Annals of the Keepers - Deception Page 7

  Sontar Jal, General of the Third Fleet, sat a meer spear’s throw away from the seat of Domain power, the Red Throne of Dranneous Kor.

  Cranos Lar, General of the Eighteenth Fleet and seated across from Sontar Jal, lifted a cup and toasted his fellow general, as did many other generals. Sontar Jal raised his cup, acknowledging his comrades. All forced smiles through clenched teeth and railed at the necessity of their political partnership. The black cape of Poth Kar, General of the First Fleet, caught his eye as he maneuvered his way through the less crowded first tier, clasping arms with comrades, harassing rivals, and shouldering his way through the traffic. General Turlon Ti, less influential than Poth Kar, was more taciturn and ignored his rivals, greeting his allies with the barest nods of his head. Sontar Jal had gathered his friends, necessary allies, and coerced supporters across a broad spectrum of Domain Houses. His power base was in adequate control of the Conclave of Adjudication. He knew that four of seven sectors were under his control. Enough for now, he thought.

  Sontar swept his gaze across the ancient arena, nodding to some and smiling at others. He challenged other reluctant allies with his severe gaze, willing them to do his bidding. Many bowed heads as they acquiesced, unable to oppose him and the influence he wielded. Others stared for moments before looking down. One did not look away when challenged. A singular pair of red eyes regarded Sontar without wavering. They burned with as much malevolence as they did mirth. Sontar felt a brief and uncharacteristic chill in the pit of his stomach as Bruntok Gar, the current Blood Blade of the Korin Shai, did not avert his eyes.

  “He is one you will have to kill one day,” grunted Zartock through a mouthful of meat, “Best you do that behind everyone’s backs or you will draw retaliation. They never take well to one of theirs being killed. Think they are favored by the gods, they do,” he finished, quaffing the remainder of his drink. Sontar knew Zartock was trying to sound aloof, but he saw Zartock trying to look around the chamber to discern if anyone had heard his comments. He feared the Korin Shai as much as anyone would, if they valued their lives.

  Three large bells over the widest entrance began to ring, signaling the beginning of the Chamber Lore session. The buzz of conversation died down on the uppermost tiers as the less influential members hastened to settle down and adhere to the traditional rules of the conclave. Servants clothed in gray robes blended in against the stone seats and tables, bustling about and clearing away food and drink. The occupants of the lower tiers were obvious about taking their time getting seated, as if they could not be bothered by tradition and Kryth Mahr law. Poth Kar and Sontar, along with a few others, made a great show of taking their seats and directing their retinues to do the same amongst much grumbling and laughter. All present knew it was mere posturing and theater for the assembled Generals of the Domain. The arrival of the Si Lord was drawing near.

  Two large, stone doors swung open as two Kryth servants pushed the balanced slabs of carved stone with silent, straining efforts. Twelve Tactis Guards, wearing silver, red, and black armor, entered through the huge double doors that were the main entrance and egress of the Chamber Lore hall. Armed with three meter pikes, a broadsword, and plasma pistols, they stood out amongst the remainder of the assembled, who were unarmed. The Tactis Guards halted in a unified crash of armored feet and pikes striking the stone floor.

  All eyes were on the doorway as Xoma Si entered the Chamber Lore. Her dark hair cascaded down the back of her green and black robes as she walked with a practiced stride to stop in the exact center between the two columns of Tactis Guards. The guards in the front and rear ranks crossed their pikes and advanced in unison towards the Red Throne. Xoma Si stepped out of the protective barrier of weapons and turned to sit. Once seated upon the throne, she gazed at the assembled generals, lords, and other brokers of power.

  Xoma Si rested her hands on the arms of the ornate seat. A masterful gauntlet, forged from a living metal that changes shape and hue, encased her left hand. She nodded at her Tactis Guards, as the captain positioned behind the right shoulder of the Si Lord slammed his pike down on the stone floor three times in slow succession. The servants reversed the course of the great, stone doors and began to push them closed. By tradition and by Domain law, no one could enter or leave until this session was concluded. Anyone who chose to violate this law would be executed, unless spared on the whim of the current occupant of the Red Throne.

