Chapter 13

SNAP SNAP SNAP! Slowly the haze cleared, a figure wearing a rusty full concealment helmet stood inches from Abel’s face. Close enough to smell the stench permeating through its respirator. He spoke a coarse alien language and snaped his leathery green fingers.

“Where…” Abel muttered as his blurry vision coalesced. A skinny window lit a small room, it smelled of animal manure, and the walls and floors were made of sandstone. Muffled thumps of music came from beyond a tall metal door —a prison cell.

Several more guards stood around, all armed with pikes and rifles. Numar’s large furry frame sat on a bench in a corner, cross-armed.

Bindings kept Abel’s arms behind his back, making him feel like an awkward human bird hybrid. With some effort, he stood up, the beginnings of a bruise gnawed at his ribs. “Numar, you knocked me out?”

Numar uncrossed his arms, stood up, puffed out a sigh, and offered an apologetic shrug. “Yeah- sorry kid, normally I don’t do this sort of thing, but we trodarians are good with Progenitors, if we’re quick and catch ya off guard, that is,” he said gruffly. “And don’t worry, I got this with me, safe and sound.” He rattled Abel’s sword.

Leaned against another wall was one sour-looking Rex, in spite of her fixed features; she watched Abel with the same sinister orange eyes but did not speak a word. No snarky remarks or death threats even. A small silver disk had been attached to her outer chest plating, an obedience tether, a small device that would fry her circuits should she step out of line. So much for superior construction, Rex must have been humiliated.

“Your drone here put up quite a fight-” Numar began catching Abel’s gaze, “-yeah, not so good in the confines of that little shuttle. Luckily one of my guys had a disruptor rifle...er, he’s not here at the moment on the count of a broken arm courtesy of your drone friend. Anyways, push came to shove, one zap, and it was out like a light.”

“We were coming to see Mabahse anyways,” Abel spat. “Was any of this really necessary?” He felt the shove coming before anyone had touched him, but there was no avoiding it. From behind, one of the guards pushed Abel onto the damp sandy floor; he didn’t need a translator to know the alien was shouting: be silent.

Numar sighed and snapped his fingers; at once, one strong leather hand lifted Abel by his bindings, stretching his bruise. “Look, technically you were trespassin in Mabahse’s territory. If you don’t got an invitation, we gotta go pick you up. And good luck we were there too, what with the Amani and bounty hunters tailin you.” He left his corner and walked to the door. “Now, normally the boss isn’t so keen on talkin to you Progenitor types, but you’re a special case.”

“Why’s that?”

Numar just shrugged and nodded to one of the guards. The door opened and a sharp jab to the ribs prodded Abel out. “I’m going,” he growled. They walked down a dingy hallway dripping with what smelled like urine; Abel sidestepped a few muddy puddles. Further down, the thumping music grew louder and louder until it could barely be contained just beyond another metal door. Burning with anger, Abel cursed to himself, wondering how he managed to end up like this.

One of the guards opened the door, and a mix of music, clinks of glasses, and hundreds of voices all intermingling together flooded the hall. On the other side of the door was nothing less than a throne room. Instantly it reminded Abel of the great hall back home as far as the design’s sheer grandness. Ornate, colorful tapestries adorned the walls, giant sandstone columns supported the tall triangular ceiling, and lavish rugs covered the floors.

Despite the similarities, the atmosphere of Mabahse’s throne room could not have been more different. In place of the great hall’s cold silence and emptiness were dozens of alien species, dozens more in numbers, all laughing and drinking. The throne room bustled with life. Relaxing music played by a band of trairnos, a sleek feathered race, known for their musical talents, skillfully plucked their stringed instruments with their bony fingers. Scented smoke wafted through the air, performers juggled balls of blue fire, dancers flowed from table to table, and a whole flock of nostor owls was perched up in the rafters, their big yellow eyes peered down on the plethora of food below, just waiting for a chance to swoop down and snag a piece.

At the far end was a gargantuan reptilian, at least ten feet of solid muscle adorned in polished golden armor covered in delicate artful designs. An alimodo, a species so rare they were thought to be extinct, their reckless warmongering nature had led them to wage war at unsustainable rates. Unlike ashans, alimodos lacked a tail and instead had hardened chitin scales and a thick bone plates to protect their heads. Most notably, however, they could grow to incredible sizes. Abel figured that must be Mabahse. He sat on a tall throne which gave him a towering view of the entire court and lying upright against the throne was a war hammer so big that it would probably take five normal men to lift.

