The Zygan Emprise: Renegade Paladins and Abyssal Redemption (26 page)

“Oh, sorry, I was … somewhere else,” I
stammered. “You know, I don’t really know. Burr never actually
verified …”

“It’s more likely Benedict sent some of his
Andarts to try it,” Matshi interjected, sweeping a finger
dramatically across his neck. “So now all we have to do is keep him
from getting the Somalderis. Considering he hasn’t found it all
these years, sounds easy to me.”

Spud shook his head, lost in thought. “No
…”

“Yeess …?” I prompted.

“Ulenem said that the Somalderis would be in
Benedict’s hands soon,” repeated Spud.

“Well, then, we’d better find Benedict before
that happens,” Matshi said forcefully. “And keep whoever’s bringing
the Somalderis from reaching him. I’m sure that’s what Ulenem was
going to suggest.”

Eikhus nodded. “I’m inclined to agree. But,
let’s question our guests, first, and see what they can tell
us.”

We all turned towards Spud, who continued to
stare off into the distance. Finally, with a troubled expression,
he returned a weary. “Yes, by all means.”

* * *

We took a few hours to question our visitors,
as well as for rest and brainstorming, on how we might prevent
Benedict from “brane-storming,” Sarion joked. Under gentle
questioning, or so I would like to believe, by Matshi and the
Megaran warriors, our guests finally admitted that Benedict had
used the most powerful synchrotron he could find for test runs, and
had lost more than a few of his Andarts who had volunteered to
brave the portals near the Orion system’s planets. None of the
travelers had succeeded in maintaining the transition. Most had
come back severely burned and/or dead. Apparently, only the
Somalderis, channeling massive amounts of fusion energy from the
closest sun, had ever allowed travelers to fully and safely
transport to the other dimensions. Benedict had recently abandoned
the Synchrotron and turned all his organization’s efforts towards
the quest for the Golden Fleece. If he were to get the Fleece, he
and his Andarts could commit the ultimate Zygfed crime:
successfully escaping to another dimension, beyond the reach of the
Omega Archon.

As Zygfed’s soldiers, our duty was to make
sure that wouldn’t happen. We gathered on the bridge again to
strategize our next move.

“With a whole universe to enjoy, why would
Benedict want to go to another brane?” sighed Suthsi.

“What if,” I posited, “that brane, Brane 5,
holds keys to knowledge and technology that Benedict could use to
undermine or overthrow the Omega Archon?”

Suthsi nodded. “I see your—his—point”

“No wonder Benedict and His Highness are at
war,” Sestei reflected. “Benedict’s goal violates the most basic
Zygfed commandments.”

“And His Highness fights to keep Benedict
from achieving that mission,” added Eikhus.

“It’s a standoff,” Matshi agreed.

“Well, it looks like we’re on the side of the
angels,” mused Nephil Stratum. “So, let’s go fight for our
king.”

Eikhus chuckled. “We’re not exactly angels,
present company excepted,” he teased. “More like minions for hire,
really. But, yeah. I think it’s time we go to the source.”

“Where is Benedict reputed to be?” Pallas
asked.

Nephil Stratum broke off another tuft and
brought out the sparkling multihedron gem once again. When the
sparkles dissolved, we saw another holo of Benedict, this time
sitting at a desk facing … Fahrquardt.

“I know where he is!” I cried, “I’ve been
there! HDfiftysomething.”

“And that is where exactly?” Eikhus
asked.

“Contact metrics are coming up,” I said,
running my fingers over nav holos. “It’s in Galaxy M82, only 2.6
hours away.”

Chapter 19

Lucifer

We agreed that Setsei and Suthsi would join
Nephil Stratum and Eikhus back on the Nautilus. Matshi, Sarion, and
the Megarans would stay with me and Spud and our prisoners on the
Sportstar as we led the way towards the sibling galaxies of M81 and
82.

I decided to be proactive this time and I
commed the Gliesers for travel authorization before we reached the
Zygfed border at the edge of the Milky Way, so they wouldn’t think
there was anything fishy (pun intended) about our quest. In fact,
not only were they more supportive, but Captain Pesci even told us
to comm him if we needed any help from his schools. I guess
following procedures sometimes has its benefits. I should try it
more often…

We had a relatively uneventful flight to M82.
Eikhus’s ship was not as fast as the Sportstar, so it took us about
three hours to arrive near HD5924. We warped down in stealth mode,
worried that our approach would be challenged by guard buoys or an
E-shield.

