Destiny Reckoning

by Trevor Gregg

  “Uh, well, I was looking for Alis,” he said awkwardly.

  “Oh, I’m sure she’s about,” Leicara said, deflating.

  “I was hoping you could have one of your people put out the word. Maybe if someone finds her let her know Benjam and I are looking for her?”

  “So neither you nor your squiggly companion know her location? Come, let’s find my handmistress, Delia. She will spread the word,” Leicara said with a surprising amount of concern.

  She took his hand and led him to the garden’s exit. He tried to find a way to disentangle himself from her, but she had a firm grip on him. They stepped into a small antechamber where several Dras were preparing food, and thankfully she finally released his hand.

  “Delia, will you help us find one of my guests? The scraggly blue-haired one,” Leicara began, sounding somewhat imperious to Kyren.

  The Dras looked up at her and blinked, a faraway look in their eyes. They stared silently, then suddenly reached for knives. All three grasped the blades tightly and began to advance.

  Kyren wrapped his hand around Leicara’s upper arm and pulled her back, just as Delia swung, the blade tip whistling past where Leicara’s throat would have been had Kyren not extricated her.

  “Delia!? What are you doing?” Leicara cried, staggering back into Kyren.

  He caught her just as the next Dras lunged. He spun and dumped Leicara unceremoniously to the floor and grabbed the wrist of the attacking Dras. Twisting and levering, he flung the Dras across the room. The Azorian hit the ground and grunted, dropping her knife.

  Kyren didn’t wait for the third one to attack, or Delia to recover, he just grabbed Leicara by the collar of her robe and hauled her out of the room, slamming the door behind them. He grabbed the handle and braced himself against the door jamb. The Azorians inside struggled to open the door, but Kyren managed to keep it shut.

  “Leicara, what the hell is going on?” Kyren cried over his shoulder.

  “I… I don’t know,” Leicara said, panic in her voice.

  He glanced over to see her looking down the corridor, a frantic look on her face. Advancing down the hall way were several Azorians, all were Dras. All bore kitchen knives and the same blank stares.

  “Run, Leicara! Go find Benjam and Alis, make sure they’re okay. I’ll hold them off,” Kyren said.

  When she didn’t move, he yelled, “Go!”

  She finally stood and ran back into pavilion. He released the door to the small kitchen and stepped back into a defensive stance, as four Dras advanced down the hallway, joining the emerging three.

  Without a word the first one struck, lashing out with a clumsy blow which he easily dodged. These were not trained combatants, nor were they augmented as he was. They were servants, cooks, cleaners. Why they were doing this, he didn’t know, but he was reticent to harm them.

  The second came at him, only there was no dodging this blow. Instead he stepped close inside, as the Dras struck. Reaching out he grabbed the wrist of the hand bearing the knife and twisted. He rotated his body and sent the Dras crashing to the floor. A twist with both his hands, and the Dras’ wrist snapped.

  He was hesitant to kill, but he wouldn’t hesitate to take them out of the fight. The Dras moaned and clasped its cracked wrist to its chest, but did not rise. Good, maybe they could be cowed, he thought, just as the next attacked.

  This one came in low, then reversed and went for his neck. Kyren threw a block and a counter-strike, punching the elbow holding the knife. He carried his momentum into another move, driving his elbow into the next one to approach. Unfortunately, his strike was moments too slow and the Dras’ knife found purchase.

  A burning furrow opened up in his thigh as the Dras’ knife sliced through fabric, skin, and muscle. He heard a scream from outside, but was unable to turn to see what was happening to Leicara, as the remaining Dras were continuing the attack.

  He whirled down the corridor, blocking and striking, but still falling back. He reached the doorway to the garden and chanced a glance. A crowd of Dras stood around Leicara, as she sobbed on the ground before them.

  “Stop! Or she dies!” a Dras yelled.

  Kyren turned to see a Dras holding a knife to Leicara’s throat. He slowly raised his hands in surrender. He was mobbed from behind by the the Dras he had been fighting. They bore him to the ground under a flurry of kicks and punches. One connected with his head delivering him to unconsciousness.

