***
He knew where to find Manutaai and that would be in the Malontide City on Zhesta. All the outcasts and criminals ended up there. His contacts passed the word and he narrowed it down to either the Starlight Niteclub or the Sublight City Bar, of which he would try the latter first.
As soon as the barman pointed to the handsome, muscular fugitive in deep conversation with his much more gruesome business associates, he discretely scanned his mind to get an idea of the personality. He fit the profile—young, with strong survival skills, cunning, greedy, would kill and have no regrets; definitely qualities of a Trimadian. Plus, his Cathexistome seemed subdued, probably chemically induced which was not surprising being amongst Sataal’s Cantal rebel warriors for all that time. His brain wave pattern indicated drug addiction to the expensive Zim or Zimmies. He wondered if his ex boss Talokta was aware of his addiction. When he mentioned Kate Willard’s name, the reaction told him he had hit the jackpot. This was the kidnapper all right, his body’s temperature increased, and his heart raced. But it was more than nerves; this Trimadian traitor had desire for the woman–forbidden for his kind, yet he had kidnapped her and was going to give her to Marone–that would be his drug addiction. Offering an obscene amount of credit to Manutaai would mean he would never have to show his face again and would have a lifetime supply of his favorite drug; a winning formula for the risk in kidnapping Leah. Judging by Manutaai’s past behavior, his feelings for her would not stop him hanging Leah out on a limb if he was cornered by the enemy. Scaba knew he would have to keep Manutaai within sensor range.
Scaba, with sleight of hand, slipped a microscopic tracking scan chip inside Manutaai’s crystal credit card when he had transferred the credits to seal their agreement. This was a common Septen procedure during covert operations to keep a mark on their subject or investment, especially if they disappeared from sight. If there was one thing a greedy alien would keep with him all the time, it would be his crystal credit card. Humans had credit cards too and Gene Tremaine had once told him that humans just don’t leave home without it.
Scaba was discreetly tracking Manutaai to see how he was going to earn his credits. He had left to go to his motel, returned back to the Sublight City Bar again where he had a couple of drinks and a lengthy chat with Zhoida the barman. Scaba did not want to risk exposing himself and did not read his subjects’ minds.
He did see Manutaai offer a lot of Toda under the Frekka’s ample nose, which the Frekka at first politely refused, but Manutaai was very persistent. Zhoida took the money.
After a brief exchange, Manutaai bought a bottle of liquor and walked out the bar. What the hell was he up to?
Manutaai seemed to know exactly where he was going and had set off at a brisk pace up the road. There was a public carriage hover stand around the corner, not as powerful or as grand as the Trimadian Tremuluses, but still did the job.
Manutaai hopped into one and the craft sped away.
Almost instantly, another one came whizzing round the corner to replace it. Scaba hopped in it and told the driver “follow that cab.” He giggled, as Denver had shown him Earth entertainment movies with that line in it.
The cab driver did not even blink. This was Zhesta, questions cost money and lives.
Three minutes later, even in heavy traffic, they were on the other side of town.
Scaba instructed the driver to pull up ahead of Manutaai’s taxi, paid him sixty credits and left. The streets around here were relatively empty. The no hopers, druggies, drug pushers, and homeless were non existent in this part of town. He realized that they were in the heart of the Trimadians’ territory. The Malontide ocean was nearby and was one of the most attractive resort areas on the planet.
Scaba had always wanted to bring his mate here—such beauty was wasted on the war bred Trimadians.
Manutaai, still carrying his liquor package entered another bar.
Scaba hurried after him. The sign on the pub said the Lunar Axis. Scaba knew he would have to keep a low profile. Trimadians were always suspicious of strangers entering their side of town.
The interior was spacious and clean, fashioned in a type of Graffa gothic and medieval style. Torches adorned the walls and a huge fireplace was set in the center. Weapons of all types throughout the Trimadian ages were lining the high walls, just out of reach for anyone to grab.
A sign written in Trimadian was near the bar warning anyone who entered had to relinquish any weapon until they left the premises. No exceptions were allowed.
Oh yes, this was definitely Trimadian territory. He could sense it, and he could smell it. To Cantals, and other races, even humans, the energy that radiated from these walls would be overpowering without them even knowing it. The force was chokingly strong. Thank goodness Septens, though aware of it, were immune.
Now, Manutaai would have no trouble mixing in with his kind, but was taking an insane risk showing his face here. Scaba surveyed the floor for Manutaai, but he was nowhere in sight. At this time of night the place was packed with Trimadians and one or two other neutral races. There were no communication devices in this house; you spoke either Trimadian or Graffa. Luckily, for Scaba he spoke both.
