Saber woke up the next morning, feeling more weary and troubled than when he had gone to bed. He had not slept very well, tossing and turning while fighting the recurring nightmares. Scythe had figured prominently in those nightmares, kept him hovering on the knife-edge between revulsion and pleasure. Even now, despite vigorous rinsing, he could still taste Scythe's blood on his tongue. He splashed cold water onto his face, letting the icy liquid shock his mind into alertness. Face wet and dripping, he peered at his exhausted reflection in the mirror.
It has gone too far. The guilt-ridden burdens, the shackles of his sins tying him down, the ghosts of memories all coming back to haunt him. It has gone too far. He was too exhausted to fight them anymore, too drained to struggle and find his way.
Saber rested his forehead against the cool surface of the mirror.
How much longer must this go on? He was sick and tired of second-guessing himself all the time, yet he couldn't seem to break free of the fear that smothered him. He didn't want to fight on anymore; it would be so tempting to just give up. Yet there were all those poor victims to think of; all of them comatose and at the mercy to whatever the Outriders had done to them. If there was the slightest chance he could help them, he cannot not take.
There was also the promise to Ishara, and Saber was not someone who could wilfully break a promise.
Someone knocked at his door.
"Top Sword, you up yet?" Fireball called as he entered.
Saber straightened. Taking a deep breath, he shoved all his fears and worries back down again before leaving the bathroom. "Good morning, Fireball."
His friend turned and smiled cheerily. "Morning to you, Saber." He looked closer at the shadows under Saber's eyes. "Rough night again?"
"Yes." Saber changed into his day clothes. "Where's Colt?"
"The cowboy woke up hungry. He made a beeline for the cafeteria." Fireball stretched and yawned. "We should join him soon. God, I need that cup of coffee. Ready to go?"
"Let's get this over before I change my mind."
"I thought so. I spoke with Crest just now and extracted a promise from him."
"Under duress, I bet." Saber quipped wryly.
Fireball shrugged. "Why not? These CCI agents are all the same. They would do anything to fulfil a goal. I simply don't trust your well being with them. Anyway, he promised to treat you with all due consideration, not like a lab rat." A supporting hand clasped Saber's shoulder. "And we'll be there, Saber too. You won't be alone."
Saber smiled gratefully. "Thank you."
Doctor McGregor was most solemn when Saber gave his decision to him.
"Thank you," he said simply.
He knew he could not understand how much courage it took for Saber to allow the beast inside to wake and so he did not give shallow consolation and sympathy. Saber was grateful for that. He was even more thankful for his friends' silent support. At least if anything goes wrong, he could trust them to do the right thing.
"So how's the procedure like?" Fireball asked.
They, with Doctor McGregor and Crest, stood in the observation booth. Two other technicians were there, to monitor Saber's vital signs throughout the procedure. A large and very thick piece of glass separated the observation booth from the operation room. The operation room was starkly lit and nearly barren save for the sophisticated piece of operating platform with the operating bed in the middle of the room. Saber would be lying on that operating bed very soon; his friends were feverishly praying that nothing would go wrong.
"We will be activating his implants in stages," McGregor explained, "starting with those that we deemed as most harmless first. From my research, it's pretty clear that Captain Rider was under the influence of not only brainwashing but his implants as well. I've devised a way that would give us complete control each and every implant we activated. This way, it would minimise the risk of losing control of the situation."
"What about the brainwashing part?" Colt questioned.
"That is a risk we have to take. Personally, I'm confident that he won't have a total personality change. Whatever brainwashing he had underwent seemed to have lost its grip over him."
"But if he tries to hurt anybody," Crest added, "well, that's what the security features are for."
Their conversation ceased as Saber entered the operation room, led by two white-coated assistants. He had changed out of his day clothes into the hospital pyjamas and slippers provided.
Ever since giving McGregor his consent, Saber had been maintaining a stoic silence. Much as he wanted to deny it, Saber was extremely afraid. Everything about the operation room reminded him of Zhu'cov's lab, bringing those unwanted memories closer to the surface. He said nothing as the assistant instructed him to lie on the operation bed, suppressing the urge to cringe as they placed electrodes over his body.
"Captain Rider," McGregor's voice came over the intercom. "Are you ready sir?"
Saber took a deep bracing breath. "Let's get this over and done with, Doctor."
"All right. Just relax and let us handle the rest."
* * *
"Can't you go any faster?" April asked the shuttle pilot.
"Sorry, Lieutenant. I'm already going as fast as I can."
"It's not fast enough for me," she grumbled. "I don't like the fact that he's in CCI's hands."
Eagle gently pushed his daughter back into her chair. "Patience, April. We'll be there soon enough."
* * *
"Motor implants activated," reported one of the technicians.
"The muscle relaxant should be taking effect now." McGregor leaned over the intercom mic. "Any discomforts, Captain?"
"No."
"We'll start activating the spinal-cord implants then."
Saber started when he felt something in the small of his back where his tailbone was. It felt almost like a sting, not painful though, just odd. Then there was another sting higher up on his spine and another.
"We've activated three of the spinal-cord implants," McGregor said. "How is it?"
"...Strange, like -"
Flash
He was back in the tank, immersed in the foul stinking chemical water. Needle points of fire burned down his spine, causing him to arch and writhe, trying in vain to escape the pain searing him from inside.
Flash
"Saber!"
The Star Sheriffs lunged against the glass, eyes wide as Saber suddenly started convulsing on the operating bed. Their fear rose raised another notch when he saw the technicians' frantic manipulation of their consoles. McGregor was equally tense as he barked out orders to them.
"What the hell is going on, Doctor?!" Fireball yelled.
"The implants," McGregor replied tersely. "The rest of them are activating on their own."
"What?!"
"It's like we have accidentally set off a chain-reaction. But that's impossible! The safeguards should be preventing something like this from happening."
Saber started screaming, a heart rendering sound of sheer pain, terror and rage.
Flash
He had been screaming for a long time. With his voice, inside his mind, he didn't know. Pain was all he knew, no past, no thoughts, just pain.
