Chapter 4:

The Apollyon of Lylat

Saturnalia, Venom

April 13, 2668

"We need pilots willing to go outside in the heat of danger, pilots who will not hesitate to kill if any Cornerian ships find you." Calan walked between two lines of fresh, young pilots. No one but Calan was wearing a uniform—the newly created Venomian uniform. It was black with red and yellow on it. Calan's hat made him feel just as important as the rank marks on his chest. He liked being a commander.

The young men and women didn't speak. There were 20 of them.

"I expect," continued Calan, "that you have learned all you can about a starfighter. Well, our great emperor has issued new designs and new fighters. We have never seen anything like them. Your knowledge is useless."

The pilots looked at each other.

"Commander," one said, a short male, "what do you mean?"

"I mean what I say," answered Calan. "There are new ships that we'll be using, and for one sole purpose. We need, ladies and gentlemen, martyrs."

"Martyrs?" choked out the same male. "We're to be martyrs?"

"In a manner of speaking,yes. I don't know what Andross has planned, as he won't reveal this to anyone yet. But he wants to build the military, and he wants well-trained soldiers. If we ever meet the Lylatians, we want to be able to defend ourselves in case of possible attack."

"Lylatians?"

"Yes. Andross decreed that we refer to them as Lylatians and ourselves as the Venomian Alliance. He is building a new city to be built in his own honor." Calan smirked.

"What city?"

"Lupercalia. He liked the name. It is like a twin to Saturnalia. He tells me that the names from both cities were once ancient Earth holidays. Something of the sort, anyway." Calan walked to the other side and paced some more. "I'd like to see some progress in your flying abilities and maneuvering. When Captain O'Donnell gets here, he'll brief you on the new models of starfighters in stock. No one's flied them yet."

"But sir," a young woman inquired, "how are we suppost to know how to fly them if there's no one to teach us?"

"I told you that Captain O'Donnell would do that."

"But no one's flown them before."

"That's no concern of yours, private. I know the captain can teach you what you need to know. He's an excellent pilot."

Just then the door at the east wall slid open and a uniformed Wolf O'Donnell strode through, looking happier than he had in two weeks.

"What did you do with Leon?" Calan asked him.

"He's back at his condo." Wolf winked at Calan. "I think he wants to have some time for himself, ever since Andross gave him some little presents."

"What kind?"

"Medals, blah blah blah. He'll be occupied."

"Good. It's time for you to get in charge of these people here."

Wolf turned to the pilots and smiled. "Name's Captain Wolf O'Donnell, but you can call me Captain, Captain O'Donnell, or sir. Anything else will get you kicked by my friend Commander Powalski or by myself personally.

"Commander Porter has most likely told you about the new models that Emperor Andross devised. He really is brilliant. A genius. Now, onto the newest models. Actually, they're the only models for you, since no one before this time has looked into aerospace." Wolf chuckled to himself. "None of you really know what you're getting into when you fly. I guess you've studied the books, but have you really gotten some hands-on experience? Didn't think so."

The pilots looked at each other again.

Wolf walked over to a corner where one of the models sat, underneath a large white cover that draped on the ground. He pulled it off and the pilots were in awe. A black starfighter, with red paint streaking across various parts of the ship, glowed in the room. It was as large as the Wolfen was, but perhaps a bit thinner. It had a double set of wings, with two wings underneath each main wing, and one that arched above the gravity diffuser, or G-Diffuser. Wolf ran his hand over the wing of the starfighter.

"Behold the Apollyon," Wolf said proudly. "His Majesty proposed the name for it. He thought it would fit."

The pilots looked hungry to touch it.

"Don't worry, boys and girls. You'll get your chance to fly 'em. Just wait until I test it out."

"And how are you gonna do that?" demanded a taller man.

"We'll be flying around canyons, so that they won't get a clear signal on us. Bolse isn't really a scanning satillite, it just holds in some weapons. Lethal big-boomers. Do lots of damage. Area 6 just serves as a spaceport and base, also a bit of a junkyard towards the Venom side. I want you to know that the nearest scanners are on Macbeth, and most of the time they don't operate past Bolse. All the things you heard before were myths. I happen to know because I'm an Outsider."

The pilots nodded and muttered under their breaths in agreement.

"So," continued Wolf, "it won't be hard to get out and do some practicing. We'll need to start off in an area away from the transporters. Also, once you get acquainted with the Apollyon, we'll do some flying exercises around the planet to find some other prisoner camps and invite them back to Saturnalia and the new capital, Lupercalia. Should they be hostile, you will be equipped with some guns for defensive protection—but only defensive. We need all the people we can get."

Wolf walked away from the Apollyon and over to another ship, which was also draped in the same white fabric.

