Chapter 8
Hunters
The Direct underground was a work to be seen. Intertwining halls delving deeper and deeper into the earth, with countless labs and intelligence. There even rested elaborate cells for Bounty Hunters or what have you to keep under heavy guard. The security was tight, not that it truly needed it, so it has always seemed.
But the never-present, always listening, intelligent guard would have noticed the careless banging in the long air ducts. One such guard had been shocked to dismiss himself by way of a stunning charge from an impulse blaster.
Laser guard and four human ones, all of them packing sub-laser machine guns, sectioned off the thief's prize. The prize consisted a large case, rectangular, with the Direct emblem of a gun and sword crossing each other. The guards stood on four points around the case, each of them facing another entrance. This central little room had one upper vent held closed only by a single programmed chip.
The thief, using his wide intelligence of access codes into the Direct mainframe, easily disarmed the little gadget, then set up his pully.
He descended fast stopped just over the case, then kicked out both ways; two guards fell. He turned ninety degrees and repeated the action. All guards were on the floor unconscious with bruises to the head. The thief flipped forward, nabbed the case, then flipped back to ascend into the safety of the vent.
The thief murmured to himself, "Too easy." Then a pulsing light caught his attention. From the end of the duct, a slithering, golden, burning light was growing across the innards of the shaft. With frustration, the thief noticed the countless wires littering around him, about to be ignited. He also noticed, with much a thank you, a single grate a few feet from him.
The grate clanked ungracefully to the floor and the grateful thief dropped after it, cradling his prized case. He dashed the first direction he saw, right. Wrong direction. He found himself staring into a rather large barrel of a force blaster. In an instinctive motion, he dropped onto his back and kicked up, knocking the gun away. Using the momentum from the kick, he spun back to his feet and knocked the guard onto her back, then bolted in the other direction. "Maybe not."
The hallways were endless, the only map the thief knew was above him, filled with now crimson fire and death. Annoyed at his moistening mask, the thief tore it off and threw it back where the guards were coming, as if the rag would somehow slow them down.
There was absolute panic on Torik's face as he ran through the endless hallways. He could hear the boots of soldiers coming after him, like the powerful song of death. It kept echoing in his mind. He ran through the next door he saw and clubbed the one officer there with the butt of the rifle. More sweat ran down his face as the hallway was completely sectioned off by laser fire. No turning back now, Torik thought and swallowed hard.
Torik searched the room with his eyes and finally noticed the window. The guards smashed through the door. He vaulted over the table and threw the case. It shot through the window in an explosion of glass. The guards opened fire. Torik didn't even have time to cry out as his lungs were incinerated from the back. He fell and died before hitting the carpet.
"Hold your fire!" Darin dashed into the room and knelt at Torik, checking his pulse; nothing.
Jeremy bolted from the bed covered in sweat and shivering. Leon heard the thump, rushed in, and knelt at his brother's side. "Was the forest again?" he asked when he thought Jeremy had regained at least a fare amount of his composure.
"Yes." It was a shaken voice, worse than the other nights, "But there was something else. I saw a life, a scared life. I saw...death."
"What are you saying?"
"It's never been this intense before, I have to find out what this is, it's gotta' be a message." He got up from the floor and started pacing, "There has to be a reason. Whether it's God, or paranoia, I don't give a damn, but I have to figure this out." He left. Then returned hastily and started showering and going about that business. Leon left to his quarters within the Wing residence area.
When he exited he nearly knocked over Tom, the friendly officer who had saved his life, then offered to house them after his house was torn in half by an unknown assassin. "The dream again?"
"Yeah, it's been three nights in a row now." Leon averted his course, glad to be talking to someone he actually knew in the building.
"Hey, it's probably just from the stress of the recent events." Tom guessed out loud.
But Leon stopped short and stared at him, "Jeremy wasn't even there. I should be going crazy right now because I went Bruce Lee with a sword and am still not shaken up. I should what, have six personalities?" Leon started walking again, "No, this is definitely something else. A message of some kind."
Tom thought back to that fateful day that he was only sitting at his desk when he thought he had heard a message, an impulse to go to the Orson house and do...something. Maybe it was God. Oh well, no use worrying about it now, it's in the past.
But Leon returned to his side in a few minutes, exasperated, "Have you seen Jeremy?"
"No." Tom replied slowly.
"He was just in the quarters, I was only gone for a few seconds."
"The kid's seventeen," Tom tried to calm him down, "I think he'll be fine on his own."
"You don't get it. He hasn't been able to stand because of these dreams. I don't know what they're making him think." His voice grew quiet.
Jeremy sprinted over the sidewalk, with no recollection of where exactly he was headed. The visions of a younger generation falling under raining laser fire flooded his mind again. He went to his knees, knocking down a trashcan as he went. Then, the flood came...
