The Veil Rising

by Brandon Ellis

  Diana's face was stern and her body was swelling with rage, ready to kick every male butt on the starship when Crystal placed her hand on her mother's shoulder.

  “Wait. I have something...” said Crystal, hesitating, and thinking of how to phrase it. “I need to meet with you, alone, in the Admiral's Quarters. Something more important than this has come up. It needs your immediate attention.”

  Diana saw fear flash across Crystal's face, but only for moment, something she hadn't seen in her daughter since she was a child. “Now?”

  “Now.”

  Diana gestured for Crystal to follow. The lights flickered on and off as they commenced down the hallway and they both knew the power was draining. Diana stopped and said, “Open.” A door opened and they walked inside where Crystal stopped abruptly. This was the first time she'd ever been in her mother's quarters and it was filled with art from the collections of the greatest contemporary artists. She thought about how they must have been more than happy to give their best works to an admiral, an act that would be worth a million Bolvas in bragging rights.

  Then Crystal saw a Robert Rose painting centered in the middle of all of the other art. He was the greatest painter of all, according to the experts, yet he was a mystery. No one had ever laid eyes on him, and instead of selling his art he donated it to charities to sell so they could raise money for the homeless. And for some reason, her mother had one hanging on her wall. It depicted a man descending from the sky as he held the rails of a wooden chariot. He was gazing up at the heavens, his angelic face serene. Flames were flashing out of the back of the chariot in a blue sky. A breathtaking landscape was below, full of strange plants and animals, lakes and streams, mountains and forests. Painted on the bottom right of the canvas, as was customary for a Robert Rose original, was a gorgeous rose—the artist's insignia. Just to look at the oil rendering was dramatic and mesmerizing. But, there were pressing issues to be dealt with at hand. Crystal eyed an ebb desk and surveyed the rest of the room. There was a bed in the corner and a green couch placed in front of an HDC. Crystal imagined her mother watching late night soap opera vids through sheer boredom.

  Diana sat at her desk and leaned forward, gesturing for her daughter to sit.

  Crystal took a seat and got right to the point. “We need to get off Sirona.”

  Diana waited a moment, expecting her daughter to start laughing, but when Crystal didn't react to what Diana assumed to be an obvious joke, she snapped her fingers. “Just like that, huh?”

  Crystal explained what had happened the night before with “S” and her warning of an impending weapon that would destroy the ship and everyone on board. She skipped the bloodline thing, since she had no idea what it meant and it would only serve to confuse her mother.

  Diana leaned back, studying Crystal. Finally blinking a couple of times, she looked down. “Okay, so there are a thousand ways to look at this, assuming you aren't pulling my leg. I would think that during the middle of a war that would be the last thing you'd do.” She gave Crystal a questioning gaze.

  Indignantly, Crystal retorted, “Of course I'm not pulling your leg, mother.”

  “Then, we have a few scenarios we need to consider before we go rushing off.” She held up her index finger. “One. We go along with this mystery person and decide to get off Sirona, making our way to Forever Mountain. In this case, how do we —”

  Crystal held up her hand. “I was thinking about that before I went to bed last night. There are two warehouses next to us. Warehouse 24 next door and Warehouse 23 about a mile away, and there are probably 30 to 50 Mechs per warehouse. Daf and I can cram five people into each of our Mechs and move them to Warehouse 24 where they can get a Mech of their own and return to Sirona to transport more people. We do this over and over again, until we've secured all of the Mechs back here. It should take us no more than a couple of hours.”

  Diana's face was expressionless, not knowing where to start or which counterpoint would be most effective. Nonetheless, she said, “And how do you expect them to drive a Mech? Most have never been inside of one.”

  “They're easy to control. I can teach them.”

  “So you say.” Diana made an unhappy face. At best, the plan was sketchy. “Alright, say you successfully teach them how to control a Mech. From my count, if we're lucky, after we visit Warehouses 23 and 24, we'll have something like 80 to 100 Mechs in our Thunderbird launch bay. And when we shove five people into each of those Mechs, making it six crew members inside including the Mech pilot, that will make 600 crew members who can walk out of here. Now, what do we do with the remaining 8,600 or so left behind on the starship? Just hope and pray that you'll somehow find a thousand more Mechs?”

