Eternal Horizon: The Chronicle of Vincent Saturn (Eternal Horizon: A Star Saga Book 1) (10 page)

“Oh, he’ll talk.” Exander started to make his way toward Vincent, but his brother held him back.

“Lighten up,” the big guy said. “I meant
Duell
might know.”

Exander shoved his brother away. “And where’s Duell?”

“Patience, Ex.”

“Damn it! What can we do without Oryon and Duell, huh? Fight the Republic? We haven’t even finished our training yet! And who’s going to lead us? The cigar-smoking, senile, gun-blasting Captain?”

“It’s our way, Ex,” Damocles continued solemnly. “We will find out the truth in a while. For now, you
must
have patience and remember grandfather’s tradition—”

“
Grandfather’s not here!
” Exander’s voice thundered.

Gaia and Vincent both turned their attention towards the volatile Xenian.

“And your
truth
is sitting right there mocking us!” Exander violently waved in Vincent’s direction.

Vincent got up. “Can you tell the ship’s route through that information?”

“
No!
” Exander responded but then eased and added, “There’s nothing but numerous glitches, and if your planet does exist, it’s somewhere in the vicinity of
Zazaban
.”

“So there’s hope?”

“
Hope
? You bastard! Quit that guiltless act and tell us the truth!”

Vincent raised his hands to the sides. “I told you already—”

“Well, I don’t believe that nonsense! I still think you’re an Imperial spy!” Exander took several steps.

“Exander!” Gaia got up.

“And as far as I know,” Exander continued, “the Imperials are marching here right now!”

Suddenly, there was a loud beat on the door. Everyone exchanged looks and then turned to Vincent. He shrugged. There was another rap—this one in a more desperate manner.

Exander opened the door, and Spaide stormed in, barely catching his breath, beads of sweat dotting his forehead.

“What happened?” Exander shook the Dirsalian.

“I—”

“What?”

“Let him breathe!” Gaia shouted.

Everyone gathered around.

“I… conversed… with my source…” Spaide barely forced out, leaning against the wall, hands pressed against his thighs.

“Well, what happened?” Exander asked.

“They were… ambushed… by Zeth and Na’ar,” Spaide started. “Somehow, the Imperials knew...”

“How? Who told on them?”

“More than likely someone inside the Revolution,” Gaia said.

“Thousands of Imperials attacked them,” Spaide continued. “Oryon managed to make it to the ship but dropped behind his sword, and Duell—”

“
Dropped
his sword?” Exander was shocked. “Just how does a Tel Kasar
drop
his sword?”

“I know. I got into that too. But that’s what the guy told me! Our connection was brief, so there was no time for me to argue. From what I was told, Oryon was trapped in a narrow tunnel where he was wounded numerous times. He proceeded to escape but left his sword, apparently he used it to jam the lock on the gate controls. The chase sustained once he left the planet, and the Imperials managed to discharge several rockets from the
Nomad
…” Spaide swallowed. “In hindsight, the
Shadow
did have a dent in its hull…”

“What of Duell?” Exander asked, still not accepting the news.

Spaide sighed, rubbing his neck. “They’ve got him, immobilized. They shot him up full of that crap… the… the Degraders.”

“
Where?
” Exander shook Spaide again. “
Where is he?
”

“On the
Nomad
. They’re takin’ him to Xenon.”

Once more, the morbid silence covered the room with its shroud. The Xenians traded terrified looks.

“Na’ar’s ship,” Gaia whispered.

“We have to go get him!” the big guy cried out.

“Where from?” Exander asked, throwing his arms up in the air. “That ship can be in hyperspace as we speak. There’s no way we can catch up with it! And attempting to enter Xenon would mean the end to us all.” He started pacing the room again. “This can’t be happening! I knew we should’ve stayed together.”

“Wait… there is a way,” Spaide said. “
Zazaban
and Xenon are many parsecs apart. A ship as big as the
Nomad
, they
must
stop to refuel. We still have time.”

“But where? What planet? There are so many!”

“I’ll find out for sure. Let me call my reptilian comrade on Heradonn—it’s the most obvious destination.” Spaide stood up and swept the room with his blue eyes. “Gather all your belongings and be ready. We’re takin’ off the very second I get back.” He threw up his hood and stormed out.

