The Topaz Operation Page 3

  “Yes, a little too powerful. The Assembly is voting to ban them next week. Too many accidents,” said Turj.

  “Ban them?”

  Before Ryle got a response, two newcomers arrived to the meeting. The first was a man in fine robes, green and gold for the chrysolite stone, bearing the presidential seal, and he was escorting a well-built man in his sixties wearing the grey and orange uniform of a Topazian officer.

  “Mr. President!” said Turj.

  President Calamar Prevwahn greeted them with a solemn nod. “General, good work putting this mission together so quickly.”

  “It’s what we do, sir,” said Turj.

  Prevwahn motioned to the man he brought. “It’s my pleasure to welcome Admiral Nomlin Fucarsen, the last commander of the exiled Topaz fleet.”

  Turj extended his hand. “Welcome, Admiral. It’s an honor to have you.”

  “The honor is mine, General,” said Fucarsen, shaking Turj’s hand. “I’m grateful I have this opportunity to thank you all in advance for what you’re attempting to do.”

  “Well, Nom, we are attempting to return the favor,” said Prevwahn with a grin. The remnant of Fucarsen’s fleet had helped drive away the Archon during Aqtal’s previous attempt to conquer Chrysolite. “Now, down to business, General. Are we equipped enough to score another victory against the Archon?”

  “I’d be lying if I said it will be a cakewalk, Mr. President, but we do have a fighting chance. I just put a call to Admiral Swaqmota to have his battlegroup join us. He was out patrolling the sun’s far side,” said Turj.

  “Swaqmota’s group is one of our best,” said Prevwahn. “Winning this battle will snatch a little bit of light from the darkness. Once liberated, we will hold Topaz. I am confident of that. The Archon will not be able to take it back without a fight.”

  A little bit of light. Ryle reflected on the fact that Topaz had a prominent mountain, a semi-active volcano called Mount Trizo, which also once shone with a Light of Zoain. Should he be factoring that into the plans? His mountain light dreams had stopped since the lighting of Phengos. The future was uncertain. Ah, too much to worry about. The light will take care of itself. It did last time.

  Prevwahn continued. “This battle will be our first step to reclaiming the rest of the system from Aqtal. His grip must be broken. As you know, the Archon’s fleet being dispatched to Onyx is a major catalyst for the timing of our assault on Topaz. But most don’t know this—the people of Onyx, our distant kin, have been suffering greatly, much more than usual. Dr. Zermal, one of Aqtal’s chief henchmen, has been doing his work, of which I can barely describe.”

  Zermal, thought Ryle. Qusam has mentioned him before…in the worst possible ways.

  “Mr. President, are we certain Aqtal is still alive?” asked Fucarsen.

  “We have not had visual confirmation. However, all signals point to yes. The Archon is running so smoothly and effectively, he must still be in charge. Our wizard friends assure me the residue of his evil presence can still be felt,” said Prevwahn.

  Fucarsen nodded grimly as if hoping for a different answer.

  Prevwahn looked in Ryle’s direction. “Your teams will receive intelligence packets from General Turj on the way. For now, know that Aqtal’s evil is being unleashed through the hand of Zermal and not sparing anyone—men, women, or even the children. They are brainwashing and forcing thousands into the service of Aqtal’s army.”

  “President, should we hit Onyx next?” asked Exla.

  “It would be the next logical step. But for now, defenders of Zoain, focus on the mission at hand. Go win us back a planet.”

  Everyone said in unison, “Yes, sir!”

  * * *

  Ryle made his way through the busy main hangar amidst dozens of troops and pilots hustling toward their ships. He brushed passed his sister and they both stopped, their eyes meeting. Jyssa’s face brightened up and she hugged him warmly. Having not seen her in several weeks, and with the Jez situation on his mind, this simple show of love was so refreshing. Ryle closed his eyes and held her tight, his embrace lingering longer than usual until he felt her tugging away.

  “A little tight there?” said Jyssa, smiling.

  “I guess I missed you. I’m proud of you. You finished your flight training, right? Not that you needed it.”