Flash
"Colt, get down there and snap him out of it!" Fireball grabbed McGregor roughly by the shoulder. "Deactivate the implants now!"
"I'm trying to!" McGregor grabbed the intercom mic. "Put him under! Quickly!"
Fireball watched helplessly as the two assistants in the operating room scrambled to place the breathing mask over Saber's face. The Highlander suddenly heaved himself upright, tearing off the electrodes. He knocked one assistant aside with a sweep of his arm and began to throttle the other man. His face contorted with pure animalistic fury. It was exactly like when Saber had just woken up from his coma and during his fight with the Renegade-Hound on Amarado.
A gunshot rang out.
A spot of red appeared near Saber's shoulder. He staggered, forced to release the assistant. As the two terrified assistants fled the operating room, he glared at Colt who still aimed his blaster at him in steady hand. Grimly, Colt cocked a second round into his blaster. The cowboy didn't blink as Saber charged him with sudden swiftness.
Blue light suddenly blazed in the operating room.
Saber tried to stop but he was going too fast. He hit the restraining field surrounding the operating platform and was flung back. He tumbled across the cold bare floor and came to rest at the foot of the operating bed in a boneless heap.
Crest rubbed his fist where he had slammed it against the emergency button. "I've sealed the operating platform. He's not going to get out of there that easily."
"Is he-?" Fireball dared not continue.
"No, still alive." McGregor wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Thank God."
"His implants?"
"All fully activated. Every single one of them."
Fists clutched, Fireball stared at the scene before him. Colt's blaster was still out; the cowboy wasn't about to lower his guard anytime soon. The cowboy and his blaster, and a restraining field, was all that stood between a berserk Saber and the rest of the base.
Saber stirred, sending a ripple of tension through the observers. Colt raised his blaster higher as the Highlander slowly uncurled and pulled himself to his feet with the support of the operating bed.
Fireball grabbed the intercom mic. "Saber! Are you all right? Answer me, buddy!"
His friend turned to face him.
Fireball went very cold when he spied the thin twisted smile, a smile so unlike the friend he knew.
"Saber?" came the husky murmur, the Scottish burr completely absent.
Flat blue eyes, terrifying for its utter lack of humanity, met Fireball's stunned gaze. He recoiled from that chilling malicious gaze.
"No, not Saber. I am Death, the Pale Rider."
* * *
Fireball stared, his mind scrambling to make sense of the suddenly bizarre and potentially dangerous situation. He almost couldn't bring himself to believe that the man standing before him was not his friend he had known for years.
The face was the same. Save for the sudden paleness of his complexion, his physical appearance had not changed. But the behaviour...! The casual predatory poise, the utter apathy...it was wrong, all wrong! This was not Saber, his instincts screamed at him. His friend never possessed such a strong 'stench' of death, wearing it like a second skin.
With a shaking hand, he grasped the intercom mic again. "Who are you?" he asked carefully just to make sure.
"I told you already." Death folded his arms across his chest and casually sat at the edge of the operating bed.
"What have you done with Saber?"
The malicious smile simply widened.
Fireball clenched his fist, infuriated and shaken to the core. This, this...monster had usurped his friend's body –
Crest suddenly snatched the intercom mic out of his hand. "I am Lieutenant Malcolm Crest of the Cavalry Command Intelligence. You are now our prisoner, Horseman. You will answer our questions or you will be punished. Don't think about trying to escape or for your comrades to come rescue -"
Death burst into laughter, plainly amused at his words.
"- You," Crest continued doggedly. "Cooperate with us and we might forego punishment."
Fireball clapped a hand over the mic. "What are you doing?" he hissed at Crest.
Crest gave him a cool look. "Just stating our position so he would understand that we have him at a disadvantage. Speaking in terms that military people understand."
In the operating room, Death sat calmly on the operating bed as he watched the heated discussion in the observation booth. Despite his amusement seconds before, Death was quick to realise the seriousness of his situation. He maintained his impassive silence, inwardly bothered by the changes.
Discreetly, he scanned his surrounding. He was out of armour, wearing ridiculous hospital pyjamas that provided only a modicum of modesty and nothing more. The gunshot wound in his shoulder was no longer a worry, having closed and healed on its own. His weapons were gone, missing presumably, and he was trapped in a laboratory – not Zhu'cov's but a human one. All these he took in a glance and came to the immediate conclusion that he had fallen into the hands of his enemies.
As serious as his situation might seem to be, Death wasn't that overly concerned. He could escape when he felt like it. It was easy when he remembered now how he had gotten here. And as useful as the strange memories juxtaposed with his experiences leading the Outriders were, they were the real cause for worry. Death almost couldn't believe that he was...friend to these humans; that he was once a human named Saber Rider and he had fought against the Outriders. The feelings and solidity attached to these human memories were so real that Death could not deny their truth. But these impossible memories never surfaced during his ride with his brothers, so why now and how?
Colt was beginning to sweat. He was acutely aware that he was alone inside the operating room with possibly one of the New Frontier's most dangerous enemies and he had nothing more than just his blaster if he did try anything. He did not like the unreadable puzzle that was Death.
Death had remained absolutely still, betraying not even the slightest twitch of a muscle. Saber, for all his reserved and quiet nature, had been easy to read once he allowed you into his circle of trusted few. But Death was a complete enigma. His long unblinking stare at the observation booth was beginning to unnerve Colt.
"What are you looking at?" Colt couldn't help but ask.
Death finally turned. He rose to his feet and glided right to the edge of the restraining field. "I know you."
Colt fought the urge to step back. This was definitely not Saber. There was menace in every step he took, the inhuman predatory grace even more pronounced. He knew Saber had been feeling uncertain and afraid ever since he regained his memories, and if this is what he was like under the influence of the Outriders, he couldn't blame his friend at all. Hell, Colt didn't think he want to meet the rest of the Horsemen either.
Static crackled over his body as he approached the edge of the operating platform but Death paid them no heed. He regarded the cowboy intently, finally grasping the pieces of memories he was looking for.
"He never told you, did he?"
"Tell me about what?"
