Sierra looked towards the front viewscreen, as Kern had righted their course to face the tower again. As he had said, Jarred’s signal
was
registering from the top level of the Temple.
“I knew it!” Ethan exclaimed. “I knew he wasn’t gone!”
“He’s on the move,” Kern said.
“Or
being
moved,” Sierra suggested, watching the beacon as it was indeed tracking across the level.
“But he’s alive,” Elora said, as though the point changed everything. Sierra was in agreement, but they were still left with their original problem. “Granted. But how do we let him know we’re out here?”
“And help him get free of whoever’s probably moving him,” Elora added.
The long silence didn’t fill Sierra with confidence, but it was Kern who finally spoke.
“I might have an idea.”
* * *
It was a strange sensation, being removed from one’s own body.
At least, that was what Jarred thought was happening to him. He had felt the energy blast that the dark being, that bore an uncanny resemblance to a Usarion God, had conjured and hurled at him, but had also watched himself being thrown across the large audience chamber by it. He had been acutely aware of his singed skin as tendrils of smoke rose from his body, and though he was able to feel his burned flesh, it did not pain him. He had heard the Usarion impersonator’s orders to have him removed and destroyed, orders that were also heard and comprehended by their intended recipients, much as Jarred had understood the dark being’s alien words when it had spoken to him. He had watched himself being dragged back to the cell he had been taken from only a short time earlier and was now currently watching them string him back up to its ceiling mounted restraints.
It was a strange sensation to be sure. Was he dead? He didn’t believe so. He could
feel
what was happening to him. He could feel his own heart beating, though so slowly that to anyone checking it would appear he had expired. He could feel his wounds repairing themselves, his cells regenerating. No, he was not dead. He was very much alive. Though he wouldn’t be for long if he didn’t awaken from this peculiar state and take action.
As though that thought was all Jarred need conceive of to see it done, he felt his closed eyes part open, the eyes of the two security guards standing before him widening in surprise as a result. A third was standing at the open hatchway. His hands had already been securely tethered to the ceiling, but it seemed no matter as, with a tug of his hands and burst of strength he shouldn’t have been capable of, he was able to tear the cables free of their mount. As the cables dropped, so did his bound hands, over the head of one of the two guards. He pulled his wrist bindings back hard against the guard’s neck, taking hold of his helmet and twisting sharply, hearing the pop of his vertebrate as his head turned around much further than was natural. Still holding the limp body, Jarred struck out with a snap kick that sent the second guard, who had not had time to react, tumbling on to his back.
At the door, the third remaining guard
did
react, turning to step out of the cell, and most likely seal it shut behind him. Jarred dropped the dead guard in his hands and lashed out with the cables still attached to his wrist bindings. The long cables sailed across the chamber, snaring the guard as they wound around his neck, and yanking backward, Jarred pulled him off of his feet and back into the cell.
Glancing down at his wrist binders, he thought to retrieve a key from one of the guards to unlock them, but a second thought occurred to him. As quickly as the thought had formed in his mind he felt a familiar maelstrom of energy growing within his core, the conjuration eventually moving down his arms to his hands. He released the energy buildup with his focus on the binders and with a small flash they shattered, their pieces falling to the floor. A bit surprised and impressed with himself, he marched towards the open hatchway, first taking hold of the deceased guard’s leg at his feet, dragging the body along behind him, paying little mind to the two remaining guards that were beginning to stagger to their feet. He turned as he exited into the corridor in time to see the guards’ reactions as he hit the cell’s control panel, the heavy doors sealing shut a fraction of a second later. A smirk came to his face shortly after at hearing the muffled sounds of multiple gun turrets firing off, amused at the thought of the security measure meant to keep him from escaping unleashing it’s fury on his captors instead.
The amusement was brief, however. There was something else that required his full attention and it was fairly safe, under the circumstances, to say that escape wasn’t it. As ridiculous a notion as it seemed, there was a being, meant to resemble a deity, at the other end of the corridor that required killing. He wasn’t sure why he felt the overpowering compulsion to confront it, but couldn’t deny that he did. Truthfully, it was his
only
thought. He wanted to think of something,
anything
else, but he was consumed by the urge. Much as he had been deep within the mountain on Solta, only this time he wasn’t being urged to find something . . . but destroy it.
The corridor ahead of him was empty. Having eliminated the three guards that had originally escorted him from his cell, he would need to deal with at least the remaining three that he was aware of. That would, of course, be the easy part. Once he made it back to the audience chamber, he would face the far greater challenge of the Rai Chi and the High Commander before nothing else stood between himself and the Usarion impersonator. His first obstacle was the blast door at the end of this section of corridor, which he proceeded towards with the dead guard’s body in tow. Lifting the guard up by the body armor, he placed its limp mass between himself and the security door’s scanning reticle, the device humming and producing a positive chime before the heavy doors slid open.
Through the open hatchway, the guard Jarred knew would be standing watch turned casually to look back, most likely expecting to find his fellow comrades, his obvious surprise delaying the reaction to raise his weapon. Still holding the deceased guard’s body up, now as a shield, Jarred took hold of the rifle hanging from it’s shoulder and hip fired a quick round, the blast sending the stunned guard flying backward into the crossing corridor before he’d had a chance to raise and fire his own weapon.
Dropping his makeshift shield, Jarred darted down the curved corridor, staying close to the inner wall, knowing the two remaining guards would be coming after hearing the weapon discharge. They would also be alerting his targets in the audience chamber, which meant he would need to move quickly to catch them at all off guard. As expected, one of the two door guards was approaching, Jarred hearing his footsteps and low cast voice as he spoke, most likely into his comm unit, requesting the status of any of his dead comrades.
