Chapter 10: “Capture of the Keep”
At the instant the sequencers reached their bottom mark the tubecar’s door was struck with a heavy blast from the outside. Built to withstand heavy blasters, the car’s door held solidly against the Karaoolian weaponry.
When the Galguans fired however, the car door burst outward, scattering shrapnel throughout the hall beyond. The three with gas grenades lobbed them into the antechamber.
There was no volley.
A convenient feature of the various phaserous compounds was that none of them were breath reliant. Any skin contact swiftly resulted in a painless, phaser-like “stun” state, which was without the “terror-visions” once popular. At this final level of defense, all personnel wore some sort of filter.
The shooting stopped. The mercenaries, instantly on their feet, ran from the car into the well-ventilated clearing air beyond. In seconds they signaled the others to follow as a group.
The Holybody’s mumbles were more and more coherent, and Kelmaran, sensing the woman’s power, looked anxiously to Valkarr. To the Apprentice, having Bel-Haggel carry the High Priestess tempted de-stabilization of an already questionable situation. Valkarr, on the otherhand, wanted her consciousness near.
Exiting the tubecar, the IGCC group entered a cavern about half the size of the bathhouse above. The massive renovation project surpassed the Karaoolian norm here, but beneath the largely completed, rather modern facade, were signs of an extremely advanced ancient civilization.
The current battle plan hinged on Faldon’s theory that the catacombs were the remains of a vast sub-surface transit network, not unlike those of Naldora VI, and carved by a long lost engineering art known as transcrustion.
Valkarr checked the branching of the corridors, and smiled on seeing they matched the pattern suggested. Above the tunnels were age-worn rune-like characters that looked hauntingly familiar.
Nee-Yool spotted a scoot-disk and signaled Sufa to check it out. Valkarr gave the last phaserous grenade to the weapons-hack and the soldiers ran in attack stride-sprint to the entrance of the final passage.
Sufa had a little difficulty with the flatbed transport at first, but he caught up with his teammates just as they arrived at the tunnel entrance. He hovered at ankle height as they boarded.
The hack-warriors took to the fore, dropping to one knee, scanners and scopes lowered, shields and weapons raised. Valkarr, Kelmaran, and Cara formed the second row. Bel-Haggel, boarding last, had difficulty discharging his burden. The High Priestess had wrapped her arms fervently and lustfully around the neck of her huge former manservant.
Kelmaran was ready to suggest the guard use binders when the Holybody, after apparent climax, dropped limply to the disk floor. She moaned, sounding self-satisfied from sensuous delight.
There was a deep rumbling, which seemed to come from the planet itself, and it had Valkarr, Cara, Kelmaran and Sufa checking their sequencers. Again, Valkarr smiled. This corridor would be the last.
As the transport moved slowly ahead, in the distance the echo of a woman’s voice could be heard; the amplified recorded voice of the Holybody, speaking a doctrine of resistance and defiance to the embattled planetary citizenry.
Then they saw the tunnel’s end. Hardly had they seen the light before bursting into it. They found themselves at the entrance of another oval chamber, this one huge—at least twice the size of the large bath above.
A heavily armed command center extended to the center of the room, occupying a quarter of the floor space. Built over what had been the transit tube channels, and constructed with regard only to the pedestrian level, this was the main bunker.
All command was coordinated here, even without the Holybody, whose likeness was displayed on an enormous flag-like banner, suspended from the domed ceiling high overhead. Hanging nearly all the way down to the top of the command center’s gunnery towers, it featured an imposing portrait of Yeokalani holding high a sword, standing naked before a glaring Listra, and clothed only by the wrappings of his tail.
On seeing this, Valkarr laughed; circumstantial logistics momentarily notwithstanding.
There were silhouetted figures across the way—the elite of the Holy Guard. They were firing, and they were advancing in a determined, orderly manner.
The Journeyman instructed Sufa to slow and close in on the starboard wall; then, as Valkarr turned to give the stand-down signal, Bel-Haggel cried out, doubled over in pain, having been kicked in the groin by his former mistress. Before there was a reaction she had come to her feet and rapidly delivered a second blow. This time, already off balance, the giant fell from the transport.
