Pursuit of Valor (The Tarvaax War Book 1)

by Tripp Ellis

  Zack tried to sit up and look around the room. He paid the price for the movement. His head throbbed again from the increased blood pressure. There was a hazy figure standing in front of him, and he heard the beeping of a monitor next to his bed.

  “You’re lucky to be alive,” a nurse said. “You took a pretty good blow to the head.”

  The hazy figure came into view—a smiling nurse wearing teal blue scrubs. She had her light brown hair pulled back into a ponytail.

  “How did I get here?” Zack asked, still a little confused.

  The nurse motioned to the corner of the room. The new kid was sitting in a chair. “Your friend called emergency services. And it was a good thing he did. The doctor should be in shortly to talk to you.”

  “I got punched in the face. Is it that serious?”

  The nurse smiled. “The doctor will be in to see you in a few minutes.”

  It was a disconcerting non-answer. She spun around and left the room quickly. Zack glanced to the new kid sitting in the chair.

  “Thanks for standing up for me," the kid said. "Sorry you ended up in here.”

  “Did I at least get a punch in? I can’t remember a thing, except for that fist.”

  The new kid was hesitant to answer. Then he finally shook his head.

  Zack frowned. ”That’s pathetic.”

  He looked at the IV jabbed into his forearm. His eyes followed the tubing up to the bag of saline, electrolytes, and medication. Then over to the monitor that displayed his vital signs. Waveforms monitored his heart rate, O2 saturation, and blood pressure. “I hate hospitals.”

  “Me too.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Isaac Norton.”

  “Nice to meet you, Isaac.” Zack extended his hand and the two shook.

  A few minutes later, a doctor entered the room wearing a white lab coat, examining his PDU. He thumbed through Zack's chart. He was a bald man in his late 50s. He spoke so softly that Zack strained to hear him. He smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Doctor Kaufman. Everything’s fine. You had a mild brain trauma, but nothing serious. You took two hits. One to the face, and one to the back of the head when you plowed into the concrete. Sort of a double whammy. I’ve given you some medication that will take down the swelling and the extra cerebral fluid. I’ve reset the bone in your nose and in your arm. There’s a regenerative compound in the IV that will accelerate healing, so you should be back to normal in a few days.”

  “I don’t have to stay in here for that long, do I?” Zack had a panicked look on his face.

  Kaufman smiled again, reassuringly. “No. But I would like to keep you in overnight for observation.”

  “I feel fine. Really. Can I just go home?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t discharge you just yet. Relax. Watch TV. Eat some ice cream. Think of it as a mini vacation.”

  “This isn’t my first choice of vacation spots.”

  Kaufman chuckled. “Tomorrow will be here soon enough, and you can go home.”

  Zack sighed.

  “If you experience any dizziness, nausea, or blurred vision, let one of the nurses know.”

  “Will do.” Zack wasn’t about to tell him he was practically seeing double.

  Kaufman left.

  Zack waited a moment, listening to the sounds of the bustling hospital filter into the room. When it was clear, he looked to Isaac. “You’ve got to help me get out of here.”

  Isaac looked confused. “But he says you need to stay in overnight.”

  “Nonsense.” Zack began fumbling with the white medical tape on his arm. He peeled it back and slid the IV needle from his vein. Blood blossomed from the pinpoint wound. He used his thumb to put pressure on it until it stopped bleeding. Then he got Isaac to help him lower the guard rail on the bed.

  Zack swung his legs over the edge and sat up. He was wearing a ridiculous green hospital gown that tied in the back. If you looked close enough, you could see the small blue snowflake pattern in the fabric. The gowns could make even a healthy person look sick. Electrodes, attached to his skin, ran to the vital signs monitor. He knew the minute he removed them an alarm would sound at the nurses station. “See if you can find my clothes. Check the closet.”

  Isaac rummaged through the cabinet. It was slightly bigger than a gym locker. He grabbed Zack's jeans, shirt, and shoes and brought them to the bed.

