The Acolytes of Crane

13 THEODORE: THE TRAITOR





“I rolled around my bed and tossed, with a faded, yet stubbornly tenacious urgency to remember my life on Earth.”

I didn’t stop to think about Jason for the twenty-two days I spent on the Uriel. All that I had left behind was a micro-slice of history now. I was enjoying my stay aboard Zane’s vessel, because it challenged me. I had learned more in the past three weeks than I had in the past three years living on Earth. It was called the learning paradigm.

We were no longer being taught. We were being programmed. We were hard-wired to receive and accept new information with great ease, but more importantly, our retention and application skills were boosted by this futuristic nanotechnology.

The Chamber of Rafal opened pathways and strengthened portions of our minds. These surgeries were only slightly invasive. Dan actually acquired an infection from the procedure. It was remedied right away.

What I loved about the chamber was that we just stepped into it—and poof—we were evolved.

I was in a rare mood that day. I awoke from my Dieton mattress, pulled off my Dieton blanket, and munched on some Dietonic cereal. Okay, the last part was just a joke.

I still remember those days upon the Uriel, because they were the calm before the storm. The ship Uriel was fully populated with a fascinating microcosm of vastly different cultures.

One day, I was late to class, and our instructor was lecturing about Bromel and Karshiz cultures. The only spot left in class was next to that bullying Bromel, Drangle.

While peering through the window of the classroom door a bit longer, I decided to skip class that day after seeing that I would have to sit next to that huge oaf. I took a break on the bridge to observe the destroyers that impressively waited by the docking bays. Guarding these docking bays was an electronic perimeter. Beyond it was the Field of Termination, a no man’s land. If something crossed that line, it would be duly vaporized by the Ophanims.

In the hallway to the Chamber of Rafal, there was a giant yet elegant telescope of sorts. It was monocular, and carved from a single log of mahogany with brass bindings and focus adjusters. It seemed too exquisite to belong in this sterile setting.

I suspected the telescope was found on an expedition to Earth, maybe. I looked through the lens of the telescope, and I saw the destroyers up even closer, as compared to the countless times before from the deck on the ship. I watched and waited, formulating visions of Odion’s minions invading the Uriel, and yours truly blasting them away with his bracers. My restless mind was constantly devising war mongering strategies. I impatiently wanted to use my skills.

Then I heard a voice, ‘Why did he let your friend Jason die at the cliffs?’

‘Who is this?’ I asked.

‘Go with your instincts, Theodore. Why should you trust the Dietons and Zane?’ the voice asked.

‘Get out of my head!’ I yelled to myself. This was amounting to treason, and I didn’t want to be caught. I knew I could be monitored through the nanocom.

I ran from the bridge. I wasn’t sure what was happening to me. I went to the Colosseum to train by myself, but what I really wanted to do was take my mind off things.

I learned numerous types of martial arts during my stay. The types that I believed to be effective were Aikido, Jujitsu, and Muay Tai kickboxing. My favorite activity so far was wearing my bracers into the fight simulator and letting loose on some bricks.

I had smashed bricks and disintegrated wood with my bracers many times. I only wish I were allowed to use my sword in there. Instead, my double-bladed sword, ready to flame upon command, sat mounted and dormant within the confines of my closet.

Figuring the class with that oafish Bromel sitting side by side my empty seat was almost over, I ran through the bridge to the next class. I looked forward to greeting my friends. I had a question that I was just dying to ask the others.


I saw them all standing outside the arena. Conferring homage upon ancient Roman empires, they called it the Colosseum. Next to the Colosseum was another war games arena, the Battle Simulator. In the Battle Simulator, we trained on weaponry and combat situations upon a pre-selected terrain that was originally designed from one of the planets within the multiverse. It was clever to have the topography of vastly different terrains captured into holograph format, as listed on a menu of options. Whether we wanted to battle in a desert scene, or in the jungle, we had them all.

The most popular terrain to train in was based on that of Tritillia. Tritillia was a planet in the infant galaxy of Valeon. Giant sentient plants ruled that planet. Their environment was highly unpredictable, because of the billions of different plant species.

The Colosseum had only a few simulated arenas. There was a hypogeum—which was a subterranean temple popular in ancient cultures on Earth—that introduced different variables like robotic mercenaries, vicious offensive plants, and ferocious animals such as Tigers or Rangier Cliguires.

A Rangier Cliguire was similar to our mystical imagined dragons. They were not capable of breathing fire, but they did have some nasty breath, and could crush a grape with a stern look. They were locked to pillars, with chains.

The hypogeum arena was also equipped with centrifugal fans and sprinklers situated on the ceiling. They were used to simulate volatile weather conditions during battle.

