Backlash Rising Page 3

  “And you became the best politician in the governance's history.”

  Koda laughed. “It had only been two weeks after I won the election when the attack happened.” He pondered for a moment. “Maybe I would have been the best.” A goal he still secretly strove toward.

  He stared through the window, imagining a plaque awarded to him in front of a crowd of people. The plaque was inscribed: “For saving your race. You are the people’s politician.” That was why he was headed for Zim’s office, to dig up more truths for the citizens of Matrona, to give the people what they deserved. Freedom. Maybe he could move his people as far from their controllers as possible. As the days ticked by, Koda learned more and more about the slavery thrust upon his race. It slowly burned his insides.

  The hovertrain stopped, and Koda stretched his arms, yawning. “Let’s go.”

  They stepped off the hovertrain and saw the top of Sphere Eight’s capital building through the station’s windows. They took the elevator to the lower level and headed out the lobby doors.

  “I can't believe how quiet it is, especially in the capital. Especially for the capital,” Devon said.

  They strolled on a sidewalk lined with grass, flowers, and a tree here and there. Reaching the capital building, they walked up the steps and to a glass door.

  Devon looked inside. “The capital building is a ghost town. It’s vacant.”

  The lights were off and the front desk empty. Devon pushed the door open and entered, the sound of a jingling bell peacefully echoing in the room.

  “Hello?” called Koda. “Anyone here?”

  There was no answer.

  He took a step forward. “I guess we just go on in?” It felt weird walking into the Prime Director’s office with no one telling him he couldn’t.

  Passing the reception desk and past vines and flowers growing from pots around the lobby, they walked down a hallway and to Zim's office.

  The door was ajar, and the office tidy. Koda eyed stacks of filing cabinets that lined one side of the room, and shelves with books that looked like no one ever touched them butted up against the cabinets. A couch, long and wide, was on the other side of Zim’s desk and hugged the wall. On Zim’s desk sat a glass of mead along with a half-full bottle.

  Koda walked in and moved the bottle and glass to the side. He gestured for Devon to take a seat at Zim’s desk. “All yours. Do your specialty.”

  “This isn't my specialty.” Devon sat, wiggling his fingers, ready to perform. “I’m just good at it for some reason."

  Koda leaned the top of his hip against the tall desk. “Not your specialty? Then what the Guild is? I don't know anybody who can decode all of this stuff like you.”

  Devon turned on Zim's HDC. “You haven't met my friends. I'm in a network of dozens of people who could decode twice as fast as me and figure out a heck of a lot more.”

  “Where are they?”

  Shrugging, Devon pressed some buttons on the holographic keypad. “Knowing my friends? They're probably hacking everyone's bank accounts right about now.”

  Koda raised his brows. He didn’t like the thought of hackers getting into his bank account, let alone other people’s. He pushed the image away, the sour taste in his mouth remaining. It didn’t matter. He needed Devon to help him find the truth, and what they’d uncover he’d present all over the vid channels.

  Koda would be the savior. They’d make statues of him, honor him for thousands of years, if not longer. He’d set a precedent, never hide the truth from the people. Koda shook away the thought. “If this isn't your specialty, then what is?”

  “You wouldn't believe me if I told you, so I keep it under wraps.” Devon typed in some commands on the keypad. He swiped his finger on the holoscreen, pulling up a handful of icons.

  “Interesting. I would have pegged you for a genius on the holocomps.”

  Devon shook his head and swiped the screen again and tapped an icon. He pressed more commands, typed in a password, and leaned back, interlocking his fingers behind his head. The screen changed to streaming lines of data. He put his feet up on the table.

  Devon’s mouth gaped open, and he dropped his feet off the table a moment later. “What the Guild? No.” His fingers raced over the keypad. “The algorithm is all off, or worse yet, someone or something is changing it.”

  Koda peered into the holoscreen. “How can you tell?”

  Their job, at least in Koda’s mind, was to dig up more information, especially about Destination “N”, something they’d found on past encryption breaks. Koda needed to know what Destination “N” meant, the location, and what occurred there. He wanted no more trouble on the way, but here one presented itself immediately.