  Crystal nodded, pursing her lips. “I know, I thought of that. The next day we could double it up by going to Warehouses 21 and 22, and the next day, Warehouses 19 and 20.”

  Diana sat for a moment in deep thought calculating the numbers until she said, “At a guess, that's maybe 1800 people off the ship. That's still not enough.”

  “I—”

  Diana interrupted, not done with her thought. “It can work, Crystal. We have Starhawk Mech Transports that carry a dozen Mechs, maybe more if the Mechs don't mind kissing each other. Plus, we have a little over 90 Thunderbirds still in our arsenal, each one able to carry two people at a time.”

  “Whoa! What? Back up, you have Starhawk Mech Transports? How many and where?”

  “Launch Bay 5, port side.” Diana pressed her index finger to her temple, thinking, then asked, “We have twenty, maybe twenty five? That's an estimate. I haven't counted.”

  Crystal's face lit up. “You're screwing with me, right?”

  “No.”

  “We can use those to transport everyone off! They can unload at a warehouse, the crew can grab Mechs and come back, then load back up, unload...go to one warehouse, then another, until we've reached all of the warehouses...and oh, we can drop each load of crew off at the mountain before we load up some more.” Her grin grew. “That's it! We can get everyone off!”

  “Yes, if there are enough Mechs.” Diana didn't share Crystal's enthusiasm. She put up two fingers. “The second scenario, Crystal—is this a setup? If we manged to get everyone to the mountain, are we simply delivering them into a trap? We'd be target practice for the Drags during transport.”

  Drags? thought Crystal. How quickly the word had spread. She extended her arms and said, “Don't you see that's all we are now, just sitting here? They could have ended us right from the beginning. The Drags are using us for training practice. Those aren't elite forces out there, they're novice pilots and soldiers training in live combat until they unload that experimental weapon on us.”

  Diana's brow creased, giving her daughter the inquiring eye. “Yes, about that experimental weapon.”

  “That's what S told me. What about it?”

  Diana gathered papers on her desk, pretending to straighten them. “It's a bluff.”

  “No, it's not. Trust me. I have a feeling about S. I don't know why and I know it sounds a little crazy, but I know we have to get everyone off before they use that weapon on us. I don't know how long we have until they do it, but S said we only have like 3 or 4 days—if she can hold them off that long.”

  “Yes, you told me that. This all sounds a bit fishy to me, Crystal. You have to understand when I say that I have my concerns.”

  Crystal stood and said, “Well, I understand.” Her breath was heavy when she saluted her mom. “I wouldn't know what to think if someone told me what I just told you.” She turned to leave.

  “You aren't dismissed.”

  Crystal stared at the ground. “My gut tells me we need to leave as soon as we can, mother.”

  “It's always best to sleep on it, Crystal. If you say we have 3 or 4 more days, then give me a day to think on it. Is that sufficient?”

  Crystal nodded and turned to walk out of the office, not waiting to be dismissed. She knew her mom better than anyone and
thinking about something usually meant a big no. Crystal would have to take a calculated risk. It would have to be good enough to demonstrate to her mother that Forever Mountain wasn't a trap, and to show herself that it wasn't a trap. Crystal seemed to be getting used to taking risks as of late.

  She turned a corner walking fast, trying to swallow the enormous uncertainty of it all. Am I wrong about all of this? Is S lying to me? Perhaps her mother was right, that sleeping on it was the best thing to do. On the other hand, Crystal had a different idea unfolding in her mind. Maybe tonight would be the best time to determine whether or not S was telling the truth.

  She nodded, feeling confident. I'm going to Forever Mountain, tonight.