  Zack pulled on his pants and finagled his gown over the wires that were still connecting him to the monitor. “Come here.”

  Isaac stepped next to him. He looked a little uncertain.

  “Lift up your shirt.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  Isaac furrowed his brow. He was self-conscious about his lack of a physique. He was the kind of guy who wore a T-shirt at the pool. But he finally complied.

  Zack peeled the electrodes from his chest and stuck them onto Isaac. The monitor flatlined for a moment and let out a steady tone until the electrodes were re-affixed. Zack placed the pulse/ox monitor on Isaac’s fingertip.

  “I don’t see what this is going to accomplish.”

  “It’s going to let me sneak out of here. Then, when I’m gone, you pull those off and leave. If anybody says anything, I got up and ran out and you couldn’t stop me.”

  Isaac thought about this for a moment and shrugged. “I guess.”

  Zack finished getting dressed and put on his shoes. He crept to the edge of the doorway and peered into the hallway. He scanned from one end to the other, then he craned his neck back to Isaac. “Meet me outside.”

  Isaac looked uncomfortable. He was a rule follower, and this was certainly breaking the rules. But before he could object, Zack was gone.

  6

  Plasma blades sliced through the air, clanking and clamoring as they clashed. The edges of the steel blades were lined with glowing plasma beams that could sever flesh and bone with ease. Sparks flew as the swords connected. The two warriors battled each other with expert precision.

  To the casual observer, it looked like they were battling to the death, not sparring. Emperor Vuul ferociously attacked his sparring partner, Master Xyn Kotaar. He deflected the Emperor’s advances with ease, despite Vuul being stronger and larger.

  The mock battle raged. The swords slashed and stabbed, and the participants dodged and parried. The Emperor finally managed to sling Kotaar's blade aside with a twirling motion. He planted a foot in the master’s chest, sending him crashing to the deck. In a flash, Vuul's blade was inches from Kotaar's throat. The plasma beam crackled with energy. Kotaar stared down his nose at the blade with concern. Though he felt relatively safe, he had seen the Emperor kill sparring partners before.

  An instant later, the Emperor deactivated the blade and sheathed the sword. He extended his hand to Kotaar and pulled him from the mat.

  "You are a worthy opponent. If only we were true enemies," he said wistfully, “then I would face your full potential."

  Kotaar grinned. "I can assure you, you have beaten me at my best."

  The Emperor patted him on the shoulder, "I think we both know that's not true."

  Kotaar wasn't exactly sure how to take the statement. But then a grin broke on the Emperor's face and all was well.

  It was clear the Emperor had a genuine affection for Kotaar, much to the displeasure of Xorgon, who stood watching at the edge of the practice bay. "Father, we have achieved victory," he said, triumphantly marching into the bay.

  The Emperor looked less than impressed. "When the scourge of humanity has been eradicated from the galaxy, then you will have achieved victory."

  Xorgon tried to hide his displeasure, though his face involuntarily tensed for a moment. He tried to sound pleasant when he spoke. "Zeplovia has surrendered. We took the capital city in less than an hour."

  "Zeplovia is the weakest colony in the galaxy. I'm not sure I would boast too loudly about the ease in which they were defeated. Anything less than what you achieved would have been an embarrassm
ent. It will only be a matter of time before the Federation responds.”

  "But they are no longer a Federation colony."

  "They will protect their own kind. They always have, and they always will."

  "Let them come. We are ready," Xorgon said. "Crylos is next. One by one, we will take each colony."

  The Emperor's face tensed, growing frustrated with Xorgon's arrogance. "Do not underestimate the enemy. That is the surest way to defeat. The threat they pose is real. It has been foretold."

  “I think you give those witches far too much credit, Father."

  The Emperor leaned in and snarled at him. He spoke in a low gravelly voice. “Under the guidance of the oracles, I have risen to power. I have defeated all of my enemies. I've identified all would-be assassins. You would be unwise to ignore their prophecies.”

  Xorgon cowered like a scolded child. "Yes, Father."

