Star Rising: Heartless (3 page)

As soon as Xalen stepped into the room, the silhouette turned to face him.

The boy staggered back, not expecting the burn mark decorating the man’s head and face.

“Hello, Xalen,” said the man. He smiled, and despite the imposing aura around the stranger, Xalen felt there was something familiar about him. “I’m Reave, and I’ve come to take you off Vintra.”

Chapter 2

Reave was tall, with a muscular build, and looked to be in his mid-thirties. He wore a deep blue uniform from head to toe. Thick plates of black armor came over his shoulders. He had curly dark hair that covered his neck. A long sword was sheathed at his waist.

“Is this some type of joke?” asked Xalen.

“No joke,” said Reave. He looked at him, utterly serious. Xalen knew that the man was not jesting. “I’m an Alioth. I have come to take you to train as I have. Surely the headmistress has told you all about—” He stopped talking abruptly and faced Agnes. The woman didn’t produce a word, opting to stare at the ground. “You didn’t tell him?” The man’s voice rose.

Xalen was mildly amused to see Agnes shudder at the anger in the man’s voice.

“A thousand apologies, sir,” she mumbled. “I was unaware that I was supposed to divulge the information to him.”

The man shook his head. “Did you at least have him trained in the sword?”

A large lump travelled down Agnes’ throat. “You see, sir. Private lessons are very expensive.”

“What did you think the credits I deposited into your account were for?”

Credits?
Xalen was at a loss. This stranger had been sending money for him all these years. Surely there was more to this story than sword lessons.

If Xalen thought Agnes was nervous before, he had not seen anything yet. The headmistress’s usually brown skin turned a pale white. Even her red lips had been drained of color. “I spent the money on good food for the children. Only the b…best meats for my children.”

Reave narrowed his eyes. “Do you take me for a fool, headmistress?”

“No, no, n..no..o, sir.” Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

“The Alioth’s fund your orphanage. In return, you notify us of any gifted children you come across. That is the treaty we signed.”

“I love my children so much. How could I be expected to part—”

Xalen was glad when Reave held up his hand, bringing the desperate rant to an end. Agnes had never shown an ounce of care to any of the orphans. Hearing her claim that she had, caused his insides to stir in anger.

“I have seen the children’s miserable condition,” continued Reave. “Whatever you’re using the credits on. It’s clear to me that it’s not on them. I will report this to the authorities at Alioth. It won’t take long for you to be replaced.”

“But…but…” The woman’s sobs were nearing hysteria.

The man held up his hand once more, signaling for an end to the woman’s breakdown. His gaze bore down on Agnes. “This conversation is over. Pack your things. You are to depart this orphanage within the hour.”

Knowing she had been defeated, Agnes walked out of the room with her head down. All the while, Xalen stood with his mouth wide open. He’d awoken this morning expecting it to be yet another dull day. But now, before the suns had even come up, his life had changed more than he could have ever imagined.

ΩΩΩ

Xalen was shocked with just how quickly everything transpired. Within an hour, a ship had arrived, landing on the dusty plains outside the orphanage, and bringing forth a man who was to take over for Agnes. He was short and stubby, with a mustache so large that it covered his entire upper lip and most of the bottom lip. He had pink cheeks and a large belly that extended over his blue robe.

“Good morning, Tafarus,” said Reave extending his hand.

“Salutations.” Tafarus took Reave’s hand and shook it vigorously. He looked past him and directly at Xalen. “Is this the young man you spoke about?”

“That’s him,” said Reave. Both men took a few tentative steps away from Xalen, lowering their voices and whispering to themselves.

Xalen stared at them, feeling like an intruder. He strained his ears, trying to hear something, anything that could tell him what the heck was going on. As the seconds passed without success, his anger intensified. After Agnes had left the office, Xalen had demanded answers, only to have Reave shush him. ”There’s no time right now,” he had said. ”All will be explained in due time.” It had been an agonizing hour and the answers had not yet come.

