Death Drop (29 page)

“The beds aren’t bad,” the voice rumbled. “Kind of remind me of home. I wonder what the food’s like.”

Abalias pushed himself up into a sitting position and turned in the direction of the voice. With his back firmly rested on the wall behind him, he began the universal ritual for speeding clear vision back to blurry eyes: blinking wildly and scrunching his brow up and down while rubbing his eyelids with his palms. His sight slowly returned, and as he strained to see across the room, he could just make out the hazy figure of Sergeant Graale sitting against the opposite wall with his knees drawn up to his chest.

“Hey, Sarge,” Abalias croaked through a dry, scratchy throat as he continued his scan of the enclosure. He could now see clearly enough to tell they were in a small, square holding cell made of solid rock. The little chamber was completely barren and the only feature that broke the tedium was three rows of rectangular cut-outs in the cell door. The nine panels were filled with a sullen light that barely passed through the meters-thick portal.

“Damn,” Abalias sighed, “I guess we’re not getting out of here by force.”

“Nope,” Graale replied soberly.

Abalias jerked his head back slightly on his shoulders like something just struck him. “Can’t you just…” Abalias held his hands up and shook them in his best ‘crumble the walls around us’ enactment.

“I’m afraid the rocks here don’t speak to me,” Graale said gravely.

Abalias paused and then leaned forward in the dark and shook his head in amazement. “I can’t believe it—you’re a Guardian! I mean, I should’ve put it together—with the name of your gun and all—but, wow—an honest to god Guardian!”

“I’m
Garnukdeen
,” Graale said plainly, “but some sailor from a strange planet, eons ago, found us and the closest he could get to saying it in his language was
Guardian
. So, yes, I’m a Guardian.”

“But you can control rocks—I mean, I thought you were kidding back in the shipyard when you said you could collapse the whole mine and send those bastards to hell—and the vent shaft; you weren’t kidding!”

“I can speak to
some
rocks and they help me out once in a while if I ask nice.” Graale grinned modestly.

“So the legends are true,” Abalias said with an air of wonder that countered his usually bland, military style of conversation. “I mean, you guys live in the rings around planets and um, well”

“Crush passing ships?” Graale said.

“I suppose that’s what the stories imply, isn’t it?” said Abalias after an awkward pause.

Graale chuckled at the colonel’s embarrassment and felt a small twinge of pride knowing that he could stir the boyish imagination of someone as rigid and efficient as Abalias. “It’s okay, Colonel. And to answer your question, not all of us live in rings around planets—not all rings are inhabitable—some live on-world, in the open air, or even under the sea. As for the last part, we’re not really different than any other race in the universe. Some cause trouble—mostly teenagers, if you ask me—for whatever reason, and sadly, that includes the occasional bashing of unsuspecting ships, I’m afraid.”

“Geez,” Abalias whispered, “I wish I would’ve known back at the base. I might’ve taken you up on your offer…” The colonel fell silent and dropped his gaze to the floor as he relived the last half of the battle at the Dissension base in his mind. When he had finished, he lifted his head and stared at Graale with the commanding blue eyes of Colonel Jerrel J. Abalias the soldier—the awestruck boy had vanished. “What happened to the Guardians?”

Graale shifted his dark eyes to the columns of ashen light for a moment and then fixed them back on the colonel.

“Why are you the only one that’s come forward to fight?” Abalias respected Graale’s power and he appreciated everything Graale had done in the shipyard for him and the rest of the Dissenters who had escaped, but he wanted answers and his tone was as hard and cold as metal.

“It’s not easy to explain,” Graale said with hesitation.

“I’m afraid I need it explained—
now, Sergeant
.” Abalias wasn’t going to back down and Graale knew it. He sighed heavily and his big shoulders rose up and then sank with the burden.

“My people have long faded into legend. We live solitary lives and believe we’re best forgotten. The Durax never knew anything about us. Their ships drifted by and never once did they think to search for life out in the rings; they didn’t have any idea we existed and we wanted to keep it that way. We feared what they might do through us—through our powers.”

