Chapter 12: The Fire Within

“I specifically asked for you to be here and fully setup an hour beforehand!”

Busily preparing a vast feast of perrivine salads, terces cuts, senna rolls and a variety of kaffe pots in a large boardroom, the caterer sweated and avoided eye contact with the administrator. Making sure he worked while speaking to her, he said, “I’m very sorry. I thought it be best to serve the kaffe piping hot. Waiting an hour would –”

Dressed in a tight-fitting powder blue dress, the administrator hung over the caterer and said, “Do you have no clue where you are?! Have you know wits about you? This is Vaulquarium Incorporated. Do you know who we are? We’re the largest financial institution on Erusaert. Over sixty percent of this system’s credits pass through here every year. I want all this set up and you out of this building in the next ten ticks!”

The caterer stabbed a brilliant sable spoon into a full salad bowl and said, “Y-Y-Yes. I understand. I will hurry.” He turned to her only once, quick enough to see her COM leds on her chin and ear lit up in bright pink, her face a permanent frown.

She turned briskly and stamped out of the board room, talking into her COM, “Yes. The room is prepared. The presentation is prepped. We are ready for your arrival in fifteen ticks.

Finished, the caterer swept the white cloths covering the trays and tables of opulent food. He double-checked the kaffe pots – still hot. Double-checked the cutlets – all there. Taking a deep breath, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a few glowing plastic business cards and as he walked out of the massive boardroom, he left them spaced out evenly between all the food.

As he left the boardroom, he nodded slightly to the administrator as she blindly ignored him and continued to talk on her COM. With a confident smile, the caterer continued to the elevators and waited patiently for the next lift down. A Huerian accountant stopped next to him. Having never seen a Huerian, he was mystified by her sapphire skin, bronze eyes and her long black hair.

A light ding sounded the arrival of the lift, and the caterer caught himself staring at her. “Sorry,” he chimed to her. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her voice was high, distant and airy – as if someone behind him was talking rather than her. “Pheremones. You haven’t been around my kind before, have you?”

The doors opened to the lift and a mass of people exited. The Huerian and the caterer entered the lift together and the doors closed. He felt his insides rise as the lift jetted downward. He couldn’t tell if it was the lift or her.

“Our phermones are quite strong,” she continued. “Even for other species. You get used to it and eventually the infatuation goes away.” Thin and wide, her mouth rose in a flirtatious smile.

“Amazing,” the caterer said. “It’s intoxicating.”

The Huerian blushed – her cheeks grew white as she said, “My name is Dal’Lalia.”

“Fielder,” said the caterer as the lift again dinged, announcing their arrival.

“Nice to meet you,” she said as the doors slid open and she slinked away.

The caterer stepped out and said to himself, “Nice to meet you too.”

Standing in the large annex to the building, the caterer saw a large group of dignitaries – likely representing the various investors across the system. Having done a lot of these business meetings, he knew where they were headed – to the boardroom he just decked out with luscious foods. Smiling slightly for a job well done, he strode past the dignitaries, nodding his head and saying, “Good day,” to many of them, before he walked to the doors and pulled out his temporary security badge.

He slid it into a small slot and a metallic voice said, “Green Dragon Catering. Your security access has expired. Have a nice day.” The doorlocks opened with a loud chunk and the caterer passed through.

Outside, the Vaulquarium Incorporated building sprawled high into the Erusaertian sky. Pyramid in shape, the outside shimmered in the sunlight – its deep green glass panels sparkling brilliantly. The caterer turned back to see the beauty of the building before crossing the street and walking a few blocks. People bustled through the busy streets.

Set off on the corner across from him, a ramshackle bodega sat. Selling cheap newsclips and carbo parcels, the caterer approached it and looked at the cloaked man sitting on the stool in the bodega. The only thing that stood out about the man’s face was his deep indigo skin and his white eyes. Barely audible, the man barked at the caterer, “Has the meal been served?”

Behind them, high atop the Vaulquarium building a flash erupted at the peak, spreading a blinding white light throughout the city. As the flash died down, a great cloud of black smoke began to rise revealing that the entire upper half of the building had been completely blown off. The city erupted in panic. People of every species screamed and ran down the streets, knocking over street vendors, stampeding over each other in their attempts to get away. A shuttle crashed into another building, causing a wingpod and a skiff to crash into each other.

Amidst all the chaos, the caterer looked into the bodega and found the man gone, but lying on the bodega shelf was a cred chip. He took it and flipped it into the air as he walked away, a thick gray cloud of dust, paper and debris raining down all around him – people running and screaming past him. And in all this chaos – the caterer remained as calm as a klectuu pond, no ripples, no noise and all silence.

