Clan and Conscience

by Tracy St. John

  * * * *

  Rivek roamed the ruins near his posting in the Zalri District. He wandered through the crumbling stone edifice, a holy place of the First People, those ancestors who had arrived at Kalquor from a dying world, millennia before. He moved through the vast network of chambers, wearing a formsuit rather than his robes. The unaccustomed clothing was necessary to avoid being snagged by the vines fighting to destroy the once-great work of men and women.

  The Imdiko wondered what those first settlers of Kalquor would have thought of the Temple of Life where he resided. Unlike modern Kalquorians, the ancient ancestors had built edifices on the face of the planet, stone monuments that interrupted the natural landscape. Not content with burrowing into rocks, caverns, or mountains, the First People had created freestanding structures that awed the most determined naturalist. The sanctuary Rivek meandered through had been huge, scaling above the old-growth trees and bursting through their thick canopies. A part of one of those immense walls still stood, pointing a jagged finger at the sky. The spiritual center sprawled for a mile, much of it invisible where the encroaching growth covered the stone so that none of the gray rock peeked through.

  A single corner of the shrine remained nearly intact after centuries of neglect. Rivek rambled through what had been chambers and halls, often thinking of those long-ago ancestors going about busy lives in their astounding construction. How would they react, knowing such monuments had been abandoned? Rivek’s new home temple was a series of intricate platforms, bridges, and ladders strung through the trees of the rainforest, constructed to minimize impact on the ecology of the land. Rivek considered it lovely in its attempts to remain natural, but it boasted little of the ruin’s fading grandeur.

  Since arriving in Zalri, the Imdiko was often drawn to the peaceful shell of the former house of worship. It was lit here and there with hazy sunshine in patches, defying the looming shadows. He breathed deep of the dark, enticing aromas of rampant vegetation, damp earth, and animals that were rarely seen. He listened to the calls of those distant animals, the occasional crash of their passage through the dense foliage, the songs of drils and avians, both harsh and musical.

  Rivek loved the sense of the past there, of a connection to those who might have been his own ancestors. The relic spoke to him of life’s dual nature. It was a testimonial to timelessness as well as the passage of the centuries. In the peace of the long-ago spiritual fortress, Rivek saw that nothing was ever truly lost. He was just as impressed with the lesson that change would not be denied.

  His surroundings offered the perfect serenity that Rivek had wished for from the time he’d begun his spiritual journey at the age of twelve. He found himself on the edge of long-desired enlightenment. Enough time spent in this place, and he’d not only narrow his pursuit to the questions that mattered, but the answers too. The priest could feel it almost within his grasp.

  He chuckled to himself. Having stumbled upon the path to faultless transcendence in all its wondrous glory, it mattered not to him. Rivek couldn’t help but enjoy the irony that perfection was, after all, imperfect.

  What good was stillness absent of a hint of chaos to define it? It was a meaningless void, a supreme lack that discounted life itself. In the weeks after leaving Ospar and Jol, a boundless emptiness had descended, unfathomable in its enormity. He was lonely without the two men who filled his heart, but it was a loneliness that had little to do with being alone or missing others.

  Here, Rivek could be. He could exist, and he could cradle himself in infinite peace. However, he did not live. There was no thriving, no flourishing, no growth.

  Dangerous or not, it had been a mistake to leave Ospar and Jol. Life was struggle. Faith was to be maintained not in quiet contemplation, but in the midst of trouble. Love was meant to be won through trial.

  He laughed again. It was so simple now that he saw it. The epiphany he’d sought had been a detour, a path to nowhere. The epiphany he’d gained, what had appeared to be a trail as murky and overgrown as the ancient temple he roamed through, had been there all along, concealed from him while he searched for the false road.

  Rivek would return to Ospar and Jol. The question was, when? He’d have preferred to leave at that very instant, to depart the ruins and the rainforest and rush back to the Wenza Territory. Yet his presence would distract his lovers from their work. Jol would be sidetracked from maintaining Ospar’s safety. Ospar would second guess his every move, perhaps derailing his campaign.