“Now, this is what we’re going to do.” Exander got in the middle of the room. “We’ll go and rescue our master, and you must come with us,” he said, pointing at Vincent and Gaia.

“What about Oryon?” Damocles asked, suppressing his tears.

“
Enough!
” Exander retorted. “Duell is our main priority for now.”

“But you heard Spaide—”

“I don’t want to hear it!”

“What can
I
do?” Vincent intervened. “I didn’t come here to get into the middle of your rebellion; I just want to get home.”

“Well, it looks like you don’t have any choice,” Exander grated. “Duell will have answers for us, human. We must get him before they reach Xenon. Until then, you’re staying with us. Then we’ll decide your fate. And trust me, you’re going to need him if you ever want to find your way home.” He then turned to Gaia and said, “Princess, I’m sorry for dragging you into chaos once again, but we’ve no time to stop anywhere, and I must safely deliver—”

“It’s okay,” she cut him off. “We’ll rescue Sage Duell.”

“Good, then,” Exander said. “Now, I must speak with Vincent alone.”

Exander and Vincent went to the corner of the room. Exander’s hostility settled—he didn’t seem aggressive anymore. Perhaps he was beginning to realize Vincent was innocent after all.

“I understand it must be hard to grasp,” the Xenian said, “but Oryon crashing on your planet, or you here, is all a part of something bigger.”

Vincent exhaled and asked, “So what are you saying? It was destiny?”

“
Dellah’
s
the word for it. I don’t know that for sure, but there has to be an explanation for all of this. Duell, our teacher, and our grandfather were on a mission on a remote planet while my brother, Spaide, and I rescued Gaia from an evil cult that controls a portion of the galaxy. We were supposed to meet with them here, but… as you’ve heard… they were attacked…”

“I got tons of questions,” Vincent said. “Who are you people? And how can you jump so high, move things without touching them, and have this enormous strength? And why—in a world so advanced—do you still carry swords?”

Exander nodded. “I promise you, Vincent of Saturn, that in time, we’ll sit down and explain to you everything in elaborate detail.”

That last miscomprehension brought a smile to Vincent’s face.
Vincent of Saturn
. He rather liked that.

For the next hour or so, the twins and Gaia were engaged in a conversation over their imminent rescue attempt and were trying to figure out the identity of the double agent inside their revolutionary movement.

Vincent sat on the divan staring out at the city. A slight breeze entered through the open window bringing in fresh air and whispering calm melodies into his ear. The blue, white, red, and yellow stars lit up the sky, and
Sebalon’s
sister planet was in clear view, free of clouds, colorfully revealing its jade continents and cobalt seas.

Homesick thoughts kept running through Vincent’s head, making him weary. He was tired. He closed his eyes.
It’s all just a bad dream…
he told himself again, drifting off
.

Rescue Mission Begins

Tex Na’ar gently marched to the command bridge with his hands clasped behind his back. The navigators and the soldiers outwardly froze in his presence, bowing and attempting to avoid eye contact. It’d been always like that: they either feared him or sucked up to him. He cared not anyways, for he was never much of a sociable man; they were there to serve him, and that was all that really mattered.

He advanced to the large section of monitors built before the oversized window panels that opened a view of the ship’s hull stretching for miles. Two of the soldiers sat before the monitors, lazily observing them. Seeing him approach, they jumped to their feet in unison.

“General!” They bowed down at the waist, almost kneeling.

“What is the prisoner’s status?” Na’ar asked.

“Well… he is… stable, sir,” said one of them, barely ousting the words.

Na’ar looked at the soldiers and curled his lip in disgust at their petty anxiety. “Leave… the both of you,” he commanded. “
Now.
”

The troops hurried away by taking long steps backwards.

Lately he had begun to even dislike his soldiers; they had no principle, no discipline. Even the ones who swore unmatched loyalty could be broken under certain circumstances—not like the man he was observing in the monitors, the man who was dishonorably bound and injected with hallucinogens that deprived him of his powers.

