The Sac'a'rith

by Vincent Trigili

  The look of surprise on John’s face was priceless, but he and the others moved quickly to get out of our way and let us through. Once past them we headed towards the rear end of the spaceport, the section reserved for only the largest craft. Eventually we reached his ship, which was in the most remote part of the spaceport.

  We quickly boarded and he immediately called for clearance to launch. His vessel was not at all what I had been expecting, but it did explain the reaction of the guards at the gate. It was a top-of-the-line trade hauler with the markings of the Resden Consortium on its side.

  This region of the galaxy was officially part of the Phareon Kingdom, which was formed decades ago at the fall of the great Empire. The ruling party had been slow to seize power, and several major consortiums rose up to fill that power gap. The government still operated as if it owned and controlled all of the systems in this region, but the reality was that these consortiums held the actual power in many areas.

  In this section of Phareon the Resden Consortium was all-powerful, and no one dared stand up to them. Even without my new history the guards were not likely to have stopped us. The consortiums usually tried to play nice with the government, but this was only for the look of things and not from any respect for official authority.

  Once we were safely underway I turned to my companion and asked, “So, what should I call you?”

  “Narcion will do,” he said. “I assume you want to keep the name Zah’rak?”

  “Yeah, but how do you know it?” I asked.

  “I scanned your DNA when I created your new history,” he said.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “Like I told you, I’m a problem-solver. People hire me to fix things for them and pay very good money for it.”

  “Yes, but this ship and your ID? Those aren’t for sale,” I said.

  “Everything is for sale if the price is right, and the right price was collecting the ship.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Someone managed to steal this ship, and the Resden Consortium wants it back. They gave me this ID plus a rather large sum of money up front to collect it. I stopped on your planet for some supplies en route to deliver it.”

  It made sense that they would not want one of their ships being used by someone outside of their own number, but Resden had plenty of power themselves: why would they need outside help? I decided not to challenge his story just yet, until I knew more about what I had gotten myself into.

  “So we deliver this ship, they pay up, and then what?” I asked.

  “Then on to the next contract, whatever that turns out to be,” he said.

  “I see,” I said.

  “Now, your record said you were a pilot. Can you fly this thing?” he asked.

  “This? It’s largely automated. A child could fly it in his sleep,” I said.

  “Be that as it may, we will be crossing some dangerous space soon where the Resden Consortium has no authority, and we cannot risk leaving the helm unmanned. We will need to sleep in shifts.”

  “You are taking us into the Zeta sector, then?” I asked with astonishment.

  “Yes. They don’t want anyone to see the exchange, so they’ll meet us out there,” he said.

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” I replied.

  “Good; you shouldn’t,” were his parting words as he left the bridge.

  I assumed he wanted me to take first watch at the helm, so I spent some time familiarizing myself with the controls. Once I had done that, I checked our route and saw that he had us flying directly off the map into uncharted space.

  We traveled for three days beyond the end of civilized space, well into what was commonly called the Zeta Sector. This was not really a formal sector; it was just the general name for uncharted space. When the Empire ruled this area it established strict borders which no citizen was allowed to cross, and it was illegal to even make maps of the region. With the fall of the Empire and the rise to power of the various consortiums, very few people had the resources to travel out here, so the area remained largely unpopulated.

  This made it a very good place for those on the run from whatever passed as law enforcement in any given area. There was not much in the way of resources, at least not that anyone had found, so these outlaws took to piracy along the borders of the various territories to keep themselves supplied. No one in civilized space knew what lay out this far, and most had no desire to find out.

  As Narcion came up onto the bridge I said, “One more jump and we will be at the rendezvous coordinates.”

  “Excellent. Can this ship scan that far ahead?” he asked.

  “No. It seems that whoever designed this spent far more time on its armor than anything else.”

  “Well, that could be very helpful. Plot our exit to come up at least a thousand kilometers shy of the rendezvous. That should give us a little time to react.”

  I plotted the course and then said, “You are not expecting this to go well.”

  “I have lived through enough deals of this kind to be suspicious,” he said. He strapped himself into the pilot’s seat and continued, “When we come out of jump space I want them to think I am alone, so let me do all the talking.”

  “Yes, sir.” I was beginning to understand his personality, which was secretive; he told me very little. I was used to this, having been a slave for so long, but it did not sit well with my inquisitive nature.

  “Engaging jump drives,” he said as we entered the azure timelessness of jump space.

  Coming out of jump space has a disorientating effect that pilots affectionately call “post-jump hangover,” as it feels a lot like the morning after a heavy night. This means that a pilot is temporarily incapacitated for as much as a minute after a jump. During that brief time, the ship’s computers have to make all the decisions.

  Once the post-jump sensation had passed, I saw in front of us what was obviously a trap. A small fleet of ships were arranged in a circle around the rendezvous site. They must have noticed us, as they were just beginning to turn in our direction.