  When the election is over, I’ll go home to them. From that moment on, I stand in the middle of the storm that is their lives, and I live as fully as all beings were meant to.

  In the interim, Rivek had to wait. He found the idea of doing so a challenge, the most momentous he had ever encountered. Now that he knew the way, he was eager to run down that nearly-missed path. The span between the present and the election felt as much an eternal black hole as the life he’d almost chosen.

  His chest ached from the delay, however. Reminding himself that the separation from those whom he loved was temporary, Rivek stopped and closed his eyes. He drew in a deep breath, paying attention to the mysterious jungle odors on the air. He forced tension from his muscles, letting it all bleed into the hushed atmosphere.

  The edges of loss dulled. I trade my isolation for anticipation. This reminds me to be grateful for the time I’ve had and will have with them.

  Rivek continued his casual explorations of the site. As he did so, he let notions come and go, reminding himself not to linger overlong on any particular idea. Most of his fleeting contemplation centered on remembrances of Ospar’s charming smile and Jol’s fierce protectiveness. Yes, he would appreciate it when he was with them once more.

  Focused on the pleasantness of what the future could hold, Rivek stepped into a chamber that most scholars believed to have been a site of ritual sacrifice. The Imdiko jolted to see actual bodies on the stone slab that might have once been an altar.

  Two dead men. One had been a Nobek from the look of his scarred face and arms. His torso had been opened by a brutal slash from sternum to groin. His eyes were wide, as if surprised to find himself dead.

  The other man was facedown, making it impossible to discern his breed. A knife was buried to the hilt in the back of his head. It wasn’t his only wound, judging from the pool of scarlet beneath his body.

  Blood that was spreading. The murders were fresh. Had occurred seconds before. The killers must still be nearby.

  Rivek whirled, his ordered mind a jumble. Get out of here. Run to the Temple of Life. Com the authorities. Run. Run!

  He did none of those things. Four Nobeks, one who had visited him with Lanjur, another the man who had issued the initial warnings for him to stay away from Ospar, came at him from another chamber. Their intent stares told Rivek that Jol had been right all along. The syndicate had no honor. They felt no shame in attacking a harmless, defenseless Imdiko priest.

  Seconds later, Rivek’s anguished cries rang out through the forest.

  Chapter 26

  They’d known what was coming. It didn’t matter. The Nobeks gathered in Ospar’s campaign snarled like wild animals when the message began to play. Standing next to Jol, Ospar cried out too, but his was a wail of grief. Jol grabbed his arm when it looked as if his Dramok might collapse. Somehow, his clanmate found the strength to stay upright.

  The recorded Rivek had no response, of course. His bloodied, swollen face stared at them from the monitor, not reacting to their horror and fury. He sat on the floor in a corner, the setting of bland cream walls and bare floors indeterminate. In a tremulous but calm tone, he recited from what was obviously a prepared script.

  “Ospar, you are to drop the campaign before the end of the day, or I’ll be killed. You are also to agree to sell the Eruz mining assets to a third party, which will be disclosed to you when you announce withdrawal of your candidacy. Finalize the sale at a rate of one-third the assessment. If you do not comply, my body will never be
found. You can be assured my demise will be horrific and painful.”

  Through his rage, Jol marveled at Rivek’s controlled demeanor. The priest seemed not bowed by any means, despite his obvious injuries. His face was bruised and bloodied. His ripped green formsuit showed a vast number of wounds. Judging by how Rivek kept casting his gaze to the side, he remained under continued threat. If the Nobek hadn’t been so scared for the priest, he’d have been proud of the man’s resolve.

  Especially when Rivek smiled at the end of his message. “If you want my advice, tell these worthless bastards to fu—.”

  The vid went blank, cutting him off. Ospar wheeled to the other Nobeks in the room, Axter, Golas, and Talu. “How much longer until Global Security gets him out of there?”

  Axter was forced to speak around descended fangs. “There have been no responses to my coms. They are probably making their move.”

