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CHAPTER ONE – LON’S ESCAPE

Lon Rexx’s elaborate plan to overthrow the Mitel Leadership had worked, just not the way he had intended. Hours earlier, in the Mitel Leadership Forum Hall, he per- sonally executed all seven old men in a fit of rage. After decades searching for the secrets of immortality, the Lead- ership members had finally become immortals only weeks earlier.
The irony had not been lost on Lon. After systemati- cally shooting each one with his hand-held dwarf laser weapon, Lon walked over to the first member as he lay dying on the floor. He kneeled down and studied his face with contempt.
“A pretty short immortal life, wouldn’t you agree?” asked Lon.
The Leadership member moved his lips as he tried to speak. Lon stood back up and shot him again at close range.

Lon’s temper had betrayed him once again. Adrian Sidd, the wealthy weapons manufacturer and rebellion co-conspirator, had seen enough. Adrian was a very large

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man, standing six feet, nine inches tall with unusually broad shoulders. His steely eyes, light complexion, and short black hair with a matching anchor style goatee mus- tache represented an intimidating figure.
Adrian stepped forward and pointed an arm mounted laser weapon directly at Lon. But Lon quickly fired first, striking Adrian between his chest and shoulder; the force of the blow causing him to stumble backward. Adrian quickly recovered, raised his weapon a second time to- ward Lon who, astonished, froze for a split second. Adri- an then shot Lon several times in the back as he tried to flee over a large stone bench; the force of the laser pulses shoving him over the stone surface and down to the floor with a loud thud. Lon laid there motionless, his eyes open, blood oozing from his mouth as smoke rose from the back of his torso.
“That’s that,” said Adrian calmly.
“Are you OK?” asked Lex incredulously. A large hole had been burned through Adrian’s shirt near his shoulder. Lex Kolb, Adrian’s second in command, was at a loss as to how he was still standing. Lex, a little over six feet tall, was bald, muscular with a thick neck which made head appear almost too small for his body.
“Robotic appendages,” explained Adrian matter-of- factly. “You could call me a cyborg at this point.”
Suddenly uncomfortable, Lex exclaimed “We’re in charge now.”
“Not quite,” retorted Adrian. “We must first secure the Complex. Next we seize control of both the skies and outer space. I’ve ordered fifteen-hundred of our strike fighters into the air from our underground bases. They’ve been instructed to shoot down any military craft attempt- ing to take off. Initial reports from outer space are excel-

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lent; we appear to be in control of the space cruiser fleet thanks to our loyal commanders.”
“That’s great news,” replied Lex uneasily.
“It’s a promising start,” acknowledged Adrian. “But we must be prepared to put down any counter rebellion from those loyal to the Leadership. We also need to deal with the Mitel resistance.”
“You’re right. Sorry, I spoke too soon. What do you propose we do about the Thraen resistance?”
“We’ll deal with them in due time. But first things first: we must locate and gain control of the second gener- ation mechanical Battle Spheres. We need to make sure they are ready to go and re-programmed to serve us.”
“Good idea.”
“For now, let’s go downstairs and see how our purge of the complex is coming along. It should be just about complete. After that, I want you to order a final sweep of all the buildings and then arrange for a group of soldiers to come back here and clean up this mess.”
“Will do.”
Adrian walked out of the Forum Hall followed by Lex, several Special Forces soldiers and the Leadership guards who had changed sides as the rebellion unfolded.

As Lon lay on the floor behind the large stone bench, he gradually regained consciousness. He slowly sat up, wiped the saliva and blood from his mouth and rubbed his torso. The graphene body armor underneath his uni- form had saved his life. Lon’s motto: trust no one, at least initially. Here, his instincts about Adrian Sidd had proven to be correct. Sidd was calculating, remorseless and power hungry, even by Lon’s standards.

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Lon glanced around. Lying nearby were several dead Leadership members.
I did that, he thought. As usual, my temper got the best of
me.
Lon suddenly heard muffled sounds of sporadic laser
weapons fire outside the Leadership building. Reaching for the upper surface stone bench, he pulled himself up to a standing position. His neck, back, chest and arms were stiff and sore. Lon looked around the Hall. Several Rebel- lion soldiers and Leadership guards lay dead in various positions along the cavernous Hall’s floor.
Lon grunted as he struggled over the bench; lowering himself down the five feet to the Forum Hall floor. At sev- en feet, one inch tall and three hundred twenty-five pounds of solid muscle, Lon was an imposing figure. He was bald, his light complexion, blond eyebrows and small thin nose a stark contrast to his charcoal eyes and large, square jaw.
Directly in front of him lay the dead Leadership Member he had shot twice. The man’s eyes and mouth were still open. Lon bent over and studied the member closely for a long time. Although he still despised the pompous old men, he suddenly felt a pang of guilt.
I killed him, he thought. I’ve killed many people, some more deserving than others. My actions over the years have also led to the death of countless innocents. Was it all worth it in the end? Lon knew the answer before he asked himself the question.
The sound of laser weapons fire was getting louder.
It wasn’t, he mused. But now is not the time or place for self introspection.
Lon hurriedly took off his black military uniform and unbuckled his graphene vest, exposing his brown and gray rebellion uniform.

