Escape From Redeem, Rise of an Emperor

Planet: Amos Prime, Colonial World

The many colonies founded by humanity, numbered in there thousands now. Some worlds were backward and desolate, with only a few brave settlers making an attempt to tame the wild lands discovered. But there were some worlds that now looked just as urbanised as Earth now was. What humanity had done in just a few hundred years was extraordinary in its scale. Buildings had been erected, by billions of robotic machines that never tired from their endless labours.

The towering metropolis that had been created on Amos Prime was awesome in its grandeur. The leaders of the system had made it the jewel in the crown, of Earth’s great expansion and people had flocked to this resource rich world, which inevitably became prosperous and affluent. But with prosperity comes greed. President Black had enforced his redistribution of wealth policy with an iron fist, and insisted that any excesses of wealth from the bountiful worlds, be redistribute back into the system, so that the weaker planets could be helped by the stronger ones.

Every now and then, as would be expected from the greed of man, a planet’s leader forgot their place, and hoarded all the riches for their own gain. Some would even build private armies to pose a threat to President Black’s peace. That was when the full weight of Earth was sent to a world, in the throes of rebellion. If the threat was serious enough, then they would have the misfortune of facing the might of Regiment 1’s Shock Troops.

Major Warwick had not expected much of a fight when he had landed at the planets busy star port. He landed in a small show of force, even though officially they were only on this world for exercises.

But unofficially they were here to crush any idea of breaking away from Earths yoke, which could at any time, reach out and destroy the golden world, they thought they controlled. Fortunately the governors of the system had seen the good sense to welcome the Majors small task force. Regiment 1s reputation was something to be feared and whoever sent them here had insured that this reputation preceded their arrival. The message was understood.

The last world that had not understood the threat of this elite task force of warriors was now all but dust, on a distant planet that would send no more resources to its masters. It was worth the loss of one fruitful world, to send the message to the others that order must be maintained.

Major Warwick was now bored of the place and could not wait to be sent to somewhere he could occupy his increasingly agitated men. They were bred for war, each being the beneficiary of Presidents Blacks enhancements. They were all big men, and they used this size for one purpose, which was domination of Earth’s enemies. Warwick was thrilled when General Defoe had issued the order to return home. He would not have recalled the entire regiment unless there was a real threat of war. A company of his fearsome warriors could subdue whole worlds, but the strength of them all would be cataclysmic to behold.

That excitement had died in an instant, as he sat in the noisy bar, surrounded by his fellow comrades who were all intoxicated, from an evening of sampling the local whisky. He sat open mouthed, as he tried to digest the bitter words of the enormous man sitting in front of him, who had poured himself a large measure of the delightful beverage. No amount of alcohol would numb the pain of losing Dorn Bruce, who had been very close to many in the famous regiment.

‘We have been summoned back to earth Commander, did you know that?’

Warwick said dumbly to Sebastian Ignatius, who drank his whisky in one mighty gulp.

‘I had expected as much Major. Now you know the full horror of this betrayal. I cannot order you to come with us to this ice planet, for Dorn’s son. I ask you nether the less.’

He had fought on more campaigns than he could remember with the Commander and Dorn had been a friend to them both.

‘I am a loyal man to our President, Commander. But the way I see it, we are at war. I’m surprised you didn’t launch an attack on the scum right away.’

‘I wanted to, but Kam brought me round; dam him.’

Warwick smiled at that. ‘The Master Guardsmen is persuasive; but I know your temper well. I would like to ask him how he stopped you.’

‘Don’t you dare Major!’ The hulking Ignatius scratched the stubble on his chin in brief contemplation before admitting his shame.

‘The swine kidnapped me, alright. Not another word on the matter.’

Warwick would not let him off that easy. If anyone else baited him like this they would shortly find themselves unconscious. ‘Kidnapped you sir?’

‘Major!’

‘Very well I’ll say no more.’ Warwick chuckled at the dangerous looking Commander.

‘So, will the men back us then?’

‘Yes.’ Warwick confirmed simply.

‘I know you knew Dorn as well, as I did. But the men; I don’t know?’ With that said, Warwick stood on his chair spilling his drink slightly. ‘Men to me!’

His voice carried over the singing and other noise his men were making in the barracks bar. All of them stopped what they were doing, and what seemed like an ill disciplined mob of gruff looking savages, turned into a well-oiled response from veterans at a parade ground. The Major had their attention.

He told them of the treachery and murder of Earth’s greatest warrior, and of the betrayal to the President. They all listened to his commanding words without comment or emotion.

The Major summed up with what their Commander planned to do about it.

‘So I say to you all that I plan on going with the Commander. You are free to do as you wish; I give you that choice now. But if you do come, know that we fight for the President who has been betrayed by the ambitions of men, that has not reckoned on us finding out. This will be their undoing.’

Ignatius stood next to the Major and surveyed the now sober looking men before him. He knew deep down they would be loyal to a man. He had helped to select most of them after all.

He stood on his own chair to add to the Majors plea for vengeance.

‘Before you decide; know that we will be seen as outlaws and mutineers, until we reveal the real traitors. The journey will be hard, but we are Regiment 1 and shall endure it.’