“I want to know what’s going on, now!” Xalen regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. Had it not been his dream to leave this wretched planet? And now a man showed up and promised to do so, and he was going to get on his bad side?

Fortunately, Reave simply ignored his outburst and continued speaking to Tafarus as if nothing had happened. Xalen wasn’t sure if he should be angry or glad that he had been overlooked. Deciding not to press his luck, he opted for the latter.

A moment later, Xalen was told to wait inside the ship.

He stepped foot inside the shiny vessel, and took a seat on a cushioned chair. Xalen whistled. It was small inside, but the luxurious surroundings made it clear that cost was not an issue for whomever had forked over the credits to buy the ship. It had a small, crystal chandelier—an actual chandelier—hanging above. There were lines of different colors embossed along the walls: straight, zigzags, vertically, horizontally, circular, and every other direction imaginable. Each line rose about two inches from the wall and seemed to be made of jade, gold, or silver. There wasn’t a visible speck of dust. The marble floor was so spotless that he could see his own reflection on it.

“Would you like a drink, sir?” asked a male voice that radiated class and sophistication.

“Who said that?” asked Xalen. He scanned the surroundings, searching for the owner of the voice.

“There is no need to search for me, sir,” said the voice again. The pomposity in its tone seemed to grow with every word it said. “I am the computer that navigates the
Scallion
.”

“
Scallion?”

“The ship, sir.
Scallion
is its given designation.”

“You mean name?”

“It is rather crude, but that is correct.”

“So, what do I call you?”

“My designation is Mica.”

“Cool name.” The boy got comfortable on the chair. “I think I will take you up on that offer. Let me have some … hmmmm …”

“May I suggest a Xansia, sir?”

“Y…yes,” said Xalen tentatively, trying not to make it overly obvious that he had no idea as to what Mica was talking about. Back at the orphanage, he only drank water and the occasional aloe juice.

A nearby table suddenly opened at the middle, and a long glass cylinder slid to the top. It opened at the center, revealing a crystal cup filled with a purple liquid. It had bubbles at the top and was emitting thick streaks of white smoke.

“Are you tying to poison me?”

“I assure you, sir, I am not attempting anything of the sort.”

Xalen eyed the oozing liquid suspiciously. He picked up the glass, taking a whiff. To his surprise, it smelled rather sweet “What’s in it?”

“Caltros weeds from Planet Xweria. Mistafe seeds from Planet Seros. Gertieherb, which can be found in thirteen moons across the galaxy. In alphabetical order there are Aliopa, Azura, Besteris, KIura—”

“You don’t have to name all the moons. Sheesh.”

“My apologies, sir. You made an inquiry. It is my purpose to aid you in any way possible, and that includes shedding light on topics in which you are ignorant.”

“Please,” said Xalen sarcastically. “Don’t sugarcoat your words at the expense of my feelings.”

“I won’t, sir.”

Xalen sighed as his hand travelled to his forehead.  This computer was something else. “Is there a mode where you stop talking?”

“That would be stand-by mode, sir.”

“Yes, do that stand-by thingy”

Instantly, the voice descended into silence, a long stillness was left in its place.

Finally, some quiet.
Xalen brought the glass closer to his lips. He was inches away from daring a taste, when a set of heavy footsteps rang outside.

Reave marched in, Rund following close behind.

“I’ll give you two a minute to say goodbye,” Reave turned and left.

“Say goodbye?” Xalen turned to his friend, who didn’t look nearly as confused as Xalen felt. He’d assumed that, being the oldest at the orphanage, Reave would be taking both of them with him. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“You’re not coming with us?” asked Xalen, even though he was now aware of the answer. Nonetheless, part of him hoped he was wrong; that his friend would say that he was leaving this hell-hole of a planet behind too. That he was ready to go out into the universe and put a stop to the Deargs.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Rund. “I can’t go. I’ve been asked to aid Mr. Tafarus. I’m to fill him in the day–to-day affairs.” His chubby face broke into a dozen wrinkles as he smiled. “Isn’t it great?”

