“You were hiding little, Juliada.” Tarken, referred to finding her naked.
Again Juliada laughed. “Well, I would’ve had another go at you, but—”
“We’ve got to hurry.” Bazil interrupted. “This delay has cost us precious time, and I’ve heard just about enough of this little liaison the two of you apparently have shared.”
“I agree,” Tarken stated. “We still have to locate the master control panel for the slave bands. I can make it to my quarters quickly and shut off that one, but we still must find the other before we begin.”
“I know where it is,” Juliada volunteered. “I located it a few dawning’s ago.”
All eyes turned to her.
“It in the king’s bedchamber, and so is the remaining muartzin stone.” She shrugged.
“We’ll get that one later.” Tarken glanced over at Rube. “I’ll deactivate the one in my quarters first. For now, let’s get out of this room before we’re seen by someone who might give a damn that we’re here.”
Rube swiped his hand across the remote, and the doors unlocked. “Meet us at the dawn side corner, behind the wallom bushes. Kleb has likely returned by now and is gathering the rebels. He’ll be awaiting our signal. How fast can you make it?”
“Give me five ticks of the time piece,” Tarken called as he left through one door while the others left through the opposite door. While he left he heard Rube say to Juliada, “The kings bedchamber eh?”
“Well cousin,” she replied. “A woman must know how and to whom she should align herself with for the better good.”
Tarken snickered at the comment as he left the garden. Without any hassle, he returned to his quarters where he made short work of turning off the panel. He was back with the others in no time.
Bazil opened another passage, and they made their way inside. Along the way, Bazil pointed out openings that needed to be left ajar for the rebels to enter. He also marked the floor of the passages with luminous disks as a guide to those who entered.
Since the king had a habit of monitoring all commlink transmissions that occurred in and around the castle, their only means of communication would be by messenger, and the system of hand and facial signals they had contrived. They worked their way up the passageway, opening doorways and marking the way, moving quickly and quietly.
“Stop,” Juliada whispered. She grabbed Tarken by the arm. “We’re close to the king’s bedchamber. I should take the slavemaster there while you continue on.”
Rube arched an eyebrow at her. “Really Juliada? Thinking of mating at a time like this?”
“To turn off the slave band panel, you ass!” she hissed back. “I don’t know how to work the fucking thing!”
Bazil huffed but had to agree. “That was one of our issues, trying to figure out how to deactivate the main slave band controller.”
“I can do it,” Tarken assured him.
“Fine.” Bazil nodded. “The two of you take care of it. We’ll continue here. Let’s meet in the hall leading to the throne room. I’m hoping Cushla has been taken there.”
The two groups parted ways with Bazil and Rube continuing down the passage.
Juliada took Tarken down a different passage. Stopping some distance along the way, she pressed two spots on the wall and a portion of it opened silently. Taking his hand, she guided him inside the royal bedchamber after checking to be sure the room was empty.
Tarken gazed around the cavernous chamber while taking in its excesses of opulence.
Marble floors inlayed with highly polished and difficult to obtain lapis, silk wallpapers, gilded mirrors, red velvety hangings trimmed with expensive rialderem gems were slathered throughout the chamber.
Tarken shook his head at the extravagances finding them gaudy, but what caught his eye were the numerous rugs scattered throughout the room. He recognized several of the pelts--animal skins, rare, some extinct even—illegal to possess or sell in any of the galactic markets. Having had an opportunity to visit an animal sanctuary where he viewed and touched some the exotic and beautiful creatures, seeing this disgusting display gave him yet another reason to be sickened by Mecor’s doings. How could he have allowed himself to be employed by such a heartless man?
“This way.” Juliada tugged on his arm, pulling Tarken from his rumination. She turned to the left and walked into another smaller room, which was just as elaborately decorated.
Through an archway, Tarken could see the king’s bed and wardrobes, all adorned with red velvet and jeweled trim, and the bed itself was the largest he’d ever seen. It could sleep at least ten children comfortably or several adults. Again, he found himself shaking his head at the vulgar things that might have occurred there, the rumors he’d heard. “Did you really bed the king just so you could find the panel?”
