9 – Inkens

  The noon sun bathed the landscape in shadowless light as we raced along the cliffside and through the shallow wake. My goggles were hit with water droplets and small stones as our cycles hit their top speeds, engines roaring with growing intensity almost to the point of a burnout. I looked over at Veli on the other bike, one hand gripping his pike, the other holding onto his seat while his spinel gleamed in the sunlight.

  Rupert could handle his bike like a professional even with his body scrunched low. Martin was equally talented on his larger and louder cycle. I had to hold on tightly to my sidebars just so I wouldn’t go flying off.

  I recollected being fascinated with Fawloc aircraft as a child. The carriers were the largest planes to have touched the sky, and were capable of moving an entire battalion across the world in less than a day. Then there were the harriers and gunships that carried the title, also technological marvels. One of my youthful passing ambitions was to become a pilot and fly a Fawloc. Now I was trying to force my way onto the biggest of the line.

  Time was short. If we heard the distinct, explosive sound of a large jet engine firing up, the odds of getting on board would drop by the second.

  After rounding another hillside, Rupert, leading us, made a sudden, screeching stop and took off his goggles. We pulled up alongside him and looked straight ahead. Across the bay was an old airstrip dug in near the mountains. Soldiers were rushing supplies—and prisoners—into the nearby carrier. The aircraft was massive, larger than anything I remembered from our television during the air force recruitment spots.

  Armed with electrified staffs, the soldiers shocked the prisoners until they entered the craft. I didn’t see Ruby, but Veli mentioned that he could’ve sworn he saw Jeg entering with his refined eyesight. From what he described, he was enraged and looked poised to kill anyone who got in his way once he got his shackles off.

  “We aren’t too late,” Martin assured us.

  “They must’ve gotten the elders in already. It’ll be hard getting them off alone, so we need to free the hunters first,” Veli explained.

  “We need to get onboard first,” Rupert fired back to his passenger. “Any ideas?” Martin asked.

  “One.” Rupert turned and lowered his goggles. “But we need to get a move on—right now!”

  He kicked up his stand and took off towards the runway, seemingly unworried if the enemy would spot him. He wasn’t physically strong, but there was a reason he was both our tactician and technician; he knew how to execute a plan, even when there was little time to think beforehand.

  We darted off and followed him as he blazed straight through the shallow water and across a sandbar. Our cycles submerged halfway and their speed dropped, but they were built to take the punishment.

  When we were closer, Rupert reached for the pistol he had taken from the wreckage of the Pearl, took aim using one arm at a nearby guard tower, and fired. The shot echoed from the cliffs as a guard fell off his post and to the ground. The soldiers near the carrier took notice and signaled the others to finish their tasks and board the aircraft.

  As we hit the beach behind the airstrip, Veli drew his pike and held it steadily behind him. I did the same, but only as a defensive measure.

  Rupert stopped in the middle of three armed soldiers, and then circled around them as Veli cut them down with his pike, effortlessly slicing into their armor. We continued past them as the doors to the carrier closed. Several soldiers were standing guard behind the aircraft, wielding their electro-staffs. Veli took careful aim and shot at all three staffs with his spinel, scoring hits on the hands that held them, shocking them open so that the weapons fell to the ground just long enough for us to get by.

  More soldiers, agile despite their heavy armor, proceeded toward us from all sides and opened fire. The prisoners must’ve taken top priority—there was a fairly large squad left behind on the ground to deal with us.

  Veli deflected several shots with his pike and returned fire. Martin activated his rear turret and put it on automatic, so that it began blasting the soldiers behind us on its own. Its heat exhaust nearly burned me.

  “Vince! Look out!” Martin yelled back.

  A soldier had banked up against us and was about to jam his staff into our front wheel, but I reacted in time and sliced his weapon in half with one swipe. Sparks shot out of the broken staff as I breathed deeply.

  “Okay Rupert, what’s your plan?” Martin yelled.

  “See that rear loading door?”

  “Yeah, but it’s already closed!”

  “Just stay right behind it, so you aren’t blown away by the engines.” Rupert, ever resourceful, took out his grappling gun from under his coat and took careful aim at the door with the gadget. The carrier’s engines grew louder, and the end of the airstrip was fast approaching. He fired.

  The propelled hook hit the exterior door latch with a twang and grabbed onto it, pulling it outward after Rupert retracted the wire.

  “Hit the latch lock, Vince! Use your sidearm!” Rupert instructed.

  Nervous that I would miss, I inhaled and took aim—and luckily, I hit the lock after two shots. Rupert subsequently gave the wire a strong tug with his free hand, yanking the door open. But only enough to squeeze one of us through at a time—the hydraulic systems inside were pulling back, trying to close the rear doors once more.

