“It used to be a bar,” Adam’s gruff voice added. “A bar called the Black Void.”
Alcent leaned back in his chair, impressed. “Please, do go on. I’d love to hear the rest of your plan.”
Over the next hour, Keryn and Adam took turns explaining in great detail their plan for escaping Miller’s Glen and defeating the Terran loyalists. Alcent listened intently, occasionally adding input when prompted, but mostly toying with the razor sharp bony protrusions across his jaw line. The map quickly became a jumble of arrows and circles, indicating unit movements and ambush locations. As the explanation came to a close, Alcent laughed heartily and clapped his hands.
“I love it,” he exclaimed. “I can see the look on their faces now. How I wish I could see Lucience’s face when his personal empire within Miller’s Glen comes crashing down around him!”
Keryn was glad to see her own excited smile reflected not only on Alcent’s face, but on both the bodyguards as well. She felt Adam place a reassuring hand on her back.
Her smile quickly dropped as the one hitch appeared in their plan. “There is still one problem, though,” she admitted.
“What did we miss?” Alcent asked.
“I can get us to the ships and I can get us off the planet. Being in a Terran ship may even fool everyone for a little while. But it doesn’t change the fact that there is a Terran Destroyer in orbit. The second it figures out our ruse, we’ll be obliterated.”
“That is where I come in,” Alcent answered, gesturing to the Terran bodyguard behind him. “You see, Siros has been working as a spy for us for the past couple weeks. The interesting thing about the Terran uniforms is that they are incredibly protective against the cold, but they do so by covering every inch of exposed skin. Put any Terran, Pilgrim or Empirical, in the suit, and there’s no way to tell the difference.”
Adam leaned over Keryn’s shoulder. “And what has your man learned?”
“Apparently, it takes a large number of soldiers to occupy an entire planet. Enough that you have to leave a Destroyer — the
“They’re running on a skeleton crew?” Adam asked excitedly.
“They’re barely running the ship at all,” Alcent replied. “It’s in space as a deterrent. If we can not only get the codes for the hangars but also get the codes to dock with the Destroyer, I can get us an even better ship for interstellar transport; a ship that carries quite a more effective arsenal than a personnel carrier or fighter.”
Keryn’s eyes grew distant as she imagined commanding her own Destroyer.
“Then it looks like we have all the answers. Does this mean we have a deal?” she asked.
“Oh, we most certainly have a deal,” he replied excitedly. He coughed and cleared his throat, slicking his dark hair back and reasserting his composed demeanor. “If you both will follow us, we’ll show you our capabilities.”
Keryn and Adam followed the Alcent as the slipped back out the front window. The two bodyguards, their eyes scanning as they moved, covered the rear of their formation. Alcent cut across the commercial district, weaving through tight alleyways and disappearing into alcoves that seemed to go nowhere, but always dumped the group onto yet another back street. Even in the bewildering snow-covered streets, Alcent moved with a clear purpose through the city. The party moved out of the commercial district and entered an area comprised mostly of squat, one-story stone structures. These structures, which had once been home to the up and coming merchants of Miller’s Glen, were long since deserted. The Terrans had little interest in these buildings and the survivors, herded as they were like cattle from the fields to their sleeping areas and back again, were forbidden from entering this part of town. Once the Terrans had swept this area clean following the invasion, they had little reason to return aside from the sparse patrols.
Alcent led the group through the haphazard buildings. The roads leading through these stone homes and shops wound chaotically through the city, remaining on a straight path for no more than a few hundred feet before twisting away at right angles. The group approached a non-descript gray building. They walked up to the dull metal door and Alcent leaned forward, knocking out a quick code. His knuckles reverberated on the metal, the echo carrying clearly in the crisp night air. With a groan, the metal door swung inward and the group entered.
Keryn heard the Voice let out a cry of joy as her own mouth opened in surprise. Within the non-descript gray building, dozens of workers moved between stacks of wooden crates. They stopped intermittently, lifting assault rifles from boxes to check operability or placing grenades in pouches attached to combat vests. Other workers folded Terran uniforms; the black suits and fitted helmets with faceplates strikingly offset by the blue and yellow tiger stripes signifying unit designation. The bustle of activity implied an army marching to war.
“What was it you said you did before the invasion?” Adam asked, his voice sounding breathless as he watched a darkly dressed Uligart lift a rocket launcher from one of the crates.
“Simple merchant,” Alcent replied with a grin. He turned toward them before continuing. “You lived up to your end of the bargain, now let me live up to my end. These men are now your men. These weapons are now your weapons. How long will it take before you’re ready to strike?”
“Two days, tops,” Keryn replied, her childish glee barely concealed. “That’ll give us enough time to organize the men into assault groups and brief them on their responsibilities. Then, we’ll strike.”
“Then I’ll let the men know. Day after tomorrow, we send the Terran’s back to hell,” Alcent said, his own animosity toward the Terrans no longer disguised. “I look forward to it.”
“Two days,” Adam whispered behind her. “With your plan and his firepower, the Terrans don’t actually stand a chance.”
CHAPTER 22:
The door to the observation room opened and Horace’s bulking shape slipped through the doorway. Taking his place next to Yen, they both stared through the one-way glass at the dejected and sobbing form of Vangore, whose body shook with pain against the metal chair.
“Do you truly believe there was more than one person involved?” Yen asked without taking his eyes from Vangore.
Horace shrugged. “Does it matter? The questions I asked him are real concerns and, as of right now, he doesn’t have the answers for me. Either way, he’s an admitted murderer and will be executed.”
“But you are still concerned about how he transported the body?”
“Of course,” Horace replied. “I’m the Security Officer and, somehow, Vangore moved a body of a senior officer through the halls without anyone noticing. You can’t tell me that you aren’t intrigued as to how he pulled that off.”
Yen nodded. “Granted. I really would like to hear his answer to those questions. I just…” Yen paused, leaving his sentence unfinished.
Turning, Horace looked down on the smaller Yen. “You just?” he asked.
“I just wonder if the Crown is really the best way to go,” Yen said. He gestured toward Vangore, who rolled his head limply from side to side. “In four hours, you got the confession you wanted, but at what price to his mind? Can he survive another four hours of the Crown without his mind melting?”
Turning back toward the prisoner, Horace grunted to himself. He knew that there was at least some truth to what Yen was saying. Lithid research had proven that there were certain parts of the brain that worked as inhibitors, physical membranes that worked as mental blocks, compartmentalizing thoughts into “secrets”. The chemicals used by the Crown deteriorated these membranes until prisoners were willing to answer honestly any question posed by the interrogator. Should the prisoner be exposed to lengthy sessions under the influence of the Crown, however, the chemicals began acting as bile, seeping into the abdominal cavity. Like an acid, the chemicals spread, destroying parts of the brain controlling motor functions, speech patterns, and memories. Leave a prisoner under the influence of the Crown for long enough and they were left in a completely vegetative state.
“And if we don’t use the Crown,” Horace asked, “how do you propose to get the answers we need?”