Jarred slowed his pace and readied himself, watching the opposite wall as far around the curved corridor as he could see, and when he glimpsed movement; the approaching guard’s shadow touching the wall; he sprang into action. Throwing himself across the corridor, the approaching guard opening up with a spray of rifle fire, Jarred hit the opposite wall, narrowly avoiding the energy blasts, and bounced off, lunging forward again to collide with the firer. Taking hold of the guard’s outstretched weapon, he yanked him forward, and pushed back hard, driving the rifle up into his face shield, smashing through the visor and receiving a loud crunch as it connected hard with his face. The guard’s body went limp, but Jarred held him up, bringing him around to catch the flurry of bolts fired from the last remaining guard. Still holding the limp guard’s rifle, he returned a well placed shot into the firer’s head, dropping him instantly.
Jarred let the limp guard’s body fall to the floor, keeping his rifle in hand and continued to make his way around the curved corridor to the large chamber doors at its end, stopping short when he found them already parting, a scarred Rai Chi warrior staring back at him from the opening. Their previous confrontation had been a matched one in the skies above Trycon, neither displaying a distinct advantage over the other. Jarred didn’t have time for another drawn out battle. Not when his true goal waited on the other side of the doorway the warrior was blocking. He shouldered his rifle, targeting the Rai Chi’s head, recalling the durability of his body armor, and pulled the trigger.
Or would have . . . but for the searing white light and concussive wave that sent him flying backward down the corridor and once again into the darkness of unconsciousness.
Chapter 43
Jarred opened his eyes to find himself staring up into the ceiling of a smoke filled corridor. The same one he had just been passing through, now a veritable war zone. His ears were still ringing from the explosion that had come from within the audience chamber.
The explosion. What had happened? Looking around himself, he saw chunks of smoking stone debris strewn about the corridor and damage to the surrounding structure that confirmed an explosive shockwave had definitely blown through the immediate area. His survey came to a halt when he recognized something else familiar. A figure lying still in the rubble only a short distance from himself, the being’s face marked with a distinctive scar. The Rai Chi warrior that had been standing between him and the chamber doorway. The force of the explosion, which had originated from somewhere inside the audience chamber, must have carried the Rai Chi well into the corridor as well.
Focusing on the immediate threat the warrior represented, Jarred kicked himself free of the debris covering him and worked to regain his footing, which was slow going, as his head was still spinning. Blinking away the stars that filled his vision, he scanned the immediate area for the weapon he knew he had been holding before blacking out and was quickly rewarded by finding it within reach. Taking up the rifle, he crossed the floor to where the warrior still lay motionless and almost completely covered by stone debris, dead or simply unconscious, Jarred couldn’t be sure. Moving into a position over the Rai Chi, he noticed the slight movement of the warrior’s chest rising, though shallowly, indicating he was not quite dead. Not yet. Bringing his rifle to bare, Jarred lined the aiming reticle up for a head shot . . . and hesitated.
He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t bring himself to finish the warrior. Not like this. The Rai Chi had tried to kill him in their first confrontation, but he supposed he couldn’t fault him for that. He had been trying to do the same. The warrior had shown him a respect of sorts, the kind one experienced combatant allowed another. And he had saved Ethan’s life. Possibly for that reason alone, he couldn’t end his life here. Not like this. He deserved better.
Dropping the rifle, Jarred turned back down the corridor. It would be of no use against the dark being that awaited him. Still feeling a bit disoriented, he strained to see through the smoke ahead and into the rubble filled chamber. As he approached it’s crumbled entry way, Jarred could see that a large portion of the exterior wall inside the chamber had been blown out, exposing it to the high altitude environment outside, the heavy air current serving to kick up a constant cloud of dust and small debris. Additionally, the floor surrounding the exploded area had also broken apart and fallen down through to the lower level, almost up to where the entry hatch used to be.
Moving on, he crossed the littered floor, searching for signs of what had caused the explosion. It had obviously originated from outside the building, the damage consistent with either a large explosive device or some kind of projectile ordinance. The force of the explosion led Jarred to conclude it was most likely the former and he looked out through the gaping hole in the chamber’s outer structure for the source.
But there was nothing. Only distant lines of traffic criss-crossing the skyline in the distance. What had it been? A freak accident? Unlikely. Could it have been an assassination attempt? It was a definite possibility with the lineup of officials in the audience chamber.
And then his eyes caught sight of something. A disturbance in the air just in front of the chamber’s opening. He squinted to focus in on the strange . . .
mirage
? Perhaps it was just that. Or maybe his vision was still off from the explosion.
Jarred’s questions were then answered as, seemingly from nothing, something began to appear. A ship. And not just any ship. One with a cloaking device. It was the
Taliss Runner
; or
Fancy Girl
, as it’s new transponder indicated; the last thing he had expected to see, hovering before him with it’s boarding ramp lowered. He was actually stunned. Kern and Sierra had come after him. The faces he saw inside were neither though. Looking back at him were the two people he had worked so hard to see removed from danger. The people he had come to care for. And they were shouting at him.
“Jarred!” they called out in unison.
They had come here to rescue him. He was moved by their intent, yet conflicted as well. He had abandoned the thought of escape as of recently, the natural instinct to preserve his own self being replaced by something else. Something that had been and was still drawing his attention even now. Something dark and full of malice. He could feel its energy, cold and powerful, looming over him like a deathly shadow. It was still here. Watching him. Waiting for him.