  “How are you going to keep it open?” I shouted.

  “We might only have a few seconds. Just forget the bike and jump in!” Rupert shouted.

  “But how…”

  I stopped and watched him tie some of the grappling gun’s wire in a knot around the front of his bike.

  “Veli, stand up,” Rupert yelled through the jet fuel-saturated air.

  Veli balanced himself, and within seconds, he was standing upright on his bike seat. Rupert tapped something on his panel, and his nitrous boosters suddenly flipped over into reverse.

  “Got your balance?” he asked. “What about you, Boss? Ready?”

  Veli nodded and Martin gave a thumb up, so Rupert fired up his boosters. The flames that came out would’ve burnt Veli had he been sitting. Rupert’s bike flew backwards, and Veli barely managed to keep a grasp onto it. When the bike landed again, the rear door was torn open.

  “You first!” Martin yelled.

  Rupert shut off his boosters and sped up to the plane. Veli leapt and rolled inside, vanishing from view. Rupert kept hold on the bike until he jumped in sideways through the small opening. His bike toppled over and shed parts, dragging a few dozen meters before the wire snapped.

  “I have to go in first, keep it steady!” Martin told me.

  As he stood up and gripped onto the door and fuselage, I took a firm hold on the bike and scooted forward. Once inside, he offered his arm to me. But as I reached out, the door’s systems fired back up, and it began to creak and groan.

  My handle on the bike grew momentarily unstable, but I soon regained balance and extended my hand again as the door began to close. Martin pulled me in just before we lifted off from the runway below, the metal slab locking shut as the carrier departed.

  We were inside the cargo hold, surrounded by crates of weapons or rations, one reading “Nutriblocks - Oceania”. We caught our breath and checked our surroundings. Through a few small windows in the loading door, we watched the ground under us as it was replaced with sky.

  “Wow, never seen you take to action like that, Rupert,” I panted.

  “He has his moments,” Martin chuckled and patted his back.

  “Yes, well…” Rupert caught his breath and adjusted his glasses. “We still have to get off before we’re too far away from the island.”

  “Think they know we’re in here?” Veli asked.

  “Hold on…”

  Rupert fiddled with his watch and used its frequency tap, which let him monitor most over-the-air transmissions. After some static, he found the right channel, and we listened closely to the tiny speakers.

  “Check and see if they got inside,” came an incoming order. “We lost them in the dust and found some wreckage. They may have crashed, but we’ve yet to find bodies, and the cargo door alarm went off.”

  “Understood,” a reply came.

  “They’ll come in through there…” Rupert explained, pointing to the steps that led up to a floor hatch. “Get into the nutriblock box.”

  “Wait, isn’t it…” I wondered.

  “Trust me, it’s empty,” he assured, cutting off the locks off with a plasma knife and pulling open the metal lid.

  The four of us crawled in. There was plenty of room.

  “Doesn’t even smell like those block things you eat,” Veli noticed.

  “Because they don’t eat or supply them,” Martin replied.

  “I can hear the patrols,” Veli said quietly.

  We sat still until the metal footsteps outside the crate quieted and the hatch closed once more.

  “Area clear. Door must’ve malfunctioned, but it’s holding,” one of the soldiers said over the radio.

  “Understood. Remember to get the prisoners to Moscow on time after we land, Sergeant. Mr. Inkens has plans for them. Over and out.”

  “Sounds like Inkens is after us personally…” Martin muttered.

  “Come on, we haven’t much time,” Rupert said and crawled out. “If this is really going to the capital, we’re going to be in the north’s imperial airspace soon.”

  We left the box and made our way to the floor hatch. Veli carefully raised it a bit and peered outside before giving the go-ahead and slipping out. The three of us hastily joined him in the corridor above.

  “We don’t want to go that way,” Rupert whispered, pointing at the door behind our backs. “The cells and cockpit are ahead of us. Keep quiet.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  The heavy hum of the engines vibrated the metal siding and the grating below as we treaded carefully towards the front. Judging by the emptiness, it seemed like the carrier was running with a minimum crew. Before long, we arrived at another door, this one with a window.

  “Bombing bay ahead,” Rupert informed us. “And no one in sight. Keep going… weapons at the ready.”

  The four of us continued, sneaking around massive weaponry that those onboard were likely more than ready to use against the Resistance. After another pair of doors, we entered a bigger compartment that had two sets of stairs, one leading up, and the other down.