  Most assembled in the chamber paid the ceremony scant attention, already growing bored with the procedure of governance. When the doors were no more than a dagger’s width from closing, they stopped. Aghast at the thought of a mechanical malfunction, or being punished for shirking their duty, the two servants redoubled their efforts to close the doors. Some in the crowd began to notice their struggle. Amused, the spectators began to laugh, bray insults, and offer sarcastic advice. The doors began to swing open as the servants started to lose their footing. The Tactis Guards began to shift and grip their pikes tighter.

  With a reverberating groan, the doors swung wide open, tumbling the servants backwards. Half of the generals were on their feet as the Chamber grew quiet. Lintorth Sar entered and walked towards the Red Throne, acting like a hero returning home. “It is an unexpected honor to see so many rise for my entrance to this meeting,” he declared, nodding, and bowed at the waist. Laughter echoed throughout the vaulted chamber, as the some were amused by Lintorth’s dramatic entrance while others grumbled insults. The laughter died and the growling insults turned to shouts of outrage as four armored, and armed, Korin Shai entered the chamber.

  “Treachery!” roared General Poth Kar, rising to his feet. The Tactis Guards stood, crouched with lowered pikes, ready to slay the first Korin Shai who moved even a step closer towards Xoma Si. “Seize him!” screeched another general, pointing at Lintorth, who stood calm amidst the rising chaos of the uproar. Sontar glowered at his brother with hate-filled eyes, wishing he could watch him fall under a storm of blades and plasma rounds.

  The Korin Shai stood motionless in the barrage of insults, their energy lances crackling with red tendrils that flowed down the shafts. The yelling and posturing of those proposing to leap down upon the stone floor to protect the Red Throne at all costs seemed to amuse them. Even the Tactis Guards interposed between the Korin Shai and the Red Throne looked less than confident in their abilities to protect the Xoma Si.

  “Hear me!” Lintorth shouted, attempting to stifle the shouting. “Citizens of the Domain,” he bellowed, “I wish to speak before the Chamber Lore and beg the leave of the Red Throne if it will be permitted,” he finished, kneeling on the floor with his hands thrust skyward in supplication.

  “SILENCE!” the singular word reverberated out of the stones of the ancient arena like a wrathful god awakened from slumber. Everything, and everyone, stopped. All present were stunned by the magnitude and vehemence poured into that one word.

  “RETURN TO YOUR PLACES.” the unspoken threat that hung in the air made for rapid compliance, as the crowd returned to their seats with as much decorum as possible. Those keen enough to notice the Xoma Si’s lips moving after the amplified commands had died away, marked the plasma weapon arrays retracting back into the shadows high above the vaulted arches of the chamber.

  “Now,” Xoma Si said in a much less amplified voice, “let us continue with the gathering. Issues of importance need to be discussed,” Xoma Si said, pausing. “Chief of Intelligence,” she directed with some venom at Lintorth, “explain yourself to my satisfaction. You have violated Domain law and tradition.” Her words made his enemies sit forward with anticipation at his transgress in front of the entire Chamber Lore. Generals Poth Kar, Turlon Ti, and Sontar Jal cackled with glee, expecting the worst to fall upon their arrogant adversary.

  Still kneeling, Lintorth bowed so low his massive chest rested on the floor. “Your most loyal subject begs your forgiveness for my rashness, my benevolent Si. I regret any offense I have caused with the upheaval my entrance precipitated. I c
ast myself upon your great wisdom and mercy, asking that I may explain my actions and continue to serve you until our enemies are but flames and ash.”

  “Until our enemies are but flames and ash,” intoned Xoma Si, and many throughout the stone tiers, recalling litanies from their youth. Some enjoyed the ancient adage and the adherence to old traditions of the Domain. Others did not share the love of ancient traditions as Lintorth and his supporters did. Many eschewed the old ways and favored the more modern paradigms. Sontar and his factions did not believe that the renown of the Kryth Mahr and the greatness of the Domain were in decline; but, in ascension. “Stand and account for what has transpired, Lintorth,” ordered Xoma Si, with less coldness in her voice, “Explain what is to come to the Domain, so that they may decide on the most appropriate course of action.”