I strolled closer to the now-familiar four. It felt good to see them. They were my only confidants away from home.

Mariah was happy to see me. ‘Hey, good to see ya, Ted!’ she said, embracing me.

‘Where the hell were you, dude? Wicked uncool to miss class, bro,’ Dan said.

I said, ‘Sorry, you’re right, but I was busy. I had some important things to do. Does anyone want to go a couple rounds in the Colesseum?’

Dan rose to the invite immediately. ‘Totally. I will do it. I am going to beat you like I used to when we played SKATE!’

Once inside the Colosseum we could not see any spectators, but anyone on the ship who wanted to drop in to watch the battles—practice, simulated, or bloodthirsty competitions—could simply take his seat in the overhang, peering through a one-way window. We could not see them, but they could see us. I could hear people applauding from the spectator stands, and it would motivate my desire to fight. Clearly, they could hear everything we said to each other.

‘Okay, name the rules,’ I said in a challenging tone.

‘Obviously no use of your rolesk, just mano-a-mano,’ Daniel said, borrowing some of Mariah’s native Spanish vocabulary.

‘Okay, bring it on,’ I demanded.

‘This will be easy,’ he said as he ran toward me at full force. It was as if he forgot about my Aikido Ukemi: a powerful technique to reciprocate a person’s own force against him. He threw a typical boxing one-two combination followed by an overhand right, and I grabbed his wrist just below the palm to gooseneck it. I returned his force to launch him over my body, hurling him smashing into the closest pillar.

If I thought he would go down easily, I was sadly mistaken. What happened next would have played beautifully in slow motion. Dan was a skateboard dude who could McTwist and flip with the best of them on the quarterpipe ramps in Minneapolis, so he flipped-kicked—without the board—off the pillar, landing securely on his feet. He laughed. ‘Is that all you got, shitty-pants?’

He was using verbal tactics to throw me off my game, and it was working. Using an effective fake, he grabbed the heel of my foot, throwing me to the ground. During my fall, I reached out and grabbed his arm, attempting an arm-bar, a jujitsu technique. Cat-calling me, he evaded my skillful but futile attempt.

Moving in for the kill, he wrapped his legs around my waist from behind, squeezing me until my diaphragm almost split in two. His forearm was wrenching my face like an old pair of ski goggles three sizes too small. I lowered my chin to slide away from the choke attempt, then hoisting his one hundred and seventy-five pound body, staggered up.

Now he was riding high on my back—like a jockey on crack. Grunting, I extended my arms back with every ounce of my remaining strength, grabbed his arm from behind, and flung him over my head to the ground beneath me.

The fans whooped and cheered, thundering out deafening roars that sent our adrenalin pumping. Voting frantically with glee on their remotes, these spectators made their collective choice for the next obstacle of our battle. Immediately, from the rafters, hurricane-strength straight-line winds and pouring rain blasted into our scrimmage. Now this was getting personal. The fans were trying to mock us, to test our resolve. We shrugged it off, and continued our skirmish. We were acclimatized to wind chill, but this was ridiculous.

Squirming on the ground in pain, Dan tried to escape, but I firmly grasped his arm as securely as I would hold a baseball bat. Feeling a rush of savagery, I placed him in a Kimura—a destructive arm-bar technique of jujitsu. I pushed and pulled at the same time. I heard a bit of a pop in his arm, and I felt Dietons nudging me to stop.

Sensing no resistance from Dan, I concluded the match was over, and let him go. What a mistake. Once up, he swiftly advanced toward me with a leg kick, and followed up with a head kick. Sidestepping the merciless barrage, I leapt up high in the air and delivered a flying knee kick, ready to knock his head off. Before my knee was about to smash Dan’s head—the Dietons intervened. I froze in place, unable to move. Panting, both Dan and I fell to the ground, excitedly eyeing each other.

Dietons always butted in before a devastating blow was about to be inflicted in the arena. They didn’t want us injuring each other. After all, they were invested in us as their strategic allies for the eventual war to come. Heck, Zane was invested in us.

‘Holy crap! That was awesome, dude! I think that was one of our best matches. You ripped it up, man. That knee would have knocked my head clean off!’ Dan exclaimed.

‘Well, there was no way of telling whether it would have landed or not. It was definitely a good match,’ I said modestly, after bowing and rewarding my comrade with a hug. Dan and I became much closer through our training. You never really know someone until you fight.

‘Let’s do it again sometime,’ he said, and gave me a high five. Everyone applauded us, and a few Bromels that were standing by on the sidelines, witnessing the battle, thanked us for a good show.