The woman bit her lip, her eyes slipping upward.
Tarken followed the line of her gaze to the chains and cuffs that dangled from a canopy rail surrounding the bed.
“He thinks I did, but we took care of that.”
“We?” Tarken questioned her reply.
“It was group effort, me and the two guards he always has posted when forcing females in his chamber…” Juliada tisked and shook her head. “Royal or slave, it mattered not to him.”
“Or family member?” Tarken grimaced.
“He’s a sick man,” Juliada answered.
“How many of the guards are allies?”
“A very small handful, many however, are loyal out of fear. The king is sadistic.”
“So I’ve heard.” Tarken was beginning to see this woman in a different light. She was risking her life, maybe torture even because of her involvement in the uprising. “You’re a brave woman, Juliada.”
Her response was to harrumph. “I did what I had to do. I should’ve killed him, but there are many enemies inside, Scoac being one of them. He has his own set of followers, and I have it on good word he has his eyes on the power. Anyway, the risk paid off.
“How did you avoid being bedded by him?”
“I slipped something into Anzer’s wine, and he passed out right after we got into bed. Slept like a babe. We then carefully searched the chamber.” Juliada pointed out the master panel for the slave bands.
It wasn’t what Tarken expected. He thought it would be hidden inside of a wall or at the least concealed, but it was nothing more than a flat tablet no bigger than his flared hand and sitting openly on a small table. “Tell me something, Juliada.” Picking up the tablet Tarken examined the contraption. It felt light in his hands. “The corridor—”
“Listen Tarken,” Juliada interrupted. “Had I known you would be on our side—I just didn’t expect that you would be so, so…” Her gaze roamed his form and she cast her glaze aside, sighing. “Never mind. I know your heart belongs to Bazil’s daughter. I won’t interfere with that.”
“And how did you learn of that?”
“Rube of course, he told me it was quite apparent.”
Without further comment, Tarken began attending to the master control. He attempted a code to open the system but it didn’t work. He tried another, again it failed. Frowning slightly, he sat on one of the chairs and tried to work out the pass code to access the system. With frustration setting in, he glanced around the room, and his mouth fell open when he spied a stone—a maurtzin stone suspended in the air. He stood and crossed the room stopping in front of the podium the stone floated over. It seemed to be trapped inside of some kind of bubble, held to the center of it by rays of light. He reached his hand toward it.
“Don’t touch that Tarken,” Juliada warned. “It will burn your hand.”
“I’ve seen this kind of locking system before. I—”
“You heard her slavemaster.” A voice behind him spoke—a male voice. “She said don’t touch it.”
Chapter Twenty Six
Rube and Bazil stepped quietly from the hidden panel between two large ornate urns that shielded them from anyone who might be walking
the corridor.
“Do you think Tarken has shut off the panel yet?” Bazil whispered to Rube.
“I don’t know, there should have been enough time.” he replied. “We have done all we can, but something doesn’t feel right.” Rube took a cautioned glimpse past the huge urns to check for activity in the hall.
“Let’s make for the King’s throne room.” Bazil suggested. “Maybe Tarken’s already there, trying to retrieve Cushla, and if he isn’t I’ll get my daughter myself.”
“I can’t let you do that.” Rube grabbed his upper arm. “If you get nabbed…”
Bazil glared at him. “She’s my daughter.”
For a moment Rube studied him, and then released his arm. “I suppose we should at least assess the situation.” He checked the time piece latched to his belt, removed the commlink also attached there and pressed a button. “We’re out of time regardless. I’ve just signaled the rebels to advance, and there’s no stopping now. The signal will likely be picked up by the communications monitors.”
“Hopefully, it will be too late by the time they figure out what it is.” Bazil then checked the hall to see if it was clear, and seeing that it was he stepped out from behind the urns and gestured for Rube to follow. They crossed to the other side where they slipped between two more urns, which stood on either side of a recessed wall. Bazil tripped the door to the next passage and they stepped through, closing the door behind them.