  Many in the Chamber looked askance at one another. The less-than-subtle appearance of shared secrets between the Chief of Intelligence and the Si Lord did not agree with many of the gathered generals. Domain politics were relentless. Most skirmishes were trivial actions, such as defaming enemies for past grievances, resolving matters of honor, or altering alliances. Various political machinations had not caused but minor disturbances for the last twenty-five cycles, since Xoma Si gained the Red Throne in the last substantial political upheaval.

  Sontar Jal sat complacent. He watched the whispered conjecturing ripple through the throngs of less informed rivals. He basked in their ignorance, nodding to Poth Kar. He knew Poth had the backing of the larger fleets and could move forward with his plan to crush the Human incursion into Kryth Mahr territory. “You look as if you just acquired a new concubine, if I didn’t know any better,” chuckled Zartock.

  “Better,” grinned Sontar, “Much better, my friend.” I know what my brother, Lintorth, does not. I know the location of the Human home world,” he whispered, I have fleets owed to my cause ready to strike. I will be the scourge that destroys our newfound enemy,” he finished under his breath.

  “I’m with you Sontar Jal,” Zartock acknowledged, “Now, let us watch and learn what your good brother plans. I’m confident he will amuse us.”

  Both laughed at that, drawing curious stares from those around them and from shrewd eyes on the floor below.

  DATA CELL 11

  Kason could hear the laughter coming from the briefing room. He stopped in the hallway before entering and listened to his fellow Reavers. The men were in good spirits as each took turns razzing Ramek. It was good to feel the camaraderie once again.

  There were twelve at the start of the selection. Three had been on the mission that rescued Ramek. Only one would be chosen to take Jens’ position on the Reaver team.

  Kason fidgeted in his black dress uniform. The skin treatments by Doctor Solome were starting to irritate him.

  No matter, he thought. He was eager to greet the new Reaver that would join the team.

  This was always the part he enjoyed, handing the regimental sash to the newest team member. The new Reaver had been notified earlier of the selection, but this was the official welcome.

  Kason entered the Reaver briefing room.

  He smiled through his itchiness of his new skin.

  The room was oval with a sunken, stepped center. In the center, a holo-projector was surrounded with four benches occupied by Reavers. Metal equipment lockers rounded the outside of the oval room with other benches.

  The Reavers had gathered here, awaiting Kason to start the meeting.

  Keelen saw Kason first, “Honor!” He yelled, calling the men to attention.

  “As you were,” Kason ordered, approaching the team.

  He walked over to Keelen first.

  Kason reached his forearm out in the traditional Reaver greeting.

  Keelen met his arm.

  Kason smiled, “I want to thank you for leading the team in my absence. You did an honorable and impressive job, Keelen.”

  “Thank you, Kason, but it wasn’t really my team to lead. I was just filling a big R.A.S suit until the real leader returned.”

  Kason patted him on the shoulder, “You always have the right words to say, my friend.”

  Ramek was next up for Kason, “You’re looking better since the last time I saw you, big man. It’s good to see you up and about,” Kason remarked.

  “Feeling and looking better than you, boss,” Ramek said.

  “Yes, I would agree. Doctor Solome said the glowing would go away soon.”

  “How many more treatments do you have?” Keelen asked.

  “This was my last one. The doctor has reduced the process and time needed for epidermal regeneration. It’s a little tight and itchy, but it’s just like new.”

  “Are you keeping the dome?” Ramek gestured to Kason’s bald head.

  Kason rustled Ramek’s full head of hair as he moved down the line of men, “Thought I could borrow some or yours.”

  Ramek grinned, “No chance. I need mine for the ladies.”

  “What ladies? You have no ladies,” Maddox jabbed, causing chuckles around the room, including a giggle from their female counterpart, Kercy.

  “You don’t even have me, Ramek.”

  Uproar broke out at the comment from the newest Reaver.

  “That’s questionable,” The big Reaver retorted.

  “I could show you right now and there wouldn’t be any questions on that.”

