The Protectorate’s agent is a Chibbi? Who is the governor kidding? Ballis thought to himself incredulously. He had run into such guttersnipes before in the seedier depths of Roonagor’s honeycombed districts. It had always ended in disaster for the one with the tail.
“In the name of his Governor, the Moolag, hand over, um…” the Chibbi looked around at his men expectantly, then looking very much annoyed, balled up a fist and pounded one of the two troopers in the shoulder. The Chibbi’s face winced just for a second, eyes twitching, his teeth grinding at the pain the hard surface had jammed into his knuckles. The armored man grunted and struggled for a few seconds before his helmet peeled away and exposed his ugliness.
“He’s called Aiben,” the man slurred in Zenzani. His words whistled as air escaped from where teeth should have been.
“Yes, Aiben. Let’s have him. I’m tired of all this running around.”
This Chibbi’s feint of ignorance didn’t fool Ballis in the least. It was typical for this kind of thug to pretend the job wasn’t important enough to bother with remembering a simple name. This way, later, if needed, the Chibbi could deny full knowledge, as well as responsibility, of the Golani’aak’s actions. Ballis couldn’t help but smirk. It would work out to their advantage knowing this Chibbi was so unoriginal in his approach.
The Chibbi growled when no one moved to fulfill his demands. He had given the order in Zenzani, and it was clear none of the Neilemi’aak were going to show any sign that they understood him, even if it was just to protest. The Chibbi chomped his sharpened teeth several times, working up a lather of saliva at the corners of his mouth. He threw his arms into the air and repeated the order.
“I know you revolting fools can understand me! Come to think of it, the general did say to bring back this Aiben fellow dead or alive, right?” The Chibbi looked into the naked face of the ugly man and a vicious look of underhandedness crept into his beady eyes. The soldier stared back with a bewildered expression, but another sock to the shoulder forced a nervous gurgle out of him. Disgusted by his hireling’s inability to pick-up on a bluff, the Chibbi continued, screaming now. “So come on out Aiben before I let these guys start cutting loose with their brand-new energy guns, compliments of the governor!”
The ratty’s audaciousness made Ballis pull the trigger halfway; it was all he could do to squeeze off a shot, but no matter how much he wanted to, he wouldn’t be the first to commit them to a firefight that the Neilemi’aak would likely lose. Suddenly, the ugly man’s rifle thudded to the ground, his face slackened. His eyes unfocused and he swayed just for a second. The echo of other weapons hitting the ground gave Ballis the nerve to take his eyes off the Chibbi just for a quick second. It looked like the Golani’aak had all fallen into some kind of trance. Aiben and the Neilemi’aak had also lowered their guns. In just seconds, Ballis was the only one left with his raised.
“Now the odds look good,” Ballis said aloud. Lev-9 stepped around a cluster of Neilemi’aak defenders and took up a position next to him. He shot a sliver of ice-blue eyes at his mechanoid companion. “Even better.”
The Chibbi was already whipped up into a furious frenzy. He was screaming for his men to pick up their weapons, doubling his fists against the ugly man’s arm like a flimsy pinwheel caught in a hurricane. He ignored the bruises and welts that were beginning to blister and swell his hands.
“I believe Aiben has engaged them in a conversation,” Lev-9 opined.
“Looks that way all right,” Ballis laughed at the frantic Chibbi. “Maybe we should settle this out here while they’re busy talking in there, huh?”
The Chibbi’s fists stopped and he turned to look at Ballis, his face engorged with fear as he realized his own rifle still hung from his shoulder. The Chibbi had relied on his men to keep the Neilemi’aak at bay while he threatened them. In a moment of desperation, he reached to pull the weapon forward, but Ballis beckoned with his own gun and gave a sharp click of his tongue to tell the ratty to let it drop to the ground. As he did so, the Chibbi slumped over, and lightning quick, corkscrewed and bolted back into the trees between the two Golani’aak soldiers still standing there in a daze. The indigo blaze of Ballis’s energy rifle left a patch of smoking, black foliage in his wake.
“Stay here in case Aiben needs you,” Ballis commanded Lev-9, and without a second thought, took off at a dead run into the forest on the heels of the Chibbi.