  Narcion turned on the communication system and called out a series of codes, which I assumed identified us to the approaching fleet. “There is a distinct lack of response,” I said.

  “It appears so. Time for Plan A,” he said.

  “Plan A?” I asked.

  “Power up our weapons and target their leader.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said as I followed his orders, “but we are a hauler, not a battleship. It might be wiser to jump clear while we still can.”

  “Not at all. I promised to deliver this ship, and that is what I mean to do,” he said with a smile as he roared the massive engines up to full power and made for the approaching fleet.

  As we neared the fleet he repeated his message several times, each time without response. I was starting to worry that his plan might not include our survival.

  “Zah’rak, set the weapons to full auto and head to Cargo Bay Three.”

  “Yes, sir. What do you want me to do when I get there?”

  “You will find my personal cruiser there. Board it and get it ready to fly,” he said.

  Now his plan started to make sense. I quickly set the guns to full auto as he had ordered and ran down to the cargo bay. There I found his ship, unlocked. It was a small, light, fast attack cruiser, perfect for an escape run. It had no specific markings on it of any kind and from the outside looked very plain. It was not the kind of object you would notice, nor would it stay in your memory. It was the perfect kind of craft for those who did not want to draw attention to themselves.

  I released all the docking clamps and boarded the vessel. Once on the bridge I powered up all its systems and charged its weapons. I did not have any real combat experience in space, but I figured it could not be all that much different to fighting on the ground. The trick would be to stay calm and watch for attacks at any angle.

  It was not long before I
saw Narcion board the ship on the security cameras. Once he was aboard I locked down the ship, depressurized the cargo bay, and aligned the cruiser for launch. Since it was in a cargo bay and not a normal spacecraft dock we would have to open the bay doors and fly out instead of using a launch tube.

  “Good work. Now we wait,” said Narcion as he took the co-pilot’s seat on the bridge.

  “For what?” I asked.

  “Right now the hauler is winning the fight out there, but it won’t be long till the larger ships engage and start taking down our weapons. Once that happens, they will send in their smaller ships to attempt to breach our hull with boarding parties. That is when we will launch.”

  I could see the wisdom in that plan. As small and fast as we were, the larger ships had no hope of catching us. The only ships we needed to be concerned with were their light attack craft. If they were tied up, our chance of escape was much better. “Is this still Plan A?”

  “It had better be. I have no Plan B,” he said as he patched the ship’s computers into the hauler’s computer bank. Once that was done we could monitor the fight from our position. The hauler’s computer was doing a good job at holding off the light attack craft, largely because its armor was far too thick for their weapons to penetrate.

  It did not take long for the big ships to arrive and turn the tide against the computer. Soon most of the ship’s weapons’ ports were off-line and the enemy was attempting to board, as Narcion had predicted. “Okay, it’s time. Make a run for it,” he said.

  As the cruiser was already in launch position, I throttled up the engines, opened the cargo bay doors, and launched at maximum velocity. Immediately upon exiting the cargo bay, our tactical alarms went crazy as the surrounding ships all tried to lock their weapons on us.

  “Reduce power to thirty percent, and come about to z plus sixty,” commanded Narcion.

  That seemed completely foolish to me, but decades as a slave had taught me to comply first and think never. I made the course corrections as Narcion entered a code into the display in front of him. Then, without warning, we were in jump space.

  Once we had emerged Narcion asked, “Status?”

  “Checking,” I said as I shook the off the mind-numbing effects of exiting jump space and checked the tactical display. “We are twenty thousand kilometers from our previous location, and it appears that no one has seen us.”

  “Excellent. Keep everything on low power for the moment and align to 187 mark 37 degrees for our next jump.”

  Once I had aligned the ship I watched the fight on the long-range scanners. The hauler continued to fight back as best it could with most of its weapons destroyed, but other than that there was not much happening. It would not take them long to board the ship, especially if they used the open cargo bay from which we had left.

  All the time I’d been watching the fight, Narcion seemed to be waiting for something. We could have jumped much further away and ensured our safety, so he must have had a reason for remaining in this place. His face was blank as he watched the screen. I do not know what he was looking for, but without any warning or change in his expression his hand calmly drifted up and tapped a button on his console.

  I glanced at my tactical screen in time to see the hauler explode. The explosion ripped through the surrounding ships and was moving quickly towards us, but Narcion had already triggered the jump drives and we escaped into jump space.

  When we came out of post-jump hangover, Narcion activated the communication system. On the screen appeared a man in Resden uniform who snapped, “Well, do you have our stuff or not?”

  “Funny you should ask that,” said Narcion. “Your little trap failed.”

  “Trap? What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “This,” said Narcion as he played back the recording of the ambush we had just escaped. “As you can see, your buddies failed to eliminate me. I am sure the Mercenary Consortium would love to see this.”