"This second model is a bomber of sorts," Wolf said, "and it does quite a bit of damage. I flew it myself and tested about fifty miles away. This is the Harpy. Harpies are better than most Lylatian ships as far as bombing goes, so the any pilot ready for this baby will enjoy it."

He had pulled off the cloth and gazed at a black and red ship striped with yellow at the bottom. It was wider than the Apollyon, but yet very quick.

Wolf walked over to the last ship and stood by it with one hand dug into the cloth. He stopped to face the pilots and said, "This last ship is the most explosive. It has the speed and maneuverability of the Apollyon and the power of the Harpy. This," he whipped off the cloth, "is the Shangri-La. It was named for its everlasting greatness, an Earth concept that suggested youthfulness and peace. Well, the Shangri-La is anything but peaceful—at least, not to the enemy." Wolf slipped a smile.

The Shangri-La was about in the middle of the Apollyon and Harpy. It was not too wide nor too narrow, and it seemed just the right size for a good fighter. It was almost all black except for red streaks by the cockpit, and the yellow was underneath the two wings. The G-Diffuser was slightly larger than the others, which showed that it could move quickly. Overall it was a pleasant ship to look at, like the others.

"So," Wolf said, "I want you boys and girls here in this room, tomorrow at dawn. After some briefing, we'll head to the training rooms to start some newly programmed simulations designed to fit the Apollyon, the Harpy, and the Shangri-La. Then we head out into the hangars. Got that? Dismissed."

The pilots exited out of the room. Calan followed Wolf as he paced the room in a triangle by the ships.

"Something on your mind?"

"Not really," Wolf answered. He paused. "Okay, yeah, there is something. Andross wants us to have markings. Tatoos. On our upper arms."

"Tatoos?"

"That's what I thought. He thinks it will tell one Venomian from another. As if we'd get confused with someone else...." he trailed off with a smirk on his face.

Calan shrugged. "I don't have a problem with it."

"Well I do. I'm not sort of person to go through with stuff like that. I've always been a bit of a rebel."

"Your story suggests that."

"I know it does, that's what I'm saying. I don't think I'm really part of this group." Wolf stopped pacing and stood close to a wall by the Harpy.

"What are you talking about? You've been helping us!"

"But I'm not part of your group, not really. Neither is Leon. I'm just not a part of this—or I shouldn't be. I'm tempted to fly out right now. But Andross said he'd give me a reward beyond anything I'd find out there. I didn't believe him at first, but that man got the better of me, damn him. He said it so well, so persuasive, I just had to agree and say I'd stay. Now I'm not sure whether to stay or run."

Calan thought about it. "What does Leon want to do?"

Wolf sighed. "I dunno. I think he might like it here. He usually goes along with whatever I want, but we're a team!"

"True."

"I don't know what to do is all."

"Sorry Wolf, but I'm not a counselor."

"You asked, so I told you."

Calan nodded and stared at his feet. "Guess I did."

Wolf leaned against the wall, standing between the Harpy and the exit. "I feel guilty, though. I have the option of leaving, but the other convicts and the Saturnalians—they're all stuck here. Like you. They told me that you were innocent."

"I am."

"That's why I feel like a load of crap, knowing I can go."

"So go."

"I can't."

"Captain O'Donnell, you have every right to go, whether you take some of us with you or not. We are all here for a reason, and that reason is because we are criminals. The Saturnalians are here of their own misfortune; it can't be helped and you can't rescue two or three million lives. It was my own misfortune that I ended up here."

"God Calan, you make me feel like the luckiest guy in the world."

"Aren't you?"

"Hell no. But I've got a decision to make."

"Right you are. And whatever choice you make affects other people's options. And mine."

"See you later then, Cal."

"Bye."

The next morning Calan walked in the mayor's office to find not only Forrest Tucker there, but the newly installed emperor as well.

"Ah, Calan!" Tucker exclaimed, putting his hands together. "Nice to see you this morning! How was sleep?"

"All right," Calan said groggily, still trying to get the effects of sleep to wear off. "How about you? Sir?" he added quickly.

"I'm fine. Never better! I've got something to show you."

"I'm all eyes and ears."

Tucker pulled his sleeve up and showed a black tatoo of a python snake that coiled around a dagger. The dangling tail of the snake almost conjoined near the elbow, etching right into his fur. He gave Calan a sheepish grin and said, "His Majesty thought it was nice. Do you like it?"

Calan didn't answer him. He turned to Andross. "Sir?"

"I proposed this tatoo to be given to all Venomians," Andross said, "to help tell them apart from those...loyal Lylatians."

Calan stifled a fake grin and said, "It's...it's very nice."

"You'll all be getting some," the mayor said excitedly.