"About the Tranquillity Massacre."
Colt grew very cold. He stared at Death, heart hammering so much that it drowned out all other sounds. Tranquillity...this man could tell him what happened to Robin, why she died so tragically...this – Outrider could tell him what Saber couldn't bring himself to do. His blaster grip tightened.
Death cocked his head, eyeing the troubled cowboy thoughtfully. "I could tell you. After all, you did ask."
Colt stared into those cold flat eyes, apathetic eyes completely devoid of any human warmth. He swallowed hard. This stranger wasn't really Death, he reminded himself sternly, just a mortal acting as one. This personality was an Outrider and Outriders were not known for their upright nature.
"You will tell me about the Tranquillity Massacre in exchange for what? I won't help you to escape," he quickly warned.
"Nothing that drastic. All I want is a package wrapped in black velvet. You'll find it in Saber's room, in his drawer."
"What's in it?"
"My crown, my crest of bone."
Colt narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Just a crown, that's all? It couldn't be that simple.
Death sighed, correctly reading his expression, and started to turn away. "I thought so too."
"You okay, Colt?" came the quiet voice.
Colt glanced over his shoulder, startled that he hadn't heard Fireball and Crest entering the operation room. "Y-yeah, I'm fine."
His gaze swivelled back to Death. "I think he has access to Saber's memories."
"Impossible," Crest said flatly. "The analysis we did of those implants indicated a full personality and memory override when activated. There is no way that Outrider could access your friend's memories."
"Why the hell not?" Fireball growled irritably, totally out of patience for the CCI agent. "If Saber could remember the things he did during those five years, why not vice versa? Nothing is perfect, certainly not these implants, no matter how many light-years they are ahead in development."
"Are you going to stand there and talk or do I have to invite you over?" Death smirked as Fireball bristled. "What can I do for you, humans?"
"We have questions for you, Outrider." Crest said briskly.
"Oh?"
"Answer our questions and we might decide to let you live."
"And if I don't?"
"We will, of course, deactivate the implants and allow Mister Rider to repossess his body. That would mean that you would no longer exist."
Death arched a fine aristocratic brow. "Pray tell me, Lieutenant Crest, how do you get the silly idea that there are two separate and distinct personalities occupying the same body?"
"You, Pale Rider, are nothing more than just a personality created from brainwashing and neural implants. It has been proven that a person's personality can be totally superseded by an artificial personality introduced by implants in the brain."
For the second time in less than an hour, Death laughed.
"Do you find this amusing?" Fireball growled.
"Yes, I do. I am as real as your friend is – chum."
Fireball started. That last bit was said in an almost normal tone, meaning he had sounded just like Saber complete with the familiar Scottish burr. Then it struck him that Saber's body language had returned; the palpable menace oozing from him had plummeted in intensity.
"Do you still remember our first meeting, race-boy?" Death/Saber reminisced. "How we saved the Ramrod project from the Outriders? I knew at once that you and Colt were exactly what the team needed. There were doubts though. You were too rash, Colt was too laidback. But I believe in you and I still do."
Fireball's skin started crawling. Those words...they were exactly the same from that time long ago, when they were first recruited. It was delivered in the exact same tone, with the exact emotions. He could almost believe it was Saber he was talking to.
Almost.
Death's eyes remained cold.
"Damn," Fireball swore softly.
Death grinned, a grin that never reached his eyes. Echoes of Saber's personality faded away in a blink of an eye and a dangerous enemy once again confronted them. "Ask your questions, human."
"Seven months ago, we rescued ten humans from the Outriders." Crest said, nonplussed by the sudden personality shift. "We're still unable to wake them from their coma despite everything we tried. What I want to know is why and what was done to them."
"Ten humans in a coma..." Death took his time answering. "Ah, you must mean the Oregon raid."
"Yes," Crest had to admit.
Death smirked. "Hn. That was a failed experiment. Those humans were meant to be Sleepers."
"Sleepers?" Fireball frowned.
"People who infiltrated a society and lay dormant until they are ordered to destroy it from within out."
A chill ran down Fireball's spine as he realised the significance of Sleepers. "You brainwashed the people, then released them back into our society without them being the wiser."
"We called it programming. The beautiful part is they won't know what happened, or what they've become. They'll continue living their boring meaningless little lives, never suspecting a single thing until we trigger them. By then, it'll be too late. Your society would have fallen into chaos."
Death sighed regretfully. "It was such a perfect plan."
Fireball stared him, revulsion clear across his face.
"Why did it failed?" Crest asked.
"Sleepers' cover has to be perfect to fool even the most suspicious people. We have to make it such that no one, not even the Sleepers themselves, knew there was anything wrong with them. But it wasn't a reality. The marks left on the Sleepers were too obvious. Anyone can find it with the barest of a scan. That's why it was a failure. Those ten were the initial batch. When the experiment was aborted, we scheduled them for recycling."
"Recycling?" Colt repeated. He couldn't help recalling what Saber had told him back on Planet Amarado, when they were sneaking into Zhu'cov's lab. Most of the lab creatures in that place had been scheduled for 'recycling'. "They're humans, not garbage."
"They are useless now. Isn't that what garbage is?"
"They aren't garbage," Fireball retorted heatedly. "You'll see, when they wake up."
Death's smirk was positively malicious. "They will never wake up."
"What do you mean?"
"They're vegetables, human. The experiment destroyed their minds. They will spend the rest of their lives in that shell of a body, unable to react to anything." Death grinned. "How unfortunate. To have risked your friend's sanity all for naught."
"You-you..." Fireball seethed.
"What?" Death stood real close to them, separated only by the restraining field, bringing his face level to Fireball's. "Monster? Demon? Which one is it, race-boy?"
"The little girl was innocent!"
"Poor little Maggie." Death licked his lips, a spark of hunger gleaming in his eyes. "Her death will taste so sweet."
Enraged, Fireball punched out at that maliciously grinning face. Blue sparks flew as his fist bounced off the restraining field.
Death simply laughed, a cutting mocking laugh. He stepped back from the restraining field and abruptly whirled to face the observation booth.