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Always be prepared, he thought. It has gotten me this far.
Lon took off his brown long sleeve rebellion shirt re- vealing his heavily muscled torso. Tied tightly around his waist was a yellow and blue shirt. He quickly strapped his graphene vest back on before covering it with his brown rebellion shirt.
Just for now, he thought.
Looking around, Lon located his dwarf laser weapon on the floor. He picked it up, checked to make sure it was activated and slid it into his pant waist next to his other one. Grabbing a ball laser long weapon from the floor, he made sure it was ready to fire, slung it over his shoulder, and surveyed the large room. Lon noticed two long knives strapped to a dead Leadership guard. He grabbed one and threw it at a picture hanging on the wall. It struck the di- rect center of the picture, plunging deep into the frame behind it.
It has a nice feel to it. Easy to control, he concluded.
Lon grimaced as he pulled the knife from the picture before placing both into long thin pockets on either side of his pant legs. Suddenly, he heard footsteps echoing up the Forum Hall stairwell. Eight rebellion soldiers were on their way up.
Lon quickly hid behind one of the two huge, partially open stone doors. As the soldiers reached the Forum Hall, one stopped at the top of the stairs to stand guard, his ball laser long weapon drawn. Two more soldiers stopped in front of the huge stone doors while the remaining group entered the Forum Hall.
A half dozen soldiers, probably more, Lon concluded. From what I’ve seen, the rebellion forces aren’t wearing body armor yet. Sidd instead spent his money acquiring tactical strike fighters, military hover craft and cluster bombs.

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“Fan out and check the area for any loyalists,” in- structed the first soldier. “Our orders are to —“
“Kill them on site,” interrupted a second soldier. “We know that already.”
“Rumor has it that Lon Rexx is one of the dead bodies in here,” announced a third soldier.
“Seriously?” asked a fourth soldier.
Not yet, thought Lon.
“Let’s secure the area,” instructed the first soldier. “After that, we can look for his body.”
The soldier standing in front of the adjacent door walked over to check behind it, prompting the soldier on the other side of Lon’s door to do the same. As the soldier stepped around the door, Lon grabbed him by the shirt, pulled him forward and plunged a knife deep into his stomach. While tightly holding his huge hand over the dying soldier’s mouth, Lon led him down to the floor be- fore pulling the knife back out; wiping the blood onto the now dead soldier’s uniform.
Lon glanced around the door and quietly stepped out from behind it. The five soldiers had their backs to him as they approached the large stone bench. The soldier across from him had not yet re-emerged from behind the adja- cent door, and the soldier in the hallway still had his back toward him as he monitored the stairway. Lon pivoted and whipped his knife at the hallway guard, the long sharp blade plunging deep into his back. Without so much as a whimper, the soldier fell dead to the floor.
Just as I thought, no protective vests, concluded Lon. Big mistake on Adrian’s part . . .
Suddenly, the soldier emerged from behind the adja- cent stone door. Seeing Lon, he instinctively pointed his long weapon at Lon’s face at almost point blank range. Lon grimaced as he desperately fumbled for his dwarf

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laser. But it was too late, the soldier pulled the trigger. To the surprise of both men, nothing happened. Lon raised his dwarf laser and shot the soldier squarely in his chest, the high pitched sound of the laser burst echoing through- out the Forum Hall.
As the soldier fell dead to the floor, the five remaining soldiers spun around. Lon lowered himself to one knee, drew his ball laser long weapon, and methodically opened fire. He killed three soldiers in rapid succession, and then a fourth as he returned fire. The fifth soldier fired several times, striking Lon directly in the chest; the force of the laser blasts knocking him backward onto the Forum Hall floor, his long weapon clattering along the hard surface away from him.
The remaining soldier cautiously approached Lon as he lie motionless on the ground, smoke rising from his chest. As the soldier walked near him, Lon rolled onto his side and kicked his legs out from under him. Rather than wasting precious time reaching under his shirt for a dwarf laser, Lon quickly removed a long knife from his pant leg pocket and lunged toward the soldier. A frantic struggle ensued. Lon, stiff and fatigued from his run-in with Adri- an, struggled to contain his opponent. As the men thrashed about, their arms and hands intertwined, the soldier slowly turned the knife toward Lon’s chest. As the knife moved closer and closer, the soldier pushed on it with all his strength. The first thrust was stopped by Lon’s graphene vest. The soldier grunted as he pushed on it again but the result was the same.
Confused but undaunted, the soldier angled the knife toward Lon’s throat. As their boots squeaked along the marble floor, they both labored and groaned while the knife moved closer and closer to Lon’s neck. As he fought for his life, Lon’s arms were losing strength while he des-