  All eyes widened. She could hold her own.

  “Okay, let’s keep our uniforms on,” Kason said, before stopping and facing Maddox, “Mister Maddox, how’ve you been?”

  “Fine as always, boss. I like the new recruit’s attitude. She’ll keep Ramek in check.”

  “More like ‘on edge’, but someone has to do it,” Kason looked over to Kercy with a smile. He turned back to Maddox, “You never waiver, Maddox. Thanks for keeping things together around here.”

  “No problem. Weapons are ready for your inspection, boss.”

  “No need, Maddox. I never need to double check your work. It’s good to see you again.”

  “Likewise.”

  Kason took a step to his left to the last and newest Reaver on the team.

  All eyes were on Kason and the new Reaver.

  “We don’t have elaborate ceremonies here, Kercy. It’s simple,” Kason paused, pulling a Reaver regimental sash from behind his back, “You see, there are no oaths to take, stanzas to recall, or poems to recite. We don’t gather in large formations or dress down according to some ritual handed down by past generations. You will not find salutes or a parade of well-wishers standing by.” Kason glanced down at the sash he held before returning his stare to Kercy, “It’s a simple blood sash. Crimson. You are now part of a brotherhood that is spoken about in hushed reverence. A sash was taken and a sash is given. The only thing that is asked of you is to remember and honor the sacrifice of the one before you. Nothing more can be given than the one that was lost. Nothing less can be taken than a simple red sash worn at your side. Let us take into account the passing of this sash.”

  Kason handed the sash to Kercy. Turning, he walked over to the holo-projector. The silence was only broken by the Reaver leader, “Okay, men. We have some updates. Let’s gather around.”

  The four Reavers found seats on the lower benches around the monitor. The image of a new Reaver suit came to life.

  “Before we get into the new upgrades to the R.A.S. armor,” Kason said, “let’s speak about some information we came upon over the last few hours.”

  He paced the upper walkway around the monitor as his men sat below, “There is no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it. We’ve collected data from Lieutenant Temin’s scanner during Ramek’s rescue. It came back with a small DNA sample from Jens.”

  Ramek shot up out of his seat, “He’s alive?”

  “I didn’t say that. The sample was barely enough to be identified. We didn’t detect it when the Deus antennas tracked your whereabouts, Ramek. It was only found after the mission when the data was combed
through.”

  “But, boss,” Ramek replied, “it has to mean something. How else would we pick it up?”

  “You said you saw his body mangled and lifeless when the aythra killed him. Maybe the Kryth took his body for experimentation. What we do know, is that there was no sign of him on the station when the team arrived for your rescue; so, with less than an adequate sample and nothing else to go on, we have to assume he’s gone.”

  Keelen spoke up, “Was the sample showing active or inactive tissue?”

  “Neither. There wasn’t enough of a sample to tell.” Kason replied.

  “Then, there’s still a chance?” Ramek said, hopeful for his lost friend.

  Kason was direct, “No, Ramek. Jens is gone.” Ramek was about to interrupt, but Kason continued, “We will continue to monitor all surveillance networks for any additional traces. If anything is picked up, we will follow up with it. Understood?”

  “Yes,” Ramek said, sitting back down.

  Kason nodded, then activated a wrist control. The Reaver suit gleamed in pure, artificial light above the holo-projector, as if it were solid and real, “Let us discuss the upgrades the good doctor and her team have been working on for us.”

  With a flick of his wrist, the Reaver suit broke apart, exposing the layer beneath the external black shell. A highlighted white layer lay between the armor shell and the most inner garment.

  “The layer highlighted is the new impact gel. This upgrade was designed with Ramek’s fight with the Kryth Mahr general, Lintorth Sol, in mind. The grenade impact at close-range threw Ramek against the bulkhead at a high rate of speed.” An animation of the explosion and suit impact against the wall played out in mid-air of the room. Kason continued, “The armor took the destructive power of the explosive, but the blast force was the issue here. This layer will cushion against blunt force trauma to the R.A.S. suit.”

  Ramek was not impressed with what he saw, “Boss, that thin layer doesn’t look like much cushion. A guy like me–”