  “You must destroy the one," the Emperor said.

  “And how will I know this one?"

  Vuul looked at him like he was an idiot. "Just kill them all."

  “But what of the harvest?"

  The Emperor's eyes narrowed at him. "I care not about your harvest.” He paused for a moment. "Perhaps your brother is better suited for the task."

  Xorgon's eyes widened. “No. Aarnok is weak!”

  "But obedient. Do as you're told, or you may find yourself under your brother's rule someday.” Vuul had not yet formally chosen a successor, and he lorded that fact over his two boys to no end. Both had aspirations toward the throne.

  Xorgon tried to hide his displeasure. "Yes, Father."

  7

  The monitor tone went solid as Isaac peeled the electrodes from his skin. He marched for the door and stepped into the hallway, trying to look inconspicuous. He made it to the stairwell and gave a glance back down to the nurse’s station. There wasn’t anyone there, and no one seemed to be paying any attention to the fact that one of their patients had up and left. Isaac wondered what would happen if someone was truly dying. His faith in the medical system went down a notch. He slipped into the stairwell and spiraled his way down to the ground level. He strolled through the lobby and met up with Zack on the sidewalk.

  “Everything go okay?”

  “At this rate, they won’t notice you’re gone for until tomorrow,” he said, sarcastically.

  Zack shook his head. “Let’s get moving.”

  They walked to the bus stop at the end of the block. There was an aluminum shelter with a domed acrylic roof and a bench inside. The walls were made out of display panels that rotated a selection of advertisements. One of them was a recruitment poster for the Marine Corps. The image featured legendary war hero, Cyrus Cole. He had ice blue eyes that seemed like they were looking right through you. He had a square jaw and chiseled features. Salt-and-pepper hair that was more salt than pepper. He was lean and mean, wearing his full dress blues. Campaign ribbons and medals lined his chest. He was standing next to a mechanized infantry vehicle, MAV-X9—a state-of-the-art walking tank. It was a single person vehicle, equipped with two 50 caliber machine guns, matching P279 plasma cannons, 12 hell storm missiles, and powered by a 10,000 hp Hughes & Kessler turbine engine.

  The stories of Cyrus Cole’s heroics were epic. At the Battle of Barvot, he was the only surviving member of his platoon. He had overcome insurmountable odds to defeat three infantry companies. The battle is considered by most historians to be a major turning point in the war. It was one of many triumphs. His book Courage in Combat was required reading in history class. There wasn’t a person in the Federation that didn’t know who Cyrus Cole was, and who didn’t at least have some degree of admiration for him.

  Zack stared at the ad for a moment.

  “Thinking about joining the Marine Corps?” Isaac asked.

  “My dad was a Marine. I don’t think it’s for me, though.” Zack paused for a moment. “But I’ll bet you Dean Dully would think twice before messing with a Marine.”

  Isaac grinned. “Cyrus Cole is going to be at school tomorrow. He’s on a tour of all the high schools, looking for recruits.”

  “Sign up now, and you’ll be in the thick of it on Sirius 7, or some other colony, just as soon as you finish boot camp,” Zack said.

  Isaac grimaced. The thought of combat didn’t sound appealing at all. “Do you think they’ll reinstitute the draft?”

  Zack shrugged. “I don’t know. I keep hearing talk about it. I’d rather enlist than be drafted. At least you have some kind of choice that way.”

  “I’m planning on going to college. Pre-med. What about you? What are you going to do after high school?”

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

  Isaac looked shocked. The next 10 years of his life were pretty well mapped out. He couldn’t fathom that Zack hadn’t meticulously planned his future. “We graduate in a few months.”

  “Plenty of time.”

  The bus finally arrived. The brakes hissed and the doors swung open. Zack and Isaac stepped aboard. Zack placed his thumb on the ID scanner near the driver. All city buses had onboard AI that drove the vehicles. But an anthropomorphic robotic figure sat in the driver’s seat and pretended to steer. It made passengers feel better. If you were under 18, and enrolled in school, public transportation was free within the city limits.