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perately struggled to stop the knife. Both men breathed heavily as they thrashed about on the floor and Lon’s arms were now searing with pain and fatigue.
As the tip of the knife edged closer to his throat, Lon’s mind raced.
I just can’t do it, he thought. I’m too weak.
In a final act of desperation, Lon kneed the soldier in the groin. The sudden unexpected blow gave him the split second he needed to shove the soldier off balance. Lon instinctively turned the knife toward his opponent and with his last ounce of energy, plunged it into his chest. The soldier fell dead on the floor as Lon slumped onto his back exhausted. He lay there for some time, struggling to catch his breath.
My vest saved me again, he thought.
Eventually sitting up, Lon reached over and pulled the knife out of the soldier’s torso and wiped the blood onto the dead man’s uniform. Lon slipped the blade back into his pant leg pocket before slowly struggling to his feet. He rubbed his chest while he glanced around at the soldiers he had just killed. He unstrapped a helmet from one soldier and took a pair of high resolution night vision glasses from another and put them both on.
Soldiers wear them during the day to protect their eyes.
Here, they will help conceal my identity.
Lon walked into the hallway and pulled the second long knife out of the dead soldier’s back. After wiping the blood onto the soldier’s uniform, he slipped it back into his other pant leg pocket. Lon surveyed the area one last time before heading down the stairs, his footsteps echoing along the way. At the bottom, several Leadership guards lay dead on the floor near the building’s entrance.
Lon stepped around them and headed outside. By now, hundreds of soldiers dressed in brown and gray re-

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bellion uniforms were walking back and forth across the Leadership complex. His heart racing, Lon walked toward the Leadership entrance.
“Hey,” said a commander loudly. Lon kept walking.
“Soldier!” the commander shouted. Lon stopped and turned around.
“I need your help,” instructed the commander. Stand- ing behind him were a dozen rebellion soldiers clutching their electro laser long weapons. Hovering next to them was a small military hover-tran typically used to carry food and other supplies. Lon noticed that it was covered with empty body bags.
“I’ve been ordered to remove a bunch of bodies from the Forum Hall,” explained the commander.
Lon’s mind raced as he thought how to respond. To go back into the building would mean certain death. And I can’t shoot my way out of here he concluded.
“Sorry Sir,” replied Lon quickly, “but Adrian Sidd asked me to retrieve something from his hover craft.”
“Wow,” smiled the commander. “That’s pretty neat.
I’ve yet to meet him.”
“A nice guy,” smiled Lon.
“OK, no problem, I guess I have plenty of men here. It’s just that you’re such a big guy, I thought you’d come in handy,” waved the commander. As Lon waved back, the commander turned and continued toward the Leader- ship building followed by the soldiers and trailed by the hover-tran.
I have little time, Lon thought. As soon as they find the soldiers I just killed, they will look for the perpetrator. Once Sidd realizes I’m gone, he’ll know it was me. Other than the fact he’ll scour the area for me, I couldn’t care less what he knows or thinks.”

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His heart still racing, Lon strode across the Leadership complex grounds. He could almost feel the rebellion snip- ers watching him high atop the twenty foot high, twelve foot thick reinforced stone walls surrounding the com- plex.
Exiting the main entrance, Lon glanced down at sev- eral dead Leadership guards lying in various positions on the ground. Hearing loud screeching noises, he looked skyward to see several of Adrian’s strike fighters streak by overhead.
Lon picked up his pace and walked briskly toward a large open field. Dozens of rebellion military hover craft were parked neatly in rows. As Lon headed down the first row, he waved to the soldiers guarding the hover vehicles. Reaching the end of the row, Lon ducked behind a hover craft for several seconds.
OK, here goes, he thought.
Lon tentatively stepped away from the hover craft toward a small population cluster. His initial gait was cau- tious, but he soon quickened his pace and kept walking without looking back. He could feel his body stiffen slightly as he strode further away from the craft; expecting to be shot in the back at any second. Nothing happened.
At the far end of the field, Lon stepped onto a synthet- ic ground level pathway and walked briskly past several shops before ducking into a narrow passageway. He quickly placed his electro laser long weapon against a side wall. Lon took off his helmet and carefully pulled the helmet lights off each side, trying not to damage the wir- ing or high capacity mini battery. He then tossed the hel- met to the ground and placed the night vision glasses in one pant pocket and the lights in another.
They might come in handy.

