The Zygan Emprise: Renegade Paladins and Abyssal Redemption (29 page)

“What?!” Matshi did spit this time.
“
She’s
the Somalderis?!”

“
A
Somalderis.” Benedict explained.
“There is more than one in the Universe. For example,” he added,
gazing directly at me, “your brother had one, too. The one
originally from Kolhis. I gave it to him to wear the night he
crossed and he never sent it back.”

It was my turn to lunge and be held back by
the arms of my guards. To be betrayed by both friends and family
was more than I could bear…

A holo appeared before us, announcing that we
were nearing Andromedan space.

“Thank you, Henderson,” said Benedict. “And
the Kharybdian ship?”

“Tractored,” Henderson answered. “They’ll be
on board within minutes.”

“Well, then,” Benedict smiled, “we must be on
hand to receive them.” Benedict nodded at the three of us, and said
to the guards, “Pity they couldn’t wait quietly in my cottage. Take
them back to their cells until we reach Zyga.”

* * *

I didn’t sleep in my cell this time. I lay on
the cot, my eyes wide open, my heart broken. What had Benedict
offered Nephil Stratum so that she would turn against her kingdom
and her friends? And John? What could he possibly have offered
John? My John … I so wish Spud were with me. He was so good at
psyching out others, and why they did stupid,
stupid
things.

“Psst.”

I sat up and looked around. Except for me,
the room was empty. Annoyed, I lay back down on the uncomfortable
cot.

“Psst.” There it was again.

I sat up once more, my back to the wall, just
in case. I felt so naked without a functioning Ergal or stun gun. I
pulled my legs up towards my chest. I could shoot them out at an
attacker if need be.

“Down here.” The same voice, coming from
under my cot?

I swung my head under the frame, and broke
into a broad grin. Standing with his arms open and all of three
inches high was Setsei and his Geryon.

“You micro’ed!” I whispered.

“Shh!” He put a finger on his lips. “Give me
your hand,” he whispered.

“Here’s a finger, anyway,” I smiled as I
extended my pinky towards his chest.

As soon as we touched, Setsei micro-ed me to
his dimensions. I gave him a hug and my effusive thanks. Holding my
hand, he Ergaled me out of the cell and back into the enormous
chamber with the three domes, which seemed even larger now that we
were so much smaller. “Our prisoners have unfortunately been
freed,” he explained. Stopping to Ergal me a stun gun, he added,
“And Benedict and his Andarts took Eikhus and Sarion at
gunpoint.”

“How did you escape?” I immediately set the
stun gun to kill.

“We micro-ed right before we landed and
slipped right through the Andarts’ legs. They searched all over the
ship apparently, but never thought to look down at their feet.”
Setsei gave out a small giggle. “Suthsi’s gone to get Escott.
Lykkos, Matshi; and Nissos, Pallas.”

“We’ve got to stop him,” I said urgently.

“We got your general alert. Eikhus has
already contacted Zygint.”

“No, stop Nissos. Plionarctos
isn’t Pallas.”

Setsei looked at me, surprised.

“Have you seen Nephil Stratum recently?” I
asked him.

“Actually, not for a while,” he pondered.
“She was turning a bit green … said she was going to her quarters
to rest. Haven’t seen her, come to think of it, you know, since
just before you all muted.”

I nodded. “That’s because she stunned Pallas
on the Nautilus and muted as Plionarctos in his place,” I whispered
with visible anger in my voice. “We have to get to Nissos before
Nephil Stratum sees him and sounds the alarm.”

* * *

We scanned the dome where we had originally
discovered Benedict’s cottage, to no avail. Setsei’s Ergal did
identify a Syneph in the dome across from ours, not far from where
we had tried to send out our cry for help. Nephil Stratum had
probably stayed with Benedict and his leaders to plan. But, to plan
for what?

“Nephil Stratum must be in this structure,” I
whispered, pointing ahead. “Probably helping out the Coordinator of
Interrogation and Torture.”

Setsei smiled wanly. As we neared the dome,
he clutched his Geryon even tighter. Micro’ed, I was able to see
gaps in the dome’s membranous walls. I waved for Setsei to follow
and we diffused through the openings easily. Once inside, we
Ergaled to the hallway near the Syneph’s identified
location
^xxviii
and hid behind a
plastic pink poinsettia that someone thought—wrongly—would make an
attractive decorative statement.

