Galactic Council Realm 3: On Guard Read online

  On Guard

  A Galactic Council Realm Book

  By: J. Clifton Slater

  On Guard

  Galactic Council Realm

  Books:

  On Station

  On Duty

  On Guard

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All the errors in judgment, faulty concepts, misuse of military tactics, unworkable theories, and rewriting of historical groups are mine. Also, the names I use in this story are associated with languages from around the world. You’ll find them listed in the Appendix along with their country of origin and meaning. Again, any name that has an incorrect meaning, is my error.

  I’d like to thank my tireless editor, Hollis Jones, for the many hours she spent correcting my spelling, grammar and convoluted sentence structures.

  I am a gamer and my time waster of choice are RPGs on my XBox 360. This book follows some of the aspects of the video games I enjoy. You can find maps and diagrams on my Facebook page. I hope you enjoy On Guard: Galactic Council Realm.

  Cover photo from art work created by James Daily.

  J. Clifton Slater

  Facebook: facebook.com/GalacticCouncilRealm

  E-Mail: [email protected]

  Twitter: @GalacticCRealm

  Contents

  Title Page

  Galactic Council Realm Books:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Appendix

  On Guard

  Chapter 1

  Headlights swept over my head as the vehicle behind me veered to pass. My ride slowed and I heard three raps on the truck cab. The rapper was Arna Thorsten and it was my signal to disembark.

  I shoved off the old boards, up the side and rolled off the rail. As the pickup truck sped away, I hit the shoulder of the road. Bits of gravel dug into my shoulders and knees. Ignoring the gravel, I pushed and rolled until I was well off the main road and hidden from any approaching traffic. My rolling ended when I slammed into a concrete wall. By then, the taillights of the pickup had faded into the night.

  In the shadow of the concrete wall, I pulled out my Knight Protector of the Clan trousers and doublet. Once dressed, the world changed from inky blackness to fields of heat and energy signatures. The wall registered cold until the top. There laser beams from the security system flashed in overlapping patterns. I studied them long enough to recognize a hole in the coverage. One final check to be sure the road was empty and I sprung up.

  My fingers held my weight as I dangled from the top of the wall. The lasers crossed and spread. I pulled with my arms. I was up and over by the time the beams swept back. To security, the top of the barrier stayed empty. They didn’t see me squatting in the shadows on the other side of the obstacle.

  Other laser beams formed moving shapes throughout the grounds. To the naked eye, they were invisible. For me, in my Knight’s cowl, they were as clear as chalk lines on a playing field.

  I skipped between beams, avoiding the interlocking ones and slipping between gaps in others. The automatic security system ended close to the side of the Druid Compound. At this point I could have simply walked around to the back door and knocked. Except I didn’t want my visit recorded by the Tres Police Department. Rather than knock, I chose to climb to a second floor window.

  The walls were built of rough stone. I felt for a finger purchase, dug in with the toe of my boot, and began to climb. In a few seconds, I reached the window sill on the second floor and scampered onto the narrow ledge. With my body pressed against the glass, I began to test the window. Then, the dogs began to bark.

  My Knight gear was reflective camouflage displaying my surroundings on my clothing. It would render me invisible to the guards. It didn’t give the dogs’ anosmia. While I wasn’t visible, they could still track me by sense of smell. The barking grew louder as I frantically searched for a way to open the window.

  At first the barking came from two directions but they were merging somewhere along the trail where I’d crossed the yard. They joined up and the barking increased two fold. I was tempted to drop to the grass. Even if it defeated my plan to have a private audience with the Druid Elder, it was better than being caught like a second story burglar.

  “What are they tracking?” a voice yelled from far out on the lawn. Seeing as the words came between barks, I assumed he was a dog handler.

  “Don’t know, but we’ve tripped every one of the sensors,” replied what had to be the other dog handler.

  “Great. They’ll send out a swat team. We’ll be answering questions for an hour,” the first handler complained.

  “That’s if we don’t get zapped by one of those scary guys with the oversized cattle prods,” the other shouted back.

  I knew about those Prods and the Ambassador’s forces wielding them. It wasn’t in my plan to have a conversation with them. I twisted around and swung my elbow into the window pane. It shattered and I followed the tumbling shards of glass into the room.

  Two Druids raced through the doorway, snapped open their fighting sticks, and spread out to either side of the room. By then I’d moved to a far corner and squatted down. The Druids swept their eyes around the empty room taking in the broken window and pieces of broken glass. They didn’t see or detect me. My breathing was calm and so shallow they couldn’t hear me. I stayed still. It would do no one any good to get into a fight before I had a chance to introduce myself.

