The Zygan Emprise: Renegade Paladins and Abyssal Redemption (36 page)

Spud didn’t seem enthused.

“I’m in pretty good with the Gliesers,” I
continued, referring to Zygfed’s maritime Border Patrol. “I know I
could get us in.”

“Then they’d have to send a search party to
rescue
us
,” Spud returned, squeezing shut his eyes and
shaking his head as the NDNA screening scan washed over us both.
Before I could respond, the room transformed into the plush
reception suite of Earth Core Station, and Fydra’s welcoming open
paws.

* * *

Zygan Intelligence Earth Core
Station—present day

“Have you ever been to the Plegma, Ev?” I
tried to sound casual, picking some lint off my sweater and
jeans.

Everett Weaver’s chubby cheeks puffed out as
he gagged on the large bite of club sandwich he had stuffed into
his mouth. I handed him a bottle of water I’d Ergaled in the
Costume Department, and waited politely while he cleared his throat
and brushed the crumbs off of his wrinkled shirt and portly
abdomen. “What’re you up to now, Rush?” he finally gasped, catching
his wheezing breath.

I blinked my baby blues. Nice to be out of my
Dickens dude costume and back to being femme again. “Nada. Just
wonderin’.”

“No, I’m not going to give you permission to
travel there, even if I could. Bad enough I’m ignoring the little
unauthorized excursions to Berkshire and Phoenecia you just took.”
He took a deep breath, adding in a higher pitch, “The Plegma? Are
you out of your mind?”

Spud, now sporting a leather jacket and black
trousers, joined us, nodding and rolling his eyes.
Thanks a lot,
partner
.

I didn’t have to call on my acting skills to
bring out the tears. My voice cracked. “Please, Ev. It’s for
John.”

Ev had trained with John as a Zygan
Intelligence cadet at Mingferplatoi Academy—surely they’d be
brothers in arms and all. I saw Ev’s expression soften and a
question bloom in his eyes. Good. “John…Rush? Your brother John
Rush?”

“I saw him, Ev, and he needs
my—our—help.”

“Whoa.” Everett held up a hand. “He’s alive?
Give me the whole story—and start at the beginning.”

“You know more about the beginning than I
do.” Ev had already been assigned to Earth Core as an agent when
John had disappeared, years before my and Spud’s time.

“No, I mean about my helping.”

The words poured from my lips. “Yesterday. I
was home in Maryland, having supper, and I saw him. He was like a
holo, not all there. Half alive. Half dead.” I took a shaky breath.
“He was trying to tell me something. ’Save me.’”

“Rush believes her brother is alive in
another brane, perhaps a prisoner,” explained Spud. “She wants to
find a Somalderis, a Golden Fleece, to channel enough solar energy
to cross over to that dimension so she can go rescue him.
Unfortunately, Yeshua Bar Maryam and the Keeper as well as their
Somalderis are no longer…available.”

I expected Ev to whistle, or even to burst
out laughing, but, to my surprise, he rested a hand on my shoulder,
and sighed. “Just because Nephil Stratum helped Benedict transition
doesn’t mean that other Synephs will—or can--serve as Somalderees,
derises, whatever.” His brow furrowed. “You could end up
empty-handed, and lost—forever--in the Plegma.”

“I have to do something!” I cried out,
brushing him away. Didn’t either of them understand? Standing and
waiting, my brother’s hallowed motto of “patience”, was no one’s
best friend.

Ev patted my arm. “Okay, okay. I have an
idea. I’ll do my best to set up a meeting for you on Zyga with the
Syneph ambassador. You can explain the, uh, situation, and see if
the ambassador can get you someone with the skills to channel the
energy needed for a crossing. It’s not like all the Synephs can do
that anyway. Your old classmate might have been…special.”

I looked away, my heart skipping a beat at
the memory of Nephil Stratum. Yes, she was…

“Even if we recruited a Syneph who could
facilitate the transition,” Spud interjected, “how would we know
where to begin our search? Assuming that this parallel universe
John may be in is as infinite as ours.”

“Ev, you still got the comm logs from Gary’s
Messier Sportstar we used to escape Benedict’s planet ship, right?”
I interrupted. “There’s something I remembered.”

The Chief of Earth Core nodded and ran his
fingers across an adjacent holo screen to pull up the files.

I smiled at Spud. “I have an idea.”