"Hello, father. It's been a long time."
What?
Fireball jerked around, eyes widening when he saw April and Eagle standing in the observation booth with horrified expressions. There was someone else, face hidden beneath a cowboy hat, but Fireball's attention was fastened on the last individual leaning heavily against the mysterious person for support.
Senator Edward Rider of the Earth System was staring at his son with the most anguished and stricken expression Fireball had ever seen.
"What's wrong, father?" Death grinned manically. "Aren't you overjoyed at seeing your son again? Safe and sound?"
"Shut up!" Fireball shouted over the ugly sound of Death laughing. "April! Get them out of there now!"
Tossing Death a look of barely-concealed fury, Fireball stormed out the operating room. Crest followed him out, but Colt was slower. He gave the still laughing Death one long unreadable look before leaving as well.
Finally, Death was alone. It was a long time before he stopped laughing.
"Are you ready to die? Saber?" he whispered, still grinning maniacally. "Does it pain you to see your friends treating you with hatred and fear, and knowing you can't never go back again?"
"Why do you do this to yourself?"
The soft question, spoken in a feminine voice, drifted to his ears. Death stiffened, incredulous that someone was able to sneak up on him without him knowing.
A petite slim person stood before him dressed in a simple white shirt, jeans and sturdy boots, all covered by a long tailored brown coat. The broad brim of the cowboy hat hid her face from view.
Death's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
She calmly took off the hat. Waist-long ear-bangs of pale purple hair tumbled forward, contrasting sharply against her short straight hair, and framed a gentle face dominated by large violet eyes. Willow-thin and delicate, Death nevertheless sensed a steely will beneath the fragile beauty.
"The Zalrian." Instinctively, Death slammed up his mental shields.
"I see you still remember me. And my gift."
"Surprised that I know how to keep you out, but not Saber?"
"A little."
"You should have gone straight back home, Ishara. How does it feel to watch your friend turned into a monster? I fancy Saber would be shattered and ashamed that you saw his downfall."
"You aren't a monster."
Death arched a brow, somewhat taken aback by her strange reply. "Oh?"
Ishara simply looked at him, with eyes fathomless and inscrutable. Those knowing eyes made Death uneasy. It was eyes that saw more than they should.
This girl was dangerous, Death quickly realised. A telepath who was well versed in psychoanalysis and tactics. Even with his mental shields blocking her, she could still outwit him by the human way.
"Do you want to know what I see?" Ishara finally said.
"What do you see?"
"I see a man warring with his darkness."
"Oh?" Death smiled and pointed to his temple. "Did you get all that from digging through here? Be careful, Ishara. You might get burnt."
Ishara took a step closer to the restraining field. The compelling violet gaze effortlessly caught his and for the life of him, Death couldn't look away, caught off guard by the sudden welling of emotions from his heart, the yearning and...tenderness so intense that it made his chest hurts.
Suddenly, the verbal sparring was no longer entertaining.
"You can't kill yourself that easily."
Death tensed at her odd words.
"There's only one way to win and that is to accept every bit of yourself."
"Get out," Death hissed. "Get out of my sight, mind witch."
Ishara gazed at him a moment longer, then left as quietly as she had entered.
Death watched her leave, fighting to calm the churning mess of conflicting emotions within him. Impossible as it may seem, the little telepath had somehow spoken to the both of him and that thoroughly unnerved him.
Author's Notes Insertion:
Whew! Finally, I got this chapter done. It hadn't been easy because Death is as complicated as Saber is. Not only he's got to be different and bad enough to upset the Star Sheriffs, yet at the same time, he's got to retain some characteristics of Saber. I chose to make that similarity in the form of verbal sparring and mind games. Why? I've always thought that Saber would be very good at words and I believed, if need to be, he could play equally good mind games with the best. He just seemed that type. To offset that similarity, I made Death to be a cold psychotic person wrapped in layers of cruelty and malice. He doesn't really care about the damages he inflicted on the Star Sheriffs' emotional states. Playing with their minds is just a game to him, until Ishara turned the tables on him. Now that was a difficult conversation to write. Short as it may be, but conveying the sense of talking to both sides of the same person at the same time was hard.
Have you ever visualise death grinning? Just think of a grinning skull and you'll get the picture. The effect, at least in my mind, is grotesque and absolutely morbid.
Six – What Will You Do To Find The Truth?
Solemn silence blanketed Doctor McGregor's office in a thick suffocating layer. No one wanted to speak; all of them still trying to come to terms with what they have witnessed in the operating room. They did not quite know how to console the stricken Senator.
The middle-aged man sat on the couch, head and shoulders bowed in grief. He wore plain Western attire of sober colours; the only hint of his wealth laid in the rich material they were made of. Resting beside his legs was a long cloth-wrapped object. Despite his greying black hair and careworn face, he carried himself with the air of nobility of those born to land and old money. But right now Senator Edward Rider of the Earth System was simply a father heartsick with worry for his son.
Eagle sat down beside him and laid a supporting hand on his shoulder. He could understand the man's pain; he was a father too. "I'm sorry, Edward. If I had known, I wouldn't have brought you here."
"What happened to my boy? What is that monster in him?"
Eagle sighed tiredly. "It's a long story. Fireball."
Fireball came forward. He pulled up a chair beside senior Rider. "I can tell you, Senator, but it's not very nice."
"Please tell me, Captain."
* * *
Senator Rider sank heavily onto the couch, trying to digest the awful story he had just been told. The Star Sheriffs had taken turns with the report and somewhere during April's turn, Ishara had quietly joined them.
"My God," Senator Rider spoke at last. The news had deeply shaken him and he seemed to have visibly aged. "It's a miracle he even pulled through it alive."
"Saber has always been strong, Senator." April said gently. "He'll never give up a fight."
"But can we still get him back? Doctor?"
McGregor hesitated. "To be frank, Senator Rider, I'm not sure. When we started the operation, it was on the basis that I have control over his implants and therefore able to control the Death's personality to some degree. But the implants proved to be more sophisticated than I had originally believed. I don't know if I can deactivate those implants again."