Back in my room, resting my weary bones after the fight, I thought over how the Dietons had stopped me from delivering a heavy blow to Dan. I could understand the rationale; after all, they wanted us to not get hurt. But—and it was a big but—did that mean I no longer had control over my own destiny?

For the first time ever since I landed on the ship, I started having my doubts about the whole mission. This mission of serving Zane. I was done kneeling down for that demigod and his infinite sea of Dietons. I was crippled with disdain for the conformity that surrounded us. I kept wondering, are these actually my thoughts?

I thought back to the beginning, when I was a twelve-year-old scared kid, nursing my bruises from my abusive father. Alone in the room, under the cover of darkness, I had seen that necklace with the glowing amulet, hovering in my room. Since then, I had been alerted to the presence of Zane, although I did not know it at the time. Zane had been watching over me back then—or even longer before that. I did not know.


Yet Zane did not prevent Jason’s death.

Zane did not prevent the deaths of Marvin and Laverene, my beloved grandparents.

Zane could prevent a baseball from bopping Lincoln on the head in the back of a sports store, but he could not prevent the deaths of those closest to me in my life.

And Zane had been careless enough to allow not only the evil despot Odion, but also his embittered servant, Travis, to invade what was supposedly ground zero for Zane on Earth—my grandparents’ house.

And I had not questioned any of that with him. Perhaps I should have.

Now, four of my dearest friends, and myself, were on his ship, to where? He had stolen our childhood, and was training us to become hardened battle-scarred veterans.

I thrashed about on my bed, disturbed in my thoughts. I recalled vividly that the nanocom was deciphering every thought that passed through my head. Searing pain slashed at my head. Moaning, I grabbed at my hair. ‘Get this thing out! Get it out!’ I screamed.

A cold wash of reality set in. Nezatron had said there was a traitor on the Uriel, but didn’t say who.

I mumbled to myself in shock, ‘Maybe the traitor is me.’ In my confused state, I had forgotten the fact that this traitor was detected before I even had set foot on this ship with my team.

A high-pitched static-ridden voice suddenly seized my mind. It was Nezatron, frantically sputtering through the nanocom, “My Lord, my Lord. We are losing Theodore. We are losing him….”

A spasm, really, a bolt of red hot pain, seized my mind. Shrieking, I passed out.



I do not know how long I was out, but the next thing I heard was a jumble of shrieks and shouts of alarm. A woman’s voice rang out.

‘Put the sword down now! My king! He has Wrath and he is right outside. I will be awaiting your orders,’ she said, speaking in and out of transmission with Zane.

Her next words were unmistakably directed at me. ‘I will fire on you! I am going to count down from ten, and if you don’t drop the sword, you will be killed. You are within the zone of termination.’

Then, the woman shouted out away from my direction. ‘Zane, please! He has already destroyed two Ophanims and a Sepheran Imperial Guard.’

Now I recall thrashing away, heavy with perspiration. It was as if I was fighting in my sleep, but the intensity was just as profound.

‘Theodore, snap out of it!’ cried out this woman, whom I now recognized to be Shazal, a female Bromel. She was in charge of protecting the forbidden Garden of Odion, where Zane on occasion roamed.

I next heard Zane’s booming voice over the nanocom. ‘Terminate him; he is too much of a liability now!’

Dazed, I looked around and saw all that was destroyed. What had I done? It was destruction—by my hands, my rage, and my Wrath. I stood confused and I heard, ‘Ten, nine, eight. . .’

The Bromel in front of me was counting down from behind a mounted turret cannon: an endgame weapon that fired controlled bursts of plasma at their targets. Chillingly, there was no switch set to stun. Cannons of that sort sent people packing on a long trip to nothing. I would say hell, but it didn’t exist—not now, anyway. An aura of charging energy accumulated around the cannon’s muzzle.

A voice rang out over my nanocom. It sounded like King Trazuline. He said, ‘Don’t ask any questions, run to the west wing, and use your lifters to get there fast and invisible. Now go!’

I bolted, and didn’t look back. The command to escape was the only shot I had at survival. I didn’t know why I attacked the Ophanims—or even if it was I who did it. I was worried that Odion had somehow captured my subconscious, and Zane was furious. He wanted me dead.

I sprinted, with Ophanims tailing me. The ship was in high alert. Sirens were out in full force, howling with enough intensity to awaken the dead.

My heart quaked inside my chest, and fear gripped my limbs so tightly, even as I ran. My labored breathing echoed through my mind, leaving behind no capacity for thought.

Now at the end of the west wing, I arrived at what looked like an escape hatch. It led to a two-person scout ship, one of many that dotted the docking bay. King Trazuline’s voice—if that was him, betraying Zane—told me to get in this tiny spaceship, and I did. Upon my hasty entrance into the cockpit, the ship went active and that brought about another delicate situation, because I knew that waiting for me in space were ten Dacturon Destroyers, with weapons hot.