***
Nairom perched in the crook of a tree, camouflaged by the height and the leaves draped around him. He had relegated Gormy’s visual overlay to a little window down in the corner of his field of vision. He telefocused his sight through the thicket of branches and zoomed in on Aiben’s face so he could watch him from a distance. He was trying not to do anything to give himself away to Aiben’s hyper-senses. Nairom had to stay anonymous for just a little while longer. In another corner of his vision, a hot-link to his energy rifle fed him pinpoint targeting information. He tracked the weapon across his line of sight until the crosshairs landed on Gormy. Nairom was breathing shallowly, fearful that a deep breath might upset his aim.
He zoomed the scene out a bit and saw Gormy had just pushed his way through the Golani’aak and now stood between Corag-mar and one of his men. The Chibbi’s arms were already churning as he postured in front of Ballis. Nairom pulled back in a little where he could see his former mentor’s rock-hard face, and knew it was from cold resolve, not fear. Nairom couldn’t have asked for a better set up to his plan. This was perfect. He made sure to lock the target on the ratty, and then spoke softly, letting the nanomechs translate his voice over the nanotransponder tucked in Corag-mar’s ear. How easily this thug had betrayed Gormy for a few thousand credits of Zenzani currency.
“Get ready to fire on my command at anyone other than Aiben or the man Gormy is talking to.”
Nairom watched for Corag-mar to give the signal he had heard the directive, but none came. He repeated it, but again with no effect. Just as he was getting ready to try a third time, Corag-mar and his men began dropping their weapons one by one. Nairom swore. Had Aiben somehow cyberlinked with the Golani’aak’s communications net? That shouldn’t have been possible, since they had encrypted their signal. This was very unexpected.
His only chance now was to link up to the hypernet to try to figure out what was going on, but once he had connected and used his access codes to drill down into the band the troopers were using, he found no trace of activity. Not believing something like this could happen; he threw all caution to the wind and took aim again on Gormy. He had had enough of tracking the Moolag’s bungling idiot and Corag-mar’s inept little army. Gormy didn’t give him the chance to end it. At that very moment, the ratty fled into the woods. Ballis flew off after him, rapidly discharging energy bolts.
Nairom let out a deep sigh, unaware he had been holding his breath. It was a good thing he hadn’t pulled the trigger in anger. It would have devastated his plan if he had tipped his hand so prematurely. He would have to follow the two of them and make sure they didn’t kill each other before Aiben was there to witness it. Before climbing down to go after them, he realized they would catch his mole if he didn’t act fast. Swearing a second time, he sent a quick-burst transmission to Corag-mar over the nanotransponder and hoped it would wipe the man’s memory of their transaction in time.
***
Ballis swam headlong through the gnarled swarm of trees, arms paddling to swipe aside voracious limbs hungry to snare him. He couldn’t see the creature in flight, but the green waves of vegetation beating in the Chibbi’s wake kept him on the right vector. He was gulping for air, years of sedentary life in the garage on Besti exacting a price he couldn’t pay for much longer. Nevertheless, he was a man possessed with catching the thorn that had been digging into their heels ever since arriving on Mora Bentia. He was determined to find out why the Protectorate’s lackey was searching for Aiben.
Did they suspect who his young friend was? Had Magron gotten word somehow
about what Oand-ib had sent Aiben to do and put a contract out on him? If that were the case, then Ballis had to make sure the Chibbi didn’t escape him. He was starting to slow down, though. His calves and thighs burned and the chill of the morning air seared his lungs. The sound of the ratty crashing through the twisted trees got fainter, but he could still see branches snapping back into place in the distance. Then all sound and movement abruptly stopped.
After several more feet, Ballis emerged into another clearing. It was much larger than the one where he had left Aiben and the Mora Bentians. It stretched a good distance before the trees picked-up again. The meadow in between was of the same dry, grassy stalks they had found themselves in when meeting the Neilemi’aak for the first time. In contrast to the fresh, sunny air, the smell of the grass brought back memories of cold stew and dark caverns. Had it been the material of the bowl, or the stew itself infused with that grassy aroma? Ballis realized what he was doing and chastised himself. He brought his attention back to the situation at hand.