  “The prisoners… they’d be down there,” Rupert said. “Careful, could be a guard or two.”

  We went down the metal stairway and entered the dimmed, tightly packed holding area. The captives were in small cells, barred in by laser barriers. Most were scrunched to the floor; others were standing against the walls of their cells, no bigger than a closet.

  “Veli! Is that you, Veli?” Ornue’s voice bellowed nearby.

  His face, illuminated by the deadly, searing laser grid he stood near, had several cuts and scrapes, indicating that he had fought back—or had simply been treated in such a way because of what he was.

  “Heh, wow, Veli. I can’t believe you got in here. So do you know how to get us out?”

  “I might,” Rupert said. “But we have to start at the back. This place is too cramped—we’ll have to go out the way we came in, single file.”

  “Okay, got it. Be careful. I’ll be waiting.”

  “Ornue, have you seen my sister?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but… I don’t recall her being taken to a cell, um, Vince.”

  “Hey, Veli,” Malahej said coolly and patiently, opposite of Ornue. “It’s true what the elders say; I’m always finding trouble, aren’t I?”

  “Well, maybe, yeah, but we’ll get you out of there,” Veli replied. “Where are the elders, anyway?”

  “Ah, they put ‘em in the back, the other room.”

  Veli took off for the door ahead of us. I followed close behind as he swung it open.

  “Vince, you go ahead. I’ll try to get this grid offline,” Rupert told me from behind my back.

  The first jail room held Ornue, Malahej and several other felile, while the second had my friends and the elders. I slammed the door shut as we looked around at the remaining prisoners.

  “Oh, Vince. You came after us,” Sasha said, just centimeters away.

  Jess was kept on the other side. She had a few tears in her eyes as her arms rested on Pelter’s shoulders, who was silent and pensive.

  “Vincent,” she sniffled. “Get us out of here. They’re so brutal… I knew what I was getting into when I joined but… This is terrifying…”

  “It’s okay, Rupert is working on it.”

  “That’s good… Yeah, he knows what to do…”

  “Do you know where they put the pikes?” Veli asked.

  “Yes, my child…” an elder’s voice responded.

  We went farther back to meet Tyu and the others.

  “They’re above us, in a weapons crate. Do be careful.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Veli!” Jeg’s voice came from the very back.

  We went up to the last cell, holding the very furious lead hunter.

  “Get me out of here, and I’ll teach these vermin a lesson,” he growled. “I could kill them all if I wanted, just watch.”

  “We’re going to free everyone. Just hold on,” Veli promised as he headed back to the door to the other holding room.

  Veli opened it and stood still. Ahead of us, Martin and Rupert were down on their knees, their hands on their heads to keep the three Terra-Force soldiers aiming their rifles directly at them from shooting.

  “Don’t try anything stupid, beast,” a guard said to Veli, who was already reaching for his pike. “Drop it. You, too, boy.”

  Without hesitation, I let go of my pike and rifle and kicked them behind me.

  “Drop it, you stinkin’ beast!” one of the soldiers commanded, his weapon now on Veli.

  I could see great anger building in him again, but to try and attack in this confined space would be suicide.

  “Do it, Veli,” Martin urged calmly. “We were followed. We have no choice.”

  “You’re lucky I haven’t shot you already. Drop it now!”

  Veli glanced at the floor with a look of defeat and tossed the inactive pike behind him. The soldiers grabbed us and forced us up the steps, prodding with the barrels of their rifles, as one of them went back to retrieve what we had dropped. They guided us to the second floor, which was lavishly decorated. The place had a blue carpet and a few imperial icon engravings on the sides of the fuselage. Several terminals dotted each side, with workers and flight crew tapping away at the key plates.

  “Where are we going?” Martin demanded.

  “To see Inkens.”

  “Good, I wouldn’t mind showing him the door.”

  “Be quiet and walk!”

  We reached the end of the comms room and went up one last set of steps to the flight deck, on a platform extending out over a hemisphere. Below us were more operation stations, while the dome above was made of glass that provided a panoramic view of the vanishing landscape.

  And it was true; Inkens was onboard. The man whose word I had once trusted resided in a large chair at an equally large desk. A few meters behind him was the captain, piloting the entire craft on a small inclined platform. I could see that we weren’t yet above the cloud layers—the mountain ranges of the island were still in clear sight.

  Inkens smiled proudly, some of his fingers tapping the fancy desk’s glazed metal covering. His cold eyes stared back into our own. He was not like any of his nearby subordinates. He was intelligent and thoughtful, and was the only imperial servant onboard who could think and act freely.