Off-duty Trimadians could come here to relax, socialize, drink, and gamble. There were a total of three huge public rooms. One was for pure drinking and socializing, one for live entertainment, and one for eating. A gymnasium and spa/sauna was upstairs and at the rear, arena type sporting facilities, including hand to hand combat sports, with no rules barred; excellent for letting off steam! For the less physical, the more mundane holo computer games were always available.
In the main drinking bar, expensive high quality wood and stone tables and chairs were placed in the center of the room. Around the outside were comfortable sofas and low tables for more intimate conversation with room dividers for extra privacy. Scaba could feel all the gossip, bragging, and dealing that went on here. Drinks and food were cheap for Trimadians, due to heavy subsidizing from all taxpayers on Zhesta.
The bar stretched the full width of the room coming close to the entrance and was made of a glistening marble like stone. The barman was a bulky Trimadian with one eye missing and a robotic arm replacing his right one. This one had been in a few battles and decided running a bar was safer.
The barman eyed the Septen. “What will it be?” he boomed in Trimadian.
Scaba replied in perfect Trimadian, “One of your lunar beers, ice cold thanks.”
The barman got the beer and set it in front of him with a tall clean glass. “You are not from round here. Haven’t seen Septens here for a long time.”
Scaba knew he had to relax and play it cool.
“That’s right. I’m just a traveler passing through,” he said cautiously.
The big barman broke into a smile; at least Scaba thought it was a smile as his teeth were disgustingly broken, with black and yellow gums. How the hell anyone could eat and drink in here with that sickening sight was beyond sense.
Scaba took a sip of beer, and it was very nice and refreshing. That had to be the reason for anyone to come in here and see that mouth.
“Always nice to see new faces here.”
In a low jovial whisper he added, “One does get tired of seeing only Trimadian soldiers. But their credit is just as welcome as yours, friend,” as Scaba handed him his crystal credit card.
Scaba looked at the man’s arm. The barman grinned. “Lost the damn thing in battle with those evil Locum. One pounced on me from behind and injected me with some poisonous green venom. Had to get it removed before it poisoned my whole body. But I managed to slice the damn creature into fresh chopped meat for dinner here though.” He laughed when he saw Scaba choke a little when he swallowed his drink.
“Just pulling your leg my friend. Heh Heh. It’s thanks to another of your kind that saved me. Now what was his name? Ventrowe, how could I forget? Excellent doctor. Name’s Sylock,” the Trimadian said sticking his right ha
nd out to Scaba who shook it. Sylock’s handshake was surprisingly gentle. “Old Graffa custom that I like. Did you think I was going to shake the shalash out of you with my metal arm? Ahhh, ha ha ha. Only if you and I had an arm wrestling match and there was credit at stake.”
Scaba smiled nervously.
“Jus’ joking, Septen,” the barman said wiping his one eye.
“I’ve heard of Ventrowe,” Scaba said. “Apparently, he was a very good physician, based on Heliostronus.”
“Still is still is,” Sylock replied cordially. “He is so good our Supreme Ruler has him stationed at his fortress as his personal doc.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
Scaba had to find Manutaai but did not want to arouse suspicion or offend the barman.
“He also helped my brother Balock, who is in charge of the mines up there. Accidentally cut his hand almost completely off with his laser whip, stupid fool.” Sylock roared with laughter. “Oh it was not a pretty sight either. My, my, this galaxy is one small place,’ Sylock commented. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t. My name is Scaba.”
“Nice to— WHAT THE—”
A loud explosion which sounded like furniture being smashed resounded out through the pub. Then angry voices shouting.
Scaba’s ears pricked up, he was sure he heard Manutaai’s voice.
Though he was a stocky Trimadian, Sylock moved like lightning, Scaba quietly followed.
In a small, adjacent room, the carnage consisted of several tables and chairs that had been smashed up during a brief but torrential outburst of violence. Manutaai, had the side of his head pressed hard against another table, his arms thrust up his back, moaning and struggling unsuccessfully to get free from a Trimadian guard. The guard had his knee pushed hard into the small of his back. Scaba recognized the guard’s uniform and tattoo as high ranking, though he was unsure of the fleet.
“What on Zhesta is going on, Montava?” Sylock demanded.
“This is not your problem, Sylock,” Montava replied evenly, jerking hard on Manutaai who groaned in pain.
“It’s my bar, and I want to know.”