I was the traitor and there was no escaping it. There was no escaping danger. It was like being chased from a bear cave to a wolf’s den.

I was wedged in an impending shootout between Urilians and Dacturons. I glanced at the control screen in front of my seat: on autopilot setting. Quickly, I mentally ticked off what I had with me in the cockpit.

Wrath, my gun-blade, was still in my grasp, and my other battle gear was still on my body. A vial of some sappy substance—dephlocontis mucilage, the liquidlike substance that nearly drowned me the first time I had been transported to the Uriel—sat on the floor, jammed between my seat and the wall. It could be useful later should I experience severe injuries later on, alone and unassisted. Looking at a belt around my waist, I noticed a series of steel balls chained to it. Rolesk—check.

Lastly, and highly useful, was a holster for Wrath. The gun-blade was heavy, and I finally had a place to hang it up.

The ship, having severed itself from the Uriel, had blasted off with such force that my head jerked back to my headrest. It was now zooming toward the breathtaking Cliff of Divinity. Such a majestic natural phenomenon was extremely dangerous for even the most massive battle-class destroyer space vessel, but I had no choice. It was either the Cliff of Divinity, or a vengeful and all-powerful Zane on the Uriel on one side, and a formidable army of mysterious Dacturon destroyers on the other side. It was an easy choice to make.

King Trazuline’s voice blared over my nanocom, tinged by a note of panic, ‘Press the bright blue button in on the side of the panel. Press it!’

As my eyes widened in fear, I saw a Dacturon destroyer ship loom into view. It was as if the Dacturons had found out about my escape and now were eager to get their phasers on me. Meanwhile, the alarm on the dashboard beeped, ‘Uriel now charging weapons.’ I saw the iridescent glow of the cannons accumulating power upon the Uriel.

Oh, great. Just what I needed. Two mortal enemies with a joint target: me.

I lunged for the blue button, just as my ship received incoming fire from the Dacturons. On fire, the hull of my vessel triggered the emergency containment system to shut down the damage before it spread further.

Under my command, the ship accelerated even more, tossing me to the back wall, the sheer force pinning me there.

The sharp pressure was painful and rattled the center of my stomach where my solar plexus lay, leaving me gasping for air. I was flying so fast that the blood in my body pooled in my outer regions, causing me serious circulatory discomfort.

The Cliff of Divinity, astounding in its majestic beauty, loomed straight ahead. A deadly black hole pulsated strongly at the edge of the cliff. My ship was still on auto pilot, and it was hurtling straight toward this black hole.

Little did I know that the very center of the black hole was like the eye of a hurricane. It was the only calm oasis in that monstrosity. Any wrong move into the swirling, pulverizing eddies around that black hole—any ship would be smashed into a billion pieces.

I screamed as my ship got sucked in, and my life flashed before my eyes. A reverberating, grinding, rumbling noise shook my ship to its core, and I prayed.


The fearsome ride on The Death Shredder roller coaster at Minneapolis’ most enormous amusement park was nothing compared to that drop I had just experienced. As soon as my ship hit the edge of the cliff, I felt like I left my stomach behind. We went down, and into the hole. There was nothing like it.

The star and debris trail slowed, and I dropped onto the grated floor, exhausted. Blinking, I realized the truth: I was still alive! I rose from my knees to my feet quick, and strapped myself into the leather-like captain’s chair. There were panels flickering the words “Damage Report,” and an audio warning repeating itself. Among the madness, I heard a voice that I knew I would always recognize.

‘Destroy Theodore now!’

It was Zane. I looked back, still in view of the black hole that had sucked me in. Five of Zane’s destroyers were making a move to the Cliff of Divinity, as if barricading a gateway. No one could go after me without passing through this gateway first. Zane gave the order to these Urilian destroyers to enter the black hole, which I thought was most foolish.

As I watched in horror, one after the other, four Urilian destroyers skirted the vortex, whining mightily against the black hole, but to no effect. Immediately, there was a series of four explosions in space, against the dark chilling backdrop of the all-powerful black hole. Each destroyer was utterly and totally obliterated.

I then remembered Zane’s apparent about-face, and cheered the wanton destruction of my newfound enemy.

But it was a little too soon to celebrate. The fifth, and lone remaining Urilian destroyer steered perfectly into the center of the black hole, well positioned to chase after my vessel.

Just as the Urilian destroyer was about to crest the Divine Cliff, a Dacturon destroyer aimed its deadly fire upon it from behind. Apparently the two enemies were not going to cooperate.