  Zack and Isaac took a seat, and the bus rolled away. The roadway was lined with all manner of hovercraft and traditional vehicles. Though, the hovercraft were limited to ground level. Tiered roadway systems were causing too many fatalities. And it was hard to beat the functionality and efficiency of wheeled vehicles. Hovercars were far more expensive, and more complicated to maintain.

  It was a little after 10 PM by the time they reached Zack's house.

  “This is my stop. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at school?”

  Isaac nodded. “Thanks again. That would have been me in the hospital if you hadn't stepped in.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I learned something today.”

  “Yeah? What?”

  “Not to fight guys that are almost 7 feet tall.” Zack laughed.

  Isaac tried to laugh with him, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Zack said heading toward the door. “You’re not nearly as blurry as you were back at the hospital.”

  Zack plunged down the steps to the street. From the bus stop it was another block home. He heard the bus pull away behind him, and the engine faded into the distance. An overhead streetlight buzzed and cast an eerie glow with long shadows. There were dark nooks and crannies and alleyways along the street. Ideal places for someone to hide. Zack couldn’t help but think Dean and his thugs were lurking somewhere in the darkness, waiting to jump out and ambush him.

  Zack hobbled down the street with caution. To his surprise, nothing came lurching out of the shadows at him. He reached 11975 Preston Avenue—a 40 story apartment complex. Home.

  He strolled up the walkway, pressed his thumb against the security pad, and pushed into the double glass doors. The lobby was dingy. There was a couch, chair, and coffee table. A flat-panel display was permanently set to the Federation News Network. The display was so old that it had terrible ghosting, and traces of the previous image would persist long after the scene changed. In all the years that Zack had lived there, he couldn’t remember anyone ever sitting there watching TV.

  The leasing office was right next to the lounge, but it was closed at this time of night. It wasn’t the worst apartment complex in Utonia, but it wasn’t the best. Maintenance requests could take anywhere from six months to two years to be addressed. And the building manager, Patsy, loved to increase the rent at every opportunity.

  Zack made his way to the elevators, which were painfully slow. They were out of inspection by six months, and would probably stay that way until Code Enforcement fined the management.

  The doors dinged and slid open. Zack stepped in, knowing he was taking his l
ife in his hands. The elevators were tiny, and seemed a little larger than a coffin. Zack hated them, and the feeling of claustrophobia they induced. But he didn’t feel like running up 29 flights of stairs at the moment. As the door slung shut, his heartbeat elevated, and a thin mist of sweat formed on his skin. He was already regretting the decision.

  Every time he stepped aboard the elevators, it reminded him of the time he got stuck in a sewer pipe. Curiosity had gotten the best of him as a child. Exploring the various tunnels under the city resulted in a 24 hour stent trapped in a narrow pipe. The city engineers had to tunnel through 6 feet of concrete to get to him. The bill the city sent to his foster parents was astronomical.

  Someone got stuck in the elevators about once a month. And if you lived in the building long enough, it was almost inevitable that it was going to happen to you at some point.

  8

  The elevator stopped on the 29th floor, but the door didn’t open. Zack's heartbeat skyrocketed. This was not the day he wanted to be stuck in the elevator.

  The door shuddered, then finally stammered opened. The metal doors scraped against the enclosure as they retracted, making a disconcerting squeal. Zack leapt off the elevator as soon as the opening was wide enough to accommodate his size.

  He strolled down the hallway and tried to slip into his apartment without making much noise. But he didn’t get more than a few steps. He was dreading the confrontation with his stepfather.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Bob slurred. The room smelled like a brewery.

  Zack grimaced. “After school project.”

  Bob was a sloppy guy, even when he was sober. But well into his second six-pack, he looked like a bum. His shirt was untucked and stained, and his hair was tousled. His cheeks were rosy, and his eyes were dull and bloodshot, weighted down by the bags underneath them. This was Bob’s normal condition by this time of the evening. “The hospital called. They said you left without being discharged.”