Na’ar crossed his arms and brought up one hand, caressing his goatee—a habit he’d do when he was in deep thought.
This is perhaps the lowest thing I’ve ever done in my life…
Not a minute had passed since the attack on
Zazaban
when he didn’t feel this way… when he began to doubt his zeal… when he questioned his own loyalty. He was becoming a man blinded by his own crimes.

“Master,” a voice came from behind.

Na’ar didn’t turn around; he felt his student approach a great deal before the latter spoke.

Marz took his place next to his superior. “We’re making the final approach to Heradonn.”

“Yet that is not why you sought me. Speak what’s on your mind.”

Marz looked over at Na’ar in confusion, at his all-knowing master who always seemed to be able to read his mind. “Oryon’s ship was spotted on Sebalon 2,” he proclaimed with a hushed sigh.

There was a moment of silence as the general processed the critical news given to him—news that both terrified and relieved him at the same time. Finally he turned and looked up at his student. “So, he has survived,” he said indifferently.

Marz lowered his gaze and swallowed. “Evidently.”

Na’ar looked away. “Zeth… of all the men I’ve known, none are more twisted…” He clenched his fist in anger. “Every word of his is a pure lie, and every act he commits is according to his selfish will…”

“You mean to say that Zeth’s lying about his confrontation with Oryon?”

Na’ar didn’t reply and became quiet again, back to his thoughts. There was too much at stake.
How did this situation veer itself out of control?
But one thing was obvious—Oryon’s vengeance would be bitter.

“They will come for him,” he said, looking back at the screens.

“Should I announce it?” Marz asked after a moment.

Na’ar cocked an eyebrow. “And scare the living hell out of the entire crew? I think not—I don’t need panic. Do it discreetly. Tell them to take top security measures and double up on the sentries at every entrance. Inform only the Centurions, and have them prepared for action.”

“As you wish.” Marz bowed slightly but didn’t leave. “Sir, if I may,” he said after a brief second.

“What is it?”

Marz cleared his throat and said, “I feel at fault… Sage Duell is a great warrior, and to have him bound so is… is—”

“Low? Yes, I agree,” Na’ar concurred. “Yet, it is a necessary precaution, for his safety, as well as our own. He wouldn’t be taken alive otherwise.” At that instance, Na’ar knew that he, in fact, was extenuating his own actions.

“It simply stands against everything you’ve ever taught me. Against the
Kasar Delia…
”

“Now, you’re crossing the line.”

“But—”

“No buts!” Na’ar shot his student a furious glance. “We are at war, Marz. And
he
is the enemy. We
must
know the information he possesses. He is one of the main leaders of the Revolution.”

“They’ll just execute him afterwards…”

“Perhaps,” Na’ar said. “Sedition is a major crime.”

Marz nodded and said, “Since when do governments decide the fate of a Tel Kasar?”

Na’ar looked at Marz with an expression that said the young Xenian should refrain from asking too many questions.

Marz closed his mouth. “Still,” he said, looking into the monitor. “I would’ve loved to face him in fair combat and bring him to justice
our
way.”

“Heh?” Na’ar chuckled, turning to fully face his bold pupil. “Don’t be foolish, my student. You have proven yourself to be a great warrior, but now you’re simply overconfident. He’d slice you in half before you’d even withdraw your sword.”

Marz restrained his speech, not daring to disagree with his master.

“Make preparations,” Na’ar added and began to walk away.

“You’re certain they’ll come?” Marz called out.

Na’ar stopped and without looking back said, “I have no doubt.”

Marz watched his master walk away, then raised his arm and pushed a button on his wrist guard.

“Sir?” a voice inquired.

“Commander Hellion, meet me at the bridge.”

Afterwards, he began to tread back and forth, looking at the screens.
Damn it
, he thought.
Why couldn’t they just kill him? And why does he fight against the Republic anyway?
As far as Marz was concerned, Duell was one of the most feared criminals in the galaxy, but now he realized that that was what
they
told him. And here Duell was, in the flesh. He barely controlled the urge to find out Duell’s opinion, to find the enemy’s point of view, to ask him
why
.

A man fully clad in crimson armor approached and bowed. “What is your command?”

“Prepare your men, but do it in secrecy,” Marz said. “I don’t want to upset the rest of the crew.”

“You’re expecting an attack?”

