The Rising Sun: Episode 2 Page 2

  Thank god for that…

  Deciding to take a brief break, he headed for the door to the hexagon shaped room, walking down the long corridor that came beyond it.

  __________

  Lunch time had come sooner than expected.

  An air hostess passed by Raf’s right, pushing a large trolley, serving each passenger his lunch. He stopped by Raf’s seat and bent down over the lunch trolley. He straightened up holding a large tray, and carefully laid it over the desk before Raf’s seat.

  Raf turned back to the air hostess, whose gleaming badge had the words, “My name is NARODO. How may I be of service?”

  “Thanks, Narodo.” Said Raf.

  Narodo gave him a courteous bow in his thick black suit, and then steered the lunch tray to the man in the seat forward. Raf placed the magazine he had been reading down, and begun with what was definitely a reasonably expensive lunch.

  __________

  Gronto had wandered into the dressing room. Frowning, he bent down over a pile of robes. As he picked the set of robes up, he wondered where they’d come from: nobody around this agency went about wearing something that looked this ludicrous.

  Whatever.

  Throwing the robes down, he reached for the room’s light on the side of the wall, and flicked it on. As the room bloomed to light, his eyes automatically locked to the far end of the room … And he felt his heart halt.

  A group of gagged, masked figures sat at the end of the room, rigidly tied up so that all they could do was fidget and shift mildly.

  Feeling shock explode within him, Gronto dashed to the end of the room, pulling off the mask and gag off one of them.

  It was Narodo, the chief of the air hostess crew of cruiser 802.

  “There are imposters in the cruiser!” Narodo exploded, the moment his gag had been wrenched off. “They took our uniforms … and badges, and entered the ship! We’re under attack!”

  Gronto felt brain jam at what he was hearing.

  “What?!” he spluttered, confounded. Without waiting, Gronto tore off the masks off the remaining figures, and his world spun around him:

  Sitting tied before him, was the crew of pilots and air hostesses of cruiser 802.

  Who were supposed to be in cruiser 802 right now.

  Gronto straightened up very slowly, feeling as though every muscle in his body had gone still.

  What is this?…

  __________

  Jeros stretched on his seat, waiting for his lunch to arrive. In a few moments, one of the air hostesses had arrived next to him with a lunch trolley. A shining badge lay pinned to the man’s chest, which said ‘Narodo’. He placed the tray on Jeros’s desk, gave him a courteous smile, and walked off with the trolley.

  Jeros had felt, for that mini second when he stared into Narodo’s eyes, that there was something strange stirring within them … and whatever it was, it made something tingle silently within him.

  Shaking off the stupid feeling, Jeros began eating his lunch.

  __________

  “I don’t … I don’t understand.” Gronto’s mind had gone sluggish in the intensity of what they were facing. “Who?”

  The air hostesses and pilots stared at him, all of their eyes seeming to silently scream with something that even transcended fear…

  __________

  The man with the badge that said ‘NARODO’ entered the room of the air hostesses, and shoved the lunch trolley into its rack. The room was empty, with the other air hostesses out delivering the passengers’ lunches. Throwing one last glance at the hallway behind him, Zardin tore off the badge on his chest, slapping it on the desk. He peeled off the wax made facial mask and smiled as fresh air brushed against his face. Wearing the stupid wax mask had certainly been the most arduous part of this entire plan, despite being the very least important.

  Two more air hostesses filed into the room, fixing Zardin with a purposed look.

  “Everyone’s been given their lunch, sir.” One of them said.

  The other gave a nasty smile. “And the toxin we’ve added will have them all out in seconds now…”

  Zardin sent a swift glance back at the line of passengers. They had all begun digging in . Not the meanest inkling of doubt on any of their faces…

  Doubts about if they were really in a safe voyage right now. Doubts about if the food they were eating was actually safe to eat right now. Doubts about if the air hostesses and pilots controlling this cruiser were what they appeared to be.

  No doubts at all. Just plain, blind faith in the established system…

  The system that Zardin and the men had set out to tear apart…

  “Thank you for your faith, ladies and gents,” said Zardin, a cruel smile twisting his lips. “Now, prepare yourselves … for the ride of a lifetime.”

  As the seconds ticked by, the rest of the air hostesses slowly filled the room. The group waited for a minute or two, before they saw heads lolling to the side of every seat. The passengers were all out.

  The cruiser was now all theirs.

  Feeling adrenaline flare inside of him, Zardin turned to the other suit adorned men in the small room and leered. “It’s play time, boys.”

  He drew out a small, capsule sized device from the left pocket of his suit. He positioned his thumb over the sole red button on the device. For the space of a second, he relished the feel of the button as his thumb sat over it gently… and then he pressed the button.