“Fine, this here is the traitor Manutaai, you know, the one who is wanted for the kidnapping of Queen Leah from my master’s ship. I heard him blatantly skiting about it! Stupid, drunken fool.”
“Then he should come back with us,” spoke another voice behind the barman.
Two Trimadians’ with different insignia on their arms were standing with Gloctols pointed at them.
Sylock was furious. “You are not allowed weapons—”
“Lord Marone would like a word with you, Manutaai. He doesn’t appreciate you trying to fool him and steal one of his ships.”
“I think Lord Talokta would take preference, especially in a matter of kidnapping royalty,” Montava snarled back.
Scaba quietly slipped away into the background unnoticed to observe what was going to happen. If the situation were not so serious, this political badgering would have made great entertainment.
One of the Empyream guards said a few quiet words to Sylock who grunted and went back to his bar.
“Now you don’t want to disturb Talokta with this wretch, especially when the ceremony is tonight.”
“I was personal guard to her highness. I think Lord Talokta and the Supreme Ruler would insist.”
The two Empyream guards looked at each other. “Sorry, Montava, not this time. Don’t force us to stun you.”
Montava was brave, intelligent and knew what battles to fight, and which to concede.
He grudgingly released Manutaai, but as the traitor got to his feet, he slammed him hard to the ground, almost knocking him out.
Montava spat on Manutaai, his face dark with fury. He slowly backed away, one eye on the traitor, the other on the armed, but wary guards.
To be a Sotoid soldier, you had to earn and prove your worth. You had to be ruthless and react like lightning.
Cowards! If he had any weapon on him, he would not hesitate to use it with full deadly force before they had even opened their mouths. The two Empyream guards knew this and kept one Gloctol trained on Montava and one on Manutaai.
Talokta would hear about this.
The guards hoisted up a moaning, swaying Manutaai and shoved him out, landing straight into the bar. Scaba watched it all from a dim corner table. Most of the crowd had carried on with their business, not wanting to get involved with a feud where names like Queen Leah, Talokta, and the Supreme Ruler were mentioned.
Scaba nodded to himself, guessing this was Manutaai’s plan, and it had semi worked but the timing sucked having Marone’s guards present. If the Sotoid guard had him, he would go directly to the fortress. Now he was heading to Marone’s ship.
Hold on, one of the guards mentioned the ceremony was going to take place tonight.
Something as important as this would mean all Trimadian Leaders would have to attend as custom. A quick thought of dropping poison gas into the fortress and killing all the Leaders went through his head and left just as quick. The fortress just could not be penetrated from the outside. Manutaai had done the best thing anyone could do; by setting himself up to get caught by the enemy.
Scaba’s mind recalled another argument that was brought up at the Earth meeting table: the rescue of OBF1. Scaba and the team got on well, especially with Pete Reynolds, as both had a passion for history and built up a healthy rapport. It hurt Scaba when he told Denver that only Leah was the number one priority for what was at stake. For all Scaba knew, the team could all be dead. Scaba was fully aware that Ventrowe had contacted Denver to help his men obtain a ship and bring them all back to Earth. The two Septens had worked well in the past concerning covert matters.
By Zakaroid, he wanted to rescue them all; they were his friends, too. But realistically, they were on their own.
He casually walked from his table and glanced out the transparent outer door. Manutaai was now cuffed and being pushed into a Tremulus with an Empyream insignia on its side.
“Good luck, friend,” Scaba whispered to himself.
“Certainly can’t have that scum in here. What the hell was he thinking? Did he want to get caught or something?” Sylock said. The barman was now pushing glasses under a laser treatment device that instantly cleaned them. Gone were the days of crude devices such as soap and dishcloths.
Scaba resisted the urge to say; probably, because I paid him too.
“You didn’t notice those guards had weapons?” Scaba enquired.
Sylock sighed. “I’ve had trouble with that lot before, those Empyream think the rules don’t apply to them. But those two must have only just walked in, as I didn’t see them come in earlier.”
Was it fate they happened to be looking for Manutaai, or was it just sheer bad timing? Perhaps they had simply tracked him down because the oaf had stolen a ship of theirs.
Montava had come out and sat at the bar. He did not look too concerned.
Sylock put a beer down for him, “On the house, sir.”
Scaba decided to strike up a conversation with the warrior.
“Nice move you did on that criminal, sir.”
Montava eyed up the Septen. “What’s it to you? I was doing my job.” Montava downed half his beer.
“Got shafted though,” Scaba quipped.