“What’re you looking for?” asked Ev, curious,
as I played my own fingers across the holo seeking a particular,
very compelling, message.

“Ha,” I exulted as the grainy image of
Agriarctos the Ursan, a hulky polar bear, came up lifesize on the
screen. Fleeing Theodore Benedict’s planet ship, we’d gotten an
interstellar missive from one of his guerillas sent just before
their transport to the other dimension. Agriarctos turned out to be
undercover Zygint agent Wart in disguise, who’d made sure that we’d
escaped Benedict’s “Death Star” safely.

Spud inched closer. “’Tis the message
Agriarctos—Wart--sent us just before Benedict disappeared
into--”

“The other brane,” I finished. “Turns out I
was right. Wart wasn’t only trying to give us a heads up about the
fusion torpedo Benedict sent our way.”

Both Spud and Ev looked at me, puzzled. I
smiled and nodded at the screen. Agriarctos’ furry holographic body
seemed to be sprouting from a sparkling base, the core of the
melon-shaped communications module. “Notice anything down there?” I
pointed to the sparkles under the Ursan’s feet.

“Regular flashes, impulses, on-off, off-on,
on-on—“ Spud broke into a grin. “Why, ‘tis a digital code!”

“Exactly. We were a little too shaken by our
close call with Benedict’s bomb to notice at the time.”

“Running analysis,” Ev shouted as his fingers
danced next to the flashing lights. “Looks like contact
metrics…at…got ‘em. Son-of-a-gun, Wart gave us a trace.” The
translated signal was now readable as a series of multi-dimensional
coordinates, for both a portal and a universe beyond.

I favored Ev with my warmest smile. “Make
that call to the Syneph embassy, Boss. With my new Zoom Cruiser,
Spud and I’ll be halfway to Zyga before you’re done.”

* * *

Planet Zyga, Andromeda Galaxy—present
day

The journey to Zyga took less than the three
hours we’d been used to only weeks before. With its upgraded
hyperdrive system, my replacement ship was able to navigate through
wormholes as well as curved space, cutting our voyage to Zygfed’s
home planet by a full hour. Spud had barely had time to peruse one
of his dusty old monographs before we were entering Andromedan
space.

Unlike most ambassadors to Zyga who chose to
spend their leisure hours in the Enclaves that mimicked the comfort
and familiarity of their home planets, the privacy-loving Syneph
contingent preferred to hover over Zyga’s Capital City of Mikkin in
the rainbow-colored sky. Up in the Zygan stratosphere, visitors
were unlikely to wander through or loiter in the clouds. Ev
apparently did have some pull with Juan De La Cruz, his boss at
Zygint Central, because Juan had arranged for me to meet Cirra
Stratum in the private conference suite on the 53
^rd
floor (base twelve, of course) of Zygint Central Headquarters. Spud
eagerly accepted Juan’s invitation to “navigate the nexus” or
something equally nonsensical, abandoning me in my quest for the
Syneph ambassador’s merciful aid. Great. Thanks, Spud.

When I entered the suite, the Syneph
ambassador greeted me politely with an extended tuft. Her cloudlike
mist felt cold against my skin. Where was the warmth I’d always
felt from Nephil Stratum when we’d physically connected?

Cirra Stratum’s smoky tendrils reflected the
afternoon light from Zyga’s setting suns shining through the
panoramic window. I envied the freedom she and the other Synephs
had to coalesce into a cottony mass or disperse into streaks of
haze. Did she have to take the elevator up here, as I did, or had
she diffused directly into the conference room from the sky outside
through the porous glass?

“How may I assist you, Shiloh Rush?” the
ambassador asked as she pointed a tuft towards the empty room’s
only chair.

I shook my head. “Thanks, but I’ve been
sitting for two hours on my ship. I’ll just tell you about
John.”

As succinctly as I could, I related the story
of my brother’s work for Zygan Intelligence and his disappearance
three years ago while he was working alongside the terrorist
Theodore Benedict—undercover like Ward Burton, I insisted.

I told the ambassador about my painful
discovery that my brother John had apparently partnered with
Benedict in his unsuccessful quest to travel to a lost Eden in
another brane with the help of a Golden Fleece to channel energy
for the transport.

“He didn’t return. And we’ve heard nothing
since.” I couldn’t disguise my bitterness. “Before he left our
universe, Benedict denied knowing where he was, but—someone,”
thank you, Wart
, “has left us a trail of crumbs to
follow.”

