Wave Mandate

by Schneider, A. C.

  “Their leader is believed to be Bar-Kas, the Second Son of the Patriarch, and perhaps this is what separates them most from other raiders; they’re far more ideologically motivated - hardline Mainlanders who believe the Mainland people and culture should dominate Osmos by right.”

  Jonas was listening closely and something wasn’t sitting well with him. “And you believe these Aberrations are capable of carrying out an attack on the Academy? It’s one of the most secure facilities on all of Osmos. How would they get past the perimeter defenses? Something doesn’t make sense.”

  “I agree. And we’re speaking as if it’s a given that the Aberrations are an actual group as opposed to a rumor running amuck in the imaginations of victims suffering from post-traumatic stress.”

  The Headmaster wasn’t particularly happy with this line of questioning. “Let’s assume for the time being they do exist,” he said, steering the conversation back to its original preposition, “what do we know of their possible location, Commander?”

  “Not much. Some say they’re being harbored by the Patriarch on the Mainland. Others believe they have a remote base on Cara’s 4. Like I said, rumors. No one is certain about anything. There are also a number of rumors that claim their base to be rigged with Pulse mines as a last resort, an alternative to capture if ever discovered and attacked. Several eyewitnesses reported seeing some sort of controller on their leader, Bar-Kas’ arm. Our analysts, who are paid to assume these rumors are true and to create contingency plans based on worst case scenarios, believe this controller may be a remote detonator for those Pulse mines. The outlying factor of the remote control is one of the primary reasons our analysts describe the chances for a successful base storming mission as bleak.”

  Jonas repeated his skepticism. “But these rumors sound a bit too fantastical to be believed.”

  “Again, I would have to agree with you, Teacher.”

  At that moment the Prophet Mother Panthea came into the room and signaled for the Headmaster’s attention. “Excuse me, Headmaster. The sixth and final guest you listed for Stormwatch to be expecting has just arrived.”

  “Ah, excellent. Thank you Mother.” The Mother Prophet turned and left. Orisius stood again and signaled for Commander Xervio to sit back down. “And thank you, Commander, for that fine synopsis. I suppose I can understand the skepticism this table obviously shares toward my conviction that the Aberrations do indeed exist and that it is they who are responsible for the attack on Academy Island. This final meeting member comes bearing proof that will be able to settle the matter squarely, once and for all, one way or the other.”

  “And what proof would that be?” asked Xervio, skeptically.

  The Headmaster smiled. “Prisoners.”

  Chapter 33: Nonstarter

  The Prophecy, Caras 1

  Just as he expected would be the case, the moment Kelerin followed Mother Panthea into the meeting chamber he felt the attention of everyone inside pulled inescapably from his own person to the large mining dolly he wheeled out in front of him. Not that he could blame his audience; like the introduction of a powerful new gravitational body into a delicately balanced system, it was the inevitable reaction. The industrial tool was about as alien an object to the Prophecy as an object could get, squeaking wheels and a clunky metallic frame announcing its approach long before he ever reached the chamber. Now that he’d made his entrance, it was obvious by the looks of those present, the revelation of the source of all the ruckus sparked more questions than answers.

  The exception to this collective befuddlement was the Headmaster. He stood from his chair, walked straight over to Kelerin, placed a hand on his shoulder, and said, “I’m both incredibly proud and incredibly sorry that you had to go through what you did, and that despite everything, you still managed to make it to this very spot, all on your own. You are at once a testament to what the Academy stands for, what it has produced for so many centuries, and to all that it has so recently lost.”

  Overwhelmed by this declaration, Kelerin tried to digest the compliment paid by the most iconic living figure of his young, Academic life, as well as the apparent omniscience of that same figure about his recent experiences. “You knew I was coming, then?”

  “A certain Captain Urmston radioed ahead to Island Guard Central Command. He had high praise for you.”

  Kelerin thought that made sense, the radioing ahead part, that is, not the high praise. Knowing what he knew of Captain Urmston, high praise seemed a bit out of character for the hardened hauler.