Nee-Yool went for her sidearm thinking to stun the Holybody, but before she could aim she was struggling with the High Priestess for control of the unholstered weapon. Yeokalani, grabbing a wrist grip of Cara’s hair, pulled the pilot after her off the disk onto the chamber floor.
Nee-Yool was in trouble. The highly trained, physically primed High Priestess was using the pilot’s hair “noose fashion,” close to achieving the choke.
Valkarr had turned his head to follow the scuffle when he was splattered with blood. Sufa, hit in the shoulder, fell hard into his Journeyman, unconscious, but not seriously hurt. Grabbing the helm-tongue with his left hand, and fixing Suf with his right, Valkarr made a tight circle, zeroing in on the women.
Nee-Yool held tightly to her weapon as its interlock overload alarm went off. Valkarr could just make out the self-destruct’s warning shriek when a well placed Karaoolian blast hit the edge of the disk, throwing all aboard off.
Only the Galguans seemed to land on their feet.
Valkarr, having been flung through the air, controlled his balance enough to direct his landing somewhat. Eyeing the fighting women, he rounded out his fall and harnessed the momentum of his brief flight. With a gymnastic roll from which he sprang in full recoil, he dove, cart-wheeled, and lastly lunged, impacting solidly with the unsuspecting Yeokalani.
Cara retained hold of her increasingly loud sidearm as the High Priestess, knocked away, tried to regain her balance. Stunned, staggering and stumbling, the Holybody slammed smack into the chamber wall.
Quickly checking on his Helper, Valkarr tossed her sidearm as far as he could into the arena. The resulting explosion did nothing to slow the solemn Karaoolian advance.
The High Priestess, unhurt but somewhat dazed, was almost on her feet again when, to her total surprise, she was roughly thrown face down to the ground. It was Valkarr.
Shoving a med-kit gauze into her mouth without getting bit was something of a challenge, but within moments, Yeokalani was gagged and tightly bound, hands and feet tied together behind her back.
Sufa had reacted very positively to the KaamSit. Having already patched his leak, he swore he felt fully recovered, insisting that with another dose he’d be much better.
Kelmaran, Sufa, and Bel-Haggel used dowser anti-gravs to position the wrecked disk as cover, just a dozen or so steps from where they’d entered the hall.
Many Karaoolians were falling now, yet they persisted. Checking his times, Valkarr moved to the mercenaries who were on their knees by the disk, firing away.
They had been good. With the full earnestness and demeanor of “comrade,” Valkarr respectfully asked if either of the warriors could spare a bite of rope.
The tech-hack proudly tore a wad and handed it over. The Journeyman then handed each a button-disk containing details of the unfolding scenario. When they inserted the disks into their headgear-ports for goggle reading, there was an unmistakable smile behind the gun-hack’s mouthpiece.
Valkarr returned to his prisoner and double-checked the tightness of her bonds. The Lord of Bellran smiled at the High Priestess of Listra, Sovereign of Karaool. He knew the Combine group was about to become incidental to the incidents.
Squatting before her, he took a chomp from the Cyncor rope. Savoring its rank juices, he leaned forward. Close enough to appear romantic, he slowly, deliberately exhaled the after-breath into the face of the High Priestess. Her eyes watered.
Nee-Yool, having regained her composure, checked her sequencer more frequently now, as the forces across the hall continued coming. Accepting Valkarr’s pass of the rope bar, she broke off a nugget and bit down hard till the tears came.
Sufa looked nervous, and Kelmaran, who was bucking hard for his papers, studied his scanner, set to its sensor limits, convinced he should have seen something by now.
Bel-Haggel, relieved of his charge, was torn internally with the knowledge that the final parting had come. Passing before the Holybody, seeing her reddened, glazed eyes, thinking she must be ill, he threw himself to the ground before her and began wailing woefully.
Valkarr commanded the eyes of the Karaoolian, set him up, and firmly disallowed the prostrating. It seemed he was about to preface a larger statement when one of the DDS mini-frames sounded a rapid burst of dull-pitched tones. Valkarr adjusted his headset-trans to the triggered unit’s setting.