He craned his neck, but couldn’t see the ratty traversing the field. He wondered if he had angled back into the trees to avoid putting himself out into the open and into Ballis’s line of fire. At that very thought, a creepy feeling seeped its way into the old soldier’s bones. He was being watched. He hefted his gun and turned slowly, eyeballing the line of trees standing like sentinels behind him. As he walked back towards them, it dawned on him. He brought up his rifle, aiming up into the canopy of trees, but it was too late. There on a branch crouched the Chibbi and he propelled his boot square into Ballis’s jaw. Everything went black.
CHAPTER 25
This is where we part, Corag-mar said into the mind-link. His sinewy arms, upholstered in coarse black hair, spread apart the last clump of spiked branches. Thorns stabbed small red dimples into the design on his leathered skin, but tight muscles kept the barbs from puncturing it and raising blood. His halifi was old and faded compared to those of the Neilemi’aak.
Corag-mar had been leading Aiben, Jerekiel, and Oromgol through the brush with as much stealth as possible, snaking them towards a grassy mound rising like a stubbled island in a sea of trees. Ballis, Lev-9, and two of Corag-mar’s men hung back about fifty feet, watching their backs as they advanced. The Chibbi had escaped the failed ambush and they weren’t taking any chances that he had doubled back from his flight to follow them. Aiben crouched low, almost on all fours, and slid between the thorns as they reached out for him.
Jerekiel shuffled through the brush behind him. She moved so expertly that she would have been silent to anyone not listening with nanomechs. Like the rest of them, leaves and needles carpeted her from head to toe, and soil and grime smudged her face. She smelled like humid earth and grass. Aiben found the odor rich, and quite pleasant.
During the days since their chance meeting, her growing friendship was helping him fill some of the void created by the loss of so many people that were close to him. Still, he pushed any thoughts beyond friendship with her to the back of his mind. He didn’t really know if Achanei were dead or alive and he had to find that out before anything else could happen. His heart skipped a beat and his head felt light at the thought of her. He missed her more than ever.
You had better leave now, Hegirith, before the Chibbi figures out where we are and comes back with real troopers this time. Jerekiel was at Aiben’s shoulder, resting a hand on his arm. Concern colored her dirty, yet beautiful face.
The corners of Aiben’s mouth curved, but he didn’t trust himself to say anything to her right now. He was going to have to part company once again with someone he had come to care about. Instead, he nodded and sent a mental signal to Lev-9 to bring Ballis and meet them at the slope of the hill. There was a metal door set in the side of it, weathered dull by harsh elements. Peeking up over the top of the mound in the distance, where the trees began to thin, the docking towers of Abri Mor scratched the sky.
“This is our way into the garrison city,” Corag-Mar said when Ballis had joined them. “It’s one of several maintenance outlets, which lead into the city’s recycling systems. It’s well neglected and almost never guarded anymore. I don’t think the Protectorate even remembers it’s here.” He whistled slightly as he spoke. He pursed his lips and drew in his eyebrows making his face even uglier than nature had intended.
“You do know how to get the door open, I take it?” Ballis shouldered his way between Aiben and the Golani’aaki Keazil. He was kneading his jaw as if trying to wipe away the embarrassment of his encounter with the ratty.
Corag-mar shrugged and grunted. Ballis shook his head in disgust. Unlike the Neilemi’aak he had met so far, Corag-Mar didn’t impress him.
“Oromgol?” Jerekiel batted her right-hand man on the back with the heel of her palm. Oromgol stumbled forward. “I’m sure you can help out, can’t you?”
“If those Zenzani dogs knew half the stuff they taught me in that camp at Ulara Kait, they would’ve killed me long ago. They thought they had me sifting through garbage.” Something half between a sigh and a laugh fled Oromgol’s lips as he moistened them with his tongue. “They wouldn’t have given me so much freedom if they’d known what I was going to remember. I know a few of their low security codes I could try to get it open with, but I would need one of their controller keys to do it. I did it a hundred times at the camp.”
