Managing to sit, Torrak crawled out of the closet and stumbled to the washroom. He looked in the mirror, squinting in the brightness, and winced at the red scratches across his face. Images of his nightmare about Daith filled his head. Scenes of death. Of mass destruction.
And Daith said she was responsible for it all.
Torrak made his way to the common area, shaking. What did he think he was doing? Daith was incredibly powerful. They wouldn’t stand a chance.
And he didn’t even know why they all cared. Kalil was along for the ride. Preeaht only liked Kalil. Nuis’s reasons were still a mystery. Only Faan’s motivation made sense.
He’d already gotten Bewetru killed. He didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else dying.
Everyone straggled in over the next standard hour and Torrak retold each one about what happened to his face. Dredging up the dream hurt and pulled at his nagging doubts. This was never going to work. They were in over their heads. Everyone would run the first chance they got.
“Okay. Let’s start talking about a plan,” Faan said, once everyone had arrived in the room.
Panic welled up in Torrak’s chest. “Why are you all here?” he blurted out. “Most of you don’t even know me and none of you have met Daith. This whole Aleet Army thing doesn’t have to do with any of you, except maybe Faan wanting revenge. So why are you here? Bewetru is already dead. This isn’t your fight. You don’t have to do this.”
Kalil smiled out of the corner of his mouth. “Worst pep talk ever.”
Torrak opened his mouth to speak, but Kalil cut him off. “I may be young, but I remember growing up under the threat of the Aleet Army. I remember my parents being terrified to come forward about my gift with machines because they didn’t know if others would connect me to Jaxx’s ‘abilities’ and see me as dangerous. I had to keep my own genius a secret for years, scared someone would find out and turn against me.”
Torrak opened his mouth to reply, but Kalil pushed forward. “If I can do something to prevent that from happening to someone else, I will. As for Daith, I won’t let them dictate another being’s life. Nobody should have to live like that.”
Torrak sat there, stunned. He’d no idea Kalil had such a rough time growing up.
Nuis began to speak, softly at first. “You think this fight is only yours? When the Army seized systems to take over, my name attracted unwanted attention. With my money and influence, how could I not be the perfect puppet for the Aleet Army to control?
“I spent my whole life pretending to be someone I’m not to stay alive, doing whatever they wanted me to do. Things I would never have expected I could do. When they broke apart after Jacin Jaxx’s death, I kept pretending, keeping up the pretense of someone not to be messed with, terrified someone would find out the truth. I’d made a lot of enemies. The only close friends I had were a smuggler who I rarely saw,” he said, nodding toward Faan, “and a good man, gutted in the room next to mine while I slept.” Nuis’s gaze bore into Torrak. “I’m sick of pretending.”
Torrak wanted to say something when Preeaht began to speak, her voice floating above a low growl. “I am the last of my kind. The Aleet Army wiped out my planet over ten standard years ago. In one hour, everyone was dead. They believed my species would be a threat to them, simply because of our influence and strength.
“I was off-planet” she continued, “having disobeyed my family to seek my own life, when I heard about the chemical weapon they deployed. Three years passed before the air was clean enough for me to go back and bury my family and friends, but nothing remained. The toxins had eaten away their flesh, leaving nothing but masses of bones and cloth for me to sort through.” Kalil took Preeaht’s hand. “If I can do something to keep that from happening again, I will give my life for it.”
Torrak shook his head. He’d been so focused on Daith he hadn’t realized there could be other reasons to stop the Aleet Army.
Faan, sensing his mood, placed her hand on his arm. “We may all have boarded this ship for different reasons, but we are staying on this ship to reach the same goal. We all want to keep the Aleet Army from regaining power, and it seems your friend is the key to it all.”
Torrak looked around the room. The anxiety he felt before melted away. They may not be soldiers, but they are ready to fight.
“Okay. Let’s make a plan.