But, it wasn’t. To our surprise, the gates of
the spaceport below opened to welcome us. We paused just outside
apogee to regroup, cryptocomming to each others’ ships via
holos.

“This doesn’t smell right,” Matshi said,
confirming my own suspicions.

“I agree,” Eikhus responded. “It could be a
trap.”

“They probably are aware that we have Burr
and the Ursans,” Spud assumed logically. “The minute we enter, they
shall overwhelm us, rescue their people, and—”

“And bears,” Sarion inserted, earning Spud’s
glare.

“You’re a genius!” I said to Sarion, earning
everyone’s astonishment. I turned to Eikhus. “Have we been
scanned?”

He checked his data. “Yes.”

“Okay,” I suggested, “how about if one ship
does go in, Matshi driving, with Burr and the Ursans.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Suthsi said sarcastically.
“Then
we
have to go rescue Matshi?”

“No,” I explained, “
We’ll
be
supporting Matshi. Spud, me, and Pallas—disguised as Burr and the
Ursans.”

Matshi grinned, and I saw a smile on Pallas’s
face.

“You mean you’d Ergal your disguise to look
like Burr and the Ursans?” Suthsi asked, confused.

Setsei frowned. “But wouldn’t they see that
it’s just a disguise with their first NDNA scan?”

“Not if we mute into them down to our DNA,” I
averred.

The Ytrans gasped. “You remember you just
caught Hell for doing that. If the Omega Archon collars you
this
time …”

“Sometimes it’s better to ask for forgiveness
than permission,” I returned, seeing the looks on my cohorts’
faces. “This is Benedict we’re trying to stop.”

“She’s right,” Pallas said. “I’m in. I’ll be
one of the Ursans.”

“I’ll pilot,” said Matshi.

I turned to Spud. “Do you want to go as Burr
or an Ursan?”

He hesitated before answering. “No. I’ll take
my chances going in as me. I’m not willing to mute. Nor to face His
Highness when the day is done.”

I was ready to try to convince him until our
eyes met. I sighed and said, “Well, I hate to lose the intimidation
factor that Matshi provides as our pilot, but how about you,
Matshi, are you willing to be Burr or a bear?”

“Yes.” Matshi looked at Spud with obvious
distaste and nodded. “This is important.”

* * *

HD 5924—present day

Spud flew us in the Sportstar wordlessly. We
had transferred the real Burr and the real Ursans over to Eikhus’s
vessel under the Megarans’ guard. As soon as Pallas had returned,
he, Matshi, and I had muted to look like our prisoners and so take
their place. The tension was palpable and not just because we were
entering Benedict’s lair. I took a walk on our bridge, trying to
get comfortable in my hulking, furry body. I didn’t want Benedict’s
men to identify me as an impostor with my first steps off our ship.
Pallas seemed to be doing better as Plionarctos, barely stumbling
as he got ready for the landing. Not much of a stretch from a bulky
wrestler to a hulky bear, I thought, smiling.

I tried to slip Gary’s superErgal ring on
“Agriarctos’s” fingers. Unfortunately, it didn’t even fit on my
hefty pinky, so I reluctantly slipped it into a pocket of my tunic,
where I could reach it quickly if needed.

Nav landed us gently in the spaceport hangar
and, as soon as we opened our hatch, as expected, we were greeted
by a contingent of armed Andarts.

At stun gunpoint, we were led from the
hangar. We trudged down the drab corridor and into the tiny alcove
for the requisite NDNA scan.
Agriarctos, Agriarctos
, I kept
saying to myself this time, as the scanner baked my molecules,
hoping that I would pass as the massive Ursan. To my relief, we all
made it through the scan without being unmasked. The scan suite’s
door opened to reveal the longer, equally gloomy hall, and we began
our extended walk towards the massive central arena filled with
spheres and domes that I had been dragged to a few days ago by
Agriarct—me.

As the titanium portal opened, I put my paw
up to shield my eyes from the blinding light. And—it wasn’t there!
Instead, the vast space was dimly lit, and, almost empty. There
were no strobing spheres to be seen in the atrium, and only three
domes remained implanted on the cold, hard, floor. My jaw
dropped.

“Where did all—?” I started before realizing
that Agriarctos might know the answer. “Nothing,” I finished, as
our escorts looked at me curiously.

