The Last Narkoy_OSLO Page 4

  “This mission hinges on their mission succeeding. Without the Oslo, the Azeran won’t have a computer,” she mentioned.

  “Is there some other way they can install another computer?” Miserin asked.

  Cembre shrugged. “If there is, I wasn’t privy to the details. All I know is what I was told which… which wasn’t much.”

  The door opened to the bridge. As soon as they stepped out, they were met by three officers. “The Azeran has been located.”

  “On screen,” Commander Miserin called out, beating Cembre to it.

  On the main viewscreen appeared yet another empty area of space, void of anything.

  Cembre squinted out of habit, seeing if she could notice anything. There was nothing.

  “Open a channel,” she ordered.

  “Channel open, sir,” called the com officer.

  “Tomcree, norvil saka servaliant,” she called out, knowing for a fact she butchered the words.

  All of the sudden a glimmering light exploded onto the screen. There in its wake sat a magnificent golden ship twenty times the size of the Assan.

  Commander Miserin stood beside her, his jaw agape. “Uh, what now?” he whispered.

  “Captain… we’re being hailed,” the com’s officer announced.

  “On screen,” Cembre called.

  An older Narkoy man in his fifties appeared on the screen. He was wearing the same uniform as the Tasgool.

  “I am Sorrel, keeper of the Azeran. What is your purpose here?” the man called out.

  “I thought there wasn’t any other Narkoy?” Miserin mentioned low.

  “There isn’t. He’s a hologram,” Cembre returned. “Sorrel, keeper of the Azeran,” she began, bowing her head. “I am on a mission for Chadon Sortec to return this vessel to Matrador for repairs. I’ve been informed to give you command code sirri chil mir…” she paused to recall the next two words, “Sortec nity-novil.”

  Sorrel nodded. “Command accepted. Please state your name for the records, Captain,” he returned.

  “Sallris Cembre,” she announced. “Prepare to be boarded and taken under tow,” she ordered. Sorrel again nodded and the screen blanked. “Sorrel is the guardian of the Narkoy’s main computer. He controls all Gathow’s functions, the bases and all of the ships. If you attempt to destroy the Assan, he’ll appear on this ship as well. Sortec introduced me to him when I took command,” she explained.

  “Strange they would make him a male and not female, considering,” the commander pointed out.

  “I believe he was created in the image of the man who built Gathow,” she added. “I’m taking a team over to the Azeran. You have the ship.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise? That ship is in need of repair and has been lingering out there unmanned for who knows how long,” he mentioned.

  Cembre nodded, grinning. “Between you and me, not that long.” She turned to her science officer, asking, “Does the Azeran have life support?”

  “Yes, Captain,” the man called back.

  “I’ll be back in an hour,” she assured.

  “And what if you’re not?” he questioned. She didn’t respond.

  FOUR

  Zion paced the rickety floor of the cave, stopping every ten or so feet to glance over at Rosanheer. His friend still looked lifeless and pale. How he wished he knew what happened to his friend or how he could wake him.

  Orion grunted uneasily in his cot. “Zion, relax. Pacing isn’t going to wake him,” he spoke in a hoarse whisper.

  He spun to Orion, grinning nervously. “Woke you,” he pointed out. He knelt to Orion’s bedside, looking into the man’s pain filled eyes. “The meds wearing off?” he asked. The doctor grunted. “I’ll get someone to help,” he offered.

  Zion hurried off to find a nurse. As they were returning, Rosanheer sat straight up in his cot, screaming out, “Sortec!”

  “Rosan,” Zion called, rushing to his friend’s side. He grabbed the man’s shoulders, seeing the panic and fear in his eyes. “Rosan, we’re safe. It’s alright,” he attempted to soothe.

  Rosanheer gulped hard, sweat beading on his forehead and upper lip. He grabbed Zion’s forearm, holding it tight. “Where’s Sortec? I saw her… I saw her sucked out of the ship,” he gulped with heaving words.

  “We’ll talk about that as soon as—”

  Rosanheer’s stern gaze sent lightning bolts into Zion’s mind, causing him to reel back. “Where is Sortec?” he demanded.