  Another man of Guard bearing sitting at the table seemed irritated by the Headmaster’s disclosure. “Why was I not informed of this?”

  “Because, Commander, you’re on a top priority mission, not to be bothered with details that are non-mission critical in nature.”

  “And you would call this non-mission critical?”

  “Oh, no. Not me. I would definitely consider this to be mission critical. However, it would appear your analysts over at Central would disagree.” The Commander seemed wholly dissatisfied by the situation, and Orisius, all too happy to leave him reconciling his disciplined loyalty with harsh reality.

  Meanwhile, the Prophet Mother Panthea, who had met Kelerin at the docking station and escorted him to the meeting, was standing impatiently off to the side, arms hanging low, fingers clasped in front of her in an agitated state of forced properness. Not able to wait any longer for an appropriate opening, she cut in and made herself heard. “There is a separate piece of urgent information I have to inform you of, Headmaster, gleaned from the Prophecy’s Search & Rescue efforts.”

  Orisius sought out the source of this new intrusion. Seeing Mother Panthea looking earnest, he sighed. “There you Prophets go again with your urgency. Find me after the meeting, if you will, Mother, and we’ll discuss this new matter of yours.”

  “I apologize, Headmaster, but I do believe this is something you must hear right away.”

  Annoyance crept into Orisius’ features. “You are not the only one with critical matters to attend to today, Prophet. What this Student has to tell us is of extreme import and time sensitive. If you’re so inclined to insist on the urgency of what you have to say, then I suggest you wait on the side till he is finished.”

  Panthea’s tone was defiant. “I am so inclined, Headmaster, and I shall wait.” She stepped off to the periphery, blending into the background but in no way deterred.

  Interruptions dealt with and eager to get the meeting back on track, Orisius turned his attention to Kelerin. “Very well then,” he said, allowing his gaze to settle on the dolly. The mining contraption was a cumbersome piece of equipment made of thick metal sheets welded together in the shape of an upside down trapezoid. Twice as long as it was wide, it rose up from its boxlike wheelbase to Kelerin’s waist, two heavy flaps on hinges closing it off from above. The flaps met in the middle and Kelerin’s Wave Whip had been passed through its handles, serving as a makeshift lock and preventing the flaps from being pushed open by whatever or whoever was secured inside. “Kelerin, is it?”

  “Yes, Headmaster.”

  Orisius’ annoyance at Panthea’s interruption, all but replaced by cheerful expectation. “I assume the raiders you captured are in this… thing?”

  “I was on a mining vessel trying to make my way over here when we were raided. Had to improvise.”

  “Ha! Very clever of you. Let’s get a look at our guests then, shall we? Halbard, Jonas, Commander Xervio and Valix - if you wouldn’t mind?”

  Valix? Here? Kelerin hadn’t noticed him before, not paying much attention to the table’s occupants. Looking more carefully this time he noted Halbard, Jonas and the Island Guard Commander getting up from their seats, making their way over to the dolly. Sure enough, Valix was among them.

  “Valix?”

  “Just as surprised to see you here, Kel, and not at the bottom of the Telorn Sea.”

  “No thanks to you. You left me stranded out there!”

  “Hey
! I was evacuating Students, alright!”

  Excuse. “Well, I’m just glad all women and children got off the Island safely.”

  “Watch it, Kelerin. I made a call. I don’t regret it.”

  “And I’m sure it was a torturous decision for you.”

  Valix began altering his business-like approach to the dolly, to a more aggressive one focusing on Kelerin. It was almost the exact same destination proximity-wise but the change in intent was clear nonetheless. “If I had waited any longer, every single Student of the Academy would be dead right now!”

  “I stayed and I’m here.”

  “Yeah, curious, isn’t it?”

  Excuse me? “What exactly are you implying?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Kel? Somehow you were the only Academic with a Whip. Somehow you had Prophecy. But for some obscure reason you couldn’t get your Prophet to call for help. You run back in alone, the Academy explodes and you come out without a scratch. What kind of picture does that paint for you?”

  “A twisted one from a twisted mind.”