Other than a few stray glances, no one paid Abel or Rex much attention as they were jostled up the purple carpet towards the throne. Everyone was clearly too busy drinking and eating amongst themselves to care much about a couple of new faces; prisoners being carted through the court was probably nothing out of the ordinary.

Mulling over what to say became increasingly more difficult the closer they got. Mabahse’s incredible size and demeanor became more and more intimidating; Abel began to have second thoughts as he watched a handful of others dragged away, kicking and screaming, after their meetings.

Beady yellow eyes trained on Abel as they approached. Mabahse broke a sly smile as he leaned forward. “Ah- the Progenitor, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Mabahse said, his voice as deep and dark as the night.

Briefly holding his breath to let the smell of rancid breath pass, Abel blinked, shook himself, and said, “I’ve come in search of a man. The Tuyet Voi will reward you greatly for any information you can provide.”

“And… who is this man you seek? Get on with it,” Mabahse said, rolling his hand.

“Owlen Bek.”

This upset Mabahse greatly; his scaly face contorted into a nasty scowl, and he sat up to his enormous full length. “You come uninvited into my territory seeking Owlen!” Mabahse spat out what was definitely a series of exceptionally vulgar curses. “Because you are a Progenitor, you believe you have special privileges?”

“No, no, of course not! I’ve come here to arrest this man for his crimes,” Abel shot back quickly.

“BAH! LIES! I know Owlen’s affiliations to the Tuyet Voi, and I know you’re here to rescue him! Execute this one and scrap the drone,” Mabahse looked away as if they were no longer worthy of his attention.

A cold hand clamped down on Abel's shoulder, the stench of rotten alien breath crept from behind. But suddenly it got jerked away and an amalgamation of grunts and bent metal followed. Rex had just smashed the guard’s face with a punch and snatched his sword. “Commander!” she shouted and cut Abel’s bindings.

The unmistakable pressure of hostiles closed in around like a ring of thorns. Guards wearing dirty cloaks, metal armor, wielding lance axes, and swords all charged in, encircling them. One leapt forth with an overhead swing with his lance ax; Abel snatched the weapon and disarmed his opponent with ease.

The guards shouted in their alien dialect, and the crowd began dispersing on either side of the hall. Abel and Rex stood back to back, ready as more guards surrounded them. Adrenaline filled Abel’s veins once again, just like his fight with Rougar. A dozen poorly trained guards would be easy. Abel's pride was already wounded by their capture at the hands of a petty crime lord; he would not suffer the indignity by dying to them.

Closer and closer they approached, one lunged forward. In an instant, Abel twirled his weapon through the air, slicing clean through the reaching arm and cutting apart the weapons of two other guards, all in one swift motion that took no longer than a few seconds. It took a moment for the first guard to realize his arm was missing from the elbow down, he recoiled and fell to the ground howling in pain.

“Do your worst, your primitive weapons cannot hurt me,” Rex declared to a pike-wielding guard, whose vicious overhead strike simply deflected from her armor. “Revolting.”

Timidly the others inched forward. Abel managed a peek behind him, pleased to see several others writhing on the ground, victims to Rex.

“COME FORWARD!” Boomed a voice that echoed through the throne room; instantly, all sounds of music and the chattering crowds fell silent.

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Numar, who had stayed back during the fight, waved the lone duo forward. Some others came to drag off their fallen allies. Cries of pain resonated through the hall.

Sensing no incoming attack, Abel let himself relax ever so slightly, disappointed his fight got cut short. He had to urge Rex to put her weapon down as well. As they approached the throne in silence, Abel could feel every eye on him; even the nostor owls above eyed him curiously.

Roaring laughter broke the silence; it came from Mabahse. The tension in the room left, the music resumed, and everyone went back to their drinks. “So, Progenitor-“ Mabahse belted out a short chuckle, “-have you truly come to arrest Owlen?” He asked with a deep rolling timbre.

Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through his body or the sheer strangeness of the abrupt change of events, Abel hesitated, forgetting everything he had planned to say. “Er…we just cut down several of your men. After you tried to have us executed.”

“Oh, that?” Mabahse laughed. “Yes, a matter of respect, you see. I had to be sure!” he continued. “Sure that you were a fighter! A Progenitor unwilling to fight is not worth my time. Your drone here is quite the killing machine as well. Please have your say,” he said, beckoning the duo to come closer.

Abel looked at Rex at a loss. “Well...yes, I really am here to take Owlen down. I seek your assistance.” Lost for words, an awkward moment passed in silence; Mabahse’s yellow eyes, which looked too small for his large crest skull, lingered expectantly. “Oh- my name is Abel, and this is my drone partner Rex.”