  44

  Music

  Alis was terrified. And she was facing off against four armed opponents. Dralok’s training had addressed how to deal with multiple threats, she just hoped it was ingrained enough to be effective. She’d know in a few moments.

  Heston pointed and said, “Kill her now!”

  The first of the assailants came at her. The other two hesitated a moment, giving her an opportunity to deal with the first. The Dras lunged, driving the knife tip toward her throat. She whirled out of the way and spun into a grab, wrapping both hands around the Dras’ wrist.

  She delivered a vicious kick to the Dras’ knee while yanking and twisting the wrist. The knee popped backward and the Dras let out a yelp. He dropped the knife and fell to the floor, clutching his shattered knee.

  She scooped up the knife, reversed it, and deftly cut away her restraints. But there was no moment to rest, as the other two fell upon her, wildly slashing. Backpedaling, Alis considered how to deal with them. They looked less committed than Heston. Maybe they could be reasoned with.

  “Y’know, you guys don’t have to do this. I mean, we can talk this one out, can’t we?” Alis pleaded, while dodging knife blows.

  One of the Dras paused his assault for brief second, apparently considering her words. But it was only a momentary break, as he resumed his assault. The pause was all she needed, though. She spotted a broom standing against the wall.

  Dodging inside a wild slash, she dropped the knife and grabbed for the broom, whipping the handle around and knocking the next attack away. She placed the broom-head on the floor and delivered a forceful kick downward, dislodging the head of the broom. Spinning, she brought the detached handle around, wielding it like a Barish staff, slamming the end into the attacker’s face.

  The attacker staggered but another took his place, forcing her to parry a knife blow that nearly found flesh. She whirled and lashed out with the tip of her makeshift staff and punched it into the nearest Dras’ midsection, knocking the wind from the attacker and sending him to the floor.

  Several more Dras, armed with makeshift clubs stepped into the small room. Alis realized she was losing room to maneuver. So she spun her staff and charged, bellowing a keop. Darting into the throng of Dras she spun and struck, blocked and dodged.

  Alis spun the staff in a wide arc and caught one of them in the head, but was barely able to parry the next incoming strike from a heavy metal pipe. The soft wood of the broom handle shattered and the metal pipe impacted, the blow continuing on and connecting with her head.

  Staggering, Alis went to one knee, seeing stars. Her arm shot out behind her and broke her fall, but she lost her grip on one piece of the handle. Forcing herself to react, despite the pain and disorientation, she spun and scissored her legs, sweeping the Dras’ feet out from under him. He fell and she scrambled on top of him, slipping her remaining piece of the broom handle against the Dras’ throat. She hoisted him to his feet as she stood and began to back away. The Dras began to choke and sputter as she applied pressure.

  “Back off, Heston, or your buddy gets it,” Alis said angrily, pouring as much anger and vitriol into her voice as she could manage.

  “We are all ready to be sacrificed in service of Kirugi,” Heston replied, advancing, knife at the ready.

  Trying to buy some time, she said, “So what is this Kirugi you speak of, Heston? And what do they want?”

  “It’s not a they, it is merely Kirugi. Can’t you hear the music, it’s magnificent,” Heston replied, a faraway look in his eyes.

>   Heston lunged with the knife, driving the blade into the sputtering Dras. He went limp, grabbing at the knife feebly as he began to topple. Alis attempted to detach from him before he fell, but it was too late. She landed next to the Dras, blue blood pooling beneath them both.

  Disentangling herself from the now-deceased Dras, she attempted to scramble backward. Heston was too quick, however, and landed upon her. She tried to push him off but he remained. He wrapped his hands around Alis’ throat and began to squeeze.

  Panic set in as her windpipe was closed off. She thrashed wildly but couldn’t dislodge Heston.

  “Do you not hear it? Do you not hear the music?” Heston asked, leaning close to her face and loosening his grip.