“What the hell do you mean ‘what they might do?’ They’d do the same damn thing they’ve been doing for as long as anyone can remember: murder innocent people, torture and enslave entire worlds! We
need
soldiers like you—who can do what you do—who have the balls to fight so we can win this goddam war!”

“You don’t understand,” Graale said firmly.

“Bullshit, I don’t! You’re lot sound like a bunch of cowardly”

“YOU DON’T GET IT!” Graale roared and Abalias flinched at the sudden outburst. “There are Guardian elders with powers a thousand times greater than what you saw in the shipyard! They can shift the crust of entire planets—the land would crack open and spit fire, mountains would crumble to dust, seas would boil and rage and send waves thousands of meters high to erase anything in their path, poisonous fumes would fill the air, and ash would rain down from the skies to choke out all light, all life in a matter of minutes! With our power, the Durax could destroy worlds in an instant—not hundreds or thousands of years like they do now, but
minutes
. There would be no chance of survival, no one to escape and join the Dissension to fight for their world, only absolute and total annihilation!” Graale had risen to his feet, and he was hulking over Abalias, breathing hard with anger. “You see why we didn’t come to fight now?”

Abalias sat frozen in pure shock and amazement at Graale’s vivid description, and it took a while for his tactical mind to kick back into gear. “I understand,” he said somberly as he nodded his head. “But we have the Serum.” Abalias countered like a chess master who had just forced a sacrifice move by his opponent. But Graale was just as cunning a strategist and every bit as clever as the colonel.

“You want to know if I’m the spy,” Graale said with an air of comprehension.

Abalias’ eyes registered an inkling of surprise at how quickly the sergeant figured out what he was getting at. He reasoned that there was no possible way for someone like Graale to be inoculated against the mind-spike of the Durax, and a man with the sergeant’s power wouldn’t risk open contact with them without insurance. The fact that Graale knew there was a spy made Abalias uncomfortable, and the colonel could think of only one assurance that would convince a Guardian to join the Dissension without the protection of the Serum: the sergeant wouldn’t need it if he was already working for the Durax. Abalias’ emotions were running wild, but he kept a straight face and stared blankly back.

“C’mon, Colonel! It’s obvious we have a leak after what happened on the ridge with Talfus and Malo and then the Berzerkers—you said so yourself! I saw the look on your face back in the infirmary when you asked if we’d all had the Serum—something was wrong, something didn’t fit. Am I right?”

Abalias conceded to Graale’s talented display of observation and deductive reasoning and a smirk of admiration managed to melt the icy look on his face for an instant before freezing over once more. “Impressive, Sergeant.”

“And you’re wondering how something like me,” Graale rapped his heavy knuckles on his rocky forearm, “could possibly be injected, right?”

“Well?” Abalias said flatly and folded his arms across his chest.

“Turns out, we’re not entirely indestructible,” said Graale as he tapped his finger just below his right eye.

Abalias didn’t get it at first and confusion replaced his hard look. Graale lowered his hand and moved closer, leaning down and putting his face inches away from the colonel’s. He stared at the Dissension officer with a friendly look and kind eyes, and after an uncomfortable few moments, the colonel finally understood.

Abalias didn’t spend as much time as he used to on the front lines, and he regretted he couldn’t fight alongside his soldiers more often. He and Graale had never done battle together before the Berzerker attack on the Sitiri 9 mine base, and he admittedly didn’t know much about him. The Dissension army wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t small either, and Abalias relied on orders and the chain of command to get things done. He didn’t have time to memorize the service record or medical history of each man. Of course, he heard the stories that circulated through the army about a soldier’s feats, but he knew how hard it was to separate fact from fiction. During his recent dealings with Graale, he saw what everyone else saw: an indestructible soldier. But now that he was face to face with the man, he could see that the sergeant’s eyes, except for the color, were very much like his own and they glistened with fluid over dark, soft tissue.

“You let them stick a needle…
in your eye?
”

Graale nodded his head slowly but remained silent.

“Hmm,” Abalias said sounding only half-satisfied. “If you’re not a spy, and you can be given the Serum, why not send for more Guardians? You must have family, friends, an army—someone,
anyone
who’ll answer the call!”