Torrak took note of the skills and talents of each member of the group. Kalil excelled with computers and machines and Preeaht had an authoritative presence. Nuis’s were influence and money, while Faan’s fighting skills and ability to disappear made her an excellent spy. As for Torrak, he had the personal connection with Daith, so he wanted to be there when they found her. With their skills determined, the five of them devised a strategy to incorporate everyone’s best talents.
Several hours later, they went over the plan.
Torrak pointed at Nuis. “Phase one?”
“I will go to Sintaur’s main governmental office and warn them of the Aleet Army’s approach. I will inform them the Army may launch an aerial assault and help them begin preparations for a counter-attack.”
Torrak turned to Preeaht. “Phase two?”
“I will visit major city councils and tell them of the Aleet Army’s arrival. I will advise them to send a general distress call to evacuate any sensitive areas, including military installations and power plants. I will then help them prepare for a ground attack.”
“Phase three?”
Kalil answered. “I will be with you on Sintaur. We will get captured by the Aleet Army and be taken to the main ship for questioning. I will then wait with you until Faan lets me out of whatever interrogation room they have.”
“Four?”
Faan spoke up. “I will stay close to you and Kalil and sneak aboard the main ship once you two are taken into custody. After you’re restrained, I will free you.”
“And five.”
“Once I’m free,” Kalil continued, “Faan and I will disable the ship’s communication system and, if possible, the ship itself. We will then ready an escape craft and wait for you and Daith. If you don’t arrive within three standard hours, we will leave the ship and join the fight on Sintaur.”
The room became quiet until Faan asked the question no one wanted to voice. “What if Daith doesn’t want to leave? We can’t let her kill all those innocents on the planet below.”
Torrak did not hesitate. “If I can’t persuade her, and I can’t take her by force, then I will do anything possible so she’s not a threat. Depending on her abilities, I may not be able to do anything at all, but if I have a chance to stop her, I’ll take it.” He paused. He thought about the way she looked in the dream, hating herself for who she was and what she might do. Or had already done. “I know she would want it that way.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room until Kalil timidly spoke up. “How are you going to get the Aleet Army’s attention? I’m pretty sure they don’t know we’re coming.”
“If we dock somewhere on Sintaur, throw my name around in a public place, and say we know about the Aleet Army’s plan and how our allies will stop them, I have a feeling they’ll hear about it. They’ve probably realized by now Kircla killed the wrong target, so they’ll want to capture me. I’m not only a witness to Daith’s kidnapping, but I evaded an assassination attempt and now I’m at the place where their secret plan is going to happen. They’ll want to know how much I know—and to see who else I told. Rule number one: you can’t interrogate a dead body.”
Silence blanketed the room, different this time. This one felt full of resolve.
They were ready.
Daith awoke, screaming. She fell off the bed, tears coursing down her face.
The door slid open.
“Daith!” Trey rushed to her side.
“I killed him. It was my fault. He’s dead because of me!” Daith sobbed into Trey’s shoulder as the images of her dream pounded her in waves.
“What are you talking
about? Who’s dead?”
“Dru!”
Trey pulled back from her and peered into her eyes. “It’s just a bad dream. All of that happened days ago.”
Daith took a few shuddering breaths. Her chest stayed tight as she spoke. “I dreamt that I’d killed Dru. It was my fault. I got too powerful and yet I couldn’t save him once he died. I couldn’t bring him back.”
Trey rubbed Daith’s upper arms. “You know that’s not true. You merely had a dream. It wasn’t real. None of that happened.” His gaze snaked over to the dream-deflector pills. “Did you take one of your pills?”
Daith shook her head. “I fell asleep after the battle against the sentries. I didn’t even realize I’d been so tired.”
Trey helped her up and sat her on the bed. He grabbed the bottle and handed her a pill. “Daith, it’s the middle of the crew’s sleep cycle. You need to get some rest. Some peaceful rest. We can talk about your dream tomorrow. Come to my office when you wake up.”