Jeremy was in the middle of a blaze of volleyed shots. All around rained down fire and brimstone manifested by man himself. He stumbled over a body. It was the boy who had been shot in the back. His skin was not yet blue; a fresh kill. The eyes staring blank upward, the mouth gaping for a sound. A single sound.
Someone was laughing. Jeremy flashed his head up to the sound. A metallic-clad figure was there, looking down on the boy. The torso and helmet of the figure were cases of some unknown armor type, while the limbs were enveloped in black layers of thick, intertwining enhancements. Then, there was the head. It seemed like the helmet of a sphinx with a human face, but with no mouth or nose. And the eyes, they were red. He was sucked into those eyes...
Jeremy was running, bolting for an escape of the read. The forest was before him.
His confused steps did not blaze a trail through the brush. The direction was simply, somehow, whatever and wherever he had to go to escape these horrible scenes bombarding his consciousness.
All at once, it stopped. He ducked around a solemn tree and stopped short, arching his head up to see once more, then fell back. His back smacked against the trunk. Jeremy's eyes were half-open now. A few more scattered trees lay before him, then a long cement slate with various debris forming a small, jagged perimeter around it. Then, the mountains.
Exhausted from the visions, Jeremy slept.
"I want out." Aidam whispered.
"What?" Hunter spread his arms and gazed around, motioning to the outline of the dark operations room. "I don't know what deals you've made in the past, but when you deal with a bounty hunter you see it out to the end."
"What you told me to be a simple operation turned everything into a warzone. Five people lay dead now, and another three missing!"
"A minor mishap. The tools I need have been dropped off at a small expense and I, myself, will eliminate your growing list of Intervention for my payment."
"I think you've gotten your payment." Aidam growled, his back to Hunter, hands on the only lit table.
"Ah, you seem to be referring to that simple whelp." Hunter observed.
"I lost my son to you!!" Aidam screamed.
"It is like the sun, they come and go."
"Get out." It was the subtlest and most powerful thing Aidam had ever wanted to say to Hunter. The bounty hunter's eyes narrowed.
"You don't want to think to cross me, Aidam, you don't know what you're up against." He armed his gun.
Aidam sensed the action before it was done and hit a switch on his desk with his right hand. The king sword shot up and he caught the scabbard with his left hand and drew the blade with his right, reflecting the laser shot, then firing one of his own with his left blaster. Hunter threw down a smoke bomb with lightning speed and the shot sliced through his image. The smoke cleared and he was gone.
Aidam was too shaken to break from his combat position.
The forest had a pretty breeze singing through it, rustling the leaves and holding true to its continuous nature of beauty.
Hunter's metallic form trudged over the flowers and shushed the singing birds. His red scanning eyes were searching for another beauty. They found a red case with carvings of a gun crossing a sword. "Ah," Hunter knelt down to it, "There you are my dear." He broke the locks with his enhanced strength entwined in his fingers and brought up the lid slowly. He was savoring every moment. The prize was revealed.
It was the Force Cannon prototype. The same reddish tint to the metal frame, the structure sleek and long. Hunter noticed with delight how much his fingers trembled as they wrapped around the handle. Lifting the brilliant instrument above him from the case, it glinted then glowed from the sunrays. Hunter laughed softly to himself.
Jeremy awoke with a start and the birds nearby took flight. His ears automatically picked up a rhythmic crunching of leaves. Footsteps. A metallic figure, with a top helmet similar to a futuristic sphinx emerged from the brush, carrying in its right hand a long, reddish, gun shaft. The figure didn't notice Jeremy first.
"You!" Jeremy was on his feet, leaning back to the tree for standing so fast.
Hunter stopped short, his red, pupilless eyes targeting the boy. But Jeremy continued, "You're the armored guy from my dream." He paused for a moment, piecing together his random visions. "You're responsible for that boy's death!"
Hunter took a few steps back, confused and, for the moment, forgetting about the force cannon.
Aidam wasted no time, entering the armory and stocking himself properly. He took one of the better helmets, and set it on a nearby table. He searched around at the various sets of armor, and finally chose a stiff body suit, looking it over, then ripped off the bottom section and set the chest plate with his helmet. He already had his custom force gun, so that was set. Now, a sword is needed. Aidam looked over the options: Crusader swords and rapiers, ninja sabers, a King sword, even a Murasame katana. He chose the King sword and proceeded to his personal cruiser: the Gun Sheath.
The cockpit was cold, but the automatic temperatures kicked in when hatches were closed. He signaled the hangar doors for his exit. It took him a second of staring at the frozen plates to realize his screen was flashing SYSTEM LOCKED. This had never occurred before.
"Syria." Aidam whispered to himself. And he suddenly heard the soft voice over his communicator.