  Devon cupped his mouth, letting out a quick breath. “Do you see how fast the data is streaming?”

  “What do you do about it?”

  “I hack into the main network and see exactly where this stream is going. From that point, the algorithm won't be erratic at the receiver, so it will be easy to stop.” He paused. “But where the hell is it going, and to what receiver?”

  Devon linked into the network and typed in several codes Koda didn’t understand. The screen changed to a box, and LOCATION blinked underneath.

  Devon pointed at the screen. “There. It's going to that box.”

  “Where is that box?”

  “It's not a box in actuality. The box represents the receiver. It's there that we will get the information, whatever information that’s stored there.” He continued typing, his shoulders dropping the more he went from screen to screen. “Wait,” said Devon. “Like I suspected, the receiver isn't located on Matrona.” He pinched his lower lip. “It’s on Eos Two?”

  Eos Two was something else they read in the material Devon hacked. They didn’t know the exact locale, yet they knew it acted as a waypoint for Starhawk Transports that carried mined ebb.

  The bell jingled in the lobby.

  Koda held up his hand for Devon not to speak, his stomach sinking and his spine tingling. Someone entered the building.

  Koda cautiously walked to Zim's door and peered into the hallway. He almost gasped but held his breath. He ducked around the office door and lowered into a crouch.

  A guard wearing odd military fatigues that camouflaged to the colors nearby, stood in the lobby, rifle in hand, observing the vines and flowers that climbed the walls. The man leaned against a wall, his fatigues changing to white, matching the wall’s shade.

  An assassin? One of Payson’s men?

  The guard pressed on a silver shoulder band, similar to the comm devices Star Guild wore. “I’ve arrived at the capital building.” He tapped on a different device connected to his ear and listened to a response. He shook his head. “No. It seems I’m alone. No one’s touched this place since the last time we cleared this office.”

  Koda crawled away from the door, scanning Zim's office. Bookshelves, the desk, cabinets, a bar, a couch, they didn’t have a place to hide. He hurried to Zim’s desk where Devon stood like a statue, and although Devon had black skin, Koda could somehow see Devon turning pale.

  “Thank you,” came the guard’s voice. He slowly walked down the hall, his boots creaking the floor. “We tracked them coming this way, but I don't think they are here.”

  Koda scanned the room again. He had no choice, and it screamed “ridiculous” to him, but only one hiding spot presented itself. Koda motioned for Devon to get behind the couch.

  Devon complied and Koda followed suit, pulling the couch away from the wall, cringing and hoping for no sound. They crawled behind it to hide. Koda thanked his lucky stars they had barely made a peep.

  The boot steps neared and halted at the doorway. “No one is in Zim's office,” said the Guard, walking into the room. He sat at Zim’s desk, his voice rising. “Zim’s holoscreen is on and someone—a programmer—had to have been here only five minutes ago. The HDC is warm, too.” The guy paused. “Yes. That's what I think. And there is a Program Decode on the sc
reen.” The guy started pressing on the holokeypad. “They did most of the job.” A longer pause. “I don't think so. Unless…”

  Koda took short, quiet breaths, not moving a millimeter. Devon did the same, pressing against him and the couch.

  The guard stopped typing. “I know exactly who wrote this program.”

  Koda squeezed his eyes shut. He got Devon into this situation, and he likely just got himself and the young man killed. He wanted to yell, to do anything to magically throw this guy out of the building, down the street, and into a garbage bin.

  “I’m sure it's him,” said the Guard. “Yes, Devon Gray.”

  Devon’s eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. How the Guild would this guy know Devon was the originator of that program?

  “It doesn't matter,” said the guard. “I know Devon created this program, though he didn't need to. It's still effective, but again, rather elementary. In fact…” the chair swiveled and Koda could hear the guard standing, then walking in their direction. “...how are you doing, fellas?”

  A chill went down Koda’s back, and he felt his hair stand on end. He eyed Devon and gave him a nod as he slowly raised his hands. Devon did the same.