  “We don’t know,” Orion spoke up, forcing Rosanheer to turn his attention to someone other than Zion.

  He slowly released his grip on Zion’s arm. “Is she dead?” he asked, his green eyes shifting to Orion and the Clove nurse standing next to him.

  The nurse gave Orion an injection. Instantly he felt relief from his pain. He sunk back into his pillow, closing his eyes. “Much better. Thank you.”

  Rosanheer shook his head in confusion. It was then he realized he had no hair. His hand flew to his bald head. “What happened?” he asked, turning his attention back to Zion. He started to drift, falling from Zion’s grasp and back to his pillow.

  “Relax, my friend. We’re with the Novaac. They found us after we crashed landed and have been helping us,” Zion explained.

  Rosanheer felt to his forehead, shaking his head solemnly. “The Novaac?” he returned, icy fear clinging to his throat. “Great! So we’re on Clovucutte?” he questioned.

  “Yes, you’re on Clovucutte, son of Talenvanc,” Aris spoke in the Marisheio’s language, his words spitting as if he tasted something foul.

  Rosanheer’s eyes widened when he heard Aris’ voice. He closed his eyes, cursing under his breath. “Aris, I should have known you’d control the head of the serpent,” he grumbled.

  “Is there a problem?” Zion questioned low, concerned by his friend’s reaction to their situation.

  Rosanheer breathed out, allowing his body to sink into the bed while Aris and three other men continued over to his bedside. “I see your friend is awake?” he asked from the foot of Rosanheer’s bed.

  Rosanheer strained to look at the bottom of his bed. When he saw Aris, he allowed his head to sink back into his pillow. “It’s been a while, Aris. Are you planning on turning me over or watch me suffer here for a while before you dismember me?” he asked the heavy-set man.

  Aris stared down at Rosanheer then turned to Zion. “You’re Chisarel values this monster?” he asked Zion.

  Zion nodded uneasily, feeling the sudden anxiety fill the room. “Sortec does,” he corrected. “She values him greatly and has risked her life to save him on several occasions,” he added.

  Aris and his group all flinched from his statement. “Sortec? She does realize—”

  Rosanheer slowly sat up in his bed, glaring back at the group. “Yes, she knows who my father was. She killed him, skinned him and is now using him as a covering for her punching bag. And you know, I’m perfectly fine with it,” he spat back.

  Everyone in the group nodded with their amusement. “Well…” Aris began as if his wind was knocked from his lungs, “I guess we can’t torture him after all. And we were looking forward to the entertainment,” he chuckled. He rested a heavy hand on Zion’s shoulder. “I can’t wait to meet this Sortec of yours. I’ll leave you to catch up your… friend with what has happened.”

  The group left, allowing Rosanheer to breathe easy again. “Shu—”

  “What was that all about?” Zion asked in a whisper, glancing back to the hall where the group disappeared.

  Rosanheer closed his tired eyes. “A long, bitter history. Let’s say my family and his didn’t see eye-to-eye. Though… if we’re stuck on Clovucutte, I’m glad they found us. Now, what happened to Sortec?”

  ___

  Danstu stared at the blinking yellow com light on his desk. It was another call for the Chadon. He was running out of excuses why she wasn’t returning calls. He couldn’t understand why so many people called to talk to her, yet he handled most of Gathow’s
affairs… or so he thought.

  He peered at his image in the com screen. His hair was now cut and his beard shaven so his blondish hair outlined his jaw. He took in a deep breath, feeling his heart beating. It was still beating erratically, but not as rapid as before. A few hours away from the job helped clear his mind… a little.

  He glanced up from his desk, noticing Cidele watching him from the doorway. “Still no sign of Sedom?” she questioned low, realizing she had gained his attention.

  He stared blankly at her for a long moment, ending with a sigh. “If my door is closed, it’s for a reason,” he barked, causing her to recoil. He shook his head, closing his eyes to hold back his exhaustion. “Sorry, no. I have nothing to report. I know you’re worried about her, but--” he started.

  “But?” She stepped inside, closing the door to keep those in the hall from hearing their conversation. Her long blond hair swooshed behind her, nearly being caught in the door. “Has anyone told you how father and I first met Sedom?” she asked, unhurried by his brash demeanor.