  “I assure you that Resden had nothing to do with that,” he said. Some of his arrogance and confidence had faded.

  “Don’t try to play me for a fool. Those ships have distinct Resden markings and knew the location of our secret rendezvous.”

  “What happened to the cargo?” he asked.

  “I will show you,” said Narcion. He played back the recording of the trader detonating and destroying all the vessels around it. Silence filled the line as the Resden representative contemplated this turn of events. “Now, I expect full payment, as I kept my part of the deal. I delivered your package to Resden forces at the agreed time and location. If you fail to keep your end of the bargain, I will report this.”

  “No need for threats, Narcion,” he said.

  “One could say there was no need for backstabbing traps either,” Narcion retorted.

  “I will find out what happened and deal with it, and you will receive your payment as agreed,” he said.

  “See that I do,” Narcion said as he cut the line.

  “Won’t they just put a contract out on your head?” I asked.

  “Unlikely, but if they do they will just have to get in line, and it’s a long line,” he said. “Most likely some heads will roll inside their organization, possibly even that of my contact, and we will not hear from them again. At least, not till they want to hire me for another job.”

  “What do we do now, then?” I asked.

  “The payment for that contract should be enough to cover us for a while. I think that it is time to start your training,” he said.

  “Training?” I asked.

  “Yes. Come to the cargo area with me,” he said, activating the ship’s autopilot. I wondered at the wisdom of leaving the bridge unattended out here, but he seemed unconcerned.

  I followed him through the ship to the rear area, where the cruiser had a small cargo section packed with many containers of various sizes and colors. He headed straight for the most inconspicuous-looking one and opened it. From it he pulled out a flexible suit of battle armor, which he threw to me. “Wear that at all times from now on. You will need it.”

  I was surprised to see that the battle suit was designed for a Zalionian, and appeared to be about my size. It was not a cheap model either but of good quality, like everything else of his that I had seen so far. It was a top-of-the-line unit and looked brand new, as if he had bought it knowing in advance for whom and when he would need it.

  Narcion dug deeper into the container and pulled out several weapons. He turned and handed me two blasters and a pair of combat knives. “Carry these on you at all times. Your life will depend on that.” He paused a moment and added, “I assume you know how to work a blaster?”

  “Yes,” I said, checking them over. They were fully charged and seemed to be weapons of much higher quality than I had seen before. “I’m not familiar with this model, though. Some time on a range might be helpful, but I don’t have much use for the knives.”

  “Take them; they are made of much harder material than your claws. I can teach you to use them effectively in support of your natural weapons.” He then did something that struck me to the core. I was holding in my hands a pair of blasters, fully charged and ready to deal deadly force at the speed of light. Not even his reflexes could save him from that. I stood amazed as I watched him turn his back on me and repack the container. In all my life, no one had ever trusted me enough to do that.

  I quietly put down my new weapons and donned the armor. I was not sure what to make of Narcion. He had been completely emotionless so far in all his dealings, even the killing of an entire fleet. After serving under a man with the extreme emotions of Donovan, I found myself at a loss to understand or interpret him. When I was dressed in the armor I holstered all the weapons and asked, “You said something about training?”

  He turned back to me and replied, “Yes. I need to teach you to fight.”

  I was a bit offended by that statement. “I seem to do quite well in that area alr
eady.”

  “Yes, but not facing the kind of enemies I deal with. I will have to teach you how to fight and kill things of which as yet you know nothing.”

  “What kind of things?” I asked.

  “Dead things,” he said.

  Chapter Three

  It had been three long, hard and grueling years of training under Narcion. A dozen times over I thought of walking away from him, but I could not deny the fact that the instruction I was getting was top-notch. He was teaching me everything he could, including very advanced forms of hand-to-hand combat, weapons, stealth, and starship combat. The mental and physical stress of the work far exceeded anything I had previously experienced, but it was yielding results. Narcion was still faster and more nimble than me by far, but I was slowly gaining ground on him. Any thought of leaving when my year was up had vanished long before that time came. I could not explain it, but I instinctively knew that serving with him was where I was meant to be.

  Over the years he spoke very little about anything other than study. If I raised a question, he would just say, “Zah’rak, you must focus on your training. There is not much time left,” and leave it unanswered. This was mildly frustrating, but nothing that a lifetime of slavery had not taught me to deal with.

  He did occasionally disappear for short periods, leaving me with exercises and other work to do. I could not work out what he did while he was away, or where he went, since our ship was nowhere near any stations. He simply vanished.

  One morning, however, Narcion surprised me. “No training today. We have a job to do,” he said.

  “A job?” I repeated, surprised.

  “Yes; it will be a great opportunity for you,” he said.

  “How so?” I asked.

  “You will finally get to see the real reason I am out here, and if you do well, you can move on to serious training,” he said, going to the bridge to lay in our course.