Freedom by Fire

by C P MacDonald

  Morgan stopped firing his bracer gun and slowly collapsed to the ground. Time sped up to normal for Blayne as he watched his friend fall. The crowd around them surged forward, pushing against Tavio and his remaining guard.

  Gunn, who had pulled Kreta to the ground when the firefight started, met Blayne at Morgan’s side. Quickly Blayne’s hands tore open Morgan’s shirt to reveal the burn cavity in the Knight’s chest.

  Gunn yelled, “Medic! We need a medic!” Spinning around, he yelled into the crowd, “Is anyone a doctor? We need help!”

  Morgan grabbed the men’s arms. Blayne could feel the Knight’s strength fading in his grip as he coughed up a mouthful of blood. “It’s too late.” He turned his head and spat a pool of blood on the ground. “Get out of here. More troops will come. Go now.” he snapped with fading breath.

  Gripping Gunn tightly his eyes bored into the young servant, “You must promise to protect him, understand? He’s your responsibility now.”

  Swallowing his emotions, Gunn could only nod to the dying Knight and gripped his shoulder.

  Morgan slowly blinked, but took a deep rasping breath, “Good. You’re a good man, Gunn. Don’t think I’ve ever told you that. Now give me a minute with this troublemaker.”

  Humbled, Gunn silently nodded and stood to help Kreta hold back the crowd.

  Morgan used both hands to grip Blayne’s arm, “Your Highness, listen to me and listen carefully….” A coughing spasm racked his body and interrupted his speech, causing him to spit out another pool of blood.

  Blayne said, “Quiet! Save your strength. We’ll find a doctor, or a clinic. You’ll be fine.”

  “Oh, shut the hell up, boy!” Morgan said with surprising forcefulness. “I’m a soldier, I know a lethal hit when I see one.” He looked down at the smoking hole in his chest, “Or feel one.”

  He looked back up at Blayne. His voice got weaker as he spoke, “There is something you should know. As the last person left alive that knows, I feel it is only right that you learn the truth.”

  Blayne leaned forward, “What truth? What are you talking about? Whatever it is, it can wait!”

  Morgan coughed again, but weaker this time. By the time he could speak, it was much softer. Blayne had to lean forward to hear it above the fighting. “Your mother kept a secret, from you, from your father, from everyone. But I knew.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Morgan reached up with a shaking hand and gripped the back of Blayne’s neck weakly to pull him closer, his voice getting weaker with each breath. “It’s about your father…”

  Blayne whispered back, “What about the King?”

  “Your father… is not… the King. The King… was there when you were born, but he didn’t sire you.” Morgan’s voice trailed off, Blayne looked down in shock. Shaking the Knight hard he demanded, “What do you mean? Who is my father?”

  The shaking roused the Knight for a few seconds, who struggled to reply, “I never found out, your mother kept it a secret, from everyone. But I thought you should know the truth.” The dying Knight paused for another shallow breath. With a shaky hand he reached over and hit the release for his bracer. Removing it, he pressed it to Blayne's chest, “Here, this is all I can give you. It has served me well over the years, and now it will serve you.”

  Blayne tried to push the bracer away, “I don’t want your weapons! You will wear it again in no time, just hold on!” he begged. Blayne shook Morgan again, asking, “If I’m not a Prince, who am I? Who is my father?”

  But the Master of Knights laid still.

  Chapter 25

  Blayne leaned against the wall and looked out the window at the bustling boulevard below. He turned Morgan’s bracer in his hands, allowing it to revolve like the thoughts in his mind. He had yet to accept his friend's death and put the armor on. He knew the importance of the Knight bracer, how the Knights practiced for years to master it. As he fidgeted with it in his hands, his eyes fell upon an engraving on the inside of the armor. Holding up to the light he was surprised to read, “To A Dearest Friend, Thank You For All That You Do, Your Friend, Rania.”