Calan took a sideways look at Andross and said nothing.

"No excitement? It is a gift! Those with the mark of Venom will blessed in the future years!"

"How?"

"You all will be first class citizens, of course!"

"Why wouldn't we all be?" Calan asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're confusing me, sir."

Andross laughed. "I should not have said anything. But the tatoo will be required."

Calan wasn't sure where the big boss was taking this or what he was talking about, but he'd have to follow through if he didn't find an escape route with Wolf. There was nowhere to run if he resisted.

"Your Majesty, if I may show Calan the designs....?"

"Forrest, you are always so formal."

"I have reason to be! Your brilliance is so great that I couldn't do any less!"

"Forrest...." Andross laughed, shaking his head. "All right, if you wish."

Tucker dug through his desk and found a book labled Capitol Ships in messy handwriting. He sat down by Calan and opened the cover to reveal some sketches of giant starships sailing the stars. He pointed to a particularly large one and said, "This type of ship is called the Satyr, and—" he turned the page, "—this is the Sileni. Both of these ships are ones we plan on making to help defend ourselves in times of need. We plan on making both flagships for Saturnalia and Lupercalia."

Calan looked at the beauty of the two ships. "But...aren't they....?"

"Too big? That is a problem, but we are choosing a good spot to hide the ships. They may have to stay in the spot that they are built. It's unfortunate. But it must be done. We cannot afford to have those bases see us."

"But they're too far away," Calan protested. "The bases can't trace us—"

"I know, I know, but the transporter ships might pick us up. We will have to be very cautious in our building. His Majesty wants an army set up, don't you, Your Excellency?"

"Yes. Thank you, Forrest. Let us not plague Commander Porter any more on these matters. Are you ready for your tatoo, Calan?"

Calan looked up at Andross. "Ready, sir?"

"Yes. We can do it now. Forrest, call in Jansen."

Calan walked away rubbing his arm, staring at his new tatoo. It had to be tatooed red so that his leopard spots didn't hide away the mark. He couldn't say that he liked it much. He wished he could go to Adratia and spend his time with his mother's side of the family. Calan thought about asking Wolf to hide him in a compartment, or use one of the new fast transporter ships that the Saturnalians had built, called the Rostik. Maybe Korrigan and Abraham would come with him, and they'd all spend the rest of their lives living happily in Adratia. Calan couldn't wait to see how the little cousins had grown, with Uncle Mehmet and Aunt Rametah along with Grandfather and Grandmother. Would Joram and Katriel be almost unrecognizable? Uncle Mehmet and Aunt Rametah had defended Calan at his trial, even though they were unsuccessful. Only his aunt and uncle believed that he was innocent. Surely they'd welcome him back in open arms.

He nearly bumped into a cart of books sitting on the corner of a hallway near the library. An elderly woman shooed him off and went away muttering. Calan rubbed his arm again and moved away.

This time he almost ran into Korrigan.

Korrigan stopped just in time. "Jeez laweez, Cayl. I 'bout didn't see you!"

"Me neither."

"So, what's up? Hey, what's that on your arm? Is that your tatoo! Look, I've got mine too! Just had it done. Some fellow was doing it in the café down town. What d'you think of it?"

"Um...it's all right...."

"Yeah! I love mine! Can't wait to show it off! But then everyone else is getting one, too. I'm gonna set up my new home in Lupercalia. You don't know how many people are flockin' there! It's a madhouse!"

"Korrigan?"

"Yup, Cayl?"

"You're acting pretty damn weird, you know that? Too hyper. You drink something?"

"Naw. Just an adrenaline rush." He whipped out a fungus cigarette and a lighter.

"No wonder," mumbled Calan, rolling his eyes.

Korrigan blew out minty smoke. "What? Don't like it? Really bud, you should try these things. They work like magic."

"For what? Getting you addicted?"

"Oh Cayl, you need to relax once in a while," he sniffed. "Anyway, I'm feeling better, now that I've got these babies in my pocket." He tapped his front right pocket carefully. "So whatcha doin' later?"

"Not much."

"Ah. Heard you might get promoted."

"What?!"

"Yeah. To Captain. You'll get one of those...do they call 'em...flagships? Yeah. Only two of those. I wonder who the lucky sucker is that gets the other one...."

"No clue. Tell me, where did you hear this stuff?"

"From that fellow doing my tatoos in the café. You should talk to him, he's pretty cool. For a Haissan."

"Did you say Haissan?"

"You deaf? Yeah."

"Did he mention a name or anything?"

"Naw. Why?"

"I need to talk to him." Calan ran a hand through his fur and quickly jogged off. "See you later!" he called over his shoulder.

"Whatever," muttered Korrigan.