  “Mr. Belfore…” he began, his voice stronger and sharper than the one I would hear on one of his endless ravings in the media. “You are quite a resilient young fellow… You and your entire group.”

  “How do you know me?” I asked sternly and without fear—as for some reason, despite all of his power, Inkens had never frightened me.

  “I know you through your sister, of course. And I know how your group left my city just as a protective barrier covered it from attack, so you could avoid arrest and then continue to spread your lies and kill my men.”

  “Those green barriers aren’t protecting anyone,” Martin spat back.

  “Where’s Ruby?” I asked calmly.

  “Hm…” Inkens replied. “Quite a protective girl, isn’t she? Why can’t your kind just trust us? I don’t really understand… We don’t need this rebellion, and it’s all become quite the mess. But you, Vincent—there’s still hope with you. You seem like such an impressionable youth. If I could only get you to see the truth about the way of things.”

  “Don’t feed him that garbage, Seretin,” Martin again rasped out. “Come on. Someone like you has to be above all the trite lies.”

  “And hello to you, too, commander Druvska. Glad to see you’re still in peak condition despite your age. I hope the genetic improvements from so many years prior haven’t had any adverse effects… You stopped in the middle of our training regimen, didn’t you?”

  “Improvements? Pleasant terminology for genetic butchering. Sorry I didn’t become another one of your thoughtless slaves.”

  “And who do we have here? Veli, is it?” Inkens brushed Martin aside. “That’s what one of your little friends called you—the short one. He was quite a spiteful creature. Seemed to think you’d come to the rescue.”

  Veli didn’t respond, but his eyes narrowed angrily on Inkens.

  “Well, that’s fascinating and all, but let us move onto matters other than the survival of worthless, primitive cat-beasts. I like the courage I’ve seen in you four—I’m including the Belfore girl. But I thought you’d be wiser than to fall for the old felile tricks. You know. Manipulating bleeding heart humans. And now you bend down to an entire village.”

  “Shut it, Seretin. Just shut your damn mouth before I do it for you,” Martin growled as he became unusually hostile. “And don’t think for a second that I’d let any of these people get inside some imperial prison.”

  “Ha! That anger—I love it. But come now, how could you fall for their kind so easily? After all… they only brainwash the weak-minded.”

  “There’s none of that. We help them out of our own free will,” Rupert retorted. “Just because they’re the foundation of the movement doesn’t mean they’re deceiving people.”

  “Ah, the typical nonsense—is that what they’ve made you believe, Jakobs? This ‘movement’ you call it… Veli, do you know who I am?”

  No reply.

  “I governed over the city in which your human friends here once lived. Do you know how much damage they’ve done to our operations there? They’ve risked the lives of everyone in that city through their actions. And yet, I’m willing to forgive them, Veli. Because I’m a forgiving person.”

  “I won’t listen to you, old man,” Veli replied. “I watched as you announced to the world that my people are the enemy, like we’re capable of burning down entire cities. Why, why can’t we live in unity? We could have coexisted with humans. We still can. We are forgiving, as well.”

  “Why?” Inkens replied and stood upright. “Your kind is a failed experiment. You were designed to be a new and feared breed of soldier, loyal to no end. But when you began to develop your own morals, you had proven that you were a danger to your handlers. You’re an enemy to all those around you. It doesn’t matter how many generations pass.”

  “I was born felile.” Veli was still clinging onto reason. “It’s all I’ve known. Whatever hatred your parents, or precursors, or whatever felt for creating us doesn’t apply to me.”

  “You’re mistaken. You should’ve all died like you were supposed to—and then none of this would’ve happened. Our true enemy would be defeated, there would be no rebellion, and we’d be at peace. But humans assisted you—they turned traitor and gave their lives for you! The first were foolish, I suppose, but you quickly realized that we could obey you with little effort. We were fascinated in you. We would listen to you.

  “Veli, you’re nearly human. Very close. And yet, you are so distant. Your hair, your reflexes, your reliance on instinct—that all is part of that very small change. But what truly sets you apart is your want to kill. Like a mindless, untamed beast, you want to kill others to preserve your own existence. You know you can’t contain it, child. And soon, you’ll grow weary of your human friends and finish them off yourself.”

  “Never…” Veli replied coldly. “I can choose between who is wrong and right. I am not this wild, mindless killer you think I am.”

  “Listen to me, you worthless subhuman. When we—my predecessors—made you, we copied the characteristics of the now nearly extinct great cats. The feline, a being of agility and cunning, is one of the last great hunters on Earth. If we could infuse just enough of their genetic traits into humans, we could have them be not only strong, but also capable of outwitting opponents faster than any of us.