  __________

  A hundred or so metres away, a dazzling orange flare soaked the whole engine room. The explosion ripped the entire room apart, sending a wild, rocking shudder across the length of the vast vessel.

  The majestic vessel slowly floated to a stop in the midst of the starry chasm of space. Its grandeur and majesty were now complete illusions to the sad, helpless state it was now in. Its passengers were now in a predicament that no amount of their money would be able to bail them out of…

  The cruiser’s engines were blasted off, and its electrical and radar systems had been fried. The vessel was now trapped. Trapped literally in the middle of no man’s land…

  Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

  4

  “We are at the precipice of a new age,” said the man in the holographic screen. “The age of unravelling.”

  His pale face. His razor sharp teeth. His black hair falling on both sides of his face in frames. It was all terrifying. But not merely as terrifying as his eyes.

  Because the man had no eyes … just empty, blank sockets that gazed out horrifyingly.

  As he finished speaking, the silence that followed seemed to drill into the president’s ears. Standing about behind him were the other members of his office. All of them were standing rigid, facing the holo screen at the front of the office.

  “The cruiser 802, of Lexion spaceway, is now within our mercy.” the man in the screen stated. “Every one of the passengers has been put unconscious. And if necessary, they will be put out of consciousness … permanently.” Spreading down behind the man was a hallway filled with four lines of seats. And the seats were all occupied by unconscious passengers.

  “Believe me,” the man continued. “The worst part of this situation is not that I will kill off every one of your citizens with my very hands,” He raised his hands, with long, talon like nails. “The worst part of this situation … is that I will make all of you watch.”

  The entire office watched in horror as a group of other suited men - the other terrorists disguised as air hostesses - walked over, spreading down the line of seats. They were all standing beside one passenger each along the line of seats visible within the holo screen’s range. And then, as one, all of the suited men dug into their pockets and produced Sparklers. They stood spread down the cruiser’s hall with unconscious passengers, and positioned their Sparklers at one unconscious passenger each.

  The eyeless man standing in front of the screen, shook his head slowly. “You may want to consider pla
ying along, because the rest of my men may not be as kind or as patient as me.”

  The effect of the man’s words sank through the silence like a knife.

  The president took a deep, calming breath, and broke the silence with his steady voice:

  “What do you want?”

  The man uttered a harsh chuckle, and the z-com’s camera shook slightly as he did.

  “What, indeed?” he said.

  The screen spun around to show the line of passengers. The man walked in front of the screen, stopping by the side of one of the seats. There was a young boy slumped on it, blissful to the gravity of the predicament he was now in.

  “This here is young Onix,” said the man, smiling. “Travelling to the planet Artos to meet his grandparents.”

  The pale skinned man placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  “You have one chance to be good to this young man here.” His soft, sharp voice might have passed as a hiss. “Because if I don’t hear the response I want,” He turned to gaze ruefully at Onix, his hand stroking the side of his cheek. “You’ll watch as dear Onix’s neck snaps like a twig.”

  The president felt his nails dig into his flesh as he clenched his fists. He had to take another deep breath, before he spoke. “Tell us what you want!”

  “Oh, but you already know, Mr. President.” said the man, and he gave another twisted smile. “You’ve always known.”

  He spent a second to resume stroking the side of Onix’s face, before looking back at the screen. “I want … File D.”

  For the first time, there were voices in the room. Confused voices.

  “File – what?”

  “What did he say he wants?”

  “What the hell is file D?”

  “What is this?”

  The president continued to hold the man in the screen in an iron hard stare, while the rest of the men in the room whispered to each other.

 

  The defense minister stepped forth at last, addressing the man in the screen.

  “Listen,” he said, with the air of someone pushed beyond his usual borders of calm. “We would love to give you what you want -”

  “So would Onix,” said the man, scratching the boy’s neck with his creepy, long fingernail.

  “-but you need to speak out. What the hell is file D?”

  The man continued to gaze at the defense minister for a curious second, before his eyes carried back to the centre. To the president.

  “Mr. president, I suggest you begin listening to reason. Because first…” His hands enclosed tighter around the boy’s neck, his sharp black fingernails piercing the poor kid’s flesh. The president winced, watching beads of red ooze from the boy’s neck. “There will be blood. And then,” He turned to gaze down the line of seats. The rest of the men tightened their grip around their Sparklers. Getting ready to fire anytime now. “there will be fireworks.”

 

  The president stepped forward, mustering every ounce of calm residing in him.

  “I’m asking one last time,” he said, his own face inches before the holographic screen. They were inches apart from each other now. Lunatic terrorist, and politician leader. “What – do – you - want?”