The portside bow of the doomed remaining Urilian destroyer exploded outward into the black hole from which I had escaped. Shrapnel from the explosion, as well as micrometeorite particles struck my ship, and continued to shift my trajectory. As the enemy ship continued to break up, I saw on the starboard side a vessel escaping the explosion. It was a small ship, similar in size to mine. It must have been a type of escape pod too.

It was time for me to go—to escape as far as possible, away from the Urilians and the Dacturons, as they could still attempt to track me. When I pressed the propulsion controls, the ship remained limp and unmoving. Gnashing my teeth, I started to cry and to panic. My ship floated helplessly, rather than fly as it should. I was officially stuck. I glanced around the cockpit to figure out the ship. I sat upon my chair and began to erratically press every button in sight.

From the chair, I saw through the observation shield nearly a hundred scattered meteoroids lurking around. Three hit my vessel, but none of them had the size to do damage. My knuckles grew white as I realize I might not survive my newest predicament.

There were meteoroids ranging in size from a basketball to a tour bus. I was in a maze of floating space rocks, and as my eyes scanned my surroundings, I perceived two clear paths leading out the minefield—a fork in the road. I had no clue which way to go.

I kept struggling to figure out the unfamiliar equipment. Exasperated, I settled on a purple lever. Grabbing it, I pulled it all the way. A door in the wall behind me miraculously opened, revealing a cubby space about two feet tall and about one foot wide.

A warm orange light emitted from the dark grey innards of the cabinet behind of me. I heard gears clicking. Something was about to come out. Unnerved, I unstrapped myself from the chair and tumbled to the floor, trying to evade whatever was moving from the opening. I peeked from the captain’s chair saw a mid-size robot.

‘What the heck? Don’t come any closer!’ I hissed, grabbing the handle of my gun-blade Wrath and flexing its blade straight at the alien creature. I said, ‘Don’t come near me, or you’ll turn into a pile of scrap metal!’

The figure walked closer, as I was about to unload Wrath onto the tin-man, he said, ‘Hello, I hear you speak English, a language that is common on one of the heritage planets, Earth.’

‘You are a robot? You can understand me?’ I asked, still not certain if Zane was now giving it instructions to terminate me.

‘I am a robot. I am named Ed. I am knowledgeable as to the operation of this ship. I was placed here in the event my passenger ever needed assistance. You seem like you definitely need my help. You are so . . . emotional,’ he said. If a robot could peer like a human, he was definitely doing so.

‘Okay, okay. Ed, I need you to take this ship on a course toward one of these—exits. Do you know where they lead to?’

‘I am not a map,’ he said, ‘I have not been programmed with the necessary information to navigate this ship to an unknown destination. However, I can navigate this ship to a destination of your choosing. Awaiting response.’

‘Okay, okay, take me on a course to that exit.’ I raised my hand to point at the left outlet of the black hole. It was giving off a grayish-green aura.

‘As you wish, sir. Can you please tell me the nature of your emergency evacuation?’ Ed asked.

‘That is none of your business, Ed,’ I growled, as my nerves were still badly shot. ‘I need you to try to get this ship to a place of safe refuse. We may have an enemy ship following us.’

‘I must make you aware sir: our ship has no advanced weaponry. We are limited to small arms, situated port side and starboard. Our best interest would be to evade and to hide.’

‘Wait, do you mean this ship can cloak, camouflage itself or anything like that? If so, turn it on now!’ I shouted.

‘Aye-aye captain,’ he said awkwardly, ‘that is why I asked about the nature of your evacuation. I need all variables to produce a sound outcome. Thank you.’

Ed activated the cloaking system, and our course was laid in to head toward the grayish-green detour that I had selected. Ed informed me that we were on course toward the Valeon Galaxy. As if I knew where it was.

My newly acquainted companion was skinny, mechanical, and he had a large ‘R’ upon his chest. He looked like a miniature version human, but with glistening metal skin. He was half my size. His eyes were bright orange, and his back had a conveniently located slim compartment that ostensibly functioned to store items of strategic importance. He was nowhere near the technological level of Nezatron, but he did look sleek and sophisticated.

‘Ed, are you Sepheran?’ I asked.

‘No, I am not sure what you are referring to. I am robotic. I am mechanical, and therefore incapable of emotion. We should get along, because where I lack in emotion, you will counter-balance nicely. I am observing some wounds to your body and some anguish within your mind. Can I please inspect you?’ he asked.

‘Ah, well, I guess it would not be the weirdest thing that has happened to me in the last month. So, yeah, go for it,’ I said.