"But why did you do it in the first place?" Senator Rider demanded upset.
"Because we needed answers, Senator, to cure our ten comatose patients." Crest replied. "And he did give his consent."
"So our friend Saber is gone?" Colt questioned. "And all we're left with is this...this Outrider personality."
"No."
They all turned to look at Ishara. The girl had been so quiet that they had forgotten about her presence.
Crest's eyes widened when he saw her. "You're a Zalrian."
"Healer Ishara Lilac, House of Tairei."
"Healer Ishara is a guest of mine," Eagle spoke up.
"Admiral," Crest began somewhat stiffly. "I must protest against this. This is one of Cavalry Command's most secretive bases. I'd allow Senator Rider and your entry, but I cannot possibly admit a Zalrian onto the base."
"Your protest is duly noted, Lieutenant. The situation that calls for such a gathering is unusual and has no precedent. Healer Ishara came because she was concerned about Saber's health. As such, she has as much as right to be here as I am. Before I proceed, I would order your silence on Healer Ishara's presence here on Yuma."
"I beg your pardon?"
"The New Frontier-Zalrus Summit will not be due in a month's time. That will be our first official contact with each other. Any other meeting before that has to be hushed and discreet to avoid potential political complications. I trust each and everyone here to keep the vow of silence on this?"
"Yes, sir." The Star Sheriffs agreed without hesitation.
"I understand, sir." Crest replied though it was clear that he still did not like the situation.
"How do you manage to get the both of them here, sir?" Fireball asked Eagle.
"Timing and coincidence. I was already expecting Edward when I received a coded message from one of my sources. That's how I knew she was coming, so I arranged to pick them up at the same time."
"I'm glad you came, Ishara."
"So am I."
Colt doffed his hat. "Welcome to Yuma, little lady. Although I'd prefer meeting under better circumstances."
"I know what you mean." A slight frown touched her brows when she looked at the cowboy.
"Ishara, about my son?" Senator Rider asked.
"Saber's personality still exists. He's just not in charge."
"So we can get him back. We just have to find a way to deactivate the implants."
"I'm not sure if that will work."
"Meaning?"
"Death isn't quite completely the artificial personality you think he is. He's real, as real as Saber is. I've been thinking: why did the Outriders choose him, a human to lead them? Why not one of their own? Zhu'cov gave me the answer. He told Saber back on Amarado that he already displayed an aptitude for killing and destruction even when he was a Star Sheriff. Part of Death's personality stems from this darkness in Saber. I gathered that Saber is a man who valued control, especially over the darkness in him. My guess is the Outriders broke that control and warped his darkness to their agenda by implant-reinforcement and brainwashing."
"So Saber's personality is basically drowning under all that darkness," Fireball said slowly.
"Can't we get rid of Death once and for all?" Senator Rider asked anxiously.
Ishara shook her head. "Death has always been there, sleeping inside Saber. You woke Death up by triggering the implants. If you deactivate the implants again, Death won't disappear. There will always be the risk of him reappearing and it will get harder to deal with."
"So what's the solution then?"
"He must regain control over the darkness, not just suppress it. Or we'll really lose him to his own destruction."
Senator Rider's heart sank. "He will kill himself?"
"In a last desperate bid to retain his sanity."
* * *
Colt stepped out of the elevator and took a deep breath of the dry acrid air of the desert. He was still surprised to see that it was just noon. The morning had felt like an entire day to him. The cowboy pulled his hat low over his eyes and he aimlessly strolled about the base surface, thoughts miles away.
Saber knew the reason behind the Tranquillity Massacre. The cowboy could see it in his eyes every time Saber looked at him. So much guilt and pain that Colt almost didn't want to push any further, but the memory of Robin would not allow him. He must know; he has to know.
Colt stopped in mid-step and looked down at his hands.
Just a crown, nothing more. A vanity symbol. Really, it was a very small price to pay. It was that small price that rankled him. Surely it can't be that simple. But what if it is? Can he afford to take the risk that Death might be making use of him? Saber did promised to tell him, but what if he failed to survive this mess? Who will tell him then?
His hands clenched.
For Robin, he would do anything.
His mind made up, Colt retraced his steps back to the elevator. The others are in the middle of lunch; now was the perfect time to find out what Saber knows.
* * *
Lunch was a sombre affair. The Star Sheriffs, Eagle, Senator Rider and Ishara occupied a table in the far corner, but none of them touched their meals. In the light of the grim situation, they couldn't find the appetite to enjoy their food.
"Isn't Colt going to join us?" April asked, not seeing the cowboy anywhere.
"He said he needs to get some fresh air," Fireball said. His expression darkened. "Not that I want to stop him. He needs some time alone."
"Is he all right?" Ishara asked hesitatingly. "When I spoke to him just now, I sensed a great deal of turmoil in him."
"The CCI knew about the Horsemen since three years ago."
They stared at him.
"You're sure about this, Captain?" Eagle questioned.
"Aye, sir. Crest told us himself. It absolutely set Colt off."
"They did nothing?" Senator Rider asked flatly.
Fireball rubbed his temples, trying to ease his pounding head. "I'm afraid so."
"Mary and I waited five years for our son's return. My lad's been in hell for five years. My beloved worried herself ill and she's still very frail." Senator Rider clutched the cloth-wrapped object; the whitening of his knuckles the only visible sign of his growing fury. "Admiral Eagle, when I bring this to the Council's attention, heads are going to roll."
"I'll help you, Senator Rider." The hard glint in Eagle's eyes left no doubt of his sentiments as well.
"What were those idiots thinking?" April muttered. "Things that threaten the New Frontier's security cannot be kept secret."
"Healer, will my son truly recover?"
Ishara's gaze softened, her heart aching for the father's pain and sorrow. "I really can't say, Senator. Everyone has a dark side; it's what balances the goodness in us. My people have a saying – the brighter the light, the darker the shadows – and Saber's light is very bright. He will only be whole if he could reconcile both sides of his nature."
"Isn't there any thing we can do to help?"
"Support, encouragement and just be there for him. But in the end, this is a fight he has to win on his own."