  “Felile wasn’t your original name. But when we saw you fail us, a new one took form: Felile. Fell-ill, understand? Your species became sick; their minds were damaged beyond repair. Yes, we meddled too much, but we tried to be responsible for our disaster of a project—for creations that became killing machines beyond control. Maybe those traits have regressed slightly over the second, third and fourth generations, but they’re still there. If your elders were able-bodied, they’d have killed your human friends.”

  “Why should we believe you?” I asked. “Master Tyunishi is one of the friendliest people I’ve ever known.”

  “My boy, you can continue to believe what you wish, no matter how incorrect it may be. Or we can end this now. I’m trying to talk some sense into you. Let us destroy the felile before they become a threat to you, your friends, and everyone else. This so-called resistance would end, and we would stand united against our enemy.”

  “Is there even another force?” Rupert asked. “You old fool… I’m now positive that the owner and creator of those satellites is the empire you slave under. You attack your own people, and then you claim to protect them under a pretense of safety. What’s happening to those people? What happens to them? Do they die? Or do they just go on in agony?”

  Inkens sat back down slowly and brought back his calm demeanor. “I’m not at liberty to even acknowledge such concerns.”

  “What about the prisoners?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes, the catch. They will make for a wonderful entrance when we land in Moscow, as I’ve been promoted. I’ll be working alongside the emperor now. One of his advisors, you could say. Just imagine how much more glorified it will look when I show up with a group of rebel captives, and then follow up with a nice speech for the world to see.”

  “Is that the only reason you came all the way out here?” Martin questioned. “To capture some small rebel group that probably doesn’t even matter to anyone?”

  “Of course not… I’ve known about your team for quite some time, Druvska. And I waited for this moment to grab them, as well as a few felile as a bonus—and wipe out another batch of cats in the process. That reminds me… how do the remains of those miserable creatures back in the boat look?” Inkens took on a devious smile.

  “We rescued them, you sick bastard,” Veli snarled. “How do you think your remains will look when I’m through with you?”

  With this news, Inkens’ smile dropped instantly. “Beast child… you will suffer for this. All of you will. I tried to be patient, reasonable, but as always people like you… simply wish to aggravate me to no end.”

  “Tell me… how much, Inkens?” Rupert asked.

  “How much? Now what are you going on about?”

  “How much to betray your own people, to trap them inside the city you were supposed to be protecting? How much praise, how much higher in the ranks did you climb? Was it worth it? I’d love to put you in one of those cities—and leave you to linger a thousand years, all alone.”

  “Such violent people you’ve picked up, Druvska!” Inkens laughed. “But you really should’ve stopped trying to instigate something, Jakobs. So, you know what—I’ve come to a different decision. I was tolerant, but now I can no longer stand just the sight of you. So now everyone you know will die before you, right here. And I’ll make sure you see every moment of it.

  “And you, Vincent. The fact that the Resistance is desperate enough to employ children is sickening. So why not start with you? Let’s see how the one person that really matters in your life is doing, hm?”

  I began to shake like a coward when he said that, and cold sweat started to dampen the coat my sister gave me.

  “Fletcher, bring out our guest,” Inkens demanded.

  Our captain, whom none of us had ever really trusted, came from behind, holding Ruby captive. He smirked at us, one of his arms tightly holding her. I took a step forward.

  “No, no. Stay back, boy,” Inkens commanded.

  “I knew you would pull something like this, you old sea rat…” Martin grumbled.

  “Nothing personal, Druvska. But Inkens, he pays well. And you, ha! You weren’t gonna pay me nothin’. Not like I work for him or anything like that, but ya see, he made me the best damn offer anyone’s ever given me. Sorry ‘bout all this, but I go where the money is.”

  “So you had this scheme thought up since we left port, did you?”

  “Sure did, riding on a bomb and all. No matter. I can afford a new Pearl after this.” He chuckled. “And the cat beasts that were there before? All gone. Gone and not to be seen again.” The captain laughed drunkenly.

  “Fletcher, enough,” Inkens snapped. “Well, boy. I’ve got your sister. I’ll shoot her at a moment’s notice. Or, if you would rather… you know, give up, negotiate, I may just let her go.”

  “Don’t do it. Don’t trust any of them,” Ruby choked.

  “Ruby…” I murmured helplessly.

  “Well? Or should I let Martin be the leader and make the decision? Or, we could shoot her and then move on to… well, one of your friends, Veli. That Jeg savage, maybe. He said a few choice words to me when boarding my aircraft that I’d rather not repeat…”

  Veli looked to the floor, his fists clenched.