  He stared into the man’s blank eye sockets … and the man gazed back just as unflinchingly, unmoving. He didn’t have eyes … But he could see.

  Ignoring the tingle of horror, the president kept focus.

  “What do you want?” he repeated softly.

  “File D.”

  The man’s hands tightened around the unconscious boy’s throat. His fingernails dug deeper into his flesh and the beads of blood trickled down his neck. Some of the ministers made sounds of disgust and repulsion, and some of them pleaded with the man. But his soulless black sockets didn’t move from the president’s. And he seemed oblivious to the rest of the members of the office …

  The president let silence hover between them, his eyes boring into the black abyss that formed the man’s eyes…

  There’s no other way, The realization gave way inside of him, and a twisting sensation occurred in his gut. This will cost us … but it’s the only way.

  “I have what you’re looking for. I have file D.” he said, a bare whisper escaping his lips. “And I shall send it. Now let these innocent people go. We’ll have the file sent digitally.”

  The rest of the room had their eyes strapped onto the president. Some of them had their mouths slightly ajar, looking stunned. Most of them looked confused, puzzled at what was going on. But the president would have time to explain later.

  File D…

  He took a deep breath, and forced down his guilt. But he knew there was no other way. He would not stand by and watch innocent civilians die for it…

  “I’ll have it sent to this z-com through which you’ve called me.” repeated the president. “And then, you leave those people in peace.”

  “Good choice.” The man said, giving a mild nod.

  The screen disappeared, and a piercing silence fell over the room.

  “Wait, so there is a–a file D?” began the defense minister.

  “File D…” the president repeated, feeling the words he uttered scald his throat slightly. He slowly turned and faced the rest of the office, all of whom had their eyes locked onto him.

  “Where do we begin?” he said softly. “First off … let’s hope that the Naxim ever forgives me for this.”

  __________

  The holographic screen hung right atop Zardin’s z-com, showing the rate of file transfer:

  99% OF FILE TRANSFERRED

  “And one percent later,” said Zardin, holding the z-com higher, so that its screen rose along with it. “The world would be a changed place…”

  He stood inside of the air hostesses’ room with his men standing around him, all of them looking into his screen, waiting…

  And then the display on the screen changed:

  TRANSFER COMPLETE

  Zardin slowly lowered the z-com, and its holographic screen dissolved into thin air. He pocketed the device, and strode out into the large hall of the cruiser, drawing in a deep, clean breath of air. Then, he gave a wide glance about the large hall, and exhaled. “Mission accomplished.”

  The words struck a thrilling effect on the large hall: the rest of the suited men looked at Zardin with a new fervour in their faces.

  “That was rather easy, my lord.” commented one of them, permitting give Zardin a mild bow.

  “Yes, a little bit of persuasion usually yields results.” Zardin glanced down the hallway, with the unconscious passengers’ heads slackened on either side. “And my ways of persuasion are the finest of all, aren’t they?”

  “Always are.” one of them said.

  “File D…” Zardin wandered into thought for a moment, and there was a new spark in his every thought now that they had achieved it. Achieved success in the second stage of this crucial journey. “File D was a top secret file held by the Naxim … classified above top secret, as matter of fact. A file they had branded as the single most classified file in existence. It had been recently handed to the president of the planetary republic of Dragor for safekeeping. The president was to maintain utter secrecy regarding the existence of the file. Nobody, not even the rest of his office, could know.” He gave an amused laugh. “It’s too bad all those efforts in keeping the file safe went to complete waste.”

  The men laughed cruelly.

  “Now that our task here is done,” Zardin said. “Let’s leave while fate allows it.”

  “How?” one of them asked, glancing out the windows by the side of the hall.

  “Like any other large vessel, this cruiser has escape pods. We leave on one of them.” Gesturing for the men to follow, Zardin strode down the hall. His men gathered and fell in line behind him as he briskly strode down the hall. Together, they reached the hatch where the cruiser had its emergency escape shuttles. They boarded one of the small escape pods and lef
t the cruiser, shooting down the abyss of space.

  Inside the escape pod, Zardin stood in the middle of the small circular room, while the rest of the men had seated themselves around it.

  File D is now in our hold, Zardin thought. And soon … there won’t be a thing that isn’t. He drew the z-com from his pocket and held it for a second, feeling as though his hands were casing a revered, priceless treasure: Hidden within the depths of his z-com, was now the instrument for building another world … and tearing down this one. And it had been something Zardin and the men had long sought.

  “What’s the next step, if I may ask, lord?’ asked one of the men.

  “There is one final thing we need.” answered Zardin. “One final thing that needs to be done … And I will attend to this personally.”