judicator

Here is the next chapter of The Gate at Paldar for your reading pleasure. Let me know if there are any improvements that should be made, or any discrepancies that should be clarified.


Chapter Two


In the cavernous main hangar bay of the Redstorm, chaos reigned. Dozens of landing barges and assault transports attempted to land and disgorge their payloads of troops and armor, then launch back out for another run to the surface of Paldar.

Platoons of Coalition troopers fully geared up in SEA suits marched in double-time towards the heavy blast doors leading out of the hangar bay. Twenty-foot tall heavy assault walkers strode for the storage racks where they could be secured for transit mode.

The air was thick with ozone from the countless ion thrusters of the transports landing and taking off. The dock control room was also far from orderly and calm. Constant requests for landing and departure overwhelmed the half-dozen officers in charge. They did not have the option of slowing down and handling it in typical Coalition structure, as the deadline for the Redstorm’s departure was drawing close.

“This is ridiculous,” growled deck officer Yeaga. “We’re bound to have an accident here with all this hardware flying around. What was the Khan thinking, stepping up the withdrawal so drastically?”

“That’s dangerous talk, Yeaga,” Control Officer Pohln said. “Too many ears around here, and I wouldn’t want to be you if the Khan hears about your opinion of his strategic abilities.”

“I’m just saying, it seems so pointless to pack up before we even get our hands dirty. This planet has resisted Coalition control long enough, we should have showed them the price of stubbornness.”

“Well, in my experience, the Khan never does anything without either a very good reason, or new marching orders from the very top,” Pohln leaned over and lowered his voice. “I hear that the Khagan himself sent a top-priority message to the Khan just a few hours ago. I entertain no doubts that higher forces aren’t at work here.”

“That still doesn’t convince me that it’s good strategic sense, no matter who sent the message,” Yeaga said. “It really irritates me when the brass thinks they know the situation better than the troops on the frontlines. We’re the ones with our necks sticking out.”

An alarm blared, and the two officers snapped their heads up to the monitoring board. A rush of numbers spilled across the screen directly in front of them. “A landing barge is having trouble in section fourteen,” Pohln said. “It’s trying to set down, but it’s yawing too far, out of balance.”

Yeaga stood up, halfway out of his chair, looking through the thick glass into the hangar bay below. “It looks like an assault walker broke free of it’s clamps before the barge set down. The weight loss caused the barge to yaw, and it’s trying to compensate.”

“Was there anything below the walker when it landed on the deck?”

“Negative. It appears to be moving away under it’s own power.”

“Get a tractor beam locked onto that barge, get it down low enough to release the rest of the walkers. Then order the pilot to set down in the secondary hangar bay for a maintenance check.”

The two of them called orders into their microphones, bringing the situation under control as they had been trained. Everything else was forgotten as they fought to restore some semblance of discipline to the already strained troop recall.



* * *


Khan Sandoval stared at the information displayed in the holographic tank of his personal information terminal. Once more, he sat in the quiet darkness of his personal quarters, trying to find answers to the dilemma he faced. The terminal tracked his eye movements with a small sensor, and adjusted the data display to keep everything in the center of his vision.

The file he was currently studying contained the history of all contacts the Terran Coalition had ever had with the Judicators. There was a wealth of individual sightings, and much speculation, but very little hard data.

Hmmm, not much to work with, the Khan thought. As a race, they have been careful not to show their hand too early. We don’t even know the true extent of their abilities. No Judicator has ever been captured by our troops, alive or dead.

The file continued to list known facts about the encounters with the Judicators. They were outwardly almost identical to ordinary humans, but also very fast and strong, and resistant to damage from most small arms fire. They could recover from injuries three or four times faster than normal, even while on the battlefield.

A handful of photos and video clips had been recovered from various engagements, and it seemed as though the Judicators had the ability to control electromagnetic energy with mere thought. They could bend light rays, rendering their bodies invisible to the untrained eye. With a little time, they could prepare a pulse of magnetic energy that could knock any metallic objects flying.

The most disturbing thing that seemed apparent about them, however, was the source of their power. All of the best efforts to pin down the origin of the Judicators led Coalition researchers back to a failed medical experiment decades ago. It had taken place on Hil’hanna before the Khaganate had been established.

The experiment had been conducted in an effort to eradicate a strain of bone cancer. A new type of proton ray had been developed that could pass through the outer layer of bone without harming it, and then kill the infection at it’s source. It was deemed unsuccessful for unknown reasons.