“What is it that you wish from us?” Cirra
Stratum’s tone blew a wintry chill into the room.

I pursed my lips. “John himself never brought
the Somalderis, the Golden Fleece, back to our brane. Otherwise
Benedict wouldn’t have had to,” the words caught in my throat, “to
brainwash a Syneph, Nephil Stratum, to serve as an energy conduit
to fuel his own flight to ‘paradise’”.

“I am not unaware of those events,” Cirra
Stratum returned, “but my question still stands.”

I explained my suspicion that Benedict’s
destination was the dimension holding my brother prisoner. Now,
I—we—needed another Syneph’s help to make the journey ourselves, to
rescue John and bring Benedict back to Zygfed and to justice.

Cirra Stratum listened intently to my story
without another comment, the color of her wisps remaining a frosty
gray. Was she communicating to other Synephs with one of those
internal crystals that Nephil Stratum had used to tap into
Benedict’s lair? Was she sorting through a list of possible
candidates that could help us in our rescue mission?

I waited silently as she wafted about the
suite, her tufts growing darker and darker as the minutes passed. I
began to worry that maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned Nephil
Stratum’s betrayal--

The gust seemed to carry an army of icicles
piercing my skin with a biting frost that froze me where I stood.
“No!” Cirra Stratum erupted as she showered me with a stinging
blast of algid air.

Before I could respond, she had X-fanned,
disappeared, from the conference suite in one frigid swoop and was
gone.

Chapter 2

Gesundheit

I was still rubbing my frostbitten skin when
I met Juan and Spud at Juan’s office. Spud, Mr. Observant, took one
look at my face and thankfully didn’t say “I told you so.” Juan
smiled genially and pulled out a chair.

I shook my head. Additional elaboration
wasn’t necessary. “Thanks, Juan, but we’ll be on our way. We’ve got
a week off and I intend to spend it with my family.” No need to
mention that the family I was thinking of was John. I turned to
Spud, “Want a ride?”

Spud’s eyes narrowed. “Back to Earth?”

Dammit, Spud. I forced a smile, and quipped,
“Where else?” before sliding out the door and heading towards the
elevator. Once inside the lift, I hit the button for Ground and
waited for the door to close. A firm, strong hand waved in front of
the sensors, reopening the door, and letting in Spud.

“You know I didn’t want Juan to know what I
had in mind,” I grumbled, in response to Spud’s chuckle.

Spud pulled out his Ergal and tapped it. “Too
late. Contact metrics and authorizations for the Plegma are set in
here for the Zoom Cruiser’s Nav Control. Juan knows you almost as
well as I do.”

I rolled my eyes. “Does that mean you are
coming with me?”

Spud nodded. “And leave you alone in the
Plegma? Disaster.” Another chuckle. “For the Synephs.”

Just before the elevator door opened, I
punched him in the arm.

* * *

Zygan Federation Border Region—present
day

“Greetings, Rush. Escott.”

Captain Gil Pesci greeted us warmly on our
comm screens from his Glieser ship as we neared the edge of the
Lambda quadrant. The piscine species served as Zygfed’s border
guards, their shark-shaped vessels patrolling the edges of
Andromeda and the Milky Way for unauthorized travelers from the
galaxies beyond. Or was their task really to keep Zygan Federation
citizens
inside
the Zygan territories? Very few Zygans had
the means or authorization to venture far beyond the borders as
Benedict—and I—had into galaxies like Triangulum or M82.

“I am,” Pesci continued, “Astonished that
Juan authorized this trip. You know that the Plegma seems to
swallow up most travelers—permanently.”

“Thanks for the warning, Gil,” I spoke into
our comm screen. I’ve got a strong reason to want to make it out
alive. We’ll be back soon, I promise.”

Captain Pesci saluted me with a fin and
closed his feed. Our holos showed the Glieser ship changing course
and turning away, leaving our coast clear.

I took a deep breath and glanced at Spud
before cueing nav to proceed. Cirra Stratum may have said “no”, but
there had to be another Syneph in the Plegma that would be willing
to help us, even in an unofficial capacity, to travel to John’s
brane. The Zoom Cruiser jerked forward and within seconds, our
windscreens were filled with the colorful fluorescence of the
enormous nebula as the interior of our ship was plunged into
darkness.

* * *

The Plegma—present day