The Rising Sun: Episode 1 (15 page)

“This is
officer Gowden, captain of the Naxim base of Sacrogon speaking.” he
announced. “I had just tracked a mystic in my planet, but he
escaped.”

Evander found
what he was hearing slightly humorous. “Stray mystics are of little
concern as of now, officer. There is a far, far more deadly group
lurking somewhere … And they occupy our real concern now.”

“I just thought
you should know.” said Gowden. “Anyway, I’ve managed to get a photo
of him. To store in our data, which holds the pictures of all
mystics yet to be caught.”

Evander met
Derigor’s eyes across the table, and knew both of them were
thinking the same thing: that finding and capturing a bunch of
harmless stray mystics in the inner spectrum had been the biggest
concern for them … until something far deadlier swooped in to take
its place.

Ironic.
He thought.
We realise the insignificance of a problem we face …
only when it’s replaced with a far greater one.

“Thank you,
officer Gowden.” He told the officer.

The officer
nodded and said, “Here’s the picture.”

The holographic
screen changed, now showing a picture of a blurry scene … Hanging
in front of the camera, in a mid air streak across the sky, was a
figure clad in a cloak. Riding a bike. The scene was blurry,
obviously taken in a mid chase by the side of this mystic’s
bike…

Evander looked
at the picture absently … And then something happened that made
alarm shoot up within him. He sat up straight, his gaze on the
holographic image intensifying.

The mystic in
the picture, riding the hover bike, was tall and thin … He was
wearing a black cloak … And he had dishevelled, long hair that
shone in a greasy, black colour.

His heart
halting, Evander switched his gaze to the picture on the desk
before him, the one taken at Mech lab. The mystic at the centre of
the five of them was tall and thin. He was dressed in a black cloak
… And he had curtains of pitch black hair.

Two and two
added up inside of Evander, taking his breath away…

“It can’t be.”
He whispered, still looking at the picture from Mech laboratory.
This is him! This is the one responsible for the attack on
Cransof!

Sitting across
the table, Derigor surveyed Evander’s incredulous look in
silence.

“Err, sir, what
is it-”

Evander held up
a hand to silence him, his mind racing…

“Officer
Gowden,” he called at the holographic screen. “Officer Gowden, come
in!”

The picture
frozen on the screen vanished, and the officer’s face returned.
“Yes, sir.”

“Where did you
find this mystic you called to tell me of?”

“Here.” said
Gowden. “In Sacrogon.”

“Do you have
any idea where he is now?”

Gowden frowned.
“He slipped right through our fingers just a few minutes back.
Nevertheless, our Intel predicts that he must still be inside
Sacrogon and its neighbouring moons … He couldn’t have gotten
far.”

“Good, now hear
me out.” Evander’s tone sharpened with urgency. “This mystic that
you’ve just identified may be the one responsible for a large scale
terrorist attack in the planet Cransof, in cluster 54.”

Across the
table, Derigor’s eyes went wide.

“
What?
”
spluttered Gowden, clearly unaware of this attack.

“Now, I need
you to bring about a large scale lockout of the Sacrogon planetary
system, all of its moons, and its neighbouring planets.” ordered
Evander. “Get this across to Sacrogon’s government, and bring a
full scale lockout of the entire system. No one gets in. And no one
gets out.”

Gowden listened
without responding.

“Seal all exit
lines, all ship networks, and stop all space transport about the
system. Nobody is to move from the system.”

At long last,
Gowden nodded. “Consider it done, sir.” He hesitated. “We’ve – that
is to say, unfortunately – lost track of him. We managed to get a
tracker onto him, but he destroyed it.”

Evander fiddled
one thumb with the other, spending a moment to make the
decision

“Don’t worry
about that.” He gave Gowden a nod. “Just place Sacrogon’s system in
a lockout mode. That’ll keep the mystic from leaving Sacrogon or
its moons – wherever he is now.”

“I’ll also
alert the authorities and Sacrogon’s government, telling them to
keep an eye out for this mystic. I have knowledge of his appearance
from our contact a few minutes ago. The authorities will be alerted
to look out for him across the Sacrogon system, and neighbouring
planets.”

“Good.” said
Evander. “That’s good, officer. One last thing – have a copy of the
photo you took sent on paper.”

“Yes, sir.”
Gowden gave a final nod and the link broke, leaving the holographic
screen to melt back to thin air.

Evander looked
at Derigor who was sitting frozen across the table. The shock on
his face hadn’t faded.

“Do you think
we can find him?” he asked slowly.

Evander had
been contemplating that same question. And he now had a vague idea
of how he was to find the answer … that he wanted.

“I think we
can.” He said quietly. “I have a plan, you see. A reasonably good
plan to catch our dear enemy.” He rose from his chair. “Follow
me.”

The door slid
open with a slight hiss as the two high council members approached
it. Evander pored over what he had in mind as they strode down the
corridor. Their target was now trapped somewhere in Sacrogon and
its neighbouring systems, with the authorities looking out for him,
and with nowhere to run … But Evander was now going to see to it
that he was found and caught without a doubt.

“What do you
intend on doing?” Derigor asked, as they paced down the long hall.
“What’s this plan you’re talking of?”

Evander turned
to face Derigor with a deep breath. And then, he spilt it.

Derigor gaped
at Evander for a long series of seconds. His eyebrows had flown
high above his eyes.

When the shock
had dried from his face, he slowly said, “Sir, are you are sure
about this? About employing…” He seemed to grope for the right
word. “About employing
them
?”

“Desperate
times call for desperate measures, Derigor.” Evander said firmly.
“These are desperate times…”

“This may not
be taken to well by the rest of the council.”