The Khan typed in a new inquiry, trying to find more information regarding the medical trials. Precious little came up, none of it very conclusive. No mention of what had happened to the patients, no new entries in medical journals, nothing published in the local newsfeeds.

The only thing of importance listed was written and published while the procedure was underway. The surgeon in charge, Dr. Griffin, noted that the effect the ray had on the bone marrow itself was unexpected. The initial results showed successful elimination of the cancerous tissue. However, several hours after the operation, while the patient was staying for observation, Dr. Griffin noted some strange, inexplicable side effects.

The patient was a 42 year-old male, Caucasian, 6’ 03” tall, 210 lbs., by most standards, in very good physical shape. Still, nothing could account for the surprisingly quick recovery he was making. Pulse and blood pressure were back to normal levels within a few hours of the operation. Within 12 hours, he showed almost no signs of having undergone any type of major surgery.

The doctor also noted that the patient was becoming restless, regularly demanding to be released to go back home to see his wife and three children. Naturally, Dr. Griffin refused. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity to witness a new medical breakthrough. The surgeon’s last recorded words were, …as much as I hate to say it, the patient must be placed into protective custody. His body is now too valuable to possibly lose, and I have too much to gain from the potential success of this technique.

Khan Sandoval scanned more articles related to the procedure, but nothing else even hinted at details regarding any post-operation patients. There was no further mention of a Dr. Griffin or his all-important first breakthrough. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. He had been chasing down leads for an hour and a half, and had little to show for it.

To rest his mind from the numbing, fruitless search, he turned to face the far wall of his quarters. There, a large holographic still image hovered, the artist who captured it had a rare talent for detail. It was a beautiful scene, taken from the valley of his birthplace, on the world of Ba’ator. Tall evergreen trees filled the mountainsides, and a rushing river snaked through the lower edge of the image.

The Khan never tired of staring at the image, it drew him in, relaxing the tension of so many long days aboard ship. But now, he stared at it a little suspiciously. It seemed somewhat different, but he couldn’t decide exactly how it was different. He tried to remember how long it had hung there, if possibly the memory chip in the holo-projector was becoming faulty. But no, that didn’t seem right, it wasn’t the quality of the picture that was wrong.

As he studied it, he realized that Ba’ator’s moon, Elizon, was missing from the lower horizon in the sky. Capturing the moon had been a challenge for the holographer, as it was barely high enough to catch the light of the sun. Elizon was a shadow over the far hills, looming like a specter. Or it had been, until now, when he could not see it in the hologram.

Then the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and a cold, gnawing feeling crept into his guts. There was something very wrong here, much more than just a faulty memory chip. With all his training and experience, he focused his mind and calmed himself. He quickly did a mental inventory of his quarters, trying to locate the nearest weapon without looking around.

“Khan Sandoval,” a voice spoke directly in front of him. In front of the hologram. “I request a truce, so that we may speak together.” The voice was feminine, but also hard and cold. The voice of a tired warrior.

He sat perfectly still, outwardly relaxed, inwardly debating the best course of action. At present, he was far too vulnerable to attempt any rash moves. This individual had made it this far without detection, and calling security would be useless.

“Very well. I promise you that I will not bring you harm while you are aboard this vessel. I, in turn, request that you keep in mind where you are. If I am harmed in any way, or killed, a state of lockdown will occur until the culprit is found. Nothing will get off this ship until the investigation is complete. And you will be found, no matter how skilled you may be. Is that clear?”

The air in front of the hologram seemed to blur, then a static haze swam across it. The haze gained shape and color, until finally, the Judicator Talia Yar stood revealed. She was young, with flowing blond hair and brilliant blue eyes. She gave no sign of the strain she must be under after sneaking aboard an enemy flagship. She also bore no hint of the injuries she had sustained during the battle on the planet’s surface mere hours ago.

“I understand perfectly,” she said. “Greetings, Khan. May you bring glory to the name of the Khagan, and victory to the Terran Coalition.”

“Keep your formal salutes,” he said. “I am not in the mood for games, Judicator. You placed yourself at great risk by coming aboard this ship, especially under wartime conditions. Tell me the purpose of your clandestine visit, and how you intend to leave this ship with your freedom.”

He looked her in the eye, but actually, he was watching her hands and feet. This could very well be an assassination attempt, and it never hurt to be careful. He had defeated her before, on the surface of Paldar, but that was with an armored cavalry platoon, not unarmed in his quarters.