“You win some, you lose some. If I’d had my weapon, those idiots wouldn’t be alive.” He threw a black look at Sylock who moved down the other end of the bar. Sylock had every respect for anyone associated with Talokta, out of pure, distilled fear.
Somehow, Scaba had no doubt about his comment, especially as he was Leah’s personal guard. Very few would have that honor.
“So, is it true, that guy kidnapped her Royal Highness? She’s the Chosen One, isn’t she?”
Before Scaba knew what hit him, Montava jumped from his seat and had Scaba in a stranglehold with one muscular arm. He hissed, “What d
o you know about this, friend? I saw you sneaking around the background, don’t deny it. I see everything. You showed up the same time as Marone’s guards. Are you a spy?”
“No!” gasped Scaba. “I am a Septen; curious, nothing to do with this, at all.” Montava released Scaba who doubled over coughing and almost vomited up his beer.
“I—I just tune into people. I can read minds and remember things well.”
Montava was well aware of what Septens were like. He, along with most Trimadian warriors, knew all about them and many other races. Friend or foe – all their languages, customs and criminal activities. Montava had done his share of covert work. Septens were unimportant as far as Trimadians were concerned. The only good thing that came from them was their planet Sanah that the Trimadian’s had claimed years earlier.
Montava finished his beer, slammed the large goblet on the bar and Sylock instantly refilled it.
“Our Supreme Ruler was expecting her Royal Highness. Manutaai played a dangerous double crossing game, and she ended up his prisoner. He could have got her killed. When I saw him… The fool is as good as dead now.”
Scaba looked at Montava, and gasped when he inadvertently ‘saw’ the thought in Montava’s brain. “Oh my God, your Lord Talokta has a device implanted in him, a bomb, enough to take out a ship!”
Montava smiled smugly, “Very good, Septen.”
“Please call me Scaba. So do you think your Lord Talokta will activate it?”
“Why not? Once I report back to him of what happened today, it will be bye bye to Manutaai and Marone.”
Scaba felt sick, his one chance to get to Leah was fading fast.
“Though, I will leave it until after Queen Leah’s special night tonight, nothing must interfere with that.”
Thank the stars!
A buzzing noise came from an object on Montava’s belt. It was his long range communication device.
“Anyhow friend, I have to take this.” Montava strode outside, talking on his communicator.
Sylock came back over and said, “That Montava is a brilliant warrior, Lord Talokta’s best. Would you like another beer?”
“Yes, why not.”
Sylock put the beer in front of him and said, “Next time you see Ventrowe, tell him old Sylock wants to shout him a beer some time.”
Next moment, Scaba was shoved violently against the bar, the movement so swift he had his breath knocked out of him. Montava had overheard the conversation.
“I have just received word that some human prisoners have escaped and are attempting to kidnap the queen as we speak. Among them is a spy; the Supreme Ruler’s own physician, Ventrowe. You, my little orange friend, are coming back with me. Sylock, give me my Gloctol.”
Sylock panicked knowing he had just mentioned the doctor’s name. He obeyed the furious warrior without question, not really knowing what was going on.
“How much do I owe you?”
“On the house, Montava.”
“Thank you.”
Sylock inwardly sighed with relief, bade him goodbye, and the warrior marched out the door, with a Gloctol hard up against the back of Scaba’s head.
Montava activated another device on his belt, and within four seconds, a Tremulus zoomed up to them from around a street corner.
He entered his code and said, “Right Septen, inside, valuu!”
Scaba stepped through the hatch.
Montava followed and went to chain him to a metal rod that ran down the length of the ceiling of the vehicle. Scaba protested, “Look, you don’t need to do that.”
“What do you think I am?”
Scaba’s mind was racing. This whole situation was all horribly going wrong. As this Trimadian was one of Talokta’s men, he very well may be tortured and never see the light of day again. Scaba had scanned Montava’s mind to see if he could learn his intentions. He found this Trimadian was reasonable and very loyal to the queen. Could he confide or trust in him? From the position he was in now, what did he have to lose?
“We are both on the same side, you, and me.”
Montava ignored him, sat down at the driving console, and prepared for launch.
“Enjoy your ride, friend, look out the window. It will be the last light you see for a long, long time.” Within seconds, they had shot out into the skyline, skirting the gradually thinning atmosphere of Zhesta.
Even though Scaba was in a dire situation, he could not help but admire the beauty of the skyline. Traffic was virtually nil. Montava activated the sub interstellar drive and they shot away, everything became a blur. He activated the automatic drive.