* * *
Retrieving the crown was easy. There was no one about and the lock on Saber's room was ridiculously simple to pick. He took a peek at the item and was revolted at the sight of the skeletal crest carved from bone.
The workmanship was exquisite, morbid and yet disturbingly elegant at the same time.
Tucking it away in his jacket, Colt furtively made his way to the operating room. He steeled himself when he saw the guards outside the operating room. They moved to block his way. Without missing a beat, Colt flashed his EBU.
"Star Sheriff, gentlemen. I have access to see the prisoner."
They exchanged one look before stepping aside for him.
Colt paused just beyond the threshold as the door slid close behind him. From where he was, he could see that the observation booth was empty. The restraining field still shimmered in existence and Death sat complacently within its boundary.
Death smirked when he saw the cowboy. "Have a change of heart, cowboy?"
Colt did not say anything as he crossed the operating room. From within his jacket, he took out the package and showed it to him.
"You brought it."
"Tell me what I want to know first, then I'll give it to you."
"Do you think I'm a fool? What will make you give me my crown once I've told you? Give me my crown, cowboy, and I'll tell you. After all, I'm not going anywhere."
Colt hesitated. Then slowly, he mounted the steps to the operating platform and dropped the item into the small access drawer, the only gap in the restraining field. On the other side of the restraining field, Death took the package from the drawer and unwrapped it. He smiled when he saw the skeletal crest of bone gleaming palely in the blue glow of the restraining field.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" he muttered, tracing one horned edge with a gentle finger.
Colt fought the shiver of revulsion.
Death put the crown aside. "What do you want to know?"
"Who razed Tranquillity?"
"War and her raiding party."
"Were you there?"
"Yes."
"You took part in the raid?"
"I was an observer on Conqueror's orders. That doesn't mean I didn't have fun."
"Why?"
"War hated the name."
Time froze. Colt stared at him, unable to believe his ears.
"What?" the word came out on a bare whisper.
"The name 'Tranquillity' is anathema to her nature. That's why she razed the settlement." Death walked right up to the restraining field, a cruel smile twisting his lips.
"I killed her, you know."
That hit Colt like a punch in the stomach. He stared at the smirking cruel face, blood thundering in his ears.
"No..." it came out choked.
"Her name was Robin, right? She was your sweetheart, the one and only love of your life. If I had known then, I'd have made her death a lingering painful one. As it is, her fear and helplessness still made her death very sweet."
A blaster shot resounded in the operating room. The bullet ricocheted off the restraining field to bury itself in the nearest equipment.
Death's cruel smile didn't change a bit, staring steadily at Colt beyond the blaster shaking in his hand.
Colt didn't remember firing his blaster. His vision was misted with red and there was an unbearable pressure squeezing his chest, forcing him to gasp for breath or let it erupt. The blaster in his hand shook even more; his entire body racked with tremors.
"Damn you."
"If you want to shoot me, lower the restraining field and go ahead. Only problem is: can you kill me without killing your friend?"
Colt couldn't take it anymore. Stumbling off the operating platform, he fled the operating room, pushing past the guards who were alerted by the blaster shot. He barely made it back to his room before his knees gave way and he slumped down onto the floor in a heap. Hot tears trickled down his cheeks unnoticed as he buried his head in his hands.
Robin! Your murderer is my best friend!!! Did you know that when you die?!
* * *
Death waited until the guards once again left the operating room before taking out his skeletal crest of bone. He knew the Star Sheriffs would be alerted to what had transpired just now and it wouldn't be long before they come to interrogate him as well. Unwrapping the skeletal crest, he pressed at a section with a long finger. A small panel slid open at the pressure, allowing a small device to fall out onto his palm. He placed it inside his ear and activated it.
There was a buzz of static before he heard a tinny voice. "My Lord."
Death smiled.
* * *
April knelt down in front of Colt who was huddled in the corner of his room, curled into a tight ball of profound misery. The wild rage and grief smouldering in the depths of his eyes worried her; the last time she had seen Colt in such a state was almost three years ago.
"Colt? What happened?" she asked tentatively. No point asking if he was all right when he was clearly not.
"He killed her." The words were said in a monotonous voice.
There was only one 'her' she knew Colt would refer to. "Who killed her?"
"Death." April didn't want to believe him, but Colt's stony expression twisted, grief and disbelief plain for all to see. "He murdered her in cold blood."
"Oh God." April covered her mouth with trembling hands. "He told you that?"
"Yes. He was happy he told me. He took pleasure in killing her!"
A strangled growl escaped Colt.
"I'm going to kill him. I've spent all these years looking for Robin's murderer. I won't let him get away with it."
"But this is Saber you're talking about. You can't just kill him."
"Is he even there at all? Have you forgot what he told us on Amarado? He confessed that he was witness to what Death did. He knew."
"But he couldn't stop himself," April argued.
"Couldn't or wouldn't?"
"He was under the Outrider's control!" Exasperated and more than a little frightened, April clasped Colt's face in her hands, forcing the cowboy to look at her. "We've known Saber for so many years. Don't you think that if there were a chance he could have stopped it from happening, he would have taken it?"
"You forgot what they all said. Death was partly derived from the darkness in him."
"That proved nothing."
"It proved something! It showed us that he could hurt and even kill those close to him."
April stared at him. "I can't believe you would even think that. Are you so hell bent on vengeance that you would destroy your friendship with him?"
"He destroyed it first!" Colt snarled. "He destroyed it when he murdered Robin!"
"He was under their control!" April yelled.
Stony terse silence fell.
"I don't care what you say, April. Death must die."
"Are you willing to kill your own friend to accomplish that?"
* * *
Fireball and Ishara stood outside the operating platform turned prison cell. Death, seated cross-legged on the operating bed, returned their gazes calmly.
"I want to know what exactly you told Colt," Fireball demanded.
"Oh, nothing much, just about the Tranquillity Massacre."
Ishara frowned. "Tranquillity Massacre? What is that?"
Death shot her a malicious look. "Take a look, mind witch."