“You know damn well why not, Colonel. There’s not enough Serum to go around—the batches sent by the Mewlatai are small and even if there was enough…” Graale arched his brow at Abalais.

“If there was enough…
then what
?”

“We have no idea if the rumors are true—if the Serum is failing.”

“There must be someone else like you who’ll fight.”

“Our king has ordered that none shall come forward until the One has returned and reported it safe. The king is the most powerful Guardian in the history of our race—no one would dare go against his orders.”

“And you’re the One,” Abalias said.

“Yes…and not to make this any worse, but before this whole mess with Malo, Talfus, and the rogue Mewlatai, I was ready to send word—a call for the Guardians to join the Dissension.” Graale hung his head in regret and his heavy feet scraped loudly across the floor as he shuffled back to his side of the cell.

“Shit,” Abalias said under his breath, “talk about your goddam tragic irony!” He paused to collect his thoughts and then something occurred to him. “But you—you’re just as much a risk as any other Guardian—you didn’t know if the Serum would work, and the Durax could’ve easily ravaged your mind to find others!”

“It was a risk the king was willing to take,” Graale said as he looked down and gripped the empty sheath on his belt between his thumb and forefinger, “and he left me with a way out…”

Abalias was a little quicker to understand this time despite the carnival of thoughts, questions, and emotions that cartwheeled through his mind, but he still couldn’t help his mouth as it fell open in disbelief. “You mean
kill yourself
? So that’s what the dagger was for!”

“Yes,” said Graale softly. “You see, Colonel, it’s a hard thing—to wonder if the universe might stand a better chance of surviving if you and your kind were…
dead
.”

“Sorry, Sarge,” Abalias said after an awkward silence. “Sorry I thought you might’ve been a traitor—it’s just to set something up like the ambush on Talfus and Malo using the Serum as a cover story and then attack the base, it has to be somebody who knows our operation in detail and knows how to get at sensitive information”

“Like passwords for a Serum drop?”

“Yeah,” Abalias hissed with contempt, “like the damn passwords for a goddam Serum drop! Point is, I doubt it’s some grunt—has to be someone with some pull, not to mention a smart sonofabitch…” Abalias was staring at the floor again, deep in thought.

“Then who?” Graale broke the melancholy silence.

“I don’t know, exactly, but yours wasn’t the only answer that struck me as odd when I asked about the Serum.” Graale cocked his head in fascination and leaned forward.

“Blink has been the chief medical officer in this man’s army for as long as I’ve been in—and that’s a
long
time. I know Artie better than anyone—well, maybe not as good as that machine of his, but anyone alive anyway—and for as long as we’ve known each other we’ve always butted heads when it comes to the Serum.”

Graale, anxious to see where this was going, scooted across the floor to get closer.

“You see, Artie doesn’t believe that medical officers should be given the Serum when there’s not enough to go around to front-line soldiers.”

“He’s got a good point there.” Graale was nodding his head in agreement and Colonel Abalias glared at him.

“We’ll stow that debate,” Abalias said with a twinge of irritation, “for a more casual conversation in a friendlier environment, Sergeant. My point is that Artie Blink has been an outspoken pain-in-my-ass about this every chance he gets. He’s even disobeyed a direct order—on several occasions—to get inoculated!”

“And he replied in the affirmative when you asked if everyone had taken the Serum?”

“Well…he didn’t agree exactly,” Abalias said, squinting and trying hard to picture precisely what happened in the shipyard, “but he didn’t disagree either, and that’s not his style when it comes to the Serum!”

“Colonel, with all due respect, I don’t think that proves much except that Blink isn’t a soldier, and he was scared senseless after being thrown into a scrape with Berzerkers.”

Abalias took a deep breath and exhaled noisily, puffing his stark white cheeks into swollen lumps on either side of his blue lips. “I know…you’re right. That man has pretty much held this army together single-handedly—working around the clock, patching up soldiers, and getting them back into action. I’ve never seen anyone with as much dedication to the cause. Ah, hell, it could be Malo for all I know!”