  She blushed. “Yep. You’re looking at Master Sergeant Gelibor.” At nineteen, she was the youngest of that rank in Chrysolite’s military.

  “That’s great, Jys. Hey, I need to talk to you about something important. But...,” he hesitated. “This isn’t the best time or place.”

  “About what? Wait, is it about Aphiemi? Are you getting married?” She covered her mouth to keep from squealing too loud.

  “No, no. We’ve been in contact but nothing like that’s happened yet. It’s uh...tell ya what, I’ll track you down later, okay?” He didn’t know when “later” would be since he was about to enter the maelstrom of a major battle.

  “Deal.” Her squad was running toward their ships. “I gotta run, literally, or they’ll take off without me.”

  “Maybe we’ll see each other up there.”

  “Maybe, bye!” she said as she ran down the hangar.

  Ryle watched her go. Jyssa just had to bring up Aphiemi when he wasn’t ready to think about the situation. He missed Aphiemi more than he might admit, even to himself. They had spoken a few times over visual comm but had not been able to make it work to see each other. Departure alarms blaring in the hangar reminded Ryle to pull himself together. He set out to find his team to prepare once again for action.

  Chapter 4

  In Onyx’s capital of Kudra, plumes of smoke across the southeastern district darkened the red sun.

  Pryscilla “Prys” Albin grabbed her eight-year-old son’s arm before he burst out the door of their home. “Brayden, please run as fast as you can. If you see any troops, turn around. Your father’s not back yet.”

  “Okay, Mom.”

  She released her grip on his arm and her reddish-brown-haired boy sprinted out the door, across the pock-marked street, and into the cracked-open doorway of their neighbor across the way. Everyone asked where the red in Brayden’s hair came from. Prys’s formerly orange-red hair had darkened with time and stress, so most people didn’t associate the reddish color with her. Edward contributed the brown hair genes. Prys held her breath until Brayden appeared again, carrying a box of bread tucked under his left arm.

  Brayden made it back and squeezed through the door just as his mother slammed it shut. “Arlo’s grandparents still have food, but this is all they could spare.”

  “Good job,” said Prys, breathing again.

  Malaiya, her ten-year-old daughter, carried a basket of hand-washed laundry into their tiny kitchen and dropped it on the floor. “Mom, did you let him run over there again?”

  “Yes, Mal, and don’t speak to me that way.”

  “But there’s Archon out there!”

  Prys forced herself to stay calm, masking her irritation. “And there’s no food in here.” She pointed to Malaiya’s stomach. Malaiya turned and left in a huff.

  * * *

  Dinner that night was tense, but at least they had something to eat. The scent of food in their tiny dining area was the best smell in days—soup, potatoes, and the roasted bird Edward had snatched from the soldiers. While the Sardonyx had plenty to eat, Edward’s family had nothing the past day, though Prys had been able to make homemade raspberry juice, Malaiya’s favorite. Brayden pulled a stick of butter out of his pocket and rubbed it across his potatoes.

  Malaiya gasped. “Where’d you get that?”

  “Somewhere special,” Brayden said with a smirk.

  “You’re gonna get us all killed!” said Malaiya.

  “Just leave him alone,” said Prys.

  “I’ll kill them first,” said Brayden.

  “Bray,” said Edward, shaking his head while chewing.

  “Well, when are we gonna fight back?�
� said Brayden.

  “Quiet,” said Edward.

  Malaiya quietly glared at Brayden and then slurped down the last bit of raspberry juice.

  While life under the Archon was miserable enough, the past few months had been ten times worse. By not aligning with either of the rebelling factions, the Black Onyx or the Sardonyx, the Albin family had stayed mostly out of trouble—but that was all over. Their district of Kudra, once a place the Archon rulers valued for its productivity, had become a hotbed for rebel activity. Edward’s work as a manufacturer had made him valuable to the Archon, but eventually his conscience bothered him. He had to choose between making products the Archon could use ultimately to further their cause or not feeding his family. He began secret side projects for both rebel factions. When open hostilities broke out again, nobody was happy with him.