The High Priestess had been convinced victory was hers. She wasn’t sure why these invaders were active again, but she didn’t like it. Then, with the perfect affectation that he’d practiced for the bath scene (all of an hour ago) the Journeyman smiled at the High Priestess.
He spoke to the woman directly for the first time since the face off. He embellished, “And now, of, ‘Queen of the Rockrats,’ as I was saying earlier, before we were…sidetracked…your most royal rodent hospitality will no longer be needed.”
The ground-swell was for the purpose of fanfare. There was a deep rumbling sound, very much on the order of a planetary quake. It seemed the mountains were shaking their guts worth for all of five seconds. Then, a blast from below the center of the oval chamber accompanied the quaking.
There were screams as soldiers fell through the widening cracks in the chamber floor. The command center was breaking up, the walls crumbling, ramparts falling.
The structure, its foundation weakened at the base, was then nearly vaporized, blown up and outward by a solid second blast from below. The troops that remained were being buried by the falling fortress debris.
There was a third blast, primarily to clear the edges of the opening, and there were strange accompanying sounds, no doubt chosen to instill further terror in the ravaged remnants of the amazed Listrongs. Valkarr studied the face of the beaten ruler as Faldon made his grande entrance.
Fresh knock-out gas flooded the cavern as sporadic fire, mostly robotics, continued briefly, then stopped. In the chamber’s center, where moments before a fortress had stood, there was a large, gaping, fire-blackened hole. A brilliant light glowed from within, and from there, slowly, majestically, Combine Journeyman Faldon’s Pirate-X rose, completing its gassing of the cavern.
Valkarr stood, extended a hand to Cara, and turned his attention to his charges.
He joked with the giant Bel-Haggel, “What’d I tell you, big guy? Piece of cake! You got any other troublesome dictators in the area?”
The X9 had all one would expect of a twelve-million credit Pirate-class cruiser. Faldon was clearly enjoying this scene. Steam poured from selected vents as the ship settled to the floor at the edge of the crater. A recorded message, in Karaoolian, Dacooman, and Kawangii, stated that the conquered were being conquered, that they should lay down all arms, and they should worship whoever they please, and “by all means, please, feel free to pray.”
The phaserous gas once again leveled the resistance, and the IGCC crew approached the X9—minus Yeokalani, who was still bound and gagged by the wrecked scoot-disk.
The Galguans suddenly had nothing to do. Valkarr gave them their signeted bonus proxies and they were free. As the Journeyman paged in at the base of the fuselage, the ramp lowered and out stepped a smiling, rather festively dressed Journeyman, flanked by two well-armed Apprentices.
“All right, shall we try this again?” Faldon said, lightheartedly. “You say you don’t want that one over there after all? I mean, I’ve heard she was…”
The honor detachment stepped down and aside from the ramp onto the floor. Faldon stepped forward and observed as the always humorless Galguans respectfully held for permission to board. This Faldon gladly granted as he handed out button disks containing the latest job wrap-up. Valkarr’s Apprentices and Bel-Haggel followed the mercenaries.
Seeing the bruises and cuts on Cara, and the obvious pain in her expression, Faldon softened on the joyous routine, “Hey baby, what happened to you? You look like you’ve been in a fight.”
She smiled rather shyly, considering it was Faldon and he so frequently optioned her. She kissed him lightly and slipped on inside, leaving the Journeymen and Faldon’s Apprentices outside. The Journeymen spoke in Bellranese.
Valkarr began, “Weren’t you pushing your estimate a bit? What kept you, structural anomalies?”
“Oh, no! Nothing like that,” Faldon opened a small door in the armor chest-plate and withdrew two small, very thin, ceremonial flasks. “It was heavy outbound traffic,” he said as he handed his partner a glass.
With a swallow, a cough, and a momentary pause for the settling of watering eyes, Faldon continued, “You know, I never heard that much about this sector’s fifth group as being such an exciting place to hang out, but would you believe it? I swear I had to dodge fifty ships on the way in! What’s happening on Dacooma tonight, anyway?”
They walked up the ramp and inside, and once again Valkarr found himself punching the EOJ code into his wrist-calc. He didn’t bother to look back at the still bound and gagged Yeokalani. Faldon’s Apprentices followed the Journeymen in; the hatch secured automatically.