"I'm sorry. I don't believe you. You're too good of a leader to die in a petty dispute."
"Syria," Aidam answered gently, "If I don't do something, this guy will hurt more people."
"Let the one responsible take care of-
"I AM the one responsible, Syria! I admit it now!" Aidam threw his acting and caution to the gods at this point, he was running out of time. "I wanted stupid power, but I don't need it, or want it, at the expense of my colleague's lives. I have to change this." Then he whispered, "Please, Syria, I'll come back." And he waited.
Syria battled herself, then turned the key, admitting exit to the avenger. "That's what all the brave jocks say." She murmured as he flew out into horizon.
"Dreams? Wow, I didn't know I was so popular to take over a boy's fantasies." Jeremy tensed, but Hunter continued, "I wonder how sad of a mother you must have had."
Jeremy's fire rose within, "Don't ever talk about her that way!" he sped forward, hurling his fist to the face. Hunter calmly caught his wrist and lifted him off the ground, then slammed his other forearm into Jeremy's stomach, releasing his wrist on contact.
Jeremy was thrown down to the concrete. "Do not through punches at me, boy." Hunter bellowed, clenching his skeletal fist at him. "You know not what you drive against."
"Herrrayaaaa!" Jeremy screamed and leapt from the gray ground nine feet into the air, kicking four consecutive times. The first three Hunter blocked with his armored arms, but the forth fell down on the prominent end of his helmet, spinning him 180 degrees to the floor. And Jeremy, still descending, flipped over him, crunching and rolling to rest a few feet further down.
Hunter was up faster, drawing the Force Cannon. Jeremy only recognized it as a gun, and that was good enough to get him running. But Hunter's was good. He only fired twice when Jeremy yelped in pain.
The bolt had seared through the back and exited out the front of the kneecap. Jeremy knelt and cried, cradling his disabled leg. Hunter laughed maniacally and took aim at his studded target. But a green uniform flashed over his target, carrying the boy into the old construction.
Tom ran with the courage of thousands. Any other time and he probably would have called for backup, but after the fight with Slate he had become slightly more confident in his actions and executions of duty. Hell, he now carried an injured teen in his arms while dodging constant beams of energy. Who wouldn't be proud?
Two shots sang and exploded behind him, then one not two feet ahead of him. He knew where the next would be and sprang up. Sure enough, a fourth shot incinerated where he once was. He's after me now. He laid the boy behind a sturdy pillar and ran on, praying the shots would follow him. They did.
Now more mobile, Tom executed flips, backflips, and an array of rolls and dodges just to show he could do them and still live. Hunter was so engulfed in his shooter game, he did not notice the ship rising to his occasion...
The lights engulfed him, the ship reflecting in his armor. The speaker was loud and stern, "Stand down, Hunter. You are in direct violation of codes 4654 of the Alpha Code." It was Aidam in his flagship fighter.
"You traitorous bastard." Hunter murmured.
"No more lives shall be sacrificed for your account!" the ship brought out its gattling lasers.
"Then you should be honored to be the last of them." Hunter aimed fast, and fired the beam.
Aidam reacted well enough, swerving down so only a wing was severed, then crashing to the surface. From inside, the chancellor rustled through his extra gear and pulled out another gun and dashed up and out of the top hatch of the craft. Standing hunched on the hood, he took careful aim and fired seven rapid shots. Two singed into Hunter's free arm before he reacted and returned fire.
Aidam leapt back behind the ship as the shots burned across the hood. From behind the metal, Aidam cursed, "Damn it, he's at full charge." He compacted his gun, it now emitting a low hum, also charging, and tapped a button on the side of the ship. An intercom appeared. "King's Sword." He spoke into it. Automatically, a smaller hatch opened and a fine, new King's Sword came out, unsheathed. Taking the Lathe and sword, he put them together, latched them onto his belt, and dashed into the denser debris of the construction.
Hunter riddled the ship with force beams, waited, then watched it ignite itself and explode. He waited some more, then called into the debris, "Where are you Aidam? You can't hide forever!"
"Did you try looking up?"
Hunter whirled toward the voice, on a piece of jutting 4x4's. "You're not Aidam."
"Do you really care?" Kane drew his new gun and commenced fire. Hunter leapt to his side with a grunt and did the same while in the air and following through. They continued firing, and not hitting each other, as Hunter spanned the perimeter of the "arena" and Kane down to the ground. The shots continued until both combatants lost their guns. Kane delivered the first blows, kicking up and twice in the chest with the same leg, then hopping forward to bring in a straight jab in the face.
Hunter flipped back up with one hand and delivered his own blows, making up for his height in his inhuman strength. Jabbed the sides and ribs, then easily picked the 6 foot 5 inch tall Enforcer up and hurl him into the debris.
