Hybrid Saga 01 - Hybrid (58 page)

“Wait.” To Jarred’s surprise, it was the Trill’s voice that spoke this time. “Master Warrior,” he continued. “If I may be so bold, I would make a suggestion.”

Shu’ma hissed at him and spat out a few words that seemed to drip contempt.

“Shu’ma warns that it is not wise to place yourself between a predator and his prey. Silencing your tongue would be more prudent for someone in your position.”

“And I would be the first to agree, Master Warrior,” the Trill went on. “But in this particular instance, I do feel I have something to offer of which you would take interest with respect to the human.”

Shu’ma let out a breath with the translation before replying.

“Speak it then,” the mech instructed, “before I remove your tongue.”

The Trill did not seem slighted by the threat. “This human has insulted you, before your warriors . . . before the Gods.” He looked up to the ceiling, an attempt to emphasize his point. “And rightly so, for his crimes and blasphemies, his blood should be spilled. But why dispose of him here, where there is no one to witness his just demise, when you could do so in the public square? To serve as a warning to others . . . and prove your superiority.”

Shu’ma seemed to ponder the Trill’s words, and after a moment, asked a question which the admin-mech echoed.

“What sort of
public square
?”

The Trill grinned. “I have access to a most appropriate venue. A sporting arena on one the corporation’s nearby mining satellites, used to . . .
entertain
its large work force. I believe it would well suit your particular needs.”

Shu’ma was silent again, no doubt considering the Trill’s offer. Kill Jarred now, and satisfy his immediate need to extract his vengeance, or delay it for the opportunity to do so in front of many onlookers . . . and his Gods. Jarred was in no way sure of what choice the warrior would make. He had played his hand, and as suspected, the Trill had jumped on the opportunity his taunts had presented. Being thrown into an entertainment arena wasn’t exactly what he had been thinking of as a way out of this mess, but it
would
create a diversion. One that would hopefully present more opportunities. That was,
if
Shu’ma went for it. All he could do at this point was wait to see.

Shu’ma eyed him for a long moment, finally shifting his gaze back to the Trill, speaking a few brief words.

“Make your preparations,” the admin-mech translated, before turning to follow the Rai Chi as they filed out of the room behind their leader, Jarred being left to watch them go while considering what it was he had just gotten himself into.

Chapter 31

Overseer Xin'ma Chi-Kem stood in the center of the small audience chamber that had been made available for his high priority communication, Shu’ma and Rho’uk standing attentively before his imposing three dimensional representation. Draped in the formal robes of his position, he looked all the more impressive, the dark garments only accentuating his muscular build. Though an aged warrior, he still maintained a dominating physical presence.

His communication, however, was an unexpected one that had taken both Shu’ma and Rho’uk by surprise. They had provided Xin’ma with regular updates as to their mission’s status, in the usual form of encrypted audio recordings, receiving his feedback in the same fashion. For him to demand a live communiqué over a holographic feed was more than a bit unusual, if not against precedence. Whatever had warranted such a breach of protocol, it would be of the utmost importance.

“Overseer,” Shu’ma spoke, respectfully. “You’re communication is, of course, a welcome one . . . though it comes as a surprise in this fashion. I trust all is well?”

“All
is
well,” Xin’ma answered. “And I understand your curiosity, my son, but this message is one that I would speak unto you in person, rather than through our usual channels.”

“Of course, Overseer,” Shu’ma returned. “What is your command?”

“You have obtained the human male?” Xin’ma asked, already having been informed of his capture in their earlier communications.

Shu’ma nodded. “We have.”

“Does he yet still live?”

Rho’uk noticed his comrade’s face twitch noticeably with the question.

“He does.” If Xin’ma hadn’t noticed the facial twitch himself, Shu’ma’s dark tone was more than adequate to convey his displeasure with the fact.

“And it must
remain
so,” Xin’ma warned.

Shu’ma barely succeeded at keeping the outrage, Rho’uk knew he would be feeling, from showing as he spoke. “Overseer?”

“He is to be returned to Gaia, with haste, to be interrogated by the Prophets themselves. They have
many
questions for him, and we will ensure they are able to ask them. As is the will of the Gods.”

“Pardon my ignorance, Overseer, but . . . I do not understand.”

“My command does not require you to, Shu’ma.” Xin’ma’s voice was stern. He did not take to being questioned, even by his own son.

Shu’ma was silent a moment, most likely composing himself. “Forgive me, Overseer. I will see it done.”

Xin’ma nodded, approvingly. “I understand your frustration, my son. Your thirst for blood is warranted, and
will
be quenched, in due time.”

Shu’ma straightened himself, an attempt to maintain dignity before his father, no doubt. “We will return to you then, shortly, Overseer.”

“Shortly,” Xin’ma agreed, with a curt nod.

The Overseer’s image vanished a moment later, leaving Shu’ma and Rho’uk alone in the audience chamber. Rho’uk waited for the expected outburst from his comrade, an assortment of angry curses or a violent attack on the communications hub that had seconds ago projected the image of his father, but instead he stood silent and motionless for a long moment. When he finally turned, his expression was foul, but surprisingly subdued.

“It is finished then,” Rho’uk commented. “We return to Gaia. I will have the human prepared.”

“No,” Shu’ma returned, coldly. “You will not.”

Rho’uk looked questioningly at his comrade and superior, waiting for him to explain his meaning.