He was passed another drink by a sergeant below him, draining it again, just as quickly as the first dram.

’As the Major has already said, you do have a choice in this matter. I will think nothing less of you if you walk away from this. I only ask that you do not fight against us.

So who’s with us?’ Ignatius shouted to the assembled men.

They all as one raised a closed fist, and held it to their temples in the classic solute of the Regiment. Then the Sergeant that had handed the commander a drink boomed.

‘Hoora… Hoora!’

The chant was taken up and The Major noticed that every man in the room had agreed to follow their beloved Commander in the defence of Earth and their President.

Commander Ignatius was tried not to weep, such was the pride he felt for his men in that moment. They had trained them well and all fifty of the 4th company would rain fury upon the ones that had killed the noble Dorn Bruce.

‘I want to see you all ready to ship out in two hours; full battle dress.’

The Sergeant shouted to the men who began to leave the bar in sudden commotion. The Regiment was preparing for war.

***

Planet: Redeem, Class A Prison World

Baz had watched the recordings of the fight in the pit, over and over again. He still could not believe how fast the young prisoner, 118 was. The men he had killed, with so much ease should have ended him that day. Instead they had met their doom at 118s skilled hands.

He now stood in the darkness of the cavernous depths that the young inmate resided. The plate he had brought the prisoner was another meal of gruel and bread. He wrinkled his nose at the sight of the unappetizing plate of food. The inmate on the platform across the void, had sat in silence with his eyes closed for the last ten minutes as Baz stared over at him, hidden in the darkness.

He must have been important to be sent to this facility in the first place. When he had first laid eyes on him, he thought he must have been some upstart son of a noble, who had been punished by the unforgiving regime back on Earth.

Baz missed his home in the east London slums, which had raised him to be the model citizen he was. The career path he had chosen was something to take pride in, and when he had first started as a guard, in England’s increasingly violent prison system. He had been respected. So one day they asked Baz, if he would like the opportunity to secure the most dangerous inmates that humanity had to offer, on a world far away. He had jumped at the chance; mainly because the pay was more than the likes of him, would ever be able to acquire anywhere else.

The stint would be a long one, but the rewards for a guard at Redeem would be enough to let him retire a very rich man. He had not enjoyed his time on this world though. Occasionally, he would go to the surface and suffer the cold, so he could taste fresh air and bask in the brightness of the systems sun that did nothing to warm you with its rays.

It was not just the environment that he hated about this place. He was a very social creature, but they forbade you to get overly familiar with the inmates, and the other guards detested him for his bad hygiene.

He did not like the suffering on this world and counted the days like a common criminal, until his time was up to return to his home like a king. He was well liked in the slums that he had come from. It had been painful to be shunned by the many cruel guards that worked here with him.

It was part of the job, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He contemplated better times to come; the young inmate stood and stretched his arms through the air in a slow windmill movement. Baz continued to watch silently.

‘Do you always watch the prisoners?’ 118 said with his back facing the caverns entrance, where Baz stood. ‘How do you know I’m here?’

‘Honestly?’

‘Yeah, go on’

‘It was your foul smelling breath actually; that I must declare is quite insufferable.’

Baz knew he was not the cleanest person. He could not remember the last time he had brushed his rotten yellow teeth. But doubted his breath was bad enough for prisoner 118 to smell. He ignored the comment.

‘How did you do that, to those men in the pit?’

He asked him curiously, but did not expect a serious answer, because of this inmate’s usual sarcasm. The young prisoner turned around to face Baz, who had now stepped out into the light, holding the plate of grim looking food.

‘I will tell you if you answer one of my questions.’ He replied coldly.

‘Ok I’m listening.’

‘Who burnt alive a friend of mine yesterday?’

‘How’d you know about that from down here?’ Whoever had brought his meal yesterday must have told him, Baz guessed. The young man said nothing and waited for Baz to answer. He looked furious, but could do little from way over there. Telling him would do no harm he decided.

‘Mine hounds did it. Word on the block is they want you dead, and the old man spoke up for ya friend in the canteen. It’s a good job really; that ya down here. It’s much safer like. Now come on, where did ya learn to fight like that?’

Prisoner 118 clenched his jaw and bunched his fists together, making his sanguine features turn to anger as Baz waited for the answer.

‘I am the son of Dorn Bruce.’

‘Dorn who? Can’t say I’ve heard of him, but I’m warning you 118; you’re not supposed to tell us of ya past. I just wanted to know How ya...?’

‘Dorn Bruce, Captain of the Elite Guard of Earths President.’ He continued cutting off Baz’s protest.

‘You could get into trouble for telling me that.’

That was true, they were told on arrival, that talk of their past was strictly forbidden and punishable by torture or worse.

‘I hardly think it could get any worse for me.’

‘So how does being his son make you a decent fighter then? I’ve never in all my days seen anything like it.’

‘That plate of food, could I have it now please.’

‘Of course you can your worship. I’ll send it over now. But will you then tell me, how you did what you did.’

