Escape From Redeem, Rise of an Emperor

Earth: Elite Training Academy, Geneva

Master Kam stood before his friend’s famous sword that was usually here at Dorn’s dojo, when not attached to his hip. The blade seemed almost reverent as it basked in the golden sunlight that shined into his friend’s private armoury.

He picked up the weapon that was so intricately engraved it seemed a crime to actually use it in anger and risk damaging it. But this blade was forged just for that purpose. Dorn always used to call it a tool rather than an ornament. It was a gift commissioned by the President, when he was appointed Captain of the Elite Guard. The maker of the blade was nearly as famous as Dorn himself. Domonique Shabal had lavished the sword that carried his ornate initials ’DS. Few of his great works had rivalled the magnificent tool of death. None would be made by his expert hand again. The legendary Sword Smith was went missing years ago and was presumed dead, while exploring for precious ore, in the far reaches of space. Always he would look for new metals to enrich his creations.

Dorn’s Sword was forged, using the wondrous material called Graphenatium. An alloy so strong, it could cut through the mightiest of war plate, like a knife through butter. This alloy was used widely, but only those most skilled in the guild of the Weapon Masters were privy to Shabal’s masterpieces. Even a shield made from the man, would be more valuable than any gold or silver.

The swords name was Traitors Bane; Dorn insisted a weapon be given a name, so the wielder could connect with the instrument that both saved and took life. He would have known every inch of Traitors Bane; its balance, its weight and the power of its steel.

Master Kam brought the sword to his lips and kissed the blade gently. He wished it could have been reunited with his friend even in death. But there would be no grave for the High protector. He had witnessed their route to an incinerator plant, a few miles from the city, and assumed the bodies had finished their journey there.

They had descended on the plant quietly. Hoping to rain down fury on anyone who could not give him answers. But when they arrived there was nothing but a burnt out husk, where the plant used to be. All evidence, apart from his satellite imagery and the blood sample, would now be destroyed. Of that he was certain. They were clearly up against professionals with deep pockets, to pull off a hit like this and get away as clean as they had.

He had watched the satellite imagery time and time again, but he could not locate the men that went into that building. They seemed to go into the plant and then just disappear.

The communication bead in his ear chirped and he put the sword back to take the call.

‘Master I know where they sent Caleb.’ Tristen had been tasked to locate Caleb’s trail, and now with all hope he had found him.

‘Sent? Tristen what do you mean. Where is he?’

‘I followed the imagery until it stopped at a transport launch site to a penal colony and then nothing. A ship was shortly dispatched with a full quota of unidentifiable prisoners to Redeem.’

Kam had heard of the place where people were sent that were not heard of, nor seen again.

The typical prisoner to be sent there would be a political threat or a gang member who would not toe the line.

Most found guilty of treason were just executed. But for the few sentenced to a prison world would, death would be a welcomed sentence. There was only one problem that reinforced Master Kams suspicions. The only person who could authorise a prisoner to be sent to Redeem without a trial was General Defoe.

’Tristen are you thinking what I am thinking? ’There was a moments silence until He finally answered.

‘Defoe?’

‘I fear it to be so my young friend. We must take this to Guy and then inform the President. I will meet you at the Presidential Palace in two hours.’

Master Kam ended the com feed and knew the apprentice would meet him.

It was all falling into place. First Defoe telling him not to investigate, then the complete removal of all surveillance feeds. The mistake of not finding the spot of blood was shoddy, considering Defoe’s reputation for detail that even a simpleton investigator would have picked up. The fact remained on the other hand that the General was the only man, who could send high level prisoners to Redeem with no papers.

They would have to be careful and gather more evidence before they accused the leader of Earths Armed forces. Defoe had the power of millions of soldiers at his disposal after all. The only armed force he did not have control of was the Elite Guard. So Master Kam would have to keep this evidence within his circle of trust for now.

Guy Kruger was also Dorn’s friend. He was skilled and ambitious to the point that Kam had always kept his distance from the intense man. But he was still an Elite Guardsmen which made him a brother and ally.

He was also Dorn’s temporary replacement, so he would have to be briefed on what they had found. He patched through a com link to Guy, and the call was picked up on the third ring.

‘What can I do for you Master Kam?’

‘I have some news about the Bruce family; is this line secure?’ He knew it would be, but he meant was anybody with him.

‘Of course, what do you know my friend?’

***

Redeem: Class A Prison World

Caleb was not brought back to his cell after the incident in the canteen. Instead he was taken to a dimly lit, damp smelling room and bound by the wrists.

His wrists were then attached to a hook that hung from the centre of the room, and slowly he began to rise from the ground until his feet left the ground by only a few inches. He noticed blood stains on the concrete floor, where it had soaked in overtime. It was dark, but his enhanced vision could see a number of sharp and evil looking instruments of torcher that were on a stainless steel table. Most were black from the multiple of cuts they had no doubt made and then left to congeal on the blade.

The man that had brought Caleb here was now joined by two others. They were not taking any chances with the boy after the display in the canteen. He did not resist them. Caleb thought to himself, how easy it would have been to kill each one with his bare hands. But then what? He needed to bide his time and wait for an opportunity that would present its self.