“So, I gather we are going to Heliostronus?”
“Correct, you are going to tell our Supreme Ruler all your information regarding the plot to kidnap Queen Leah and give all the names of the ones involved. If not, you and your friend Doctor Ventrowe will spend a bit of time together in jail thinking about the consequences. I warn you, don’t even think of lying. When you do tell the truth, you will be rewarded.”
Yeah right, straight to the mines of hell.
“Alright, Ventrowe is an acquaintance of mine. We are friends but hear me. We would never do anything to hurt Queen Leah. On the contrary, I have been sent to help her.”
Montava was pleased his threat had loosened the Septen’s tongue without him laying a finger on him. This information he would provide to his masters would stand him in good light.
“Go on.”
“I know it looks bad, but I assure you, if you’d just let me speak to her Royal Highness, let me explain why I have come.”
Montava seemed to ignore him. “I heard what Sylock said about Ventrowe. Every Trimadian in his bar knows his story of how Ventrowe did in fact save his life; he has nothing to do with what is going on. But you, on the other hand are asking questions. And, you were in the same vicinity as a wanted criminal, a traitor who was going to trade the queen for his own safe passage. I consider you an associative of Manutaai’s, and through your own admission, you know Ventrowe. I do not believe in coincidences. It just so happens that our computer has tracked coded radio signals sent by Ventrowe to Graffa and very strangely, their moon. Humans do not live on the moon, but we ran detailed scans and discovered a population of Septens.”
Scaba’s orange face turned grey.
“In fact, I could kill you right now and report that you resisted and tried to escape…”
Scaba’s heart was racing as fast as his stressed mind was thinking. “Look…er…Queen Leah does not know me, but her team mates and boss back on Earth have known me a long time. The Graffa humans have asked me to help her. They were trying to get her out of Casus Belli to stop her from making a terrible mistake.”
Montava was curious instead of furious. He walked up to the Septen and scanned him with a silver ring on his finger. He accessed his on board computer and silently read a file.
“Hmm, Scaba, you are also wanted for theft of one of our outdated freight ships that has never been recovered. That is reason enough for me to shoot you.”
“That was last century, years ago. Your warrior pals were destroying our home world Sanah. We were looking for a world to repopulate as only two hundred of our people escaped devastation. I had to take it; we were looking at total annihilation of our species unless we acted quickly.”
Montava had all that information on file and remembered that Lord Marone had led that battle. Marone was a fierce warrior and got results. Though Marone was a bit of an outsider who played by his own rules now and then, the Supreme Ruler had let it go. Now things would have changed.
He turned to the Septen and stated coldly. “Your race is not and never will be a threat to us, but you have a long standing reputation for espionage and covert operations. And it was a very pleasant discovery of your moon hideout. You would not want your people to suffer would you? What are your plans concerning her Royal Highness?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why
not?”
“Because you will tell the Supreme Ruler, and with this knowledge, he might kill you and would definitely kill me and anyway you probably wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
Scaba agonized for a few seconds. “Alright, I’ll try and give you an outline. Kalvich, six thousand years ago, tried to steal Leah from her Graffa people, as she was the human born Chosen One representing great evolutionary steps for the god’s children. The gods wanted a new leader, and she was perfect. She ruled her people with kindness, mercy, and justice. Her world was a Utopia. Then you Trimadians invaded, led by Kalvich who, may I say, is an immortal dark god and not a true Trimadian, as he has no Cathexistome. His brother Sidonio who was Leah’s husband was a god but turned his back on immortality to be with Leah. Kalvich loved her too and killed Sidonio in cold blood. In a desperate attempt to get Leah away from Kalvich, her alchemist, Cemel, tried to use the Door of Endless Light. The alchemist got wounded—”
“Enough. I know all this. You are wasting my time, Scaba!”
“Okay, well, er, you know the gods have been watching over her. What about the bloodstones? Did you know how one stone went missing and Kate Willard got guided to that one. Another stone Doctor Pete Reynolds possessed and he was with the Graffa force that also possessed the Black Star Portal. And the third…”
“Is with the Supreme Ruler.”
Scaba looked dejected.
“And four months ago he contacted Leah through visions and dreams via his stone so he could once more be with her to dominate the universe,” Montava concluded. “All you have told me is common knowledge and the classic Trimadian bedtime story for all our children—the coming of the Chosen One for our great leader.”
“But don’t you see, once he has her powers he will be unstoppable. He won’t need an army or fleet once he has the top chair upstairs. Leah feeds him the unique power he needs, and all the races around the galaxies will suffer.”