We entered the domes through diffusion, as
before. I took the lead through the membrane and hoped Matshi and
Pallas would confidently follow. Spud reached out and, fascinated,
palpated the dome wall for a few minutes before gliding through.
Only one Andart entered with us, keeping his stun gun aimed at
Spud.

To my dismay, the Andart led us to the office
of our favorite Executive Coordinator of Strategic Initiatives and
Outcomes Assessment. Fahrquardt, as pompous as ever, greeted us
with a vicious grin.

“Number 4,” said the small man, puffing out
his chest, to “Burr.”

Matshi glanced at me for help.

“Burr is not interested in playing childish
competitive games with you, Fahrquardt,” I interjected. “We’re
focused on our mission, and you should be, too.”

The chest un-puffed. Matshi’s—Burr’s--eyes
twinkled.

“Good golly,” Fahrquardt said smoothly,
though his irritation was visible, “I haven’t offered you seats.”
He waved an arm as his office expanded with seats for all of us,
including the Andart.

“Burr” held up a hand. “We’ve come to see
Benedict,” he said brusquely.

Fahrquardt’s face fell. “So, the rumors are
true.”

Matshi stayed silent.

“You’ve brought the Somalderis,” continued
Fahrquardt. A red flush rose from his neck to his oily pate.
“Fiddlesticks! I had so hoped I’d be the one!” He pulled a
paperweight from his suit pocket and threw it at me and my fellow
Ursan Plionarctos.

We ducked and the missile hit the Andart in
the head, causing a large gash that sprayed bright orange.
Fahrquardt spun on his heel and re-entered his office, slamming the
door. I saw Spud’s eyes narrow, just as “Burr” grab grabbed me and
whispered, “Where’s Benedict’s office?”

I shook my head and turned to the Andart who
had staunched his blood with an orange-drenched corner of his
sleeve. He pulled his gun back out from under his armpit and aimed
it at Spud once again.

“Do care for your wound; I can handle the
gun,” I urged, as Agriarctos. “I will not let the Zygan escape.” I
handed him a clean scrap of cloth that I tore from the lining of my
tunic.

The Andart nodded and took the swatch,
handing me his weapon for safekeeping as he daubed his oozing
wound. After subtly changing the setting to stun, I pointed it at
Spud and added, to the Andart’s delight, “Please, lead the way. You
deserve the honor.”

We followed the Andart along a maze of
corridors until we reached another membrane. And stopped. This
membrane was bright green—I knew I hadn’t seen it the last time I
was here. The Andart placed his free hand on the barrier, which
bent and flexed under the pressure of his moving fingers.

I discreetly gestured to our group to hang
loose; the Andart should know how to “unlock the door”. Sure
enough, after a few seconds of the digital dialing, the membrane
turned yellow and the Andart diffused through it easily with us in
tow.

I was awestruck. Instead of another banal
office hallway, we were instantly enveloped by a cocoon of beauty:
a clear, blue sky, green trees with brightly colored fruits and
fragrant flowers, soft grass, and crisp, clean air. For a brief
moment, I felt like I was back home on our farm. I closed my mouth
and tried to act nonchalant. Having spent most of the past two
years in the dusty desert of LA or the disheartening darkness of
space, I was relishing experiencing a few moments in this
paradise.

My companions seemed equally impressed. The
Andart turned to us and, in both Zygan and Ursan, urged us to keep
up. We jogged forward, energized by the splendor of our
surroundings. A few hundred feet beyond our entrance, around the
curve of a rolling hill, we saw a lovely cottage. Spud blinked, his
own mouth agape—perhaps due to a flash of memory of England. We
walked up a floral rimmed cobblestone path to the cottage door,
which opened by itself as we arrived.

Cautious, but curious, we followed the Andart
into a large foyer and saw another door to our right open
automatically to reveal a medium-sized den. Within it, a roaring
fireplace crackled invitingly. As we stepped in, I noted that the
walls were paneled with dark cherry wood, and that an entire
section of the room held shelves and shelves of brightly-colored
books, many of which were classics of Cosmic literature.

Sitting surrounded by this library, behind a
semi-circle of holos at a polished cherry desk, was Benedict, in
gray suit and gold tie, looking much like we had seen him in Nephil
Stratum’s sparkling gem. He was slightly stooped and slightly
balding. As slim as Spud and, standing up straight, just about his
height, I’d guess.