* * *

...Amidst the 10^th anniversary of the Vaulquarium terrorist bombing, Grand Minister Withryn has ramped up efforts to protect government buildings, ports and stations throughout the GSA...

Fizzing and zapping filled the armory of the Broken Fang, drowning out the flashing COM beacon in the corner, spewing news updates. Buried behind a workbench, Sellihca worked tiredly on the last piece of his armor – the helm.

“That job paid for this armor and ship. Terrorism,” Sellihca grumbled. In truth, that was his first assignment fresh in Hallastaare’s network. To him, the job felt huge – eliminating twenty of the galaxy’s most powerful banking brokers hadn’t even been attempted before. But to Hallastare, it was merely one of many expertly strategized maneuvers aimed at clearing roads for his influence.

With nanoculars affixed over his eyes, Sellihca pressed the micro-iron to a cylinder of circuits. Armor plates lie scattered on the workbench, waiting to be placed over the helm’s circuitry – finally being complete again. With deftness of a master tinkerer, he repaired the circuits and installed the armor plates. Turning the helm over in his dark indigo hands, he polished away leftover fluxgrease until the golden sheen of the armor shown through.

Sellihca turned around on his small power stool and stood up next to his entire armor suit standing in its case. Putting the helm in place atop the suit, all the pieces powered on and rifled through a systems check. The eyes of the helm lit up and passed from red, to white to green. With all systems checked, the suit powered down.

After wiping his hands off on a piece of dirty kotcloth, Sellihca stepped out of the armory and walked through a hallway to the Broken Fang's cabin. Outfitted with shabby plastellic consoles and dimly lit indicators, the cabin may not have looked like much, but it always got the job done. Numerous ceiling panels still had wiring hanging down and as he sat down in the captain's chair, he had to brush some of the wiring aside.

“Once we finish this,” Sellicha said to the lonely spaces within the cabin. “We'll be able to make some customizations. We could even get you a profile patch.”

After sitting down, he unrolled a small keyboard and attached it to the dashboard. The navscreen lit up as he keyed, pulling up a map of the planet. He initiated a populous search under the name of Solar. Streams and streams of data filed across the screen. The map zoomed and soared over the Rebotco Sea, until it isolated a house on the shore. Blinking above the location was the name Telo Solar.

“That was easy enough,” Sellicha said to himself. But he knew it wouldn't be easy. Nothing had been easy since he entered Hallastaare's network. Marr almost killed him in his initiation. And this assignment to clean up Marr's messy handiwork not only was more than he bargained for, but almost destroyed his precious armor. No. Something about this job was different than all the others. It felt like something more than just a job – as if the very universe itself plucked him like a string in a woven fabric stretching across the stars.

It was a strange feeling for Sellicha. For him, everything came down to calculations and planning – the science of a blade cutting flesh, the radius of a shockbomb. Not this feeling of connectedness, this dread that seems to haunt him like a spirit. No. He was but a huntsman. How could he be involved in something that large, that integrated with the energy of everything around him. A shiver slipped down his back.

He had to get back to work.

Outside the Solar home, Sellihca crept through the brush holding a datapad. Stopping at a tall, apap tree, he reached high an attached a sensor to the sticky bark of the tree. He figured his targets wouldn't proceed into the house until they thoroughly scanned the area for the thermal imprint of starships. By placing the transmitters around the perimeter, he will be alerted to there arrival and from a safe distance, he'll be able to strike. He could see there faces now, stopped in awe at the Broken Fang rising from the depths of the lake, the kor in their hands for the taking.

No more reacting. They were walking right into his hands.

He entered the Broken Fang and lowered her into the lake, beyond the reach of thermal scans. He powered down the generators and left enough juice on to get a reading on his transmitters and listen to the COM. In the darkened cabin, the dull green holographic glow of the COM fed shadows around Sellihca's face. Using his hands to direct the COM, he waved through news stories he had already heard. Nothing seemed interesting. He grew so bored, his eyes became heavy.

Wait. He wasn't tired.

But he couldn't help it, something clogged his mind, soothed it into shutting down. His hands and feet tingled. Every cell in his body seemed to yawn in unison. Within in seconds, his eyes closed and he felt his body slump into his chair, arms hanging down the sides. This wasn't sleep. Something else was at work. He felt his body slowly grow numb and his mind turned black.