Ishara blanched when Death threw a series of mental images to her. She nearly vomited when she 'saw' the carnage wrought upon the helpless settlement. Ishara stared at him with sudden comprehension. So that's what been eating him.
"What about the Tranquillity Massacre?" Fireball pressed. "What did you do to him?"
Death walked right up to the restraining field. "What was the worst thing that happened to Colt?"
Fireball's face paled. "You didn't..."
"Her death tasted so sweet."
"Liar."
Death tipped his head in Ishara's direction. "Ask her."
Fireball glanced at the Zalrian. The stricken look on her face was enough to convince him. "Shit..."
The explosion that thundered through the base was violent enough to knock everyone in the operating room off their feet. Immediately the alarm klaxon went off, painting the room in vivid red light.
"You all right?" Fireball asked Ishara as he picked himself off the floor.
"What was that?"
"Your guess is as good as mine."
The quick pattering of footsteps reached his ears. Fireball looked up to see Crest running towards them with a small carrier bag in hand.
"Lieutenant, what's going on?!"
Ishara jumped, her startled gaze whipping around to fix on Crest.
"Lieutenant Crest -"
[Fireball! He's being controlled!]
Her warning a second too came too late. Crest whipped out a taser and shot her. The Zalrian telepath went down in an unconscious heap.
There was no time to do anything but to run for cover. Fireball scrambled off the operating platform in double quick time and dove behind the machines in the operating room as Crest kept firing after him. He scurried from cover to cover, ducking from the resulting spray of sparks and debris. He briefly wondered why the guards did not investigate; surely they were making enough noise to alert them.
"Lieutenant, what the hell are you doing?!"
"Haven't you figure it out by now, race-boy?" Death called out.
Fireball peeked out from his hiding place, took one look and cursed long and fluid in his native language. The strange wooden blankness the CCI agent wore on his face was unfamiliar but he was not completely clueless as to what it hinted at.
"You said the Sleeper project was a failure!" he yelled from his cover.
"And you believed me?"
The last taser blast came too close for comfort. Feeling a warm trickle of blood running down his temple, Fireball decided to make a break for it. He lunged from his cover, sprinting madly for the doors with a series of taser blasts nipped at his heels. Bursting into the corridor, he suddenly tripped over something.
A loud curse involuntarily left him as he stared at the dismembered head just inches away from his face. Fireball scrambled back, glancing around quickly. Both guards were dead, torn into pieces. Their blood splattered the floor and coated his hands. He heard a strange whipping sound and before he knew it, several grappling coils wrapped about him, pinning his arms and legs together and coiled snugly around his neck.
The grappling coils pulled back and Fireball couldn't help but follow or risk strangulation. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the massive bulk of a Renegade-Hound.
Crest emerged from the operating room; taser still in hand and the limp form of Ishara slung over one shoulder.
Right behind him, Death loomed out of the darkness – free.
Seven – Breakout! The Fight Begins
Eagle was in the control room when the explosion went off. He grabbed the nearest chair for balance as the floor shook beneath his feet. The alarm klaxon began screaming.
"Report!"
"Explosion in the power generator room, sir!"
"Power failure occurring all over the base, sir! South wing down, west wing down -"
"Fire in the power generator room, sir, and it's spreading."
"Send the fire-fighting team down there at once." Eagle walked over to the consoles, eyeing the flashing screens. "Seal off the generator room and evacuate the section."
"Yes, sir!"
"Status report."
"Communication system is down, defence system is down. Rangefinders, sensor arrays, everything are inoperative. We're completely blind and sitting ducks, sir, if anyone attacks."
"Admiral Eagle!"
Eagle turned. "What is it?"
"I can't be sure but it looked like the explosion was the result of a bomb."
"A bomb?" Eagle's mind worked furiously. A bomb was set off, smuggled in by someone who knew the base very well. Because of the secretive nature of the base, he had no doubt that one of the saboteurs was one of their own people. All these destruction could only mean one thing. "Can you get the communication system to work again?"
"Trying, sir. There, got it. One channel open and I'm not sure how long I can keep it open."
Eagle wasted no time. "Eagle to April."
At the other end of the base, April and Colt were running down the corridor, their argument interrupted by the explosion.
"April here. Daddy, what happened?"
"Sabotage," Eagle said succinctly. "I'm trying to keep things under control. I need you and the guys to hustle over to Saber's location at once."
"Yes, sir." April closed the channel. "I don't believe this. Who would want to sabotage us?"
Colt didn't answer. He simply poured on more speed. Panic sat in his stomach like a cold hard lump. He had been a fool. The crown was the key to this mess and he had handed it over without so much as wondering how Saber managed to get his hands on it.
I should have known. The price can't be that small.
* * *
Death stood before Fireball wrapped in an ashen-hued cloak. The hood was thrown back. A skeletal crest of bone crowned his brows, fitting over his face and head and gleamed palely under the light. From within the eyeholes in that mask-like helm, flat blue eyes glittered with an unholy light.
Fireball froze, seized by a chill that had nothing to do with temperature.
All the while he had thought of Death as just an unwanted personality in Saber's body. It was easy, when his friend was restrained and wore just common hospital pyjamas. He had never saw Death in action, only heard them from Saber's descriptions. Seeing him now, freed and so obviously in control brought home the fact that Death was most definitely real and very dangerous.
"Those ten Sleepers you rescued were a failed batch," Death told Fireball casually, as though their conversation was never interrupted. "Crest is one of the countless successful ones. Ironic, isn't it? He's the last person I expect to be a Sleeper."
"You're not going to get away with this."
"On the contrary, I planned to do just that and you're coming with me."
Death gestured imperiously to Crest and barked something in an alien language. Obediently, Crest handed the unconscious Ishara over to the Renegade-Hound. Fireball winced as the grappling coils lifted, rising him off the ground. He went limp, trying not to cut off his air supply.
"Take us to the surface," Death ordered Crest.
Another explosion rocked through the base. Fireball winced as he swung slightly from the Renegade-Hound's grip, the grappling coils tightening even more about his neck. There was nothing he could do as they moved swiftly through the corridors, heading for the surface. The power in the grappling coils prevented him from even putting up a brief struggle.