When the bounty assassin went to pick back up his gun, another figure appeared at Kane's original post, and drew a sword. Aidam leapt off the 4x4, letting out a long war cry, his focused aim true. Hunter had his gun, whirling around, and took a shot. Aidam reflected it off the shaft and struck off the barrel of the gun, slicing down near the trigger. After looking in disbelief at the split gun, Hunter drew his own katana and commenced the duel. Aidam sliced up, down, and to either side, repeating the moves in a strategic, random pattern. The strategy didn't quite work though, for Aidam was swiftly disarmed and knocked back. A small dagger was drawn by the hunter and thrown like a discus. Aidam remembered the techniques talk to him as a child; he crossed with one hand and placed the other in front. The spinning dagger slowed in its path, and nearly stopped when it touched the palm.
Aidam couldn't hold the concentration anymore. The dagger hit its mark, but only went halfway in. The chancellor yanked it out and cradled his hand momentarily, then pulled out his now charged gun and flung it into the darkness, into the hands of Thomas. "Use it!"
The Wing officer did, firing every chance he got. Not necessarily hitting the bounty hunter, but throwing him off balance. "Watch the charges!"
Aidam's call came too late, however, as the gun smoked and overheated. Unseen by the others, Kane came swooping in from behind, holding onto a loose cable, putting all his weight on Hunter's back, and sprawling both of them. Kane drew his knife; Hunter held onto his sword, flipped up, and came down to hack and slash.
Kane caught Hunter's hand in mid-slice, his muscles tensing from the strain. His crocodile knife gleamed in his right fist. He shoved the blade into Hunter's left side, through the metal armor.
The samurai sword clattered to the ground. Hunter's other free hand came through for a blow to Kane's chest, sending him against a pillar and sinking to the floor, dazed. Hunter staggered, staring at the knife, ignoring his blood, which was only trickling before, flowing out between the blade and the armor. He fell against nearest wall, in astonishment, letting the blood flow.
The two warriors stared at each other in wonder, as the searchlights flooded the site. Two fighters zoomed overhead, one transport slowly following and landing in the clearing just outside the site.
"Kane!" Kane heard one of his comrade's voices, but it was faint. His vision was blurring as the medics ran over to him. He heard one of the medics say, "Damn. Look what he had to do."
Then Kane blacked out.
"Sir. Hunter's dead." The ensign reported.
"Yes, I know... When did he die?"
"He was reported even before medical attention."
"Good." He rubbed his bandaged hand. "I should have known that it was impossible."
"Sir?" the ensign was confused.
"The Agenda, David. Control was impossible. I should have known I could never take Direct away from them. Not after the recent incidents." He let out a deep sigh. "I have so many mistakes there, I could never return.... Is the crew ready?"
"Yes colonel."
"Then send the letter." The ensign left.
Aidam strode over to his intercom and pressed the button. "Take us into orbit, Mr. Keas, I've seen enough." He turned to the sensor on the wall and spoke to the music player, "Player, the classical station." The player went to it. Aidam stood and looked through the window, grinning with revolutionary pride, the chorus of voice and strings echoing throughout the room.
Epilogue
Trunks took his seat and ran his fingers through his roughened hair. This council meeting was voluntary. Shane was the only one who showed up. Shane was probably the only truly loyal subject toward the good side of Direct. Trunks was glad enough that he had shown.
He noticed, however, one lone envelope on the table, addressed specifically to him.
"It came this morning. I didn't look at it." Shane informed him as he opened it.
It was a simple paper only about a paragraph long. Trunks' eyes studied it closely. When he was done, he leaned slightly back and sat erect, reading it again to make sure.
"What is it?" Shane asked lazily.
"This is an Order of Defection." Trunks said after a time.
"By whom?" he was suddenly awake.
"The engineers and crew of the Freeshade." Trunks looked up from the document.
"But that's our new Starcruiser!" Shane burst out.
"Signed: Colonel Aidam Stronkhold." Trunks dropped the document and put his head in one hand.
And far above the clouds, the ship christened the Freeshade soared higher.
Aidam stood with his hands behind his back, fully uniformed in a customized mix of Direct emblems and a new symbol with a burning scythe on a shield.
"Sir." Aidam turned toward the ensign; "We're ready to proceed."
The colonel gave a nod and dismissed the boy. He returned to his position and gazed out the window. He reflected on the recent failures and put them aside, forgetting.
The great ship continued its ascension into space. When it had reached the extent of the Exosphere, its new module opened the wormhole. Aidam put two fingers to his lips and blew a final kiss to the earth he never knew.
At one second, there was a Starcruiser in front of a tear in space and time, and then there was nothing.
Trunks gazed at the sky, and bid final farewell to his rival.