When they entered the ship’s parlor, both having finished their sippin’ goblets, they simultaneously hurled them to the grid at the base of the holographic fountain.
Faldon touched wrist commands for takeoff and noticed that Valkarr’s fingers lingered poised to process, though he’d already cleared End of Job.
“What’s the matter? Trouble with your T-512?” Faldon was clearly worn, also.
He’d worked today, and it showed as he dropped into his host chair between Cara and Valkarr. The latter, still not having sat, was dreamily settling toward sitting.
As Valkarr sat, Faldon sighed—the ship had begun on its way out. Faldon tapped his friend’s wrist device, as if expecting to hear something. He said, “This is your last chance for souvenirs.”
“Don’t need no souvenirs,” Valkarr said dryly. “We got the Grasp, we got the gynum, and we got the bosar, which is where we were two hours ago…”
“And…” Faldon rhythmically intoned, “the High Priestess is safe from the Nattelites, and the slime is safe for us, and the Holo Ghost was a ‘smashing’ success, which is good for GCGlass, ‘your imager and mine,’ so why the long face?”
Valkarr picked up on the X9’s gathering speed and Faldon, checking his couch conn, reported, “That’s the last maneuvering. This final section is a straight shot into space; like a telescope, almost—You’re familiar with the type. Usually those things turn up around monuments built by star worshipers. Historians often claim they were observatories.”
“Often, they were,” said Valkarr managing a smile which grew broader as he felt the ship burst into open air space.
With the craft’s adjustment to space drive, Valkarr toyed with the job report disk, inserted it into his calc and began scanning. He realized he’d left Faldon unanswered, and was hoping he’d remember the question before asked again.
Faldon, “Yes, you got to wonder about some of those damn prophecies. I mean, I try to keep track of the places where I figure you might have stirred up some myth, but sometimes…Like, take this rockrat stuff, for instance…Now how in the hell…”
Valkarr interrupted, suddenly relevant again, remembering…
“I don’t know. How do you figure rockrats? High Priestess of the damned rockrats! You know they have this woman who is like a High Priestess of sex, but she don’t get pregnant! Prophecy! Something left scratched on a subway station centuries ago. Yeah, well I made a splash on that religion…I knocked-up their High Holybody.”
Faldon was all ears.
“Yep. Do you know what that means?” Valkarr asked.
Faldon shook his head sincerely, curiously.
“I’m sadly deficient in my knowledge of Listrong religion, but I remember reading that it’s been several generations since a High Priestess was fertilized, and I’m going to be the father of a male child—Cara knows, so does Her Holybody—and if there’s anything I know about Yeokalani it’s that she’s bound to her code; and much as she will hate it—she won’t kill the kid…Ha! She’ll go full term! And that kid—MY KID!—is going to be King of the Rockrats! Whatever the hell that means.”
“Well,” Faldon asked, “does this mean we’re not going to have any problems getting shipment rights for the slime?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know. I suppose I ought to do some more reading on this Listra character. I don’t know enough about the male’s role in the scheme of that religion’s founders, but I know they’ve got my gene pool involved, and seeing as how the church is well pursed…”
This time Valkarr poured. This time it was Talasia, and this time Cara took a glass.
As he poured for his Helper, the Journeyman mused, “You know, given a little time it might not be such a bad idea to drop in and check on that seed.”
As the signal for deep space sounded, Cara proposed a toast: “To Valkarr, Messenger of Listra, Impregnator of the Holybody, and father of Him who was prophesied to be King of the…”
“I think ‘Lord’ may be correct,” Valkarr decided.
“Lord..” She started, then, “how about, ‘God’?”
“Naa, don’t want to push it,” he waived.
She concluded, “Let’s hear if for the New Age, and no doubt improved image of rockrats throughout the galaxy!”
And there were three who cheered. And there were three cheers. And when they were done, blissful under the influences of Alcon and Talasia, sleep shifts were begun. Indeed, there it was, receding into the black, the sun of Karaool and Dacooma, fading into the distance. No one on Faldon’s ship was sorry to see it go. Still, Cyncor was three day-periods away.
<- Chapter 9