  Once they left, I’d present myself and ask for the Elder. That was the plan. Easy. Except for the large grey Space Cat who leaped through the doorway. She landed, spun in my direction, and walked right up to me.

  The Druids hadn’t detected me. I was a hole in the corner of the room until the cat began circling. She rubbed against my squatting legs almost knocking me off balance. Space Cats are big and muscular. The Druids reacted by splitting apart. They bracketed the area outlined by the cat and approached slowly. It was time to introduce myself. I stood up and pulled the hood back.

  Druids are short tempered and they definitely don’t like people invading their home. With my cowl back, they could see a man in shiny black pajamas. They moved in, sticks high and tense, ready to pound me into the floor. I responded by snapping open the Knight Protector of the Clan fighting sticks. The light reflected off of t
he metal bands but was absorbed by the deadly alloy tips.

  The two Druids were about to die. My focus increased, my heart rate rose, and I became agitated. They were one strike against a Knight of the Clan from their demise.

  A house cat or ally cat had a hiss like a tea kettle on full boil. A Space Cat’s was as if a steam engine vented all of its pressurized gas through a single valve. It was loud enough to freeze you in your tracks, make your scalp crawl, and send shivers up and down your spine. The grey Space Cat issued her warning and I flexed in response. Now I faced three foes.

  I glanced down and the cat stepped in front of me. Her ferocity was directed at one of the Druids. The Druids stopped and studied the cat. They weren’t trying to guess what the cat wanted, they were drawing images from her. The three of us stood watching the cat. I wasn’t, but the Druids were confused by the Space Cat’s communications.

  A middle aged Druid strutted through the door. His eyes took in the scene and settled on me.

  “Brothers. Step away slowly. This is not a fight you want,” he stated while motioning with his arms for the two Druids to get behind him.

  “But Elder, he’s invaded our compound,” one protested while glaring at me.

  “Listen to Loana’s council. She is attempting to save your life,” the Eder advised. Then he addressed me, “Peace Knight Protector of the Clan. No one is to be harmed tonight.”

  I couldn’t understand the cat, Loana, because I never completed Druid training. But I could picture the images she was sending to the three Druids.

  Broken bones and blood soaked Druid robes, all from invisible hands wielding alloy tipped fighting sticks. How did I know she was sending these images when I couldn’t converse in Space Cat? Because they were the images, I was projecting to her as a Knight of the Clan.

  Reluctantly, the two Druids withdrew to positions just behind the Elder. I inhaled deeply and the hyper focus and righteous indignation drained away.

  “Phelan Oscar Piran,” I said by way of introduction and added, “I apologize for my unannounced arrival and the broken window.”

  “Nolwenn. Elder of Tres,” he said, “You have words for me?”

  “I do Elder Nolwenn,” I replied.

  “Let us go to my office,” he said turning and shooing the two Druids away.

  We took a flight of stairs to the first floor. The wood work on the railings and walls were precise and delicate. Everywhere the talents of Druid craftsmen were on display. The Elder ushered me down a long hallway. We left the wing where I had entered and moved into the main structure of the compound.

  “In here Piran,” Nolwenn said holding open a door, “My office. Can I order you some refreshments?”

  He sounded more like a businessman then a Druid Elder.

  “No Elder, I’m good,” I replied as I brushed by him.

  A slight aroma of sandalwood hung around him. I’ve never met a Druid, let alone an Elder, who doused themselves with cologne. He walked briskly around a solid oak desk as if he feared I’d take his seat. I picked a chair where I could keep an eye on the door while we chatted.

  “What brings you to our compound?” he asked, “And why, pray tell, didn’t you just call for an appointment?”

  “Because I didn’t want to be on record for this visit,” I explained, “Also you have an amazingly strong police presence on the estate grounds. Care to fill me in about it?”

  “It’s really simple,” he said reaching below his desk and pulling out a decanter. “About a year ago, our Druids, especially the young and old, began getting harassed. I spoke with Governor Hilal Jalal about it. He most graciously took our grievances to Councilor Jalal. Between them, they pulled in political favors and passed a new law declaring Druids national treasures.”

  “That doesn’t explain the police presence,” I stated.

  “Well, part of the law requires all Druids to live in a central location,” He replied, “So the police are here to preserve our privacy.”

  “I believe, they’ve become more jailers then protectors,” I commented.

  My observation must have struck a nerve.

  “I don’t see it that way Piran,” he responded with an edge to his voice, “Not at all. We are free to go about our business as judges and teachers.”

  “First off Elder, it’s Lieutenant Piran or Knight,” I said adding an edge to my own voice, “I imagine the freedom is limited to the University and courts. But it seems to me, the Clan communities weren’t written into the Druids as national treasures’ law.”