  Valix took an aggressive step toward Kelerin, which prompted Jonas to step in and head things off before they got any more out of control. “That’s enough! We’ve got bigger problems to contend with right now, Students.”

  Kelerin and Valix stood facing each other down in mutual contempt. Several tense seconds passed before Kelerin decided to be the first to drop the matter and move on. “Where’s Dunner? Is he back on Castious?”

  Valix looked puzzled. “I thought he was with you?”

  “What do you mean, with me? You and Dunner stayed back to clear a path to the docks!”

  “We did. But then he said he had something to do first. He insisted. I thought he was going back in to help you out.”

  “So you left him!” Now Kelerin was the one losing his cool. Nearly diving over the dolly to lunge at Valix, Jonas placing a restraining hand on his chest, grabbing a tuft of his tunic and holding him back, “HOW COULD YOU LEAVE HIM THERE!”

  Orisius decided it was time to get involved, personally. “This ends NOW!” The authority in his voice, uncontestable. Kelerin got control of himself and Jonas released his grip. Valix stood with his head downcast. An onlooker might have guessed he genuinely felt guilty about Dunner but Kelerin wasn’t buying it. If his entire shared academic experience with the privileged Student taught him anything, it was that Valix only cared about Valix.

  “We all lost people today, Kelerin,” said Orisius, consolingly. “Anger is natural and even called for, but let’s direct it at the deserving parties.” Kelerin nodded reluctantly, the room now saturated with a quiet intensity, like the lulls between waves of a multi-staged assault. “We’ll start with the people locked inside this thing,” the Headmaster continued, returning his attention to the dolly. “Island Guard reported there would be two of them. Is that correct?”

  Forcing his mind back on track, Kelerin answered, “Yes, Headmaster. That is correct.”

  “Then if you will...” Orisius stepped back and indicated the Whip that was keeping the flaps sealed shut.

  Kelerin stepped closer and gripped the Whip’s handle, scanning the faces of his company to ascertain their readiness. They had all effectively surrounded the dolly. Each nodded in the affirmative. Taking a deep breath, he yanked the Whip free.

  The sound was unmistakable and not a second lapsed before the flaps were shoved open forcefully from within, two occupants of the dolly nearly jumping clear, shouting as they did so. Commander Xervio levied a heavy fist to the temple of one of the raiders, the body going limp and dropping back down into the dolly. Halbard and Jonas grabbed the second raider by either arm, dragging him out over the lip. The raider kicked at everything in range, roaring like a wild animal and squirming so much he nearly broke their hold. Valix was watching a half step back. Timing the rhythm of the raider’s kicks perfectly, he jumped in and grabbed both the man’s legs. Kelerin rushed over to help and they divided the legs between them.

  “Bring him over to the table!” ordered Orisius above the cries of their prisoner. The four of them worked together to fulfill the Headmaster’s wish, slamming the raider flat on his back, spreading and pinning his limbs to the table’s surface with their weight. Xervio took one of the chairs positioned around the table, turned it on its side and stomped on one of its legs, breaking it off. Jeserel, who had been sitting and watching calmly from her place the entire time, showed the first signs of shock at this destructive display of Prophecy property. “Sorry, Mother,” offered the Commander, insincerely and with an unmasked wry grin, “the costs of war, and all that.” She followed his progress as he made his way back to the dolly, closed the flaps and shoved the chair leg through the handles, sealing the unconscious second raider back inside.

  Meanwhile, the squirming first raider, who was still pinned down to the table, spit out in a thick Mainland accent his first intelligible words since the flaps opened. “I’m not going to say anything,” he said, laughing madly but clearly beginning to tire. “You think you can get me to talk?” More laughter. “Unless you wield the knife of the Patriarch, you are mistaken, Island garbage.” Exhausted and breathing heavily from his exertions, his squirming all but spent, he began repeating over and over with each exhale, “I’mnotgonnatalk…” breath, “I’mnotgonnatalk…” breath, “I’mnotgonnatalk…”

  When it was clear the man wasn’t going anywhere, Orisius turned to Jeserel. “Your turn, Mother.”