“A pleasure, young warrior. So, you think Owlen may be hiding here? This is not a place of killers,” Mabahse grimaced, his voice now serious. “This is a den of thieves and smugglers!” He shouted gregariously and roared with laughter again; the whole throne erupted with laughter as well.

Relieved that Rex didn’t have any snarky or proud remarks, Abel continued. “Seven years ago, Owlen Bek went rogue. He completely cut contact with the Emperor, and we recently discovered that he murdered an innocent woman. I’ve been sent here to arrest him. I’d like to make a deal with you to help find him.”

Mabahse had a pleasantly surprised smile, and he made a motion for the room to settle down. “Oh, a Progenitor wishing for a favor? You will find that I am an honest businessman. Go ahead, use your powers and see!” He beckoned with his large clawed hands pointing to his head.

“That won’t be necessary,” Abel said, shaking his head and sensing that he was, in fact, telling the truth.

Mabahse smiled, looking friendly despite his fierce features. “A hunt for a murderer, detective work for a Progenitor, this must be your first assignment, an initiation. Mmm...yes, I’m familiar with your customs,” Mabahse said, speaking to Abel’s surprise. “Owlen has never left the planet since, this much I know for sure. But, much can happen in seven years, Progenitor-“ Mabahse paused a moment, his face serious, “-perhaps you are unaware of what he has been up to all this time.”

“Indulge me.”

Mabahse gave a throaty gurgle. Probably not keen on Abel’s curt tone. Leadership figures never were. “Once this man worked for me…he was a good smuggler, I paid him well. But one day, he vanished, disappeared. I thought him dead…that was until I saw his picture all over the news net: ‘Killer on the Loose,’ the headlines said. I was most displeased. You see, Owlen was never a violent man…” Mabahse heaved his massive body and leaned forward, his gold armor clanked against itself. “Very strange, don’t you think?”

“I aim to find out.”

Mabahse grunted and leaned back into his throne. He clutched a goblet the size of a human and downed a dark blue drink. “Just a few short months after the murder, more and more of my smugglers, enforcers, bounty hunters, and intelligence agents were all disappearing. Even my chef had gone!” Mabahse cried with genuine remorse. “Soon, my shipments were being attacked, my storehouses robbed, entire facilities were being burned down. And do you know who was behind it all, Progenitor?”

Abel politely remained silent, listening carefully to everything Mabahse said.

“It was that Owlen Bek!” Mabahse snarled as if disgusted to say the name, “He betrayed me, the only one that ever took care of him; I’ll see Owlen’s head on a silver plate right here in my court!”

“I need him alive.”

Mabahse slapped down his goblet and rose quickly to his feet, looking much taller and broader than before. The throne room came to complete silence again. Vehemently Mabahse’s anger twisted and bubbled, his scaly face thick with malice, and for a moment, Abel thought the beast might attack. But strangely, his anger faded, he cast up his arms, gave a big smile, and dumped his frame back into the throne with a loud echoing thump. “My days of blood lust and fighting are in the past. I am a legitimate businessman now, well, mostly legitimate. I apologize, my friend.”

Mabahse went on a long rant explaining Owlen's meteoric rise to power in dramatic detail and how the man learned everything he knew working for him. Somehow Owlen had managed to amass the loyalty of a small mercenary army, and he used that power to be a constant thorn in Mabahse’s side. Not many men had tried to make names for themselves after abandoning the Tuyet Voi, none actually. Abel’s presence on Kanchi was evidence of that. Stupidity or confidence must have emboldened Owlen, or was it something else?

“I don’t suppose you know where he is now?” Abel said, attempting to cut off more meaningless rambles.

Mabahse shook his head, “Owlen is a coward; he hides in the shadows because he knows that he is not powerful enough to take me on directly. I’ve offered a great reward for the hunter that brings that boskich to me, but…they never return.” Mabahse finished with a hint of sadness.

“I cannot be bought, nor will I be defeated by Owlen and his thugs,” Abel said proudly. “In exchange for payment, I wish to have access to any information on Owlen you might have and utilize any resources you have to offer that can aid me.”

Mabahse put two claws together and clicked them with a loud snap. Quickly, two pale stubby aliens waddled over to the overturned goblet, heaved it up to a large tank, and filled it with more dark blue liquid. Mabahse clutched it up, downed another gulp, and wiped his great scaly lips, which curled into a smile. “Two hundred and fifty years, I’ve met only two other Progenitors; I must say you are the most interesting of them all, my friend. You offer me many credits to bring in my most hated foe; you’ve had mercy on my men by not cutting off all of their limbs. But…” He leaned forward, a low rumble gurgled deep in his throat. “You know of the bounty on your head is far greater than what you’re offering me.”