‘What is your name, sir?’ he said, stopping to observe, and I told him I was Theodore,

‘That is a good name. All right, the full report. We have a number of problems here: your wounds are consistent with damage inflicted by an Ophanim. It looks like you were restrained at some point before the damage, as your mind shows signs of recent severe memory loss. You also have an abrasion to your cornea in your left eye. My guess is that you attempted to close your eyes to protect them when you saw the Ophanim guard firing at you, but you still sustained an eye injury. Have you been in combat, sir?’ Ed asked.


‘Yes, but it isn’t like what you think,’ I said. ‘Just battle simulation.’

‘This isn’t an interrogation. I am only trying to understand the nature of your evacuation so that I can provide you with optimal service. You are my master. I am robotic, and I am limited to my purpose. My goal is to help you in the event there is an emergency. Please comply.’

‘Well, I was still under a nanocom linked to a supreme being. I started questioning my servitude to him, and then I blacked out. When I woke up, there was a battle going on, and I escaped. That is all I know.’

‘That actually helps me more than you know. Now I know there is something wrong with your brain. I will attach these electrodes to your head, while I stitch this arm up, and as well, correct your cornea with my carbon dioxide laser.’

‘Wait, you can do all that at once?’ I asked, very impressed.

‘Don’t be irrational, this technology has been around for thousands of years. Yes, I can, and it will be quick, but not painless, so here is a sedative.’ Swiftly, using a robotic arm equipped with a needle, he struck me with an injection of diazepam, a sedative.

‘Wow—you little jerk!’ I yelped out from the stab of pain.

‘There, that should make things go a lot easier, just lay back on your seat, and I will fix you right up. Count to ten,’ he said.

“‘One, two, three, fourrrr, fivvvvvvve, sixxxthhhhh,’ I said, lisping. My tongue felt fat, and my lips numb. I fell asleep.”

I will place this tablet down for a moment. It is numbingly cold in my cell.

Now is a good time to eat my mush. I pick up this paper-like plate and sit by the door to eavesdrop. The food tastes funny, like soap, or earwax. These plates are treated with a sort of flame retardant, and I can taste something tainting this steaming bland food. I started overhearing conversations arising from the hallway outside my cell.

“Hey rookie! How is it going? You must be here to relieve me?” the veteran guard asks.

“Don’t you think I am beyond the rookie stage, sir?”

“It has been a couple of days since your promotion, kid—you’re still a rookie to me. Okay, I have someone waiting for me at my quarters. That’s right, this is your big day–your first shift alone. This guy is tough, and don’t let his skinny body fool you.”

“Alright,” the rookie says.

I can hear the veteran walking down the hall.

The rookie is on duty. I have a chance to get that nurse in here. I should do it now, while the veteran guard is preoccupied. You have to hand it to the veteran—he knows many of my tricks.

I shove all of this food into my mouth, and swallow it completely, poking my finger along the back of my tongue to trigger my gag reflex. I bend my head down, so that turret cannot see my actions. My abdomen flexes, a belch of food lands on my tongue from within, and I jam my finger further until it touches my uvula.

Blaaaaa! I vomit, puking all over that view box. The rookie’s feet shuffle. Hearing the slide open, I drop to this floor. I try to be still with my back to the vault and pretend to be unconscious.

“Sir! There is something wrong with the prisoner!” the rookie yells.

“Call the warden directly for clearance!” The vet shouts from down the hallway, loud enough for me to hear.

“Warden. Prisoner number eight-six-seven-five. Open request. Prisoner is unconscious and immobile,” the rookie says, with his voice shaky and choppy. “Guns hot, I am in position. Waiting for back-up—over. Prisoner. If you can hear me, stand and proceed to the wall to assume the static position!”

I don’t respond. I am near the door and focusing my entire mind listening for clues. I hear the veteran approaching.

“Gun on the door,” the veteran says, “Like in drill. Keep your weapon on the prisoner. Got it?”

The rookie exclaims, “Yes sir!”

“Can I get medical in here? I have a prisoner down. Possible fatality—wait—he is breathing!” the veteran shouts.

To me the rookie says, ‘Don’t move an inch, prisoner!’

The veteran looks up. ‘Can you get someone down here as soon as possible?” I hear light and quick footsteps across the floor, and the veteran speaks, “You know what is wrong with this prisoner? Why does he keep going down?”

I hear the soothing voice of the nurse, warming my heart. “He is malnourished and the brain scan shows his neural levels are consistent with depression and periodic hallucinations. He may die any moment. I have to check his eyes.”

“Ma’am. Don’t place yourself between us and the prisoner!” the veteran shouts, but she carries on, ignoring him.

“It will only be a morget, guard—relax,” she snaps back. She peels my lids upward. This is the first time I have seen her face up close. Stiffening, I fight back every urge to avoid jump up embrace her, because I recognize her. I remember her from the planet Karshiz. She is a member of the Rangier faction for the resistance. I cannot put a name to her face, but man, am I glad to see we are still working in solidarity together.