  The only thing keeping Jol from committing an insane act—like going after Rivek that very second—was that Global Security was descending en masse to get the priest out. Axter’s spy, co-opted by Global Security, had alerted them of the planned abduction, verifying the report Jol had received from Litt ten minutes prior: GS guards down. Subject taken alive. Area crawling with syndicate.

  Both warnings had come too late. Less than an hour later, the official report arrived. The Global Security bodyguards assigned to Rivek had been killed, and the Imdiko, kidnapped.

  It had been a harrowing two hours since then. The single bright spot Jol could find was that Lanjur had no idea they were onto him. Global Security had gone into action long before Rivek’s recording had been received by Ospar. In that time, Axter’s spy had learned that Rivek had been taken to a warehouse complex on the border between Wenza and Nonaza territories. The property was owned by an associate of Lanjur’s, and it was remote enough to be a valid place to hide the Imdiko. That was where Global Security was going to launch a rescue attempt.

  If Lanjur didn’t have Rivek killed the moment he finished recording that message. Jol knew as they all did that Rivek would not be released, not alive.

  Ancestors, he needed to go to that warehouse! His very being demanded he fly there as fast as possible, that he fight his way to Rivek, that he save him. Every cell screamed for it, and for the lives of Rivek’s attackers.

  Ospar was of like mind, alternating between shouting and cajoling the others to let them go to where Rivek was being held. “I swear to stay out of Global Security’s way. I have to be there when they bring him out,” he pleaded.

  Jol made himself breathe slowly, hanging onto the thread of his own control. However, his desperation was growing, not diminishing. That made no sense. They knew where Rivek was. Officers were arriving in strength, over a hundred of them. If the Imdiko could be rescued, they were the group to do it.

  Nevertheless, his instincts told him something was wrong. Something beyond the fact that Rivek had been hurt and was on the brink of death—if death had not already claimed him.

  What is it? What’s making this worse? Think! Why do I feel as if doom is descending more than when this started?

  Jol traced back to figure out when his distress had begun to heighten. He’d been a snarling wreck during the vid from Rivek. Of course he had. Who wouldn’t be frantic after seeing the man he loved beaten so badly?

  But was that where this rising panic was coming from? Think back.

  When the vid came in, he’d been steeling himself for the worst. Drawing on all his might to get him through, reminding himself that a clear mind would keep him from acting stupid. He’d been in dread, fearful, but not as rattled as he was after viewing the recording.

  I sensed some detail in the message itself. That’s when I began to feel desperate despite all my preparation.

  Had Rivek sent some secret communication, somehow? A word or gesture that had triggered Jol’s subconscious?

  As Ospar continued to harangue the other Nobeks, who were doing all they could to keep him from rushing out of the room, Jol quelled his own instincts to race out. Instead, he re-started Rivek’s vid.

  Behind him, Golas told his Dramok, “Ospar, you must not do anything to jeopardize the mission. Global Security is throwing everything they’ve got in both territories at this. You can’t be in the middle of that.”

  Jol shut out the voices behind him. He concentrated on the vid, on listening to Rivek, on watching the Imdiko he needed to still be alive.

  Rivek’s strained but even voice. A kind of shuffling in the background. Someone off-monitor was moving around, though no other person else appeared and the picture never shifted. No doubt the device that recorded Rivek had been set on a solid object.

  Jol paid attention to the image. The shot itself was odd, the angle all wrong. The recorder had been set high, leaving Rivek in the lower half of the wide-angle shot. They’d left a lot of room between his head and the top of the picture. In fact, the corner of the colored ceiling was visible, obvious against the bland cream walls.

  The reason for the picture’s oddness came to Jol in a flash. The footage had been made using a desk computer’s vid recorder. That’s why it encompassed such a large field of view, though there was nothing to see but the walls, Rivek, and that corner of the ceiling.

  Jol’s gaze narrowed. He leaned close to the monitor, his nose almost touching it as he squinted at that bit of ceiling with its bright green, the dab of orange—

  A painting on the ceiling. No, not a painting. A mural.