  The guard leaned over the sofa, pointing his rifle at Koda. “Both of you step out from behind the couch.”

  3

  Ali

  Eos—Mount Gabriel

  Pickaxes clanged in the distance, rushing water roared in the background, and hundreds of voices reverberated off building walls. Ali’s mouth remained open.

  Immaculate structures like newly created medieval architecture filled the underground city. Edinburgh, Scotland came to mind. Her head jerked back. Where the heck did Edinburgh, Scotland exist? Memories hit her like a flash, and she stiffened. When she lived on Earth, she’d visited Edinburgh when she traveled to Scotland. This place reminded her of Edinburgh’s orderly Georgian terraces.

  She stood in a cavern inside a mountain, staring through a door’s opening at Dirn Garum, the Bawn’s home. The city was lit up by pale white lamps on short city poles mounted to rock walls and the sides of buildings.

  A path led through the doorway and down several glowing stone steps, ending in a gigantic public square.

  Bawns busied themselves, all wearing similar green, wool-like clothing, the men with long hair and beards, their eyebrows bushy. The women had mostly golden hair, long and curly, and wore dresses much like the men. The square bustled with Bawns, bartering and selling food at market stands.

  Daf nudged Ali in the ribs with her elbow. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

  Ali, speechless, bobbed her head up and down.

  “It’s majestic,” Shae said in a hushed voice.

  At the center of the square stood a fountain, shooting water in an arc from one end of the water display to the other. Ali glanced near the top of the great ceiling and her jaw dropped more. Up above, a giant wooden wheel spun by the flow of a waterfall that spilled onto it, the water cascading into a river below before streaming away from the middle of the city.

  This time Ali poked Daf’s ribs and pointed at a ten-story tall golden statue. It hugged a far wall. Its face was like that of a Bawn, wearing a helmet. Body armor went from its torso down to its hips.

  The pickaxes stopped picking, the people stopped talking, and silence fell on the square. The Bawns stood wild-eyed, glaring at them.

  Harak nudged Ali, Shae, and Daf forward, grunting.

  Daf limped, and Ali held onto her arm, making sure she didn’t fall down the steps and break her neck. Shae walked beside Ali, his chest out, his chin high, acting the part of an admiral.

  Daf pushed her dark hair from her eyes. “They are looking at us like we’re monsters.”

  “To them,” said Ali. “Perhaps we are.”

  “Be calm and cordial,” said Shae.

  Taking a step down, holding Daf at her waist and letting Daf use her as a crutch, they took step after step down the wide stairway toward the city. Whispers filled the square, and Ali noticed a few eyes fall on Sol, the sword in Ali’s hand. The few whispers turned into more.

  A grunt echoed behind them, and Harak and a few other Bawns who led them to this underground city, pushed past Ali, bumping her hard. She wanted to kick Harak in the rear but refrained. “Watch it.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at Thun, who ran his hand through his hair, his brows nearly touching the crown of his head. “I’m worried my father won't accept you. I’m worried he’ll look past the fact that you wield the Sword of Light, something he shouldn’t turn a blind eye to.”

  Daf took a step down, doing her best to match strides with Ali, though hobbling along. “What did he say, Ali?”

  “His father might not accept us.”

  Daf’s lips turned down. “Wonderful.”

  “He’s a leader, and so am I,” said Shae. “We’ll see eye to eye. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Ali eyed the area for any possible quick escape, just in case the Bawns decided to jump them. She wouldn’t put anything past anyone anymore, especially after the Anunnaki attack. Who knew when another race would strike again?

  She quickly calmed, feeling Sol’s hilt in her hand. She took a step off of the stairs and into the square, confidence surging through her, nearly boiling her veins. She took a hefty breath and filled her lungs, invigorating herself. The sword vibrated with energy. Guild, it coursed with power. Raw power. An electric sensation pulsed up her spine, and she went rigid, her lips tingling and her toes curling.

  A light flashed from Sol, brightening all around. She squeezed her fingers tightly around the hilt, and an electric-purple plasma flame radiated from the sword’s blade. She felt like squeezing harder and sending a plasma bolt into the air.