  Danstu shook his head against the cushion of his high-backed chair. He knew once Cidele started something, in this case, a story she wasn’t going to leave until she was finished. “No, but I really don’t have the time to hear about it now. How about over--”

  She ignored him and continued. “When we first found Sedom, she was badly injured and frightened of everyone. For some reason, she came to trust me… at least enough to allow me to get close to her. I was so afraid she would run away that… well…” She removed a computer pad from her pocket, handing it to Danstu. “I injected her with a tracker in her lower back when she was sedated. It’s only good for a few miles, but maybe it would help somehow.” She offered the computer pad to him.

  Danstu stared at the computer, his mind buzzing as he thought. Since the computer was nowhere near Sedom’s location, the screen was blank. He chuckled, amused by Cidele’s audacity. “Now I understand how you know where she is all the time,” he mentioned.

  “I’m psychic,” she joked, a sly grin on her pink lips. “You would have done the same thing too if you saw her…” she drifted, remembering the day. She shook her head, forcing her thoughts back to reality. “I beg you not to tell her. She’d never forgive me,” Cidele pleaded.

  He held up the computer. “This gives me an idea that might save her life. Thank you. Now figuring out a way to get a ship to Clovucutte,” he said.

  “I volunteer,” she offered.

  Danstu smiled at her with understanding eyes. “Cidele…” he began with a huff, “when Sedom returns, and she will return, she will remove my head if she learns I sent you to Clovucutte. Now, it’s obvious you have some military training and I know you’re an excellent tracker… in the forest. There are no forests on Clovucutte, so you would be of little use to us. I have something in the works that I can’t talk about yet. I’ll let you know more when I can.”

  Desperate, Cidele bent across Danstu’s desk, showing off her lusty cleavage. Danstu backed away, uncomfortable with his view. “Danstu, please. I will do anything. Sedom is like my little sister. It would kill me if something happened to her. Just let me go so I can be there for her when they do find her,” she begged.

  Danstu stood, putting some distance between her cleavage and his wandering eyes. “You’re excess baggage. Let our team do what they’re trained for. As for you, I need you to do your job and start preparing twenty-thousand quarters for the new staff,” he ordered sternly.

  Cidele stood away from his desk, her eyes like lasers burning through him. “Fine! If she dies, it’s on your hands!” she huffed. She walked to the door in a huff.

  Her words shot through him like daggers. It was cruel of her to say, by anyone’s standards.

  “Cidele,” Danstu called before she could leave. “I understand you’re feeling desperate, so am I. I care for Sedom just as much, if not more than you.”

  “Do you? If so, let me go to her,” she demanded.

  Danstu shook his head. “If it helps, you almost had me with that little display. From now on, wear something a little less… revealing, please?” he requested.

  She turned to him, smirking devilishly. “Like… this?” She lifted her blue sweater, flashing Danstu her breasts just as Ryn entered the office. Cidele quickly lowered her sweater, her face brightening to red.

  Ryn cleared his throat. “Sorry if I’m interrupting,” he said, shuffling uneasily by the door as he cradled a large black folder in his left hand. “I can return later.”

  Danstu shook his dumbfounded expression from his face. “Um, no, you’re fine. Take a seat. Cidele… we’ll talk about this… later,” he scolded.

  She stomped out of his office without another word.

  Ryn watched as the door slid closed behind her. With the door secured, he turned to Danstu. “Looking for a promotion?” he asked. “Your job does have its perks.”

  Danstu shook his head, agitated by Cidele’s tantrum. “It’s a long story. What do you have?” he asked.

  Ryn set the file on Danstu’s desk. “Images of the Mawan sent by the Novaac. It’s surprising any of our team survived,” he mentioned.

  Danstu returned to his desk, opening the folder. His hand fell away from the folder, seeing the images within. The ship was nothing more than a mangled piece of metal, surrounded by a cocoon of wires and dirt from the impact. Half of the ship was split away from the other half, cracked in two pieces like an egg.

  “How the hell?” he gasped. “Nobody should have walked away from that. There’s nothing left.”