  Jol’s heart pounded. “They’re not holding Rivek at the warehouses.”

  His father’s voice rang in the sudden silence from the others. “What?”

  “They’ve taken him to Pladon. That’s Urt’s old office. Global Security has gone to the wrong place!”

  “Are you sure?” Axter shouted as he frantically keyed his com.

  Jol checked his blaster as he headed for the door. His surroundings blurred. He ran for the shuttle bay.

  Right behind him, Talu called, “Ancestors help us! It may already be too late.”

  Jol snarled, “It will be if we don’t hurry.”

  Axter was on his heels as well. “I can’t raise the task force or our man on the inside.”

  Golas chimed in as Jol burst into the bay. “If we com for reinforcements, Lanjur’s informants in the precinct will know we’re coming. He’s got a presence there even with our efforts to flush them all out.”

  Jol raced to the shuttle. Without a backwards glance, he shot into the pilot’s chair. Talu sat next to him as Jol activated the engines. Then Ospar was there, hanging at his shoulder.

  “My Dramok—”

  “No time to argue. Go!” Ospar punched his shoulder.

  Jol growled but took off. Every second did indeed count. Beating the hell out of Ospar for getting involved would have to come later, if they lived through this.

  * * * *

  A heavy boot thudded against Rivek’s back, blasting yet another jolt of agony through his battered frame. He curled up in a ball on the floor of an office with a desk and seascape mural on the ceiling. The two guards standing watch over him had begun beating the hell out of him after a quiet discussion at the door with other syndicate members. The pounding had started less than a minute before, but Rivek could no longer remember when he’d not been in horrific pain. His throat was raw from the screams he couldn’t stop.

  They were going to kill him. The Imdiko knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. All he could do was wait for the anguish to end.

  There was a distant boom of thunder, and another. Rivek’s attackers, Nobeks so scarred that it was impossible to imagine how they’d once looked, stopped kicking him. Gasping, each breath shoving lances of agony through him, Rivek peered up at the massive beasts looming over him through blood-soaked strands of hair.

  They were monsters, a couple of animals with nothing approaching civilization in their disfigured countenances. The manner in which they stared at the door reminded the priest of feral zibgers
on alert. Rivek listened with them at the reverberation of percussion blaster shots—not thunder, as he’d first thought.

  The brutes exchanged glances, pack creatures communicating instinctively. They moved without a sound, facing the door. They pulled their blasters and pointed. One jerked his head.

  The other growled, “Door, open.”

  It slid wide with a hiss. A dark blur, a man moving quicker than the eye could follow, shot into the room. A blaster shot shivered the air, hitting one of the animal-men and scattering his torso in all directions. The quick-moving intruder crashed into the second. In the next instant, Jol and the animal-Nobek were rolling on the floor, their blasters spinning across the floor as they simultaneously disarmed each other.

  Rivek would have whooped to see Jol, but he couldn’t draw enough breath to do so. The momentary thrill was displaced with horror as the growling Nobeks drew knives. Jol and his enemy were trying to stab each other and defend themselves at the same time. Fangs snapped at throats as each tried to outmuscle the other.

  Meanwhile, blasters continued to go off outside the room. Fighting was raging everywhere from the sounds of things, but Rivek was in danger of being stomped by the Nobeks grappling near him. He started to drag himself towards the door, in hopes of finding a spot to hide until the battle ended.

  As he did so, another person ran in. Ospar looked at Jol brawling with the other man, his Nobek gaining the advantage. Jol’s blade dimpled the brute’s throat.

  Even with his lover winning, Ospar had no business jumping in the middle of that deadly conflict. The Dramok would be killed in an instant.

  “Ospar!”

  Ospar jolted at the thready wheeze that was all the Imdiko could manage. His eyes went wide. “Rivek!” He darted to the priest. “Shit, I’ve got to get you out of here.”

  His words brought relief, and not only because Rivek needed help. His injuries served the purpose of luring Ospar from the death match being fought inches away.