“Might be a false alarm, but it’s always better to be prepared. We must guard the captive at all costs. If an assault does occur, make sure to unleash the fury that is the Solizar Centurion.”

“As you wish, my lord,” the commander replied, shadowing his excitement for possible combat.

*

Vincent was walking down a long tunnel. At the very end of this dark path, probably more than a mile away, was a single source of bright blue light. He walked for minutes, hours, perhaps even days, but couldn’t reach it. Every time he thought he was about to near it, the passageway would just extend further.

Maybe I’m not moving at all?

Gaunt people clothed in ripened, sullied rags perched on the ground with their backs against the tunnel walls.

Were they there a moment ago? Maybe they were… it’s just I haven’t been paying any attention…

All of them looked down, hiding their faces as if they were snickering at him for being lost. Vincent stopped by one of them, an old man with his head sunk in his lap.

“Excuse me,” Vincent said.

The man continued to sit, ignoring him.

“Where am I?” Vincent insisted. “How do I get out of here?”

Still no answer.

Vincent put his hand on the man’s shoulder, and in an instant, the man looked up, revealing his horrifying face. His arid skin was stretched on his bones, and he was missing his lips, nose and ears. But the most horrifying thing was that the man had no eyes; only two black pits in his orbital sockets.

“Why do you want to get out?” The creature’s horrible voice made Vincent shudder and take a step back. “Stay here with us,” the man continued. “You put us here.”

Vincent was taken aback. “What…?”

“Oh, you don’t remember?”

Vincent glanced around and noticed that all of the people were now up and ominously stared at him with those eyeless faces. They blocked both pathways of the tunnel and began to encircle him, their arms stretched.

Vincent began to dash through that mob of zombies. They clawed his face, his arms, and his ankles, but he continued to push through, down the tunnel, towards the light…

*

“Vincent, wake up!”

Vincent opened his eyes to see Exander leaning over him. The sight of the Xenian reminded him that he was far away from home, yet at a far better location than the awful nightmare tunnel.

“We must go.” The Xenian spoke in a hurry. “Now!”

Vincent noticed that everyone was already dressed in their coats and Damocles carried several bags. “How long was I out for?” he mumbled, trying to regain his senses.

“About thirty minutes,” Exander said. “We have to hurry; there’s no time.” He threw up his hood and headed for the door, followed by the rest of the party.

“Only thirty minutes?” Vincent muttered as he got up, put on the shades, and staggered after them.

The loads of extraterrestrials continued strutting about the hotel. The number of security droids had nearly doubled, all of them seemingly searching for Vincent’s new
friends
.

The companions lowered their heads and hastened through one of the crowded passages with glass walls displaying the city where rivers of light caused by the constant traffic sustained their flow.

“Where are we headed?” Vincent asked Spaide while trying to keep up. “Are we going to rescue this… Duell guy?
Now?
”

“He might be the only way for you to get back,” Spaide answered. “He’s
bein
’ transferred to the Imperial capital system. We must extract him before he arrives there, and if we don’t move fast, we may never obtain another chance. Now, quit
askin
’ questions and be quiet. We don’t need any company.”

Vincent sighed, lowered his head, and quietly followed the eccentric aliens. He didn’t care who Duell was, or this Oryon, for that matter.
If I could only remember what happened aboard that godforsaken ship
, he thought. Slowly, he began to understand that following this bunch could—and probably would—get him killed, but the realization that he didn’t really have that much of a choice quickly came back. On the other hand, the thought of a tyrannical, star-spangling empire horrified him—not him personally, per se, but humanity. The fate of Earth was on his shoulders. That was too much responsibility for Vincent. He needed to get away, to find his way home before this Republic did, and the only way was through these people.

“How ironic,” he said quietly, remembering his complaints to Alex about how
nothing ever happens.

After a few hallways, the group ascended a flight of stairs to the roof.

The roofs of most buildings were designed as platform pads and were lined with spacecraft. The ships were different in shape and magnitude: some were as small as a van, while others were enormous, the size of planes. A few were more in terms of “battleships” with a great number of cannons and rockets attached to their hulls. People went about their business, some departing, others arriving, while mechanics performed maintenance and refueled the vessels.