We watched as, at our eye-level, a few Andart
legs covered by their uniform’s baggy cuffed pants walked by us and
entered the room. Now there’s an idea. I gestured my plan to
Setsei, and, on my cue, we leapt into the trouser cuffs of the next
passing Andart and hitched a ride inside the room. Peeking over the
cuffs, we observed that chairs had been set up for Benedict, Nephil
Stratum, Burr, and most of the Andarts. A quick scan of the room
showed us that Sarion, Pallas, and Nissos were sitting across from
us, stunned and under guard by the real Plionarctos. Eikhus was
imprisoned in a giant stoppered bottle on which someone had
scribbled, “Houdini was here.” Fortunately for a few dozen
paperweights, and a few dozen heads, Fahrquardt wasn’t.

Hoping we wouldn’t be seen, we slipped out of
the Andart’s pants and scurried under a row of chairs. Just as I
caught my breath, I felt a hand on my shoulder and almost screamed.
Spinning around, I smacked an equally miniaturized Spud in the
shins.
He
almost screamed, frightening tiny Suthsi, who was
hiding under a chair in the back row, with his agony-triggered
grimace. Glaring, Spud pointed at Lykkos and Matshi who, also
mini’d, had taken posts on the other side of the room. I could
dimly see our friends peeking out from under the real Agriarctos’s
furry legs.

We all watched Nephil Stratum float over to
Eikhus’s bottle and wrap her tendrils around it. “We don’t have
much time,” she said quietly. “Unfortunately, the Kharybdian
managed to alert Glieser border patrols, and they are likely to
attack as soon as we reach Andromeda.” She floated back over to her
seat at Benedict’s right, and warned. “This ship would be blasted
to smithereens if it tried to cross into Andromedan airspace.”

From his post under the Ursan, Matshi raised
two fingers, then extended twenty-four fingers in our direction and
started silently counting them down.

“Well, that makes our course even clearer,”
Benedict announced to the accompaniment of his colleagues’ nods.
“Then we stay here at galaxy periphery in stealth mode, and
dispatch an undercover to get the target.”

12-11-10…

Agriarctos raised a paw. “I’ll do it.”

6-5-4…

“I like to play to Andarts’ strengths,”
Benedict laughed. “And, somehow, for you, Agriarctos, blending
discreetly into the scenery is not one of them.” Nodding at
Agriarctos, Benedict turned to the group. “But, you would make an
excellent decoy and distraction—”

Positioned squarely under our foes’ chairs,
we’d started to mega. Though it would take another few seconds to
fully reach our goal of growing twice our regular size, we’d gained
the element of surprise by knocking everyone’s chairs over and
throwing the startled occupants to the floor. Then, we’d each leapt
to disable our closest targets.

Benedict and Burr were easily grabbed and
stunned by a giant Setsei, who, with his Geryon pointed like a
bayonet, then turned his attention to the onslaught of Andarts,
mowing them down like frozen bowling pins as they attacked. Suthsi
launched his Geryon at Nephil Stratum, piercing her and turning her
tufts into icicles. He then unstunned Sarion, who lunged onto the
back of an Andart that had Spud gasping in a chokehold, and applied
a Megaran mpoon.
^xxix
The Andart
immediately released Spud and spun around screaming, unable to
throw Sarion off his aching back. Spud called on his brilliant
boxing skills and got in a direct blow to the Andart’s face. One
more Andart down for the count.

Matshi threw his arms around the Ursans’
necks while Lykkos stunned them. The Ursans stood stiffly, two
tall, white columns amidst the Andarts flying across the room and
writhing on the floor. I, tall enough now to easily slip the cap
off of Eikhus’s bottle, did so, and Eikhus washed over me with
gratitude before he, too, joined the fray.

It didn’t take long before we had the entire
room stunned, unstun-gunned, and un-Ergaled. I was about to give a
victory cheer for our team, when I froze. Nope, not a panic attack.
Really
froze. The entire room was filled with a bright blue
light which turned us all into human—and alien—contorted statues. I
felt like I was back in acting class doing the freeze exercise,
where you stop moving and stand in ridiculous positions every time
the teacher yells the cue.

And then the door opened to reveal
Fahrquardt, in full puffery, holding a stun gun. He slowly and
deliberately unstunned Benedict, the Ursans, and all of the
now-fallen Andarts. As Spud would say, all our efforts, alas, had
been for naught. Surprisingly, Fahrquardt’s gun was not effective
on Nephil Stratum, and he seemed to purposely avoid freeing
Burr.