  He felt the tears well in his eyes. This armor, in his hands, had been given to Sir Morgan by his mother. He could only imagine the smile in her eyes to see him wear it in Morgan’s honor. With a determined set to his jaw, he snapped the armor over his forearm. The internal padding automatically adjusted to fit snugly on him. Tensing his arm and snapping his fingers forward like he had seen Morgan do countless times, the twin blaster barrels popped out from either side of the armor.

  “Whoa there!” exclaimed Gunn entering the room. “Don’t shoot the messenger!”

  Lowering his arm and retracting the barrels, Blayne apologized, “Sorry, I didn’t hear you coming.”

  “You need to be a bit more aware of your surroundings then. We are not in the nicest of neighborhoods,” claimed Gunn.

  “You said messenger. Any word on Cadee?”

  Shaking his head in disappointment, Gunn said, “No, I’m sorry. Not yet.”

  Blayne turned to look back out the window, partially to hide the look of despair he felt coming over his face. First, his mother died protecting them. Then Cadee went missing, the King had been murdered by a psychopath,and then to learn from his oldest friend as he lay dying that the King was not his father. Blayne couldn’t bring himself to look or acknowledge Gunn. Because that would mean he would have to acknowledge that Gunn was his only family left, or friend.

  Blayne stared across the city outside, letting the blinking neon lights hypnotize him into distraction. He felt truly alone now. With a frown he shook his head. He couldn’t allow himself to think like that, not now. As far as he was concerned, Cadee was still alive somewhere. And he would base all of his decisions on that assumption. Unconsciously he snapped the barrels in and out of the forearm armor as he turned back to Gunn, a new determination in his eyes. Gunn had waited patiently laid out on the couch, his hands behind his head. When he saw Blayne turn around he sat up, “Are we good now?”

  Blayne could only smile at his friend. Gunn knew him better than anyone, and had known what he would decide before he himself knew, and had waited patiently for his friend to come to a conclusion on his own. “Where’s Uta? We need to talk to her.”

  “She is downstairs. You know, for an old lady she sure gets around. Even with a cane.” Gunn mimicked the old lady walking, “While you and I were getting rescued by Morgan she led a group of Doves against the rest of the soldiers as a distraction.” He mimed swinging a cane, “You got to give it to the old gal, she knows what she is doing!”

  “Gee, thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment,” Uta’s gruff voice snarked from the doorway. Gunn spun around in mid-swing of his imaginary cane and gulped.

  “What would you like to talk about, Your Highness,” she asked.

  Blayne attempted to release his sadness with an long exhale. He figured it was best if they learned the truth, “First, you can stop calling me Your Highness. Morgan’s last words were to tell me King Lamond was not my father.”

  Gunn’s mouth dropped open in surprise, “What?!”

  “Hmm, interesting,” the old lady said, her cane clinking as she shuffled into the room. “King Lamond may not have been your biological father, but he is the man who raised you, yes?”

  Blayne nodded with a frown, “Of course.”

  "Then he is, and always will be, your father." She pointed her cane at him to emphasize her point and added, "And don’t you forget it! I may not have always agreed with King Lamond and the structure of the Kingdom, but he always treated me with respect.” The old Knight paused, her eyes lowered in sadness, "And speaking of respect, I've arranged for Sir Morgan to be taken care of. I will lay him to rest with the dignity and honor he deserves."

  Blayne bowed his head in a silent thanks. He couldn't trust himself to speak about Morgan just yet. "Now there is something else I need to ask of you. And you may not like it."

  Uta look
ed at him, and then around the room they were holed up in and said, “And what makes you think I like any of this? We do what we must. What is your question?”

  “It’s more of a request. I need you to get us to Thyke 64.”

  Chapter 26

  It didn’t take long for Uta to activate her railroad. As she explained to them at the safehouse, the railroad usually only operated when she had fifty or more Dunadds and took time to initialize. But with only two of them she could move them quickly. Blayne never would have guessed there were that many people trying to leave his home planet at once. It almost hurt his heart thinking there was that large of a community that did not like his family.