Daith took the medicine, her chest relaxing. The adrenaline drained from her. It had only been a dream.
She laid back down under the cover and Trey left. As her exhaustion won out she began to remember the other man in her dream. The one with the blonde hair. The Controller spy.
If he killed Dru, then why was she worried about hurting him?
*
A two and a half meter tall, sea-green skinned member of the Orcla species sat in the cockpit of her small, but highly efficient battle cruiser, the Shadow. She impatiently tapped her long blue fingernails on her ship’s piloting console, allowing her disappointment in herself to escalate. She was Kircla, the pinnacle of assassins, and she had killed the wrong target.
Kircla had been a day away from Juha when she found out about her mistake. This marked the first time she ever assassinated the wrong individual and it infuriated her. Currently in her prime, her skills were unmatched by anyone in her clan, and she always, always got her target.
Until now.
Kircla opened her subject’s file: Torrak Spirtz. Also considered to be in the prime of his lifespan for his species, he ranked near the top of his class at the academy he attended and he, too, had never failed on a case during his time with the C-9 government. Kircla traced the young man’s name with her nail. Truly a worthy adversary. She would take pride in killing him.
Kircla straightened and adrenaline flushed through her. A flashing light in front of her indicated Torrak’s ship had entered sensor range. Only a couple of standard hours until she could finish the job. She checked her bearings and realized she would catch up to him right outside the Fracc system.
As she crept up upon his ship, she readied the Shadow for combat.
*
Faan was awake.
Not that she couldn’t sleep, she just didn’t need to. She only had to sleep one night in a standard month and she did that two weeks ago.
During that time, Faan went through her exercise routine and memorized the ships access panels three nights ago. She counted the number of bolts on the ship, 30,124 to be exact, and calculated and recalculated their flight path by hand. She even organized all the cargo in the cargo rooms and cleaned every surface she could find.
Now she sat in the cockpit, idly rewiping between the knobs and levers that controlled the ship, while she stared out into the blackness of space.
And thought.
She thought about how far she’d come since her youth; trained to be an assassin, becoming the best in her class. Assigned her first target, an ambassador from the city Offkule, at the age of thirteen. Her parents had been so proud of her, following in their footsteps. She never really thought about the killings when she’d been younger—they were simply something she did—but she did them well: cleanly, efficiently, and quickly. She perfected her skills and established quite a reputation on her homeworld.
Her “career path” never allowed her to stay in one spot for very long, and hiding her true identity from others kept her from getting close to anyone. She spent most nights alone, even avoiding the company of her younger brother, and preferred it that way, especially after her parents were killed.
Murdered.
Faan’s fingers stopped cleaning and curled into fists, her fingernails leaving little indentations in her palms. She remembered the loss of her parents, and even though it had been nine years ago, the pain still felt hot like fresh lashes across her heart. She sometimes woke in the middle of her sleep, panicked she had to find them, and then she would sob when she realized they were gone.
After their deaths, she closed herself off to the universe, and thought of nothing but finding their killers. It kept her going when she roamed through different cities with no money or food, surviving only on her determination. She left her brother and her mother’s mother behind—painful reminders of a world that pretended her parent’s death hadn’t been an accident.
And yet things were different now. She still worked toward the same goal, but her reasons had changed. She really wanted to save this girl, Daith. She wanted to stop the Aleet Army from whatever plan they’d concocted. And she wanted the connection everyone on the ship had: she wanted friends.
Faan laughed at the notion. Yet once they came up with a plan, they all relaxed around each other. She began to enjoy her shipmates: Kalil, with his quirky sense of humor and genuine, although sometimes tactless honesty, Preeaht, who shared some of her own battle stories with Faan over a meal, and of course Nuis, same as she remembered him, charming and witty. But the surprise had been Torrak. She couldn’t deny her physical attraction to him, but something registered deeper than that. He made her feel comfortable, a feeling she hadn’t felt in a very long time.
She didn’t know if it was love but maybe....