“Use your nanomechs to do it, Oromgol,” Aiben said. He moved to the soldier’s side and placed his hand on Oromgol’s back. It wasn’t the cuff Jerekiel had given him. “Ever since the beginning of the war, the Cybermancer Guild has made sure all of the Protectorate’s known access protocols have been encoded into the nanomechs. The ones I gave you should have the latest information up until the time I left Besti. You can become the controller.”
Oromgol nodded. “I don’t understand your Cybermancer Guild, but I am willing to do whatever I’m asked with your guidance, Hegirith.”
“Good, let’s try to initiate a wireless connection with the input port on the side of the door and give it the right access code.”
Oromgol’s fourth attempt let him input the code and the door ground open. Aiben shivered at the sound of the metal door scraping against its frame. Ballis and Lev-9 immediately slipped through into the dark tunnel, weapons held ready. Ballis pulled a pair of variable spectrum goggles over his eyes, which Oromgol had given him. He adjusted them to infrared. Corag-Mar signaled for his men to follow them into the opening.
Jerekiel gave her companion a gentler pat now. Well done, old friend.
Thank you, Oromgol, Aiben echoed and smiled at the man. You’re going to be very important in the fight for Rahan.
Controlling machines with a thought! I’m the one who should thank you, Hegirith!
The Neilemi’aak revolutionary began to go down on one knee, but Aiben clasped his hand and pulled him back up. His other arm looped around Oromgol’s shoulders. He would prefer the Neilemi’aak not call him Hegirith or kneel to him, but they would be slow in breaking the habits the Shelezar’hi had ingrained in them.
You’re not going to say it, but I know you want to come with us. Instead, I need you to make sure any pursuers stay off our trail. I know I can trust you to do that.
I will take care of it. Good luck, Iniri’ki Hegirith. Watch your back. Oromgol gripped Aiben’s hand for several more seconds and then let go. He sank back into the sea of green forest.
Many of them still believe you are a prophecy. Oromgol is one of them.
That’s how the Shelezar’hi want it remembered, Jerekiel, but that prophecy isn’t me. I have told you the real story. I’m just here to get im shalal so I can kill the Zenzani’s leader.
That’s what you want to believe. For now, I won’t argue with you.
“Hey, Aiben?” Ballis called from within the shadows of the tunnel. A hollow sound reverberated from the opening. “Are you coming any time soon?”
Go, you’re running out of time.
I’
ll come back no matter what happens, Aiben said and then realized how his words might be misconstrued.
I know.
Jerekiel threw her arms around him for the first time since they had met. They had spent many hours together over the past several days as he taught her how to master the nanomechs and she taught him what the ilud’hi knew about Abri Mor and im shalal. He knew she also longed to be going with them as their guide and protector, but like Oromgol, he needed her elsewhere. Her responsibility was to begin gathering the ilud’hi together as the Tulani’aak once again and to prepare the Shelezar to meet him for alachti al alamat once he had im shalal.
Aiben pulled away from her. He didn’t want to risk looking at that alluring, tanned face for longer than necessary. She had pulled her black hair back from it and tied it to leave her almond eyes free to stir his emotions. He didn’t want to look into them before he entered the darkness of the maintenance tunnel. He had already lived through a separation like that with Achanei. He motioned for Corag-mar to follow him into the tunnel. The ugly man nodded with a toothless grin, gave Jerekiel a nervous glance, and then hurried to follow his new Hegirith. Aiben didn’t look back, but he knew Jerekiel watched him until the darkness swallowed them up.
Aiben replayed the incidents of the past day in his head while they traversed the subterranean passageways leading to Abri Mor. His destiny was growing beyond the one Oand-ib had envisioned for him. It felt like it changed almost as fast as each moment passed.
As soon as he had realized who their ambushers were, he had reached out to the Golani’aak mercenaries with shalal hiliz. It was instinct. His thoughts were heavy with the history of these people, a history now entwined with his future. The Golani’aak were also the descendants of the Tulani’aak, those Haman who had first crashed on Mora Bentia, exiled here by his very own audacious plan to bring peace to the galaxy. They would still possess the residual abilities of the Consciousness like the Neilemi’aak had.