  Once Uta had put the word out, her railroad operated like clockwork. Within hours Kreta was guiding them through narrow passageways hidden in the thick walls of some of the tallest buildings on the planet. The efficiency and organization of the railroad were impressive, Blayne was once again surprised by Uta's capabilities.

  Gunn, to Blayne's surprise, was chatting constantly with Kreta as she led them to a secluded landing pad deep within the oldest part of the city. He was happy that Gunn could find something enjoyable to liven up his day. Watching his two friends interact, it looked to him that Gunn appreciated more than Kreta's proficiency as a guide. It made Blayne happy to see his best friend smile. Even though Gunn had followed Blayne off-world and was being chased by a madman, his friend still deserved some happiness in his life.

  The dark and damp hallway emptied onto a narrow bridge strung between two tall skyscrapers. Way down below, the lights of the city strobed and flashed, a stark contrast to the dire conditions Blayne knew the deep city was buried in. The three of them crossed the bridge in a single file, wary as it swung gently in the wind blowing between the towers. Despite her many crossings, Kreta lost her footing and almost tipped over the railing, only to be caught by Gunn’s strong grip. Even at a distance behind them, Blayne could see the spark in the smile she gave Gunn.

  Using both hands on the railings to steady himself, Blayne picked up the pace to catch up with his friends by the time they reached the other side of the bridge. Then Kreta led them down a long narrow ramp, like an afterthought in the city's architecture. After almost an hour of walking down the ramp, with the front of Blayne’s legs burning with the effort, they finally reached their destination. The secluded landing pad. A Federation shuttle was already waiting for them, the pilot leaning against the landing leg patiently watching them descend the ramp.

  “It’s about time you got here, I would have left in five minutes with or without you,” the pilot grumbled.

  “Don’t mind him,” explained Kreta, “He is always in a hurry and threatening to leave without a load.” She turned to him and tilted her head as she spoke, “But that is not true, because then he wouldn’t get paid.”

  “Whatever,” the grumpy pilot said, turning to walk up the ramp, “Wheels up in two!” he yelled back over his shoulder.

  Blayne turned to Kreta and extended his hand, warmly clasping hers in his, “Kreta, I want to thank you for all the help you have given us. I’m sorry we put you in danger.”

  She laughed, “Hey, it’s just another week for us here on Crorix!” But she stepped forward and gave the Prince a hug. “I hope you find your sister.” Nodding his thanks, Blayne waited on the ramp of the shuttle for his friends to say their goodbyes.

  Gunn was staring at his foot, then looked up at Kreta and Blayne could hear him ask, “You know, you could always come with us. You are pretty good in a fight, and we…. uh… could use someone like you,” he stammered.

  “I can’t leave Uta and the Doves.” Kreta gave Gunn a sly smile, then a warm hug followed by a light peck on the cheek. I’ll miss you too, Gunn. When you get everything straightened out, you come back for a visit. You hear?”

  He gripped her hands tightly before he tore himself away and joined Blayne inside the shuttle. Blayne watched the sadness cross his friend's face as the loading ramp closed. Right then he made a promise to himself to get Gunn back to Crorix, someday.

  The roar from the engines as they fired up interrupted any further thought as they frantically finished securing their safety harnesses. The shuttle blasted off from the landing pad, the shaking increased violently as they gained speed and altitude.

  Uta had explained to them that the shuttle was a deal she had negotiated with the Flyer Federation. It was not on any flight path and she bribed Crorix traffic control to ignore the sensor readings.

  Blayne gripped his armrests until his knuckles turned white during the rough liftoff from the planet. After a few minutes, they had reached the smoother air above the planet. If he turned his head, he could see out a side porthole of the shuttle. Down below the city-planet of Crorix glowed with its ever-present bright lights.

  Blayne made a mental note that someday, somehow Emperor Tyrell would have to be dealt with. It was obvious the self-made ruler had ambitious plans outside of his own solar system. And Prince or not, Blayne would not let him get his hands on Dunadd.