The posh young inmate nodded, and Baz placed the food on the drone, which whizzed the plate to the platform. The drone had been programed to avoid contact with the people it was delivering the meals to. It made its deliveries quickly onto the isolation platform. This ensured that no prisoner could touch the drone, while carrying out its work

It dropped the plate of food down gently and then moved to a height, so that it was out of reach.

To Baz’s amazement, the boy started running for the edge at great speed. For one moment, it looked like the boy had finally given up and decided to jump. But impossibly he leaped to a height that no man should be able to leap, and grabbed hold of the drone that was programed to return to the other side.

Baz watched in terror and awe, as the hanging form of prisoner 118 sped towards him, with murder in his eyes. He wasn’t ready for trouble, and he couldn’t reach the locked door behind him in time to get out. Snapping out of his trance, Baz tried to pull his service pistol, as the young inmate loomed over him.

***

Planet: Earth, Presidential Palace, Geneva

‘It’s good to see you again Keblie.’

‘Thank you Mr President.’ Black poured his guest some more wine, as they dined on the exquisite array of spiced meats before them. Kruger had done well to locate the son of Master Tong so quickly.

‘Before we say anything more, I would just like to say how sorry I was for your father. He did not deserve his sentence, but the government had no choice, because of what he did. He was a good man; I did what I could to save him from the judge’s extreme justice. But even I’m not above the law.’

Keblie Tong put down his glass and smiled kindly at Black.

‘I know you helped my father sir. I know he’s alive because of your help.’

Black had made sure that Master Tong’s imprisonment was made a secret. Unfortunately it had to be seen by the people, that justice was done. Even Tongs family were kept in the dark, as to his real sentence.

‘How did you know?’ Black asked incredulously.

‘I know, because before he left, he told me.’ Keblie said, tapping his temple. Of course; he had used his mind to talk to his old father before he left.

‘I should have done more for him. I hope one day you can forgive the politician in me that was chained to the systems laws.’

’He did not blame you sir, and neither do I. He fell in the service of his Planet. I wish it was different. My father told me all that you did for him, and that you are a good man.

Black was grateful for Keblies kind words. He then moved the topic of conversation to what he really wanted to discuss.

‘Do you know why I asked you to come here Keblie?’

The son of Tong closed his eyes, and sent an affirmative answer to the President with his mind. He must have sensed that Black had the gift if only weakly.

‘Is it possible to hide ones gifts from our kind?’

Black asked Keblie, who was impressed he had been detected, as someone sensitive to the powers of the mind.

‘It is sir, with the correct training and potential. I am still discovering the limits of my own powers, which I suppose I have to thank you for.’

Black had manipulated the genes of several people, whose talents varied from subject to subject. It had been Dr Slade that had helped Tong enhance his psychic sensitive son, Black nodded anyway, accepting the compliment.

‘Your unique talents are as you have already guessed the reason why I have invited you here. I wish to start a new guild of psychics, with you as its head. I will understand if you do not wish to serve your people, after what happened to your father.’

‘On the contrary Mr President, It would be an honour to serve you and my people. But what will be the purpose of this new guild?’

He would hide nothing from Keblie, and told him plainly about what he wanted to achieve.

‘I want to initially use the new guild for communication. But if I can be plain with you, I want you to push yourself, and discover just how far we can take your abilities. I need you to recruit and train this guild, to not only become psychic communicators, but also to seek the potential of the mind, in regards to war.’

Black had studied the talents of this new ability with great interest. Some people had been known to harness electricity, and send it out from them like a lightning bolt of destruction. He had also witnessed others, with the ability to levitate objects, and even themselves using only the power of their minds. Others could heat up the air around them and cast fireballs. To harness this power, and wield it for the good of the human race was something Black was eager to accomplish.

‘Do you expect war sir?’

‘We always expect war Keblie. But I can sense something coming that will change our race. For good or bad I do not know yet. Change will come, whether we are ready for it or not.’

‘I also sense a darkness coming sir. It is faceless, but destructive. I have discussed this with Master Thion who is also skilled in our arts.’

Black had a soft spot for the young Master Thion. Who apart from Dorn Bruce, was the greatest man he had ever witnessed with a blade. The rows of swords on display in Blacks private dining room, demonstrated his love for the martial arts. Thion’s skills however, extended into many other disciplines it seemed. Maybe he would be a good candidate to sire a son to replace Black, when he stepped down. He would think on it.

‘So you have felt this darkness too?’

Keblie nodded, and stared past Black into the spitting fireplace that warmed them both on the cold night. They had modern heat generators, but the President found great comfort in the natural fuel that warmed them. He would stare into it sometimes, just as Keblie was now.

‘Then will you accept my offer and lead this new guild of psychics?’ The president asked expectantly.

‘I accept your offer Mr President. I hope my talents can be of some service to you.’

‘As do I Keblie.’ The President reached over, and shook the hand of his new Master of Psychics and said, as if just thinking it.

’I would like you to base your guild at the Advanced Training Academy, so you can work closely with Master Thion. He will be the Guards liaison to your guild. If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to ask me personally. I will furnish you with all the resources necessary.

‘Thank you sir.’

‘No; thank you Master Tong.’

Keblie beamed at his new title. He had taken this great opportunity from the President and knew it was up to him to make it work, and make his father proud.