“I have an offer for you,” she said. “In fact, I guarantee that you will accept it gladly. And please, let us speak as one civilized being with another. You may call me Talia.” She stepped away from in front of the hologram and moved over to a chair in front of his desk, making no sudden moves. She sat carefully, keeping her eyes on him.

“I was afraid that you had detected my presence,” she said. “You were staring so intently at my hiding place.”

He stared back at her, wondering if her mentality was common among the Judicators. “Is everything a game to you,” he said. “Doesn’t it occur to you the seriousness of this situation?”

She simply shrugged. “We Judicators usually treat the affairs of the Ungifted as a game,” she said. “It isn’t personal, you are just another opportunity to test my abilities. But I do have an offer for you, if you can set aside your prejudices and hear me out.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Very well, Talia,” he said. “You have succeeded in getting my attention, so state your case. I will caution you to hurry, as my presence will be needed on the bridge shortly.”

“My offer is a simple one,” she said. “A small group of Judicators is assembled on Hil’Hanna, and we would ask for your assistance in striking at the Khagan, Jeremiah Samson. In return, we will ensure that your involvement in this matter is kept secret, and you will be in line for promotion to Supreme Commander, Coalition Star Fleet. The current SCCSF will take the position of Khagan.”

Khan Sandoval’s blood went cold. To hide his emotion, he turned away from her, deep in thought. This is all wrong, he thought. No matter if the operation succeeds, the Judicators cannot be trusted. They would blackmail me in a heartbeat. She said it herself, the affairs of the Ungifted are nothing more than a game.

The only advantage he had was that she was young, and for all her power, still very inexperienced. The audacity of her approach was astounding. No doubt she was confident that he was incapable of harming her. Such arrogance was somewhat warranted, but at the same time, it clouds judgment, causing caution to be cast aside.

He turned again to face her, resting his arms on the chair. He made his decision. This woman had to be dealt with as quickly as possible. “Do you know what it was that gave away your position, Talia?” he asked.

She tilted her head slightly, indicating that she was intrigued.

“That holograph was taken several years ago,” he said. “It is a beautiful valley close to where I was raised in my younger years. Many days and nights I could look up into the sky and gaze at Elizon, the large moon of Ba’ator, hanging in the sky like a great celestial specter.”

He pointed at the holograph, which was behind her to the left. “When you pulled your cloaking light-bending trick, somehow you were unable to transfer the image of the moon to your camouflage.”

She frowned, turning to look at the holograph. “Interesting,” she said. “It would seem as though I did miss that, but,” she never finished.

He drew the wakazashi short sword from where it was sheated under his desk, and then shoved the desk into her as hard as he could. It plowed into her legs, knocking her and the chair backwards. She toppled over and fell to the floor.

As she tried to jump to her feet, he was already on her. The blade tip dug into her back, but wouldn’t penetrate her unnaturally tough flesh. She lashed out with a backhand that missed him by centimeters. By reflex, he closed in and wrapped his arm around her throat, flexing his muscles to cut off her breathing.

Talia simply spun around, and he found himself slammed against the wall. He still held on, forgetting that Judicators have much less need of oxygen than average humans. She reminded him of that when her elbow plowed into his solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs. He felt his ribs shift from the impact, and he grunted with pain.

Letting go of her neck, he drove a knee into her side, followed by a hammer fist to the back of her head. She staggered forward, and he fought to catch his breath. She turned to face him, her eyes blazing with fury.

“You insult me with your pathetic attempt to match me in combat,” she said. “No man is my equal, and you are far past your prime.”

He shut out the pain in his gut, fought the reflex to gasp for air, and focused his remaining strength for another attack. He was not going to give her the satisfaction of beating him on his own ship! His arm lashed out full power, the wakizashi hissing through the air like a viper.

She reached out and caught the blade in the palm of her hand. The edge bit into her skin, but not enough to draw blood. She held the blade in an iron grip, sneering at the Khan as he tried to pull it free.

Then Sandoval played his trump card. His thumb flicked a hidden button on the handle, just below the guard. A powerful pulse of electricity ran down the blade and up Talia’s arm. She jerked in pain as the current went through her body in wave after wave. He held his thumb down on the switch, a grim smile of satisfaction tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Finally, her body went limp, and her knees buckled. He watched as she hit the floor face down, making no effort to catch her. Then he doubled over, swallowing great gulps of air. He wiped sweat from his forehead and threw the sword onto his desk. There was still a lot of work to be done.


* * *