Calan raced to the café and tried to walk as fast as possible to find the Haissan tatooist. He pushed past a group of people (and recieved cold stares) to the far corner. A few people were walking away, pointing at their tatoos proudly. Calan saw the Haissan putting his things away for the day. He ran up to the man and managed to say, "I—need to talk—to you...."

The Haissan man, wearing a hooded forest-green cloak, looked at Calan in surprise. "To me?" he said in a thick Haissan accent.

"Yeah, you. You...d'you know...I mean...of course you do...what I meant was..." Calan shook his head to try and breathe.

"Meant what, with me?"

"Pardon?"

"Come with me," repeated Calan.

The Haissan thought for a moment. "I might. Why do you ask?"

"The Mirror of Echoes."

The Haissan's eyes widened. "I'll go with you," he agreed, standing up and moving so swiftly that the hem of his robes were behind his feet. Calan followed the Haissan out of the café and down a hallway. He stopped in an unoccupied part of the hallway and whispered, "Sir, how do you know about the mirror?"

"It's here," Calan replied, "and I know that you can work it."

The Haissan looked around to check if anyone was listening in. "I don't think you're aware of the powers of that mirror."

"Yes I am. You can get into memories of past peoples. My friend Chaya told me all about it. She showed me the mirror."

"And did she tell you of the powers it possesses? That the Mirror of Echoes is also the Key to the Weapons of Strife?"

"Weapons of what?"

"Strife, sir."

"Don't know what those are."

The Haissan slapped his head. "I suppose you wouldn't. But no Haissan must know about that mirror. Do you understand? And no Lylatian needs to see it, either. It should be closed, shut away."

"Why? I want you to help me decipher the mirror so I can get into the thing."

"You don't want to. No, you shouldn't, and you were foolish to have told me about it."

"Why?"

"You don't know what I could have used it for. I'm an honest man, and I wouldn't have done wrong with the mirror, but others would take advantage of it."

"What's your name?"

"Kaleel."

"That all?"

"All that I would tell you. I'm doing tatoos for people around here. I happened to drop by because of some malfunctions in my ship, but they're taken care of now. Only a select few Haissans know about Saturnalia." Kaleel was still looking cautiously around.

"I see," Calan said. "Say—I'm trying to find a ship out of the system. Do you—"

"I'm sorry, I cannot possibly get you a ride out of here. But I do know someone who makes trips out of Jadoram for people. He runs a little business in Indiatapan with small starships and weapons. Might help you out."

"Could you really? That'd be great."

"Yes. He'd love to come out here and pick you up, if you want. Always wanted to see the Lylat System. His name's Semori Daiu, for reference."

"Thanks. Do you have a way to contact him on a transmitter?"

"Yes. His transmitter address is NasilrathMoritko654ts45. Need me to repeat for you?"

"Could you write it out?" Calan dug through his pockets to find a pen and a piece of paper, among other things. He handed them to Kaleel.

Kaleel wrote quickly and gave the paper and pen back to Calan.

Calan read the paper slowly. "What's Nasilrath Moritko?"

"The name of his business."

"What does it mean?"

"Steel Magnolia."

"Nice." Calan smiled. "So, can this Semori fella speak English?"

"Fluently. He's an excellent flyer, as well. You'll find him a good partner."

"I sincerely hope so. Well, it was nice to meet you, Kaleel."

"And you as well, Mister....?"

"Porter. Calan Porter."

"Ah. Nice Lylatian name. I must go now. You keep the mirror secret, and don't tell any Haissan or anyone else, Semori included, about that mirror. It is vital. Also, you must find a way off of Venom before you get a ride or contact Semori. You see, most Haissans don't know that Saturnalia exists, and if they did, they might try to search it for the mirror. Any place where the mirror could be hidden is important ot them. Farewell." And he swept away.

Calan looked back at the address on his paper, with Semori's name just above that. The Steel Magnolia. He liked the name. It would fit for the business.

Now that he could find a ride out of Lylat, how was he going to get off Venom itself? That was a problem, definitely. If he couldn't find someone to get him off, contacting Semori Daiu would be pointless. And with the new tatoo on his arm, he could be suspicious later on in years when he walked about.

Calan sat down by a crate in that corner, thinking. Maybe he should give up trying to get off. Every time he saw a ray of hope, it was plowed over. As much as he didn't want to, he considered that option. Just give up and stay with everyone here. After all, it was his last resort now. No one but Outsiders could get outside, and all the ones he knew couldn't get him off. He knew one thing for sure. The Apollyon of Lylat was with him. That was what Old Garnett called Andross. And with each passing day, he had a feeling that Andross, the Apollyon of Lylat, would leave a lasting impression once the Lylatians found out about Saturnalia and Lupercalia.