The room was flooded with light suddenly, as the door to the room opened to reveal Wellin; the Captain of the prison guards. He motioned to his colleagues that had brought Caleb here, to step outside. When they returned they both regarded his hanging form in silence.

‘I don’t want to know why you were sent to this planet boy. So if you start blabbing about why you shouldn’t be here. I don’t care.’

He calmly picked up, what looked to be a fork tipped cattle prod. ‘But I would like to know how a boy as big as you may be, could take out some of the roughest Earth scum we have here?’

Caleb tracked the cattle prod as Wellin started passing it from hand to hand.

‘I can defend myself well enough sir.’ Caleb said simply. ‘Clearly you can prisoner 118, clearly you can. We like a bit of violence here you know. It keeps the lads morale up by throwing you together on occasion. We have a programme here called the pit, but we normally wouldn’t allow someone as young as you to participate. But after today, I think you would do very nicely indeed.’

Wellin almost purred at the prospect of any blood sport and this arrogant little brat was going to get a shock, even if he could fight so well. The Pit fighters were a strange breed at Redeem. Some actually volunteered for it and they were usually the victors and the cruellest. They were rewarded handsomely when victorious, with more food, better food and left alone by the guard’s harassment.

‘Would you like that boy? If you emerge the victor then your stay with us here could become more comfortable.’ Caleb raised his chin and looked Wellin in the eyes with a confidence that none at the prison had seen until now. Wellin remained expressionless but looked slightly annoyed at this strange boy, who should have been shaking with fear right about now.

‘Do I have a choice whether I fight in your pit sir?’ He said finally.

’No. Not really, I just wanted to know if you would like it. Some do, you see, but participation is ultimately up to me. Once on the fighting floor, you either fight or not. I recommend you fight though.

Caleb knew he could defeat almost anybody in combat. He fancied his chances against all the men in the room at the same time actually. But he did not want to fight for this low life’s entertainment. ‘I will not fight for your pleasure sir. So just throw me back in my cell and be dammed.’ Wellin chuckled, something he very rarely did.

‘As I said boy, once you’re on the fighting floor it’s up to you whether you fight or not.’

‘I will not fight.’ Caleb repeated but Wellin had grown tired of talking to him and looked like he would have a little bit of blood sport of his own. He brought the forked cattle prod tenderly to Caleb’s leg and pushed the forks tip ever so slightly into the flesh. The pain was Tremendous as he pushed the prod further into his thigh, which made a sucking sound. He did not react to this sudden pain, much to his torturers frustration.

Wellin activated a stud on the forks handle that sent an electrical current into Caleb. It was like being hit by a sledge hammer. Now there was a reaction from him, as his body twitched and danced from where he hung helplessly. Wellin was enjoying his mornings work now. He watched him suffer, but clearly would not be satisfied until he heard him scream.

‘Take off his shoes and socks.’ The other guards did as ordered and after nearly an hour, Caleb took the hint and screamed out, more in frustration than being unable to take the pain.

It was excruciating but he had learned to master his emotional response to pain many years ago. He had taken himself into a meditative state, where he could not feel the full force of the volts flowing through him. He screamed out because this was clearly what the frustrated Wellin wanted. Satisfied, the guards lowered him down and he fell into a heap on the ground.

His torturer took his face into his hands and whispered.

‘I’ll see you in the pit boy. That will probably be the last time I see you.’ Wellin then left the room and Caleb was shackled and taken back to his cell. He did not know what he would do when he was forced to fight, but he knew he would have to get off this planet soon. It would not take long here, for even for him to become a broken man like Dillon, or worse.

Caleb slept lightly that evening; he had expected to be taken by one of the guards at any moment and taken to this so called pit. A visit was also likely from the gang he had recently humiliated. He could always hear voices outside his cell, at all hours of the day and night. That did not sound like the guards. This might have been other prisoners let out for some reason or another. If they did come for him, he would be ready.

He began to take his mind deep within himself and the sensation of it was always pleasing. The feeling was complete freedom, which was a paradox really, considering his current predicament. Master Kam had always claimed that once he had mastered the technique of mind casting, then one day he could take his spirit almost anywhere.

Caleb had never understood what he meant at the time. But the prison had given him the hours to practice the discipline. His masters back on earth had always encouraged him to learn the art and learn it well. Psychic power was very rare, but once honed; it could be the key to Caleb’s escape.

Gradually after much practice within his cell, he could take himself further and further from his body. This night he decided he would try and let his mind leave these walls and try to roam outside. It would be very difficult. He relaxed his body until the familiar numb feeling slipped away into nothingness. Leaving his body he began to slowly rise and was able to look down at himself.

Sweat was gleaming on his perfect skin and even he had to admire sometimes the aesthetic beauty of his muscled form. Vanity was always shunned at the Academy. But pride in your appearance and abilities were not. Caleb took much pride with himself, as he looked at the unbroken body that would endure and escape this place. He noticed also that where they had pierced his skin, was now completely healed. His healing abilities had seemed to be getting faster, every time he had taken an injury. Maybe his body was learning.