  ∞

  Admiral James Byrd walked down a line of prisoners standing in front of him. They were all wearing the Taranis Guard insignia that he now knew were fake. In reality, these captives were all Matrona Guard, and as best he could tell, they were the best trained soldiers in all of Star Guild. There were twenty two of them, arms cuffed behind their backs with eyes numb to any pain or sorrow. These aren't ordinary soldiers. No, these were somehow enhanced, almost superpower-like.

  Bred to kill, he mused.

  “So,” he said, pacing down the line, “they won't talk?”

  “No,” replied Captain Louise Stripe, shaking her head and swiping her hand across some dried blood on her cheek. At first, she had thought it was her own blood, but one touch had told her otherwise. There wasn't a cut beneath or above it, which didn't surprise her, since blood had been everywhere during the battle. And these evil men standing before her not only used phasers, but daggers and small swords as well, or anything else they could get their grizzly hands on. They had cut, slashed, shot, and stabbed their way down the hallway, until they suddenly stopped and dropped their weapons. They knelt, raised their hands above their heads and surrendered.

  Who gives up so easily?

  She glanced at Admiral Bryd, thankful he was alive, and wondered if he smelled the same ambush stench she was smelling.

  With one look, she knew that he did, then she suppressed a yawn. She had been up since...she couldn't remember the last time she'd slept. All she had the energy to recall was that less than an hour ago she was saving Admiral Byrd from the confines of his imprisonment by placing a small explosive on his door. When the door exploded, her heart nearly failed her, not knowing that the explosive would have such a large blast to it. When she rushed the room, she saw her old friend from the Taranis Guard, Admiral Stan Jenkyns, face down on the floor, dead, with blood pooled around him. At first she thought the explosives had killed him, only to find out later that it was Admiral Byrd who had pulled the trigger on his old friend, and for good reason, although she hadn't yet asked about the details and didn't expect she would any time soon.

  She walked up to one of the prisoners, looking him straight in the eye. He didn't flinch and seemed to look past her, even though his eyes were staring back at hers. She put a finger to his cheek and swiped the boot black that covered it. She eyed the smeary mix, then wiped it across the man's lips and spit in his face. “You disgust me.” He didn't twitch a muscle and she stepped away, scanning the hallway containing the captives.

  “How many were there?” asked Admiral Byrd.

  “Including their dead, we count thirty.”

  “Thirty?” That's it? With all the dead and wounded from his own Guard, he thought there were hundreds of these soldiers. He turned around and looked at the Brigantia and Taranis Guard, all his allies...he hoped. They held their phasers aimed at the prisoners, waiting for orders. “How'd they get past our guards and into the Infirmary?” he asked.

  Louise turned her gaze through the busted door and into the room where Admiral Jenkyns was still lying in blood on the floor. She pointed at his dead body and said, “That low life.”

  Admiral Byrd placed his hands on his hips. “They came in on Stan's watch.” There was melancholy in his voice.

  “Yes.”

  Admiral Byrd bit his tongue. He and Louise should be in private for the type of questions he wanted answered. Did they come into the building with Admiral Jenkyns? Which Taranis and Brigantia Guardsmen were on watch with Admiral Jenkyns when these elite super men entered the building? Who let them in? For all Admiral Byrd knew, there were more traitors in the Political Infirmary that had yet to reveal themselves. He feared that in due time they would, and for a second, even wondered if Louise was one of them, but dismissed the thought.

  He glanced at a group of Brigantia Guard. “Take the prisoners down to the basement. Lock them under heavy guard, gentlemen. These are the elite of the elite. They may have more tricks up their sleeves.”

  “Aye, Admiral!” replied a Guard.

  They marched the prisoners down the hallway. When the last prisoner walked past Admiral Byrd, he grabbed the prisoner's arm. “Come with me, son.”

  The man stiffened at the admiral's strong grip, then looked down at the admiral's fingers, then coldly into the admiral's eyes. The man was young, too young to be so confident, yet he acted as though he'd been through many wars and wasn't someone you'd want to mess with.

  The prisoner glanced at his friends as they moved down the hallway without him.