Fireball wondered frantically why no one came to stop them. Surely Death was dangerous enough an enemy to warrant security's attention.
"Hold it right there!"
His heart leapt when he heard the familiar voice. Twisting his head as best as he could, he spotted Colt and April blocking their way and aiming their blasters straight at Death.
"Take one step further and we will shoot," April warned.
"Oh?"
Death barked a command in the alien language. Docilely, Crest raised his taser and placed it against his own forehead. Despite it being a stun weapon, firing it at point-blank range was still certain death.
"Tell me, Star Sheriffs. How willing are you to sacrifice these three helpless souls?"
"Shoot him!" Fireball gasped out.
"Do that and he dies," Death countered.
"Just shoot him! Stop him before he hurts anyone else!"
Mouth pressed into a grim line, Colt took aim and fired. His aim was true; he knew the blaster shot would hit Death directly in the chest. However he did not anticipate Crest throwing himself into the blaster shot's path.
Before their horrified eyes, the Sleeper collapsed, a bloody hole in his chest. Crest lifted his head weakly. Pain-filled brown eyes met theirs, confused and terrified, horrifically aware that he was dying and not knowing why or how. Then he was still, glassy-eyed and blank.
Pale-faced, April clamped a hand over Colt's blaster and forced the muzzle to the ground. She lowered her own blaster as well.
"You have free passage," she said grimly. "Just don't hurt the rest of them."
Without taking her eyes off them, she stepped out of the way, pulling Colt along with her. All of her attention, every fibre in her body, was fixed on Fireball pinioned within the Renegade-Hound's grappling coils. Even as Death's party advanced, forcing them to give way, she never removed her gaze. Her mind raced frantically, trying to find some ways to extricate themselves from this situation. But it was nearly impossible for her to concentrate; she had never felt so helpless before in her whole life.
From the corner of her eyes, she spied Cavalry Command soldiers running towards them. Hastily she threw up a hand. "Stop!"
The soldiers skidded to a halt.
"Stop where you are and lower your weapons!" she yelled. "He has hostages!"
They hesitated.
"That is an order! Lower your weapons and do not advance!"
Reluctantly, the soldiers did as they were ordered.
April and Colt watched in helpless frustration as Death boarded the emergency elevator with his hostages. The minute the elevator slid close, they rushed for the second lift.
The ride was short, but it felt like forever to them.
When they reached the surface, they were just in time to see a small fast ship hovering above the ground, waiting for Death. The Star Sheriffs immediately sprinted over, desperately trying to get to Death before he could escape with his hostages.
From afar, April spied a new figure darting out from another elevator shaft and running towards Death. She glimpsed the flash of sunlight off a metal blade and realised at once who it was.
"Senator! No!"
There was a burst of pale glowing light as Death spun round and blocked the attack with his energy blade. A screech that set the teeth on the edge pierced the air.
April half-expected the palely glowing blade to cut through the metal sword like butter but amazingly enough, the cavalry sabre held fast. Belatedly she remembered that the sword Senator Rider was wielding belonged to Saber and it was made of a special type of metal that allowed it to cut through almost virtually anything.
Father and son stared across the crossed blades of their swords, pitting strengths and wills against each other.
"I missed sparring with you, father."
"I will not let you take my son away from me again," Senator Rider said through clenched teeth. With a shove, he pushed Death away and assumed a ready stance. "The only way you're going to escape is over my dead body."
Death grinned as he raised the tip of his energy blade. "Very well, father."
Ishara frantically searched the darkness, feeling time slipping through her fingers.
Somewhere, someone was screaming. Yelling, pleading desperately for someone to stop and in the darkness she heard the sounds of someone struggling against his bonds.
The screeches of metal against energy resounded through the air as the two men battled fiercely. Pale glowing blade and silver sword locked and came apart, slicing through the air in a fast and furious dance of grace and deadliness. Death launched a series of lightning attacks, parried by an equally fast Senator who sometimes strikes out his own counter-attacks.
The battle was so quick and fluid that both April and Colt had trouble following.
Just as suddenly as it had began, the exchange ended as Death's foot swept up and kicked Senator Rider in the stomach. Senator Rider stumbled and fell heavily to the ground, freezing when he saw the energy blade falling towards him in a killing downward arch.
The energy blade came to an abrupt halt barely an inch away from his face.
Senator Rider stared up at the lethal edge of the energy blade, then looked past it. Death's face was eerily blank. For a disjointed moment, Senator Rider sensed the internal struggle within his son.
"Saber..."
It was the wrong move.
Death snapped back to awareness again, wild anger flashing in flat blue eyes. Swinging the energy blade away, he kicked Senator Rider in the side and scooped up the cavalry sabre from the elder man's loose grip.
"I'll take this with me," he told the wheezing senator. "Just so you will always remember the fate of your son."
Death turned away, striding across the ground to the ship, ignoring the Star Sheriffs as they ran to the injured senator's side. In a matter of minutes, he was on board together with the Renegade-Hound and his hostages.
"Come back here, damn it!" April ran towards the ship even as it rose into the sky. "Come back here with Fireball!"
She stared in helpless fury after the vanishing ship.
"SHINJI!"
* * *
"Master!"
On board the ship, Death turned just in time to catch an armful of joyous Scythe. Laughing, Scythe bestowed wet licks to any exposed areas of skin Scythe could find. He couldn't help but respond to Scythe's exuberant greeting, embracing the diminutive form and nipping the tender skin of Scythe's wrist.
Death detached himself from the happy Scythe. "Later, little one. We're not out of danger yet." He turned his attention to Fireball.
The Star Sheriff stared right back, defiant and unafraid. "Turn back and surrender yourself," Fireball said. "It's still not too late."
From behind Death, Scythe hissed angrily.
"It is already too late. Five years to be exact. Throw them into the brig," he ordered the Renegade-Hound.
Blue eyes glittered maliciously.
"The Lord Conqueror will be pleased with my prize."
To Be Continued in 'Redemption'