  She hungrily gasped great gulps of air, ignoring Heston’s words and desperately trying to find a way out. And then she did hear it. A strange humming in the back of her mind. A warm humming. A pleasant humming. Music.

  45

  Courage

  Benjam raced along as fast as his tentacles could slither him. He knew he had to find Alis. She needed to know what was going on. It was odd, though, it looked like two Azorians, a Dras and Yal, fighting in the street. Two more Dras surrounded the Yal and they began to pummel him. He fell to the ground and they continued to strike and kick him until he no longer moved.

  He was disturbed, but he knew he couldn’t intervene. Not only was it too late for the poor fellow, but he didn’t think he could take that many combatants, even with his regeneration. What was going on, anyway?

  Deciding to dodge off the main avenue and take a side street, Benjam proceeded down an alley. Two Dras stepped into the alleyway, blocking his progress. He turned to backtrack and spotted several more making their way into the alley behind him.

  Hmmm, trapped, it would seem, he thought ruefully. What did these guys want, anyway? Were they going to hurt him, like they had the Yal? It sure seemed so. He quailed ever so slightly at the thought of what must be coming. He frantically looked around, spotting several crates stacked against one wall.

  Scrambling up the boxes, Benjam squirmed up onto the roof. Feet pounded along stone pavers as the Dras tore after him. He didn’t waste any time checking on their progress, he just squirmed at top speed for the next alleyway and subsequent building.

  He heard the Dras’ pounding footsteps as they mounted the roof and tore after him. Benjam squiggled like he had never squiggled before, racing for the next alley. He squirmed right off the edge and landed in the alley with a squish. He broke into a furious squirm, racing down the alley and around the corner as the Dras began to drop into the passage.

  Maybe he could make it to the engineering lab and lock himself inside, at least until this blew over. He realized Kyren and Alis may still be out, may still be in danger. Not much he could do at the moment for them. It was best to stay alive, best to stay out of the reach of those guys, he decided.

  He reached the lab with the Dras hot on his heels. He squirmed inside and keyed the door shut. It whooshed shut just as the Dras reached it. He activated the locking mechanism as they pounded fruitlessly on the door.

  Quickly looking around for something to defend himself, should they breach the door, he spotted Alis’ wrench lying on a table. Squirming over, Benjam grabbed it and activated the transformation to turn it into the sonic emitter. He spun and pointed it at the door, expecting the door to open and Dras to pour in.

  Seconds ticked by then became minutes, which ticked by as well. Benjam began to relax. The pounding had ceased a while ago, and he feared they had found a way to open the door. But it had not opened. It seemed they must have given up, at least for now.

  But Benjam knew he couldn’t hide here forever. Kyren and Alis were still out there and likely needed his help. At the very least, they needed to stick together. Building up his courage, he keyed open the lab door, expecting to see a horde of Dras waiting for him.

  None were present, the street beyond was empty. Breathing a sigh of relief, Benjam tentatively squirmed out onto the street, keeping a wary eye for more Azorians. He crept down the street, apprehensive but alert. Keeping the sonic emitter held out before him, grasped in his tentacle, he moved into an alleyway as he heard commotion.

  Peering around the corner, he spotted a number of Azorians. There were many Dras, some wielding knives or clubs. They were attacking the Yal, who were attempting to defend themselves, but it would seem unsuccessfully. There were several bloody bodies lying on the ground already.

  Benjam decided discretion was more prudent than valor, so moved on silently. He made his way through the compound, creeping from alley to alley. No sign of Kyren, Alis, or Leicara. No Heston, no Dralok, but lots of angry Dras. A throng of Dras, wielding makeshift weapons, strode down the street, heading straight for Benjam.

  Ducking back, he felt a moment of terror. They had seen him, he was sure of it. Time to run, he decided, and took off down the street. The Dras rounded the corner after him and broke into a run as well. It was creepy, though, how silent they were. It was as if they were exchanging communications, but somehow wordlessly.