“We will return to Gaia,” Shu’ma continued, “when our business here is through. No sooner. Our plans for the human will continue unabated. See that he is prepared for transport to the Trill’s arena.”

Rho’uk actually found himself stunned into silence, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before finally replying. “What of the Overseer’s command?”

“My father does not fully understand the situation. I will handle him. Concern yourself with
my
command.”

Rho’uk kept his eyes on Shu’ma. He was planning to go against his father’s command, and the Gods themselves, to satisfy his own thirst for blood. He had to convince him otherwise. To see the folly of such action. “What you are considering is dangerous, Shu’ma. You
must
know this
.
We
cannot
disobey our Overseer. If the human is killed-”

“If the human is killed,” Shu’ma interrupted, “it will be the unfortunate result of his attempted escape. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Rho’uk answered, surprised and disappointed in his long time friend. “I do. I understand that you are being led by your desire for vengeance before the mandate given to us by the Gods.”

Shu’ma glare was deadly. “It would be wise to stay your tongue, Rho’uk. Should it continue to utter such offenses, I would see it removed.”

“Shu’ma,” Rho’uk began, speaking calmly in the face of the threat, with genuine concern for his long time friend. “I speak not to offend. We have always been comrades. You are my warrior brother, and I am your first. It is my place to remind you of your foremost duty.”

“It is your
place
to follow my commands.
You
are subordinate to
me
. Do not forget that.”

Rho’uk stiffened, his pleas for reason obviously falling on deaf ears. “I would not forget it. I understand my place . . . and will follow whatever command you give.”

Shu’ma stepped closer to him so that his face was nearly touching his own. “It has been given. Follow it.” He then stepped away and strode from the chamber, leaving Rho’uk completely alone.

Looking around the room, Rho’uk found himself searching its walls for answers. Answers to many questions which seemed to continue to mount, plaguing him, clouding his mind with indecision. His duty was to his Overseer and the Gods, who had served him with a mandate. One that he was now being asked to ignore in exchange for one warrior’s personal agenda. The answer to his dilemma seemed, on the surface, to be a simple one, except that he had a duty to that warrior as well. To go against Shu’ma, in the service of his Gods and Overseer, would be to betray his superior and friend. A friend that was purposely going against the command of their Overseer.

There seemed to be no simple answer to his dilemma. Either choice, betraying Shu’ma or breaking their mandate, would bring him dishonor. He wished the Gods would speak to him. Steer him towards the proper course. But that was not their way. They spoke to only a chosen few, and he had to trust in those few that what they spoke was Their true will. Or did he? He shook his head at himself.

One thing, and perhaps the only thing, Rho’uk
did
know was that these walls would not provide him with any answers. He would have to find them himself. He would have to make this decision on his own. In that realization, his choice was made. He would follow the warrior code, instilled in him by his father. He would follow the command of his superior. He would follow Shu’ma.

He could only hope that his friend would come to his senses before dooming them both.

*     *     *

Elora had been so relieved when he was returned to their containment cell, Jarred had decided not to broach the subject of the Trill and Shu’ma’s plans for him in the entertainment arena. At least not yet. She had been putting up a good front, but he knew that beneath it, she was afraid. Most likely, the only thing keeping her from succumbing to those fears was that she wasn’t on her own in here.

He could understand that. He supposed nobody wanted to die alone. Unfortunately, he would soon be taken away again, and there was a very good possibility he would not be coming back. If and when he fell, she would be left alone, and Shu’ma’s focus would fall on her. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He had no idea how, but he had to come up with some way of getting her, if not both of them, clear of all this.

Shu’ma was the key. The warrior was driven by his obvious hatred for Jarred, in all of his unworthiness, and that was something he had to turn to his own advantage. Shu’ma seemed more concerned with proving himself superior than learning of Orna’s whereabouts. Pride. That was his weakness. Knowing that wasn’t much help though without a means to exploit it. How could he use it to save Elora? He had to think and fast. Time was running out.

“Jarred?” Elora spoke from beside him. Her face conveyed the concern she was no doubt feeling, though he could also tell that it was not directed inwards for herself, but towards him. “What’s wrong?”

“Besides the obvious?” he answered, glancing around their cell.

“Come on,” she pressed. “You’ve hardly spoken since the guards brought you back. You haven’t even told me where they took you or what they wanted. Why are you keeping it from me?”

Jarred shook his head. “I’m not
keeping
it from you.” That was exactly what he was doing. “I’m just . . . thinking.” A partial truth.

“Well, if you think any harder,” she returned, “you’re going to burn two holes in that wall you’ve been staring into. What are you mulling over in that head of yours? An escape plan? Tell me. Maybe I can help.”

Jarred only wished it was that. He may have actually considered the idea if he were alone. But he wasn’t, and he couldn’t put Elora’s life at any more risk than it already was. He shouldn’t have allowed her to come at all. She had insisted on it, but he could have easily restrained or tranq'd her to ensure she stayed in place. He knew that was exactly what he would have had to do to keep her on the ship. A part of him knew that she
needed
to be here. She
needed
to help her brother, whatever the risk. Whatever the cost. He supposed that was why he hadn’t stood in her way.

She wasn’t some helpless girl. She and her brother had suffered through the loss of both parents and had persevered, pressing forward on their own as refugees for years. That took strength. They were survivors. She had come this far and deserved his honesty.