  “Except the mainframe, which houses all—”

  “I know. I know,” Danstu grumbled. The com light on his desk vibrated red. He tapped it. “What?”

  “Incoming message from Braum Daveric for the Chadon,” a female voice announced.

  “Take a message,” Danstu ordered. He turned his attention back to the folder. “A short time ago, the Tasgool brought down a Marisheio battleship. Sortec insisted we keep the ship for a rainy day and stored it away in a nearby base. There are a few short-range Marisheio fighters on board. We can use those to get you across the Cha’laan border and to Clovucutte. But… I need a ship that can get you close enough to drop you off without detection.”

  “What about call signs?” Ryn questioned.

  “It’s another small detail that’s being addressed. The Marisheio noticed that the call sign we used on their ship had been changed to Tasgool then changed back again,” Danstu mentioned.

  “What about the Dormins?” Ryn asked, motioning to the comlink on Danstu’s desk, having just heard that the Braum was attempting to contact the Chadon.

  Danstu grunted uneasily. “It is a possibility if I find no other alternatives. Daveric will ask questions I can’t answer. They’re currently on our side, mainly because of Sortec. If the Dormin’s learn that we’ve allowed her to be compromised, they may turn on us. They’re military is far more advanced than us. We can’t afford to lose an ally with that much power,” he explained.

  “What about the Underground?” Ryn questioned.

  Danstu shook his head. “We practically are the Underground. They’re acting more like a personnel placement service than an ally. At the moment, we’re at the mercy of the Novaac to find a solution.”

  A knock at the door was proceeded by Lolum entering the office. He paused at the door when he noticed Ryn. “Sorry. I’ll return later,” he said.

  “No, it’s fine. I have a call to the Underground. Let’s see what they can do for us before I possibly dig into a hole deeper than we can escape from,” Danstu told Ryn. “For now, see who else might have a ship we can… borrow.”

  Danstu handed Lolum a computer pad. “Do me a favor and figure out what positions need to be filled and…” he paused, finding it rather awkward to have to bring up, “explain to your daughter there is no possible way I’m sending her on any mission, no matter how persistent or…” he cleared his throat, “bare she gets. I can deal with it, but it
wasn’t appropriate in front of the Commander,” he mentioned, motioning to the door where Ryn just left.

  Lolum’s eyes widened. “Bare?” he questioned with concern. Danstu turned his eyes to the window. “I’ll talk to her. She is acting rather obsessive about Sortec.”

  “I can understand why, but she needs to control herself somewhat. At least conduct herself in a professional manner. If--”

  “Incoming message from Captain Cembre,” a female voice announced.

  “On screen,” Danstu called out in a rush.

  Moments later Cembre appeared on his screen, calling from the bridge of the Azeran. “Chisarel, we have her. We’re bringing her under tow now,” she announced, unable to hold back her smile.

  Danstu slapped his hand on the desk. “Finally, something’s going right. Good work, Captain. Now, get her back here before anything goes wrong,” he ordered.

  “With pleasure, Sir,” The screen blanked.

  “Was I supposed to hear that?” Lolum questioned.

  Danstu shrugged. “The Azeran is one powerful ship that we desperately need right now. That was the best news I’ve heard all week.”

  Lolum tapped on the computer Danstu had given him. “Does this include staffing our ships?”

  Danstu shook his head wearily. “No. That’s my job, for now. I just need a few positions filled around here that aren’t military.”

  Lolum nodded, still unnerved by his daughter’s behavior. “I’ll see to it after I have a conversation with my daughter.”

  Danstu nodded, but he was already on another task. Lolum waited for a moment, clearing his throat to regain Danstu’s attention. “Torren Koos,” he mentioned.

  “What about him?” Danstu questioned. His attention still on his paperwork. He recognized it was the name of a man in the medical bay. Koos and a team of Crehail had been left for dead after battling a battalion of Marisheio near the capital city of Chalisbar a week prior. The Tasgool rescued the team and fought back the Marisheio who were trying to advance on the city.

  “He’s a retired Captain. Worked with Rycal for thirty-eight years captaining a science ship,” Lolum mentioned. “I thought this might be of interest to you.”