  Backpedaling, he squiggled up to the door he had just passed. He hit the panel and it slid open, so he dodged inside. He shut the door and proceeded to figure out if he could lock it. It seemed he could, as he keyed symbols the panel went from blue to yellow.

  Feeling safe, at least for a small moment, Benjam turned to survey the building he had entered. From the outside, it had appeared small, maybe one or two rooms. It was a single, unfurnished, bare room. There was a doorway on the back wall, a large set of double doors hanging open.

  Beyond was a massive warehouse, receding into the distance, it’s sheer size daunting. He squiggled through the door and entered the warehouse. Just inside was a small holoterminal. He tapped some symbols and a huge holoscreen sprang to life. He examined the readouts, and immediately knew what he had stumbled upon.

  This was the quartermaster’s stock. This is what Leicara was hiding from him. Panning through the inventory categories, he could see that everything they needed was available here. He had spent countless days with Heston attempting to obtain the raw materials and base components needed. He had spent countless days assembling machinery from scratch, when he could have just requisitioned complete apparatuses.

  He started to explore the inventory, his curiosity too great to overcome. Yes, there it was. Stasis pods, complete and fully functional, just waiting to be deployed. One check box ticked. Now to find a power source with enough longevity to power them for seventeen thousand years. That problem would have to wait, though. What he needed was something to help out now, not later.

  So he continued to search through the inventory, looking for something to help. He located several items that he felt would be useful, and recovered them from the shelves. He picked out a trio of comm units and a vid recorder.

  Then he made an exciting discovery. He had learned of the fade-gates the Azorians used from Kyren. They had them in inventory. Benjam retrieved the devices, which came in pairs. Each unit was approximately the width of a doorway, a long square metal rod, adorned with glowing emitters.

  Each pair was keyed to the other, tuned to a specific frequency. When both were deployed, someone would be able to step through the one, and appear out the other. He gathered several pairs and the other items he had selected, and tossed them all into a satchel.

  Mustering himself, he returned to the door to the street. He had a plan. He had the means to accomplish it. Now, Benjam just needed a little luck, and a lot more courage.

  46

  Darkness

  Kyren became aware of his surroundings by degrees. He knew he was in the dark, and now he could feel that he was lying on his back. His arms were bound in front of him, and his whole body ached.

  He shifted, attempting to get into a sitting position. Fire burned in the slash on his thigh as he moved. Grunting, he bore the pain and managed to get upright. Panting from the pain, he tried to listen, but all he cou
ld hear was his ragged breath.

  “Kyren? Are you awake, is that you?” a frightened Leicara said, in a soft voice, barely audible.

  “Yeah, I’m… here, but where is here?”

  “They put a sack over my head, so I don’t know where they took us. I’m so sorry they hurt you,” she said, sounding like she was about to sob.

  Her hand touched his chest and he flinched at the pain.

  “It’s okay, I’ll live. I’ve survived worse, after all,” he replied.

  The beatings he had received from the grendle prisoner, in order to see Alis during their captivity aboard the Searcher, had certainly been worse. He felt defiant. He wouldn’t allow himself to be caught up in some stupid civil war. Now that they had discovered what Leicara had been hiding, they had some resources to work with.

  It would mean betraying her, of course. They’d need to let her use her weapons long enough to stop the Kirugi. They’d likely be able to get all but one, if the future was any guide. That one would threaten the galaxy again, seventeen thousand years in the future.

  They would need to steal Leicara’s people’s last weapons. The Nevthifar would most certainly fall to the Halifax. He didn’t want to know what would happen to Leicara should that come to pass.

  “What are they going to do with us?” she asked, stifling a sob.

  He touched her hand, taking it in both of his.

  “Just hang in there, we’ll figure a way out of this. Like I said, I’ve had worse,” he felt confident, fueled by his anger at the situation Leicara had placed them in.

  She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder and sobbed gently.

  He didn’t really know what to do, so he just rubbed her shoulder and said, “There, there.”

  “Pffff! Stop being a crybaby, Leicara,” a voice growled in the darkness.