“The spoils of war. Scaba, I am applying to be her Royal Highnessess’ personal guard in Casus Belli. I will look after her with my life.”
Scaba didn’t know what more to say. This Trimadian’s loyalty was commendable but ill placed. He knew if Kalvich went through the ceremony with Leah and the stones, it was going to be impossible to save her. Impossible to stop Kalvich’s diabolical plans…
In a desperate and foolish attempt borne out of frustration to get through to Montava, Scaba exclaimed, “I hope she dies. If Graffa attacks and they can’t get her back, they will do their best to kill her, to spare the rest of the universe from suffering.”
Montava leapt up and punched Scaba hard in the face.
“Blasphemy!” he shouted.
Scaba moaned in pain, his jaw throbbing. “Leah would rather die than hurt anyone.”
“Spies and traitors like you are insignificant to the mighty Trimadian Way. The queen and our Supreme Ruler will only lead us to more greatness under their immortal rule.”
“Yes, but to what and at whose expense?”
“Your death will be meaningless and life will go on!”
Scaba gave up.
Montava was no fool. He had listened to every word Scaba had said. Whether he was right or wrong did not matter. Montava had chosen his loyalty, and that was to the Supreme Ruler and the preserving of the Trimadian ways. Kalvich had been good to him and all others like him. They were not just ordinary warriors of any old race. They were the race to be led to glory by the immortality of Kalvich. They could have anything they desired as long as they served their master.
Ahh and Queen Leah. He had a soft spot for her unique friendliness toward him and Chotar. He never thought in his lifetime that he would witness the childhood story of the Chosen One. Willingly or not, she would have to change to suit his leader’s needs. He also was inquisitive to see the effect Leah would have on Kalvich. Mixing the two personalities would be interesting. He could quite plainly see why Kalvich wanted her. Apart from her chosen destiny and great powers, they were still man and woman, flesh and blood.
It would be interesting to see if they would have a child.
Montava looked at the Septen. “You know your impudence is not going to be tolerated by the Supreme Ruler. Whatever plans he has are his business and will always benefit the Trimadians’ in their victory and glory of conquering dissident planets.”
Scaba tried again. “And then what? He and Leah reach a new evolutionary scale and kick the gods out who have ruled since time began? He won’t need your fleet anymore. He won’t need the Trimadians. Yes, your master is immortal. No one can stand up to him once the gods are destroyed. Only Leah could. But he is cleverly manipulating her into his world to show her all the glory that comes with power. It is written that the time of the Chosen One will come, and she must choose between what is right and…what is not. But she must make the choice freely. The longer she spends with your Supreme Ruler the less free will she will have, and she won’t even know it. Do you want to see her suffer?”
“Enough!”
Scaba thought Montava would hit him again.
Instead, he said, “You are correct with everything you say, Septen. Freedom is a matter of perspective. If the Supreme Ruler leaves, so be it. The Trimadians will always be there for him. Right from the beginning he has told us he is a god not a Trimadian, but he will lead us to the ultimate prize.”
Scaba wondered if Kalvich would achieve the Trimadian’s expectancy of this prize; he knew what Montava meant. He also was damn well aware Kalvich and his almighty ego would not easily forgo the Trimadian race due to his over inflated ego requiring constant worship.
He sighed and realized that talk was not the way to make progress. While the Cathexistomes were the dominating entity, the Trimadians would always be the way they are, ruthless warriors. And Kalvich liked that indeed.
Maybe the only option was war. There were rebel forces building up, who believed in freedom at all costs, thanks to the reputation and leadership of Sataal. What if there was a system that could be implemented to free all the Cantals from the Cathexistomes? Kalvich’s obsession with loyalty would be given a foul crush. The Trimadian race would be destroyed, and the Cantals would regain their freedom and identity.
Sataal had the formula blueprints in his mind. Could he help?
Only trouble was he had to find Sataal. From the position he was in, rescue was out of the question.
He knew the Supreme Ruler would be in possession of Sataal’s work, including the data on the precious expunging formula. Would Kalvich have destroyed it for fear of losing control over his favorite race, or mutate it to hit back at his enemies.
Could Leah help? He had a feeling she could. He had to talk to her? Dare he use telepathy? But did she know enough to learn how to tune in so no other could listen in. That was a skill even he had trouble with.
In the pit of his stomach, he was fast running out of time. He had to do something before life as he knew it, would cease to exist.
Chapter 43—Revolutions