“How did you discover all of these passages?” Rube whispered as he followed behind Bazil. He watched while rows of dim lights triggered just paces ahead of them as they moved through the secret hall.
“Jansee Mecor loved these hidden corridors. We used wander them frequently as we chatted,” Bazil told him, referring to the prior ruler and Anzer Mecor’s brother. “Anzer is aware of many of them, but being the eldest and heir to the throne, the mappings and secrets to unlocking all of them were bestowed only on Jansee. Over the solars, as it became clear that Anzer was growing increasingly envious of the throne, Jansee decided it was time to entrust the passage secrets to only his most loyal. I was one of them.”
“In case the use of them might be needed,” Rube observed.
Bazil nodded as they stopped in front of a seemingly solid wall. “Jansee was careful to keep this particular passage in flawless working order.” He glanced at Rube and then proceeded with the activating sequence along the bricked façade. “Let’s hope it opens as mutely as it has before.”
It did. The wall rotated slightly and silently inward, leaving enough space for each of them to shimmy through. They found themselves behind the thick, massive drapery that served as a backdrop to the king’s throne. Beyond that, voices could be heard. Finding the opening between two panels, Bazil opened them slightly and peered out, Rube doing the same over his shoulder.
“Well, well, well. I finally have time to deal with you.” Mecor chuckled as he crossed the massive room. He halted in front of Cushla and crossed his arms over his scrawny chest. “Maybe now your father will come to rescue you.”
Cushla strained at the chains mounted to the large pillar. Her action did little except to scrape the already bruised and tender flesh around her wrists.
Bazil bristled upon seeing his little one subjected to such abuse.
Cushla’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want with my father?”
“We have some unfinished business, and once I’m satisfied I have what I need, you both can go off to be happy.” He waved his hand in the air. “Or whatever you call your pitiful existence.”
“My father will never help you!” Cushla spat at him. “You’re lower than the lowest scums of the galaxy!”
Mecor stepped forward and grabbed her around the throat. Squeezing, he smiled as she sputtered to catch her breath.
The aggression against his daughter had Bazil starting forward.
Rube gripped his shoulder. “Easy, it’s not the time yet.”
Bazil halted, but he drew his stunner. “I can get a clean shot from here.” He took aim.
“Patience Bazil, the rebels need to begin the strike or we’ll all end up dead.”
Bazil’s tense body relaxed a margin and they watched as Mecor leaned even closer to Cushla, his face nearly touching hers. “He will do as I ask or he will watch you die, just like he watched your mother die.” Releasing her, Mecor stepped back, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled, anger clearly in his expression.
Cushla coughed as she gasped for air, and then rasped out. “Do you ever brush your teeth, Mecor? Your breath stinks like a decaying ogdin, five dawnings old.”
Mecor merely snorted and turned away. He then huffed air into his cupped palm and sniffed. With a shrug he dropped his hand while slowly, menacingly turning back toward her, his hard, cold gaze fixing on her face, more pointedly her slave band. “You wear your band like a crown Cushla. Maybe I should let you feel the pain that wearing a crown can truly cause.”
Cushla laughed at him. “Try your best, Mecor. I’m numb to the threats and punishments of the band.” She glared at him as she snarled in disdain.
A guard entered the room and bowing deeply, he stated, “Pardon the intrusion, your Majesty, there is trouble on the grounds. The slaves have armed themselves, and the controls on our belts seemed to be deactivated.”
Mecor’s eyes narrowed as the guard’s words sank in. “No matter,” he responded a bit too calmly. “I already sent Durnin to retrieve the master control from my chamber.” Pausing, he sneered at Cushla. “I have a little slave here who needs to be taught a lesson, and I can reactivate your belts with it.”