“Back off, back off,” she shoos away the guards. “I need a better view so I can check his pulse. First, I will make sure our equipment is functioning properly.”

She leans in again. I smell her delicate perfume. She whispers to me, “Theo, hold on.”

After examining me thoroughly with an excellent bedside manner, she finally steps aside, and says out loud, “Prisoner should be stable after about fifteen minutes.” With a tilt back of her head, and jutting out her hip to one side, she addresses the personnel at the turrets. “I will be at the bar Cridovian for drinks later, with the girls. Anyone wanna join me?”

“I’ll be there!” the veteran guard says with a note of delight in his voice.

“I am not going,” the rookie sullenly says, and there is a moment of silence. I sense a stand-off between these two guards. The younger one is attempting to insinuate that the older guard is forsaking his responsibilities, even if it is during his off-duty time.

“Alright, Cridovian it is,” she says, while winking seductively at the veteran guard. “See you, maybe.” The veteran grins, bows slightly, and tips his hat at her.

The hard soles of boots scuffle against the floor and mask the woman’s steps. The closing vault brings me back to reality, but with an inkling of hope. I need to remain still, to carry out my pretense further. Finally, after an agonizing fifteen minutes, as my arms and legs scream out “creeping sleep sensation!” I stretch and restore circulation to my body. Acting groggy, I spend another ten minutes acting as if I were arousing myself.

It is important to act normal. They are watching me. Focus. The warden wants an account, and I will give him one. Time to go back to recording my story.

I use the tablet. It powers up and I say, “Let’s see. I escaped from the Uriel, and then I met Ed for the first time. Oh yeah.”

I heard my trusted emergency robot speak. He said, ‘Please don’t make any sudden movements. You have been asleep for five hours human time. When I examined you with the electrodes, I found the impulses within your brain were firing in a way consistent with an implanted device. You were exhibiting implantitus, an inflammation caused from a software virus within your implant. I removed the device, cleared the virus and rebooted your implant so that it is now clear of any prior programming. I had to reinsert it, which is why you have an excruciating headache and a bandage around your head. But now your implant is clear for any new use, should you wish to do so.’


‘I don’t feel that good,’ I said, groaning.

I stood up with my back to the command shield, and Ed handed me a dry towel to wipe the sweat off my face. I turned around to grab some water.

‘We are approaching a planet as well, sir,’ he said. ‘Its name is Tritillia.’

In front of us was a green planet, vibrant and alive, bathed by the rays of a nearby star. I sat, transfixed by the image on the main screen. Up until now, I only saw pictures of planets in encyclopedias at the library and at school, as well as on the Internet. This planet was different. There were no large bodies of water like Earth, but I did see long and wide river systems.

‘I remember this planet well,’ I said. ‘I’ve never been there, but it was a very popular backdrop for much of our training back on the Uriel.’

‘Very good, sir. I can’t say anything of the Uriel, for it would be most disrespectful,’ Ed said.

I swiveled to my tin companion. ‘Can’t, or won’t?’

Ed blinked. ‘Very astute. I won’t. Indeed, a most nasty ship.’

‘I admire you. Is there still someone following us?’ I asked.

‘There has been no indication, sir. If you would like, I can take evasive actions once we enter the planet’s atmosphere. I have been programmed with numerous techniques to avoid capture.’

‘Yes, please do that.’ I rubbed my chin. ‘Why this planet?’

“Sir, you cannot meander in space forever. You need food and water. I have sources that indicate to me that the Elons on this planet could be valuable allies.’

‘Whoa. What are Elons?’

‘I know very little about them. I will brief you now. But there is no other planet close by. Given the huge risks that face us, I recommend an attempted landing.’

‘Very good. How long will it take me to recover from my wounds?’

‘Your wounds? On a human body, at least two weeks,’ he said.

‘I have this syrup. Do you think it could help?’ I asked, and handed him the vial that I had seen upon my escape.

‘This is dephlocontis mucilage. Yes, very good. With this substance your wounds will be healed within minutes, maybe an hour at the most. I should have queried you. Since you are irrational, you have failed to disclose important information. I am going to rub some of this on your wounds, and I want you to consume three tablespoons. We’ll save the rest in case you sustain another injury later on. We make our descent once you are finished with this medicine.’

There was no sign of the tailing ship. They might have been cloaked as we were, or just out of our radar range.

As I gazed at the awe-inspiring planet, I finally started to reflect what had happened upon my last moments aboard the Uriel. There was no way to escape any savaging of my reputation aboard the Uriel, even though I might have been controlled by Odion’s mind. I fervently prayed for my friends, fretting that they would hate me by now.