In fact, Fahrquardt sneered at Burr as he
walked by, then stopped and stood proudly in front of Benedict,
saying simply, “You’re welcome.”

A re-mobilized Benedict calmly took a
paperweight from his pocket and whacked Fahrquardt on the head with
it, knocking the Coordinator unconscious at his feet. Had I not
been stunned, I wouldn’t have been able to keep from laughing.

Benedict then sighed and, looking at his
audience, began again, “As I was saying, now that we have our decoy
and distraction--Agriarctos--we need our undercover.” To my alarm,
his gaze settled on me.

I would’ve shaken my head if I could. Oh, no.
No. No way…

Benedict walked over to me and took my stun
gun out of my pocket, tickling me a bit in the process. I protested
with a choked gurgle. “Yes, I think you would do quite well,” he
said, smiling, “for, after all, who can get into Central faster
than a bona-fide catascope?

“But,” he continued smoothly, “you haven’t
been entirely cooperative, you know.”

My eyes flashed with anger. I’ll cooperate in
your dreams!

“So, since you’re an actor, we’ll provide you
with a little motivation,” he smiled, chuckling at his own joke.
Then his tone got serious. “You and Agriarctos there will take your
whirlpool buddy’s ship to Zyga. You’ll go into Zygint Central and
to the location I specify and retrieve the target, and then return
it to me.”

He moved to within an inch of my frozen face.
Could I spit? No, darnit. “Failure,” he said, his voice dripping
with malice, “is not an option. Not if you ever want to see your
companions,” he nodded at Spud, “alive again.”

Chapter 22

Anazitisi

The Ursans levved me behind the footfalls of
Benedict as he walked out of the room and down a hall to another
office. I blanched when I saw the title on the door reading
“Executive Coordinator of Interrogation and Torture.”

I was dreading entering the room—and relieved
when I saw it was empty except for a few utilitarian desks and
chairs. “Ransome’s on sabbatical,” Benedict said casually, “Went to
give his old buddies at Orion Revenue a hand.”

“Tax Collectors,” the genuine Plionarctos
growled as he took his post by the door, and then, after a nod from
Benedict, unstunned me. “Now you can speak.”

I snorted. “Benjamin Franklin said it
best.”

“Ah, yes, the well known cliché,” Benedict
rolled his eyes and sighed, “‘Nothing is certain but death and
taxes …’”

“No,” I returned, “‘There never was a good
war or a bad peace’.”

Benedict actually chuckled for a moment
before a note of sadness crossed his face. “
I
did not start
this war …,” he said to someone who wasn’t there. Finally, he
brightened again, and said firmly, “But I do intend to finish
it.”

“With
my
help,” I said bitterly. “So,
either I kidnap His Highness, or you kill my friends, is that how
it goes?”

“No,” he responded, to my surprise. “Despite
how your pedagogues have brainwashed you, I truthfully have no
desire to waste my time with—” the words seemed to be almost
distasteful “—His Highness.”

“No. I want something else.” He sat forward
and looked at us intently. “On Zyga, there is a room you can access
through Zygint Central the size of … of a small planet. In it is
the target I seek.”

Agriarctos looked alarmed. “Not the Ram?”

Benedict nodded. “Exactly.”

I looked from one to the other. Again with a
ram? “But you
have
a Somalderis,” I protested. With Nephil
Stratum on his side to channel unlimited energy from any bright sun
power a trip to another brane, why would Benedict still need or
want the Golden Fleece?

“RAM,” Benedict repeated. “Registered
Anastasial Memory. It’s the chamber where the neurocache of every
single creature in the Universe, alive or dead, is stored.”

“Whoa!” I staggered. “What, you’re trying to
tell me that the Omega Archon keeps a head file on all of us?”

“Simply put, yes.” Benedict pulled out my
Ergal from his suit pocket and fiddled with it for a few minutes.
“When you access the RAM, your Ergal will take you to the
appropriate storage area and upload the information I’ve just
instructed it to. Then you will return the information to me here.”
He handed my Ergal to Agriarctos, who slipped it inside his
robes.

I snorted again. “Great. Sounds easy enough,”
my voice was dripping with sarcasm. “And
then
you’ll kill my
friends, and me?”