He now let his mind focus on the corridor beyond, and drifted through the walls. Suddenly he was outside of the cell. It had taken an immense amount of concentration to do this and going further seemed like madness, but caution would have to be thrown to the wind. Information, any information on how to get out of this place was worth the effort the mind and body would have to go through.

Slowly moving down the corridor, Caleb could see other inmates cleaning the floors and noticed that standing at the top of the stairs was an old Asian man dressed in a white tunic that was certainly not prison issue. Impossibly the man looked his way and waved to come and join him. Floating down to the old man was easy. They now stood facing each other. In reality Caleb wasn’t there at all.

‘Beating that many opponents today, took great skill young one. But what you are doing now, takes a mind of someone exceptional. Who trained you to accomplish this feat?’

The old man had an aura of power that made him glow ethereally. Caleb wondered how he appeared in contrast. ‘Who are you? How can you see me?’ Said Caleb shocked.

‘It is a complicated question. We do not really hear or see when we ascend, but our spirits give us the sensation of our senses. I am like you, back in my cell right now. Frankly my young friend, you astonish me.’ The Asian man looked at Caleb serenely.

‘Who I was long ago young man is a long story; but let us say for now that I am an ally. I also reside here, on this picturesque world.’ The man’s face looked familiar to Caleb and then it dawned on him how there was another person on this world, who could ascend as he did.

‘You are Master Tong; you were once the High protector and Captain of the Elite Guards. I thought you were executed for what happened on Earth all those years ago. I remember my Father showing me picts of you. He also said you were a good man, and not capable of what you was accused of.’

The story of Master Tong was shrouded in mystery and most people had heard of his epic rise and fall. His Father had told him once, that an attempt was made on the life of the President that was only avoided, by the brilliance of Master Tong’s protection. The follow up investigation found that there were a hundred strong terrorists, hiding out in a warehouse near a port called Calais in France. There were several children and women at the site. Presumably Master Tong had ordered the destruction of all the people that posed a threat, and an airstrike was carried out. The destruction, not only killed the terrorists but also a large part of the town, killing thousands.

The President had no choice; he had to execute the man responsible for the deaths of so many innocent lives. But it now seemed that the President had spared his Captain.

‘Yes I am Tong. I’m surprised you recognise me.’

‘You were younger in the picts my Father showed me. You are also a man that he admired, and I was brought up by most of your teachings.’ Recognition struck the old Master immediately. How could he not have known this was the son of one of his fondest pupils?

‘Your Father is Dorn Bruce?’ Said Tong with a sad smile; sad for all the years he had missed the man that was more like a son to him.

‘He was.’

’Was? Does my old Pupil still live? Caleb shook his head to confirm his old masters fears.

‘Truly you have a sad tale to tell young Bruce. Perhaps your story one has more tragedy in it than my own.’ He wanted to ask Dorn’s son a thousand questions, but knew he could not maintain the concentration needed for much longer, away from his body. He had already begun to notice the boy’s essence was starting to fade. ‘I must be swift; we are both beginning to fade back to our bodies.’

Caleb could feel himself slowly drifting. He had never been this far from his body before and the shear effort of it was taxing him greatly. But seeing his father’s old teacher here, gave him hope that he was not completely alone.

‘I take it that, as you are so proficient at dream walking, you can also talk to others in our art with your mind young Bruce?’

‘It’s the furthest I have ever left my body actually Master Tong. This place has focused my study of the art somewhat. But you are correct; I can talk to you now with my mind. It will be less taxing on the body I think than fully ascending.’ The old Master was pleased beyond words that this boy had this skill that so few of humanity had developed. Tampering with the Genetic code had unlocked an evolution of the mind and the possibilities of this new power were just being realised. Tongs son Keblie had the gift. So did a small handful of other Masters and Apprentices.

Caleb’s Mother had the gift in abundance and had obviously passed this ability down to her son. ‘You must be careful young Bruce, the men that attacked you today was by no means your equal. They are many however and they will want you dead, for the insult you have inflicted.’

‘I can take care of myself.’

‘I am sure you can.’ The old master said with mirth. ‘Even so young man, I would like to talk to you again and help you if I can.’ Caleb had not enjoyed the extreme isolation of this place and would welcome the old man’s company.

‘It would be nice to talk to someone again, I must declare.’

‘Alas I fear I am at my limits to stay here. So until we talk again young Bruce.’

Caleb did not want to leave this ancient man just yet and held out a hand for Master Tong to take. Unfortunately it did not work like that when you ascended, and Tong began to fade and then disappear.

‘No wait we need to talk.’

He could hold it no longer and opened his eyes to find himself back in his cell, exhausted to the point that he could not even rise from the heap he had fallen into. Had it been a dream? Surly it was not.

He had never felt so tired yet so thrilled, at what he had just accomplished. To ascend your mind took a degree of skill that only a few Masters had attained. Not even his father could do it. He wanted to attempt the feat again but would have to recover from his first experience before he tried.

After several dark hours, he started to sit himself up and pulled his tired body into his bed and slept a deep dreamless sleep without nightmares, for the first time since he had arrived on Redeem.