“I don’t care.”
said Evander. “I don’t work for pleasing the council. I work for
the betterment of our world. Somewhere between Sacrogon and its
moons, a deadly terrorist is wandering about. And we need to focus
everything right now on bringing him down. I am now sending in our
greatest and finest for this mission … and they will bring him down
without the slightest doubt.”

Hadri, The
seventh moon of Sacrogon

After waking
from the short nap, Ion felt boredom clutch at him. With his
earlier weariness now gone with an hour’s peaceful sleep, he had
decided to go about for some exploring. He had taken the bike and
wandered off over the skies of the planet. He was sure that there
was bound to be a city or a town somewhere in this planet. And he
had been right. Just hundreds of miles from the mountain terrain
he’d landed in, he found this place. A city. But not exactly the
type he had imagined.

“God,” he
mumbled, as his eyes travelled over the scene ahead. “Looks like
there was a nuclear holocaust here or something.”

The place was
completely deserted. An abandoned ghost town. If it could even be
called that. Everywhere he turned, he saw concrete structures that
seemed to have stood over decades of uninhabitance: They were all
cracked and partially demolished. Most had giant chunks missing
from them, while some were half torn in rubble. The city almost
looked like it had been the site of a cataclysmic war or nuclear
explosion.

Parking his
bike by the side of the street where he had landed, Ion took to a
stroll down the long, deserted lane ahead of him. It seemed to go
on and on, disappearing behind a shroud of mist at its furthest
reach.

The night’s
chill penetrated right into Ion’s skin as he strolled on. With his
rucksack slung by his side, he prodded street after street, only to
find debris, wrecked structures, and a soulless, almost haunting
desolateness all through them.

The rare times
where he found people were when he passed groups of them huddling
around a fire, or sitting by the side of the street in ragged
looking robes. Some of them would stare at him as he walked forth.
Some of them would mutter to themselves and shuffle away if he drew
closer to them.

A slight
nervousness sapped upon his energy … And a strange sense of
foreboding was crawling up within him as he strolled down this
wreck of a city.

But he quickly
stopped himself, admonishing:
Don’t be stupid! It’s just a ghost
town! Nothing to be scared of.

Shaking his
head, he continued down the lane.

__________

A man in a
rugged, worn shirt sat with his back against the wall of what
remained of a building. A humble fire built upon a stack of wood
lay on the ground before him, meant to keep him warm in the night’s
chill. The man lifted his gaze, witnessing a strange sight disturb
the solitude of the area: A boy with messy crimson hair strode by
through the street ahead. His long black cloak trailed for an inch
or two on the ground behind him.

The man in the
rugged shirt let his gaze follow the strange boy as he walked past.
Watching as he slowly disappeared into the shadows of the distance.
The man scowled into the darkness. Something seemed unusual about
the spiky haired kid. Whoever he was, he definitely wasn’t from
around here. And he almost seemed lost. But the man had far better
things to worry about. He brought his attention back to the
spitting fire before him, rubbing his hands over it to keep them
warm. The glow of the fire spread through his fingertips, melting
the frost in his bones. Soothing.

For seconds he
absently stared ahead of him, absorbed in the warm aura emanating
from the fire.

A shuffling set
of noises arose out of the darkness … And then, a group of
uniformed men with long blue capes walked by. Their footsteps
pattered on the concrete street outside, as they followed the exact
trail that the red haired boy had gone in a few seconds back …
almost as though following him.

Something about
them seemed to exact a sense of supreme focus. A lethalness that
defied all natural senses. They swept the street outside in a swift
stride, carrying themselves in the exact path that the red haired
boy had gone in. Their gazes were all locked dead ahead of them,
clearly watching for something on the path ahead.

The man in the
rugged cloth felt a slight shiver pass him at the sight of the
strange blue caped men. Everything about them felt unnatural. Cold.
And it almost felt to him like they were here chasing the red
haired boy who had just passed a few seconds back…

If that’s
the case,
the man thought, as he continued to rub his hands
before the fire.
Then good luck to the poor boy … cause it looks
like he would well need it.

__________

The group
trailing a hundred metres behind Ion were the ultimate threat any
mystic could imagine facing.

They were known
as Force one…

Though they
came under the management of the Naxim, they were employed only in
the most dire of circumstances. Because Force one was a very
controversial subject in the inner chambers of the Naxim, and if
high council leader Evander had decided to bring them to the fore,
it meant that he was desperate. Very desperate.

The very
existence of Force one was top secret, hidden from the lower levels
of the Naxim. For if revealed, it would stir a greatly
controversial response from the entire organisation. And from the
entire world as well. But Evander’s argument was that the greater
good outweighed all…

The leader of
the group stalked foremost among them, his head high and proud. His
narrowed eyes were fixed on the black dot walking far ahead them
all. Their target…

Known as RED
ONE, the leader of Force one came with a past torn with turbulence
and discord. A past which had shaped him, moulded him. Made him
what he was today: A lethal weapon, devoid of a drop of human
kindness. He had spent his entire life hunting down, killing and
torturing innocent people. And with every target that he went
after, he would feel the same inhumane thirst. The same savage
fury.

But today, it
was different. Today, as the group of them strode after this
cloaked target, RED ONE felt a rage stronger than anything his
whole life.

He contemplated
the plan quietly, keeping pace with the others.

They stalked
down the mist doused street surrounded by crumbling buildings.
Slowly approaching the cloaked figure with messy red hair who was
moving ahead of them. Their target’s game was up. He couldn’t run.
He couldn’t hide. He couldn’t do
anything
… Not with them
now in the court.