  Admiral Byrd pulled the prisoner into the next room and pushed him into a chair, hard, behind a table. The admiral sat on the other side of it, maintaining a safe distance from the lethal soldier. Louise and a handful of Brigantia Guard followed the admiral into the room, making sure their admiral had back up, if needed. Louise gave Admiral Byrd an inquisitive look, wondering what he was doing. The admiral nodded in a way that said bear with me.

  He returned his focus to the prisoner as he asked, “What's your name?” He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, thinking how glad he was that there had been so few of them. It was almost three hundred against thirty of these elites and it was just a damned good thing they surrendered.

  The prisoner made no attempt to speak.

  “I can get your name the easy way,” the admiral pulled out his phaser, “or the hard way. Which do you prefer?”

  As cold as ice, the prisoner was non-responsive, so Admiral Byrd stood and stepped around the table, placing the gun against the man's temple. “I'm going to ask again. What is your name?”

  The man turned his head, pressing his forehead into the gun, prodding the admiral to pull the trigger.

  Admiral Byrd looked at Louise, who looked curious about the soldier's lack of fear. The admiral looked back down at the prisoner. “Do you have a death wish, son?”

  “Why don't you uncuff me and find out?” replied the prisoner.

  Louise's footsteps echoed across the room as she slowly stepped over to the man and clutched his hair, pulling back harder than she expected. Admiral Byrd holstered his weapon.

  “What are you?” she demanded. She knew he wasn't normal. He was something else, something enhanced. “And why don't you have any emotions?”

  “They're useless,” the prisoner responded.

  She released his hair, returning his head to a neutral position. Then a sudden rage surged through her and she slapped her palm against the back of the captive's head. His head barely moved, not because of the massive strength of his neck, but because he had anticipated what she was doing and when she was going to do it.

  He smiled and she slapped him hard across the face.

  “Stop.” said the admiral. “He'll die without a care. He's of no use to us.”

  “Then let's kill him. Just one less worry,” responded Louise.

  The admiral stared into the prisoner's eyes, wishing he had his name. Did this guy have children? A wife? A living mother and father?

  The prisoner slowly shook his head and narrowed his eyes, a slight grin appearing on his face, as if he could read the admiral's mind.

  Admiral Byrd released a heavy sigh, “Do what you must, Louise.”

  The man said, “Please forgive me, I—”

  Louise
kicked him in the side, causing him to tip and fall, smacking his head against the ebb flooring. Even if the prisoner was ready for it, she had leverage and her body's full force on her side. A man twice his size would have spilled over.

  Louise glared at him. “Oh, I apologize. Please forgive me.”

  “I'll talk,” said the man.

  Admiral Byrd cocked his head to one side, raising a brow. “That easy, huh?” He gestured over to a couple of Brigantia Guardsmen. “Lift him.” Two hefty men walked over and set him upright in his chair.

  The captive looked at Louise. “You're forgiven.” He turned his eyes to the admiral. “I will answer your questions if you and I are alone.”

  Admiral Byrd gave the man a long, hard look. Then the admiral gave Louise a nod and glanced at the rest of the Brigantia Guard in the room. “Please leave us.”

  “Admiral!” protested Louise, “I don't think that's a good idea.”

  “It's okay, Louise. I'll be fine.”

  “But—”

  “That's an order.”

  Louise tightened her lips and turned, her face fire hot as she exited the room. The door hissed shut when the last of the Brigantia Guard exited.

  The room was silent. Admiral Byrd eyed the prisoner up and down for the first time. The man was thick and tall, brown eyed, brown hair, and forearms almost the size of Admiral Byrd's biceps. He had scars across both cheeks. This was a warrior of the truest form and he didn't seem to care about death.

  “What is your name?” asked Admiral Byrd a second time.

  The man looked down, his face showing worry. One of the many emotions that Admiral Byrd didn't think existed in this guy. “Payson Cole,” he replied.

  “Are you an enhanced human being?”

  “No.”

  “Then what are you? I've not heard of anyone, besides the myths of the Knights Templar, that can fight the way that you all did.”