hand, not knowing why, and a drop of sweat fell from his nose, splattering on her skin. He kissed it anyway.