  “We do try to stay in contact with the outlaying hamlets, Lieutenant,” he said, “and before you ask, I have no intention of bringing a Heart Plant to Tres. It may be in the new law, however, it goes against Druid doctrine.”

  I relaxed at his pronouncement. The idea of a Heart Plant on public display had rattled me. I decided to soften my approach.

  “Elder Nolwenn. I’m not here to dispute your leadership of the Druids on Tres,” I explained trying to tone down our exchange, “The Heart Plant display was a concern. But my real objective is to inform you that your Druids are in danger on Tres.”

  “Danger? What kind of danger? Explain please,” he begged.

  “It’s a long story with a number of assumptions,” I admitted.

  He lifted two glasses from beneath his deck and half-filled both from the decanter. One he slid across the deck to me. From the other, he took a large gulp.

  “I’ve got time,” he said once he’d come up from the slug of liquor.

  Judging by his response, he wasn’t as sure of the benefits of the new law as he first expressed.

  “I’ll limit my tale to events that transpired since breakfast yesterday morning,” I said taking a sip of the bourbon.

  “Tell me,” he ordered.

  Chapter 2

  Captain Haitham of the Galactic Council Navy, call sign Eaglet, walked away from our table. While the Assistant Chief of Flight Operations for the BattleShip Ander El Aitor went in search of Admiral Rigmor, I sat and stared at my unfinished breakfast.

  He’d discounted my discoveries of a centuries old pledge and a more modern prayer book. “Take it to the local authorities,” he’d suggested.

  I didn’t trust the locals. Not with my knowledge of the treasonous activities of Khalida Jalal. On the surface, she was a Councilor on the Galactic Council. On the flip side, she was an instigator of pirate activities. Plus, her family held most of the important government positions on Planet Tres. Trusting the local authorities wasn’t a good idea.

  “My plan was to take the documents to the Tres planet Druid Compound and hope you would recognize the danger,” I explained.

  “Well, send me the documents and I’ll review them,” Elder Nolwenn suggested.

  “Unfortunately, it’s not possible,” I advised him, “The Galactic Council web monitors would block and scrub the data. You’ll have to be satisfied with my verbal report.”

  “So, I’m to make a decision on second hand information when even your Captain was suspect,” he sneered, “I’ll listen, but, I’m no comfortable without documentation.”

  “As is your right,” I stated, “As I was saying...”

  Before I rose from the breakfast table, a delivery truck caught my attention.

  It pulled up to the main door of the luxury hotel and parked blocking the guest entrance. A delivery being made at the elaborate brass and marble entrance struck me as strange. The driver stepped down and walked to the rear of the truck. Through the smoked glass, I saw the passenger door open. The driver and his associate met at the rear of the truck. After a minute, the driver returned to the cab and drove away.

  The passenger emerged from behind the vehicle. She was pushing a dolly with a box on it. I would have ignored the delivery except for the woman and the markings on the box.

  She was a physical presence, tall with wide shoulders and a black streak running over one side of her almost white blonde hair. It could be the latest fashion, but in my e
xperience, it resembled the hair style of a number of fanatics I’ve had the displeasure of meeting.

  I would have ignored my thoughts about the woman if I hadn’t seen the box up close. As she wheeled it into the lobby, the logo branded on the box became clear. It displayed a royal headdress sitting on a diamond encrusted evening gown with a few symbols. The symbols spelled out, Empress’ Elixir or The Royal Drink. Translations from symbols to Empress to Realm aren’t always direct but the meaning was clear. The content of the box and the woman were associated with an exiled government.

  The woman was met by the hotel manager. I expected him to scold her over delivering to the main entrance. He should have instructed her to use the loading docks in the bowels of the hotel. Instead, he greeted her with a smile and indicated a direction. They headed toward the hotel lounge.

  I paid my breakfast tab and wandered towards the lobby bar. As I approached the lounge, the manager emerged and blocked my way.

  “Sorry Sir. The lounge is closed,” he stated before explaining, “Staff training this morning.”

  I looked over his shoulder and the blonde haired woman was behind the bar. Arranged on the customer side were three bartenders. On the bar was a pitcher of water, three glasses, a clear bottle and an eye dropper.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “We are honored tonight to host a reception,” he said proudly, “for Councilor Khalida Jalal, the Governor Hilal Jalal, and the Ambassador.”

  “What Ambassador?” I asked while thinking 6 drops of the liquid from the bottle in a glass of water. That was the recipe, if it was the same drink consumed by the Rebels on Construction Station.

  “I don’t rightly know, Sir,” the hotel manager replied, “My place is not to question but to arrange the reception and the festival.”

  “Festival?” I asked realizing my list of questions was growing while the answers were falling behind.

  “Of course, look outside,” he said pointing across the lobby to a plate glass window.