  Prys designed and made clothes, but that need was decimated by the war. She knew how to make uniforms but increasingly refused. She devoted more time to watching her children and aiding her husband’s activities. As time wore on, they couldn’t bear knowing their own children were being fed at the expense of other children the Archon were oppressing. Something had to change.

  As Edward and Prys lay in bed that night, the thundering booms occurred for the third night in a row. But this time, it felt close—really close.

  The building across the street exploded.

  Edward jumped out of bed. Prys followed. They woke the kids who had been sleeping in their clothes in case events called for it.

  Brayden rubbed his eyes and beheld the fiery building across the way. “Arlo!” He started to run out the door, but his mother held him back. “No! We’re leaving. This way.”

  “But Mom!”

  She kneeled and stared him in eye, their noses touching. “Let’s go, or we’re next. Understood?”

  He nodded as tears ran down his face.

  Edward grabbed his rifle. Prys and Malaiya threw their emergency backpacks around their shoulders. Edward hustled his family out their back door into the shared courtyard. Most of the other residents, however, had already been taken away by the Archon. More explosions erupted on their street as Havoc fighters raced overhead with a loud screech. The family scurried across the courtyard toward the Hewan family’s apartment.

  Knowing the Hewan’s home was now vacant, Edward smashed through their rear glass door with his rifle. He tossed the rifle into Brayden’s arms to hold while he kicked the rest of the glass away. The weight of the rifle shoved Brayden to his knees. Huffing and puffing, Brayden pushed himself back up. The family picked their way through the ransacked apartment and came out the front door to a side street the Archon usually ignored.

  “Wait here,” said Edward, reclaiming the rifle.

  “Where’re we going?” asked Brayden.

  “Shhh!” Edward lowered his voice to a whisper. “I know where to find a speeder big enough to hold us all, but just stay here.” He crept to the edge of the corner building and gazed across an intersection. They had to get across and reach a point just beyond where Edward’s accomplice had a speeder stashed in a locked garage. Edward looked to his left, down the street toward the city center. Two dark-armored Beast Hover Tanks flanked by a platoon of Archon troops approached. His head drooped in disappointment. Crossing in full view of the enemy was a bad idea.

  From the other direction, to Edward’s right, mini-rockets launched toward the Archon troops and struck the left tank’s main turret, cracking it apart with a fierce explosion. A flurry of red blaster shots followed—a Black Onyx squad.

  A unified shout went up from the Black Onyx troops: “For Rundar!”

  As the Archon troops returned fire, Edward rushed back to his family. “We have a chance with the Archon distracted.”

  “We can’t make it across now! They’re fighting right in front of us,” said Prys.

  A huge explosion in the courtyard behind them forced them to the ground. The kids covered their ears because of the thunderous noise. Prys raised her head in the direction of their home which was undoubtedly obliterated. Columns of smoke effused upward from where it stood.

  “Prys, we can’t go back now,” said Edward.

  She stood.

  “Get down!”

  Ignoring him, she shuffled over to a get a glance of the intersection. “Look!” She pointed.

  Edward leapt over beside her. Faint pink points of light blinked in the road on the other side of the intersection. “It’s Sardonyx. They’re coming to help. I hope.”

  A squad of red-armored Sardonyx troops came into view out of the dark, their chest armor blinking pink alert lights. When they saw the Archon pushing back the Black Onyx troops, the Sardonyx retreated into the dark of night and disappeared.

  Edward pulled back, brushing his cheek against his wife’s, and he stared into her eyes. “Prys, I tried. What do you think we should do?”

  Prys fought back tears. “Stay together, no matter what.”

  Edward nodded and they embraced.

  “Um, Dad, Mom, look,” said Malaiya.

  As a tank hovered past them down the street, Edward looked up to find a squad of Archon troops pointing their guns at them. Edward and Prys raised their hands.

  The Archon Commander spoke. “Put these two in the army. As for the youths, they’re perfect for the special project.”

  Prys started to clench her fists, but instead her hands clasped Edward’s and nearly crushed them.