Wait. I froze as my thought seized me. Nezatron had mentioned a traitor, someone who had attempted to hack into the database aboard the Uriel. It wasn’t me, that’s for sure. And I distinctly remembered King Trazuline’s voice as he guided me to my escape. Was it really him? I was in a stupor most of the time during my mad scramble—was I recalling correctly?

Why would Trazuline be covertly undermining Zane? My blood gelled. Tez! These sweet hushed tones she had conveyed to me—was she part of her father’s plot too? I tormented myself, and pleaded to no one that nothing would happen to her.

We orbited the planet for about an hour, searching for a port of entry. Ed was concerned that we might be risking our lives. To my surprise, he informed me that this ship wasn’t really designed for a planet’s atmosphere. It was only designed to shuttle in between ships in outer space, nothing more.

‘I don’t care,’ I told him. ‘I’m not going to stay stuck in space forever. Land the craft.’

‘Aye-aye, sir.’

Ed was emotionless. He sat and did exactly what I told him to do. He only engaged me if I asked something of him. I realized how amazing the artisanship and science behind the Dietons was, compared to the limitations of robotics. Since he was not composed of Dietons, Ed was limited. At least I had nothing to fear from him. There was no way Zane could control him.

‘Ed, can you get a . . . virus, like me?’ I asked. Then I remembered what Migalt said about allowing Odion into my mind. The whole idea of it made me nauseated. Thankfully, Ed had removed the virus. I was now safe too. The thought made me more relieved than I could ever imagine. Zane could no longer access my mind.

‘I think you are referring to the software patch as a virus. The nanocom that you had, allowed all thoughts to be extracted and processed by a central authority. Horrible things, really. Such viruses are capable of causing serious damage to a CPU in a robot. I made it a point to avoid contact with yours while you still had it,’ he said.

‘Ed, I really appreciate what you did for me. I feel like myself again.’ I sighed with relief.

‘Anytime, Master Ted.’

‘Ed who made you?’ I took a seat in the captain’s chair.

‘I was developed by Rangiers,’ he said.

‘What are Rangiers?’ I asked, butchering the word he had previously said. In a heartbeat, I recalled the Rangier Cliguire dragons. Were they developed by Rangiers?

‘Rangiers are known specifically for their ability to construct languages and cultures for newly founded or colonized planets. Rangiers live in a solar system near where you are from—Earth, I presume. Their home planet is known to my database as Foita.’ I nodded my head, ‘They live under the surface of Foita. They do so because the weather on Foita is extremely volatile and they cannot survive in it without heading underground. Are you processing, Theodore?’

‘Do you mean understanding? And yes—I guess,’ I said.

‘Yes. The original home planet of the Rangiers was destroyed in a supernova explosion thousands of years ago. Fortunately, before then, they had the technological know-how to locate a new planet suitable for what they needed. The Rangiers colonized this planet and named it Foita, which means: heart within. They are responsible for the creation of the Mecca Dietonical database, called Eppa. Are you familiar with Eppa?’ Ed asked.

‘No one told me about Eppa. I am in overload anyway. The last several days have been too overwhelming for me. How do you know so much about everything?’

‘It is part of my programming complex. I was given this information by my creators.’

‘I am going to walk around the ship. I know there is not much to see, but…’ I stood up. I really needed some exercise, even on a ship this small.

‘Please, don’t touch anything, master. I am afraid you are not capable of handling the responsibility of this ship,’ he said.

I fought off the impulse to get annoyed with him. Even if he was right, I didn’t need to be reminded of my helplessness. Walking around, I decided that I would henceforth be my own man. Zane brought me into this fight for his end purpose, but now that would change. I had to be as unpredictable as my enemies were. I was free.

Before I grabbed some shut-eye on the cockpit floor, I proudly stroked my sword, Wrath. This sword had made me ferociously dangerous. I proved that by defeating the Ophanims and one of the Uriel’s formidable Sepheran Guards.

As well, my bracers made my hands indestructible. My rolesk afforded me limited control over all Dietons that were within my range. My mechanical kicks, enclosing my ankles, well, they made me highly unpredictable, with the ability to fly, move faster, and make myself invisible.


True, all my adversaries were equipped with some variation of my gear. However, Zane saw something in me, and the Dacturons wanted me dead. I felt immensely contented with how much I had accomplished.

I stared at the planet ahead. I was going to finish my mission, without Zane’s help.

I no longer was Theodore Crane, the scrawny platinum-haired jerk. I was Theodore Crane, born-again vigilante, and my desire was to destroy Odion. If Travis stepped into my path, well, he was going to have to answer for what he did to my peace.