  Jeserel knew exactly what the Headmaster had in mind. Standing, she made her way around the table to the raider’s head. “Yes, Mainlander, don’t talk,” she counseled, gripping under the man’s jaw with her palm, fingers curling around, nails digging into his cheeks. He didn’t cry out but seethed with hatred and pain. Jeserel continued, “Don’t talk, and whatever you do, don’t think.” Her voice was eerily soothing and the raider felt compelled to hold her gaze. “Don’t think about your name...” pause, “…Saytoot.” The raider’s eyes opened wide with surprise. Jeserel leaned over and peered more intently into them. Saytoot tried to turn his head and look away but Jeserel’s nails dug in deeper and kept him facing forward. “Don’t think about your friends, the Aberrations…” pause, “…Ah, you are not an Aberration, are you? You’re First Clan. But you served as an attachment to the Aberrations. You were ordered to assist them.” The raider struggled harder now. Halbard and Jonas tightened their grips.

  “So the Aberrations are real!” exclaimed Jonas.

  Halbard said, “The First Clan is the Patriarch’s personal guard. This is an outrage. It’s an act of war!”

  “We don’t know the Patriarch knew the target,” qualified Xervio.

  “What difference does it make?”

  “A whole lot when you’re suggesting we enter into a world war with the Mainland, Professor.”

  “We’re already at war, Commander. You just haven’t woken up to it yet.”

  “Quiet!” The Headmaster hissed. “Let the Prophet continue.” He turned to Jeserel. “Find out where their base is.”

  Jeserel’s focused gaze never strayed from her subject. “Try very hard now and hide all thoughts of where the Aberrations themselves are hiding… Ah, Caras 4, then?”

  “Get out of my head, woman!”

  “But you don’t know where on Caras 4, do you? Because you’re First Clan, because they don’t trust you. That’s why you were hijacking the Miner, to ditch the Life Pod and flee to the Mainland.”

  “How could they possibly survive on Caras 4?” asked Jonas quietly in disbelief.

  “Find out about their defenses,” instructed Orisius.

  “Clear your mind now, Saytoot,” her voice like the lapping waves of the sea at low tide. “Don’t give anything away about the Aberrations’ defenses, about the controller on the Second Son’s arm...”

  “GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” the raider screamed - and then he passed out.

  “Thank you,” said Jeserel to her unconscious victim, straightening away from him.
The raider’s breathing was shallow and his body twitched every few seconds. Valix shifted uncomfortably at the sight of the broken man. Jonas, who had been watching to see what the young Student’s reaction would be to Jeserel’s demonstration of the very threat she’d warned of earlier, had to stifle a grin.

  The Prophet now turned to address all in the chamber. “The Aberration base, which they apparently refer to as the Habitat, burrows deep inside a mountain, part of a ring of mountains making up the ranges of Caras 4. He doesn’t know the exact location, not even which sector. The feeling I got from him was that the Aberrations don’t trust their location with anyone who isn’t one of their own.”

  “What about the base’s defenses?” asked Orisius.

  “The Habitat is divided into modules that can be sealed off and detonated individually directly from the Second Son’s remote, which apparently is real and worn on his right forearm at all times. It stands as the primary defense of the Habitat.”

  “Commander,” said Orisius, turning to Xervio. “You have the most experience with regard to operational strategy and tactics of this nature. What say you?”

  Xervio placed a thoughtful finger on his chin. “Without knowing more than I do, it would appear Bar-Kas has chosen his position well. The Habitat would be all but impervious to a conventional airstrike, given the well-known weather conditions on Caras 4 as well as its subterranean location. Coupled with the confirmation of a module by module Pulse mine threat, I can only conclude that trying to storm the complex would result in major casualties, if not utter failure. The Commander’s tone became fatalistic. “I’m afraid without that remote any assault would be a nonstarter.”

  Kelerin felt awkward speaking up, being just a Student and all, but he thought his older counterparts were forgetting something very basic. “Excuse me? Perhaps I’m missing something, but without knowing their location isn’t this whole mission a nonstarter.”