  Chapter 5

  The images on the screen were almost too much for Aphiemi Waswin to bear. Visual recordings leaked from Onyx made their way to the embassy in Dujama, where Aphiemi and her top aides, forty-five year-old native Dujaman, Tevin Montok, and young Elissa Paleeni, in her early twenties and fresh out of school, watched in horror. Aphiemi covered her mouth and shook her head.

  They watched people—enslaved citizens of Kudra—apparently forced into receiving cybernetic limb replacements, and staggering into the desert to be used as soldiers. But their bodies were rejecting the military “enhancements” and many stumbled to the ground, unable to move. Warbots ripped the artificial limbs off people where they were left to die or starve attempting to crawl back.

  Other images showed Sardonyx soldiers—or those forced to dress like them—and the Black Onyx being made to fight each other to the death in war simulation training using the artificial enhancements. Dozens fell dead, their blood soiling the desert sand. The view panned across the desert revealing thousands of soldiers.

  “Ambassador, we knew the Archon was cruel, but this is...,” stammered Elissa.

  “I know,” said Aphiemi. “This is clearly Zermal.”

  “I’ve heard that name before,” said Elissa. “Who is he?”

  “Dr. Togh Zermal. Aqtal put him in charge of Onyx after the last uprising. The governor was exiled and this monster was given authority,” said Aphiemi.

  Tevin stopped the recording. “Based on what we’ve seen here, Aqtal tasked him to experiment on the people to create ‘advanced’ soldiers.”

  “More likely it was Zermal’s idea and Aqtal approved it,” said Aphiemi.

  “Has it been working?” asked Elissa.

  Tevin, balding for his age, scratched his dark-skinned forehead. “We’re not sure. These short visuals are the only reliable information we have. What is clear is that the Sardonyx and Black Onyx are being made to fight each other. They’ve had their differences over the centuries, but we hoped they would unite against the Archon.”

  “Doesn’t look like they’ve been given much of a chance,” said Elissa.

  “The factions have resisted any and all cooperation with the Archon and enlistment into its army,” said Aphiemi. “At least until now.”

  “Weren’t they at war with each other before Aqtal took over?” asked Elissa.

  “Yes, a bloody conflict, but that was decades ago,” said Aphiemi. “Since then, old animosities have simmered, especially the Rundar situation.”

  “The Rundar…,” starte
d Elissa.

  “Province,” said Aphiemi. “It’s a mountainous, easily fortified area where the ancestors of the Black Onyx lived for a thousand years, but the Sardonyx occupied it a century ago. In-fighting over it springs up from time to time when the Archon isn’t terrorizing them both.”

  Tevin cleared his throat. “What about Ryle? Would he know anything?”

  I knew that was coming. “I don’t know, and if he did he probably couldn’t tell me,” said Aphiemi with a polite grin.

  Tevin seemed to get the point. “Okay. Now what about...I’ve heard Zermal is into disturbing…magical things as well.”

  “As a high servant of Aqtal, I’m sure his wickedness runs deep. That I will leave to the wizards to explore,” said Aphiemi.

  Tevin resumed the image playback, and at a certain point the camera zoomed in onto a particular brownish-red-haired woman on the battlefield. Tevin paused the image. “Aphiemi, this is the part you needed to see.”

  Aphiemi focused her eyes on the screen, and through the dusty mess she could make out a familiar face. Her hand covered a gasp. “That’s...Prys!”

  “Who is—” started Elissa.

  “My cousin, Pryscilla. But where’s Edward? And the children? Tevin, do you know?”

  “I just saw this right before we showed it to you. This is all I know,” he said. “But she appears, as best we can tell, not to have received the…enhancements. Not everyone has gotten them. Even the Archon has limited funds.”

  Aphiemi turned away from the screen and approached the window, blankly staring out. The endless grassy plains outside the embassy were not much to look at anyhow, except for the peculiar breed of llamas that roamed free in the distance beyond the embassy’s perimeter fence. Aphiemi remained silent for a minute, her mind turning over the possibility of somehow getting involved. Should I call Ryle? Perhaps I can get in there and negotiate something. Seems like a long shot but we can’t just let this continue. I thought Prys’s family was already out of there!