Abel froze, entirely at a loss for words.

Mabahse rose to his feet once more, casting out his arms looking more giant than before and bellowed gleefully, “Bombada!” He reached down, offering to shake hands, Abel reluctantly complied, fearful his hand, which was barely the size of Mabahse’s palm, was going to be crushed, but surprisingly his grip was tender and careful. “We have a deal,” Mabahse said with much joy in his booming voice.

The tension knotted in Abel’s chest left him with a breath of relief.

“You may have access to my archives…a wealth of information on Owlen awaits. I will also inform my spies to show you anything they discover on our target. But most importantly!” Mabahse boomed, “enjoy your stay here in my palace, eat and drink all that you desire here in my court; my chefs prepare only the finest and most exotic dishes from all over the galaxy. Should your body be overcome with stress, my servant girls will cater to your every whim!”

“Oh no, that’s…” Abel started, warmth crawled up his cheeks.

“And stay as long as you like; I will have a luxury suite prepared for you at once!” Mabahse snapped his claws together, beckoning for one of the stout aliens that had brought him his goblet earlier. “Eysoi here will show you to your room.”

Eysoi was short, bald, and had pale white skin that was so flabby that it drooped down where Abel supposed his eyes were supposed to be. He wore a formal-looking jacket and had a towel draped over his arm. He approached with a waddle and bowed deeply.

“Oh-“ Mabahse added, “-and I also have a state-of-the-art repair bay should your drone friend here need anything at all.” And with that, he waved Abel and Rex off.

“Right this way sir,” Eysoi croaked. Abel and Rex began following the little alien out of the throne room.

“Oh- hey there Abel,” Numar said as he caught up to them. “You might want this back,” he held out a sheathed cadami sword.

Abel thanked him and took the sword, clipping it back onto his belt brought a wave of relief.

“Yeah, sorry bout all that, just followin orders, you know,” Numar said sheepishly. “Bee seein you,” he waved and made his way back towards Mabahse’s throne.

Eysoi tugged at Abel’s sleeve. “This way, sir,” he croaked again.

Abel leaned over to Rex. “You did a good job playing the part of a loyal drone,” he said as they followed Eysoi.

“What?” Rex said quickly.

“You kept quiet. I know it must have been hard resisting the urge to cut down those men that attacked me.”

“Oh, of course, commander.”

“How did you manage to free me anyways? I thought you had a tether on,” Abel asked as they entered a long hallway that was considerably nicer than the last one they were in.

“Please, commander, junk like that could never affect me.”

Inside the luxury suite was a nice squashy bed neatly made with blue and lavender linens. It was the only thing Abel really noticed when he entered the room. Fatigue finally hit him in full force. It had been a long, arduous day; all he wanted was to fall asleep in the soft bed before him.

Rex had split off to explore the repair bay; Abel warned her not to cause any trouble. But now, as he lay comfortably in bed, he almost did not care if his drone companion caused a ruckus; nothing would get him up. He didn’t even care about the sand in his ears or muddy boots still strapped to his feet. He shut his eyes and drifted off into the dark. Tomorrow I’ll continue the search for Owlen...He thought to himself, but a faint creak interrupted him.

Eyes wide open, Abel looked around the black room. A long winding path before him led into a dark forest. A vision, Abel knew at once and not at all unexpected considering all the people he hurt that day. But something was different, an icy chill filled the air, and he felt strangely grounded as far as visions go. The twisted trees in the distance were all that could be seen. Someone planning to attack me in some forest? But we’re in the middle of a desert.

Only one way to go; Abel ventured forth, the air grew colder the further on he went. Then he heard a whisper say, “I had to…” A figure cloaked head to toe in black robes emerged from the trees.

Abel’s hands went clammy, his heartbeat picked up, and he found himself breathing heavily. This isn’t right. “Who are you?” he asked, but the figure did not respond, nor did it seem to take notice at all. Still, Abel couldn’t help but want to flee as quickly as possible. An invisible presence started to close in, instinctively he reached for his sword, but his grasp only found air. Closer and closer dread surrounded him, then…

“ABEL!”

Abel shot up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat, and breath panicked. The lights were turned on and Rex stood over the bed, her glowing orange eyes peering down. “Sorry to wake you, commander, but your heart rate spiked dangerously high. Are you okay?”

What had he just seen? Abel took a moment to catch his breath. Icy chills, a robed figure, it was no normal vision, that’s for sure. “There’s something on this planet Rex-” Abel began, voice still shaking, “-something terrible.”