“Why would you stay on this ugly ball of black rock?” He blinked rapidly. “It’s a disfigured heap of rubble that—” Xalen forced himself to stop talking. He was going down an uncomfortable line of thought, one that was putting his wants over those of his friend. He bowed his head, feeling the weight of the departure come over him like a meteor.

A thick hand rested over his shoulder. “I will miss you.”

He took Rund’s hand, and gave it one last firm shake. “This isn’t goodbye. I will be back soon.”

“I know you will.”

“Tell the children. Tell them that I will miss them. Tell them that I…I…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll let them know….goodbye, my friend.”

Rund turned, and Xalen watched him go in silence. He looked away as the threat of tears assaulted his senses. He almost screamed out for Rund to wait; nearly marched out the ship, determined to stay with his lifelong friend. But despite the sudden urge, he did not cry out. For even though the bonds he had formed on Vintra beckoned him to stay, there was something stronger out there in the universe that called to him. It was the desire to protect.

So he remained silent. There were no words more to say. They both knew, despite their promises, they would never see each other again.

ΩΩΩ

Reave glanced look around the ship, letting his disappointment show on his face. “Tafarus has always had a taste for the extravagant.” He took a seat, resting his dirty boots on a polished wooden table. The man turned his attention to Xalen, who had taken a seat opposite of Reave. “So tell me, are you excited about becoming an Alioth?”

“Um… somewhat?”

Reave stayed silent, staring at Xalen, hovering on the brink of disbelief and anger. “Are you telling me that you’ve never heard of Alioth?”

“Yes I have, sir. Though not much besides the details of a few battles.”

The man blew out a breath of exasperation. “That lady really did a number on you, didn’t she?”

“I sup—”

“Don’t answer that. It was a rhetorical question.” Another heavy breath. “Mica. Take us into orbit and off of this hunk of rock.”

“This what, sir?” asked Mica’s pompous voice.

“Take us out of Vintra’s orbit.”

“Confirmed, sir.”

“Didn’t those dandies over at the Bastion program you to recognize all types of speech?”

“I am programmed in over one-hundred languages, sir. Nonetheless, it must be properly spoken for my program to compute it. I don’t comprehend
slang
.” The way the computer said
slang,
made it seem as if the word itself was a contagious disease that was to be avoided at all costs.

“Just get the ship in orbit.”

“Yes, sir.” The engine whizzed to life with a subtle, barely audible hum. The shaking, loud engine growls, and tumbles Xalen had always associated with ships were nonexistent.

“Trust me,” said Reave, as if reading his mind. “Only the Bastion ships are this quiet. Alioth ships are a bit more … rumbustious.”

Xalen felt lost. “Bastion?”

Reave swore under his breath. “You have a lot of information to absorb, and very little time to learn it. So listen up and pay close attention.” Xalen straightened. “You’re correct and wrong. Alioth are the army, but at the same time, they’re not.” If Xalen thought he was lost before, now his head was really spinning. “Alioths are an elite branch of the army. Only the absolute best of the best are chosen to become Alioths. In the past, it was our job to put a stop to terrorist groups, space pirates, and things of that nature. Lately, however, we’ve had other problems.”

“Deargs.” The word left Xalen’s lips without a thought.

The man’s eyebrow lifted. “Yes. Glad to see that you’re not totally lost.”

Xalen stood up a bit straighter. For some reason, he found himself yearning to impress this man. It was a desire he could not truly explain. “What do you know about the Deargs?” Reave continued.

“Not much. Just that they appear out of dark holes that suddenly crack the ground. No Dearg is physically similar. Some are large, others small. There are some that speak, while others only communicate in grunts or with hand signals.”

“Go on.”

“All Deargs have a face that resembles that of a stitched marionette, and in fact, they move as if they’re being controlled by some type of puppet master. Which is why…” Xalen stopped talking, certain that the next thing he was going to say would send Reave into a fit of laughter.