  That would be taking it a bit too far.

  “Sol,” yelled a Bawn, his voice booming across the city. He walked forward in a hurry, his blue robe flowing behind him. The small man walked with authority, parting the crowd as he approached. He pointed an axe at Ali. “You can’t be the Ones.”

  He then softened and lowered his axe to his side. His shoulders drooped. “But you are.” He went to his knees and bowed, pressing his forehead against the cobblestone. “I am king, and we all hail to the bloodline. We hail to Berronar the Truesilver, the revered mother, the mother goddess, matron of home and hearth, mother of safety, truth, and security.”

  He paused and glanced at Ali, his eyes glistening. “Thank Berronar you’ve all arrived. Finally, after all these years.” He stood. “We have a lot to discuss and a crackin’ ton to do.”

  Chan stepped down the stairs, his long strides taking two at a time. He made his way to the blue-robed man, towering over him. He bent down to one knee, and rested his hand on the man’s shoulder, flicking a look over his shoulder at Ali and Shae. “This is Bilrak, father of Thun and Harak, and also the sworn guardian and king of his people. Bilrak, this is Shae, leader of his people.” He motioned at Ali. “And this is Ali, a great leader herself. They both stand before you as the Chosen Ones. They carry the blood inside of them, the blood you’ve been waiting for.” Chan tipped his head toward Daf. “Bilrak, we’d appreciate it if you could tend to the black-haired woman. Give her leg a bit of herb, life force, and healing?”

  Bilrak nodded and turned to Ali. “And you, the red-headed fair lady…” he shifted his eyes to Shae, “…and you, leader of your people, I see you are both tired. Before we begin our journey, please sleep. But, Shae, you and I must first talk…alone.”

  Ali raised her brows. “Journey?” Hopefully, he meant helping Starship Sirona off this planet, though she highly doubted it, since they’d not yet discussed the ship. She felt the sword again, its strength bleeding into her. An energy rush flowing into every cell of her body.

  Bilrak’s expression hardened. “We’ll talk about our journey later.”

  Ali dipped her head. “All right.” She didn’t like this Chosen One nonsense. Just play the part, she told herself. But how could she play the p
art? The entire idea blared “absurd” to her and would get in the way. Thun, and now probably everyone in Dirn Garum, believed her and her father to be some magical gift.

  She’d go with it, as long as they helped her with Sirona like S said they would. She hated being fake, but she feigned a smile anyway. “Well, whoever this Berronar is, I owe her a drink. In fact, I'll get her the best damn mead I can find.”

  Bilrak shot her a look and drew back stiffly, holding a hand up in protest. “You will do no such thing. Berronar is our goddess, not yours, young woman.” He threw his arms toward the tall, cavernous ceiling. “We will get Berronar the mead.”

  An eruption of cheers and laughter filled the square.

  Daf whispered in Ali’s ear. “What the hell did you just say to them?”

  Before Ali could answer, women approached Daf, gesturing for her to come with them.

  Daf gave Ali a look. “What do they want?”

  Ali tipped her head toward the woman. “They want to help your leg. Chan instructed them to heal it.”

  “I’m not leaving your side. You’ve got the sword. I don’t. They respect the sword. There is no way they respect me.”

  “Here.” She handed Daf the sword. Maybe Ali could get out of this Chosen One infliction abruptly cast upon her.

  Daf touched it and, screaming, dropped the sword to the ground. It clattered, and the little women stepped back, their hands coming to their faces.

  Daf shook her hand. “It zapped me.”

  A woman stepped toward Ali. “Young lady, only the Chosen Ones can wield this sword.”

  Ali nodded and picked up the sword. “Daf, I suggest you let them heal you.”

  Daf snorted. “Yeah, right. It can heal on its own.”

  “They mean business. I wouldn’t go against their goodwill here.”

  “Fine.”

  Ali watched as the women helped Daf limp to a mushroom-top building nearby. They walked in and shut the door. Someone’s yelp took Ali’s attention away.