The room fell into a deafening silence. Somewhere in the distance an alarm sounded. Mecor’s lip quivered, and then his ire exploded. He began to pace. “Kill them. Kill them all! I’ll show them who’s in control around here. How dare they think they can rebel against me?” He halted in front of Cushla. “How dare they!”
Cushla closed her eyes and turned her head aside as he bellowed directly into her face.
“I am the KING! I make the rules.” He stopped ranting and then glanced in the direction
of the door to the corridor that led to his chamber. “Durnin is taking too long.” He turned to the guard and growled. “Find out what is taking him so stars fucking long!”
A commotion ensued—a woman could be heard releasing a string of curses, then a guard was yelping, “She bit me!”
Durnin entered the throne room, carrying the controller. Behind him, four guards had a firm hold of Tarken and Juliada was kicking and screaming at another who jerked her by the arm.
“Oh shit,” Rube cursed a bit too loudly from their cover. He drew his stunner. “Let’s take him out now.”
“What goes on here!” Mecor demanded, placing himself within the circle of his royal guards as he gazed at the slavemaster and Juliada.
“I can’t get a clean shot now!” Bazil groused low but harshly. “He’s in the middle of the mayhem.”
Rube pursed his lips. It was true. Mecor was too close to Tarken and Juliada, and with all the prancing around he was doing— they or even Cushla might end up in the line of fire.
“Tarken!” Cushla yelped. She writhed against her restraints.
Tarken’s brow wrinkled with distress at seeing her but he didn’t speak.
“They accosted me, Anzer!” Juliada shrieked.
“Should I care?” Mecor retrieved the control panel from Durnin and began examining it. “From what I know of you Juliada, your legs fall apart quite easily.”
Juliada responded with an offended huff just as an explosion rocked the room. Everyone inside startled as dust shook loose from the ceiling and sprinkled down on them.
Mecor rose from his cower, snapping quickly upright, bellowing to the guards posted at the door. “Get a report from me on what those bastard slaves are doing! I want whoever is responsible brought here. I will cut them apart piece by pathetic piece and feed him to the royal yupgers for supper!” He then turned to Tarken and Juliada giving
them the once over. “What were you doing in my private chambers!?”
“I caught these two fucking in your bed, your Majesty,” Durnin snickered as he gave Tarken a distasteful glance.
A choking gasp came from Cushla, and Tarken met her gaze. He shook his head at her in denial but her nostrils flared and she snarled. Her eyes narrowed on him.
Bazil bristled at Durnin’s words, watching the affect it had on her. “I’m going to kill him,” he mumbled. “How dare he claim to love my daughter?”
“The controller was lying next to them,” Durnin continued.
“You deactivated the slave bands!” Mecor shook the panel at Tarken. “You traitor!”
“No your Majesty.” Tarken turned his attention toward the king. He glared directly into Mecor’s eyes and the king shrank, clearly intimidated. Tarken continued to weave his counterfeit tale. “I discovered the controller in my quarters was missing, and an uprising beginning to occur in the fields. There was no time to inform you as the slaves were beginning to riot. I knew you kept another unit in your bedchamber, so I headed directly there.”
“Ah— yes,” Juliada chimed in. “And I saw him in the corridor entering through the door and followed him…” Strolling casually toward Tarken she leaned against him, gazing lustfully up at him. “I saw a perfect opportunity…” She skimmed her hand up and down his thigh.
The action caused Cushla to release a screech filled not with anguish but with monumental fury.
Tarken shook his head again, his eyes directly on her.
Bazil, having reached the level of his tolerance at seeing his daughter in such a state started forward, but Rube grabbed the collar of his shirt. “Easy,” he warned. “We can’t just go charging in there.” From their helpless position, Rube and Bazil listened to their cohorts continue their explanations. It was then that to his right, through the corner of his eye, Rube saw movement. Someone was behind the drapery and moving along its length. “Fucking hellstars,” he mumbled. Likely, he and Bazil had been heard, and now they’d been seen.
“We have to move now damn it!” Bazil was about to spring forward.
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