At the moment a smile touched her lips at this thought she saw a black ship slow and pull to a stop in front of the viewport. Proximity alarms sounded, but before Faan could react, streaks of destructive energy raced from the looming craft, aimed directly at their small ship.
*
Cenjo’s throat tightened.
He hadn’t really meant to read the medical files. They’d been sitting there on the doctor’s desk. He merely glanced at them when she went to retrieve a painkiller for his injured shoulder—one of his trainees caught him off guard during sparring. Dr. Milastow must have been working on the files when he arrived, updating them or something.
Her reason for leaving them accessible didn’t matter to Cenjo. He’d seen Daith’s name at the top of the datapad and glimpsed at the notes.
Unstable. Daily nosebleeds. Abilities progressing. Isolation a driving force. Recommend continuing anger and guilt complexes to maximize potential.
And then right underneath: Subject will burn out as intended.
As intended.
Cenjo forced a smile onto his face when Milastow returned.
“This should help,” she said, injecting him in the shoulder. His muscles immediately unknotted and his pain diminished.
“Thanks, Doctor.”
Cenjo walked out, keeping his gait relaxed. Once in the corridor, he quickened his pace. Xiven and Milastow were keeping Daith unhinged on purpose. They wanted her to use herself up. But why? Why would Xiven want Daith to be worthless after she exhausted herself? After she maximized her potential?
What did Xiven really have planned when they reached Sintaur?
Cenjo had no idea. He only knew he couldn’t let Xiven’s plan continue. He couldn’t let him use Daith. He had to keep her on the right side of the line.
And if she strayed, then Cenjo would stop her. No matter how.
A large box in the cargo room fell on Torrak, jolting him awake moments before the warning alarms sounded. He moaned in pain and pushed it off his legs. He stood. The ship rocked and he crashed against the nearest wall. As soon as he regained his balance, he dashed to the control room.
Once there, he found Faan frantically racing back and forth between control panels.
�
�What’s happening?” she hollered over the loud alarms.
“Pull down on that handle,” Faan yelled, waving at one of the consoles out of her reach.
Torrak leapt forward and pulled the specified handle. His stomach lurched as the ship swerved to the left.
“We’re under attack,” Faan told him. “And I’ll bet my life it’s Kircla.” Faan turned a small dial and the ship plummeted straight down.
“What can I do?” Torrak asked, catching himself against the console in front of him.
“Do you have any combat flying experience?”
“No.” Another shudder rocked the ship as Kircla fired on them. Sparks flew from the electrical panel behind Torrak and showered him with hot embers.
“Do you have any weapons experience?”
“No,” he told her, brushing away the fiery bits of metal with one hand while he gripped the pilot chair.
“Can you help with the ship’s speed or shield intensity?”
“No,” he said in a feeble voice.
Faan gave an exasperated sigh as another set of firing knocked her off her feet. “Then no, you can’t help,” she said while she pulled herself back up.
At that moment, Nuis stuck his head in the room, his knuckles whitened due to the death-like grip he had on the doorway. “What’s going on?”
“We’re under attack,” Torrak answered.
“What?” Nuis screeched as he bolted to the viewport. “What are we going to do?”
Torrak grabbed him by the shoulders. “You are going to make sure Kalil and Preeaht are all right, and then see if Kalil can give us more speed.” He shoved Nuis out of the control room and turned back to the front viewport where he saw the large, black ship turn and prepare for another pass.
“Faan, she’s coming straight for us.”
Faan’s eyes widened in horror. “I can’t shake her. Brace yourself!”
Torrak couldn’t shift his gaze from the ship streaming toward them. Kircla closed in and everything seemed to speed up and slow down at the same time. Torrak could see every detail as the oncoming vessel powered up its weapons for the final assault. Without thinking, he flung himself toward the weapons panel, pressing any button he could reach to fire every weapon they had at the looming shadow.
Eomix Galaxy Books: Identity (Book 2 of 2) Page 17