Then, off in the darkness a great black storm rolled. Bolts of lightning radiated from cloud to cloud. As it drew closer, the lightning dimmed and calm seemed to take over.

Ah, an ancient foggy voice said. My new hand. Very few have earned direct contact. But I'm sure you are aware of that. Heard my name drifting into your ears at night, mind racing from fiendish bedtime stories. Some even believe I'm not alive anymore, that my strategists puppeteer a flimsy visage in hopes of keeping my power. I assure you. I am very much alive, as far as your kind can perceive, anyway.

Defeating Marr was not an easy task. But one that needed completing. He who vanquishes a hand, must take his place. That is why I berth the vast reaches to give you another order, an order I cannot trust to strategists and generals. The memory kor is still your primary directive. But my network spies have come across some very useful information. In all my spying and tracking of dear Telo, I give him credit. He disguised this move very well. Between his apprentice and the couriers, we could never accurately tell where the artifact was at any given time.

But now we know.

Infiltrate the Solar home and steal the artifact from the vault. Inside a protective laminate cube is an ornate gauntlet. It should be quite unmistakable. Then recover the kor and kill the interlopers.

Like a passing storm, the black clouds paled and withdrew from his thoughts. After a few moments, his mind cleared and he opened his eyes to the cabin of his starship, alarms blaring and blinking. His head hurt badly like someone just bored a hole in the base of his skull, a taste of fengrass littered his mouth. He stood up shakily and assessed the console. A bright, red light flashed on the console like a silent, impatient child.

They had arrived. How long had he been out? His thoughts tried to focus on the controls of the ship as he raised it out of the lake, but he couldn't help but think about what just happened. He knew Hallastare possessed great power, but the invasion of minds and bodily control. Sellihca now sensed how truly powerless he was in this situation and thought about just how his life would end.

As the Broken Fang emerged from the lake, Sellihca couldn't help shake the feeling that again, something reached into his plans and scrambled them all up. What did he need to do to get something done properly? He shook his head in frustration.

Rising above the lakeside cliff, he saw the Solar home come into view on the screen. Sellicha adjusted the console and the screen switched to a thermal scan that showed a blue and green environment with a bright red splotch outside of the home. As the ship strafed around to the front side of the house, Sellicha switched to a normal scan. That's when a smile erupted on his face, because standing in front of the house stood a bearded man dressed in what looked like antique clothes with a long, green sash tied around his head. In his hands, the man held the laminate cube and inside it – the artifact Hallastare described.

Quickly flipping on his guns, Sellihca lined up the reticle and fired. On the screen, the ground around the strange man erupted in plasma fire, the ground exploding and raining down on the main in clumps. Although the ground around him was torched, the man rolled out and began running. So Sellihca lined up the reticle again and fired, blowing apart apuco trees and scarabrush, but also hitting the strange man squarely in the torso, knocking him down.

Sellicha repositioned the ship and brought it down near the strange man. Once the hatch opened, Sellicha drew his hunting knife and stalked through the woods until he stood over him, his body rancid with plasma burns. He picked up the laminate block and stared at the bejeweled gauntlet inside. He too could feel its power emanate from within.

“Marvelous,” Sellihca said to himself.

Bending over to the man again, he searched his dirty linen shirt and found the memory kor.

“Too easy.”

Tucking the kor in his vest pocket and securely holding the artifact under his arm, he ran back through the ship hatch and tucked himself into the captain's chair. Pulling back on the controls, the Broken Fang rose above the woods and the house. He armed the side rockets, aligned the reticle onto the house and pulled the trigger.

Onscreen a great explosion erupted over the house. Flames stretched high and Sellicha smiled. For once, things went the way he wanted them to. He fired again. More explosions and fire. A blackness swept through him. He fired again. And again.

It took him a moment to shake out of it. Onscreen the Solar house burned wildly, the ground all around it charred and lifeless. He remembered the odd feeling. A black shiver wafting through him, controlling him, firing on that house, burning it to the ground. In all his years, all the hunting, the killing, he understood his choices, his movements, the effects of all his actions. Although he was a master at inflicting pain on other people, he did it on his own accord. No one controlled him. He controlled his hand – the knife it held.

Sellicha pulled back on the controls and the Broken Fang veered away from the burning house. His job was done. The artifact was secure. The kor was secure. The interlopers were eliminated.

As the ship shuddered through the atmosphere, volleying for the darkness of space beyond, he searched deep within himself, looking for that black flicker, that flame that took him over for a brief second. Alien to his thoughts, it was an intruder and needed to be snuffed out in any manner necessary.