  Gunn must have read his thoughts and asked, “Even with Uta’s arrangement, do you think Tyrell will simply let us go?”

  “Hopefully he won’t know. It is a big planet, or city.” Blayne shrugged. “All we can do is trust in Uta and her organization.”

  The pilot announced from the cockpit, yelling back through the open door, “Don’t you two worry your little heads about it. I’ve done over one hundred of these flights and Emperor Tightass hasn’t tried to stop me yet. You two have much bigger problems to worry about.”

  Blayne glanced worriedly at Gunn before asking the pilot, “What are you talking about?”

  “One second, turning over control to the transport ship,” the pilot replied, before exiting the cockpit and joining them in the cargo area. “You can unbuckle now, it’s smooth sailing from here. See?” he gestured out the porthole and the rapidly shrinking planet below. “Once we cleared atmo we are Federation property, Crorix can’t touch us if they wanted to.”

  “Again, what are these problems you're talking about?” Gunn asked, releasing his harness.

  “Thyke is what I’m talking about.” The pilot plopped into a row of seats then sprawled across them like a bench. “If the planet itself doesn’t kill you, the people there sure might if you cross them. They are kind of protective of their privacy.”

  Blayne pressed his lips together in doubt, “I’m from the Evar System but the only thing I’ve heard about Thyke is that it is an abandoned mining planet. That the ore in the mines dried up decades ago.”

  The pilot picked his teeth with a fingernail and glanced at Blayne questionably, “Are you sure about that? You didn’t know about the underground settlement and it’s been there for over ten years. And the mines haven’t dried up,” he shrugged, “their output was just sent somewhere else, off the market.”

  Extremely confused, Blayne asked, “What underground settlements?”

  “Well, that’s where the communities are? Didn’t Uta explain this to you?”

  “She didn’t have time, we were kind of rushed.”

  Pulling his cap down over his eyes, the pilot leaned his head back as he continued to talk, “What you’ve heard about Thyke being deadly on the surface is right, the winds are atrocious and the radiation will cook your balls off. But underground…” he tilted his hat up to look them in the eye, “That’s where the real fun is. Uta convinced the original settlers to convert the mining tunnels into cities, all buried safely a kilometer underground.”

  “Underground? Then how do they grow any food?” Gunn asked. Blayne thought it was interesting he would ask that, an obvious question from a citizen of a agricultural planet.

  The pilot started laughing, “How do you feel about mushrooms? Topped with fungus? All grown underground.”

  Gunn swallowed and looked a little green.

  A proximity alarm blared, spurring the pilot up off his butt as he dashed back into the cockpit. “Get ready, docking i
n five. Then you are someone else's problem.”

  Despite the pilot’s callousness, the landing was smooth and professional. When they exited the shuttle they were met by two Federation hooded figures.

  “Come with us,” was all their welcoming party said, before walking away through the busy docking bay. Blayne and Gunn followed silently behind the mysterious figures, deep into the bowels of the Federation ship. When they had the pleasure of riding on the Federation transport before, they had the advantage of traveling as planetary royalty. Free to enjoy the amenities and privilege of the upper-class decks. Now, Blayne realized, they were more like illicit cargo and the experience was much different.

  Before they had seen nothing but shiny bulkheads, bright lighting, and wide windows looking out onto the expanse of space. But now their view of the ship was much different. Deep inside the massive Federation ship, it looked more like the underbelly of Crorix. The halls were dingy and barely lit, crowded with groups of people huddled around space heaters, children in rags running the hallways, along with the occasional goat or dog.

  Blayne tried to ask their guides where they were going several times, only to be ignored. After an hour of squeezing through crowded walkways that snaked through the long ship, they were finally led into a narrow room. The ceiling was low enough Blayne had to crook his head forward so to not bang it, which made it easy to spot the puddles of water pooled on the floor. Or at least, he hoped it was only water.

  “Wait here,” one figure commanded, pointing at the deck before they both disappeared back through the hatch. Blayne and Gunn exchanged startled looks when they heard the lock cycle shut on the door.