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Lon took off his rebellion shirt and dropped it next to the helmet. He untied the yellow and blue shirt from around his waist and quickly put it on over his graphene vest.
Hopefully I’ll blend in to the civilian population.
Lon checked his dwarf laser one more time to make sure it was still ready to fire before placing it back in his pant waist. He stared at the ball laser long weapon for a time before leaving it behind. He then headed back to the passageway entrance and slowly peeked out. Looking both ways, the area was still desolate.
Everyone is hiding or has fled.
Lon cautiously stepped back onto the walkway and headed away from the Leadership complex. Beyond the shops were a cluster of living structures that led to a well- traveled dirt path. On the left side of the path were dense woods. Lon quickly glanced back over his shoulder. It was still quiet.
Where to go? Lon thought. Somewhere they won’t look for me, at least initially. Then it occurred to him. The abandoned development complex in the Black Mountains . . .
Lon pushed a small button on his wristband computer before speaking.
“Plot a course to military test base 39A.”
“Accessing data,” replied the soothing female voice. “Who comes up with these voices,” he mumbled im-
patiently.
“Unable to locate coordinates.” Lon sighed before responding.
“Base 39A decommissioned. Code Black.”
“Got it,” replied the voice. “Will you be traveling via hover craft?”
“No, on foot,” replied Lon. “Accessing data. Route plotted.”

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Lon looked at his mini computer screen.
“Thirty-six hours?” he groaned. “I’d better get mov- ing.”
Lon walked briskly along the path for eleven miles, passing through small residential living clusters. Along the way, he passed several groups of men, women and children heading in the same direction, some adults carry- ing large backpacks.
Civilians fleeing the rebellion violence, Lon concluded. He nodded and waved as he overtook each group. Up ahead, Lon noticed a woman walking slowly, carrying a young girl in her arms whose lower legs were heavily bandaged. As he overtook them, he glanced down at the woman. She stood about five feet seven inches tall with short black hair, charcoal eyes and a bronze complexion. Lon noticed that she had a black eye and contusions on her face.
“What’s wrong with the girl?” he asked. The woman looked up at Lon.
“Rebellion soldiers came to our home looking for my husband,” she replied. “They beat both of us when I re- fused to answer.”
“Is he with the resistance?” asked Lon.
The woman didn’t answer. Looking down at her, Lon noticed tears welling up in her eyes.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .” his voice trailing off. Lon then asked “where are you headed?”
“We’re on our way to Karta to stay with family. It’s about thirty miles from here. Hopefully the soldiers will leave us alone out there.”
“Hey — I’m headed in the same direction,” replied Lon. “Let me help.” He carefully picked up the young girl and placed her on his shoulders. Exhausted and scared, the girl grabbed onto Lon’s ears and placed her head

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sideways on top of his. A few minutes later she was fast asleep. Lon and the woman walked in silence for a time.
“What’s your name,” the woman asked eventually.
Lon hesitated as he thought how to respond. “Jun,” he replied, using the name of his twin brother, a fierce re- sistance fighter.
“I’m Kara. My daughter’s name is Jada.” “Nice to meet you,” replied Lon. “Thanks for helping us, Jun.”
“My pleasure . . .”
As they continued walking, Kara talked about her struggles living under the constant threat of armed con- flict and subsequent retribution by the Mitel Leadership. As Lon listened, she explained how she has lost several family members who died fighting for the resistance. She then looked up at Lon.
“Are you with the resistance?”
Lon paused. He wanted to tell her he had just killed all the Leadership members, but decided against it.
“It’s complicated,” he replied.
“I understand,” replied Kara. “My family wanted to make a difference,” Kara continued. “They desperately wanted a better world. Not just for themselves, but for everyone on Mitel. But I fear that their cause is now hope- less and their deaths meaningless . . .”
“So your husband is with the resistance.”
Feeling more comfortable with Lon, Kara nodded yes. “Where’s he now?”
“I don’t know,” she replied quietly. “When the rebel- lion started, he left . . .”
As they kept walking, Lon thought about the ramifica- tions of what he had done and how it would affect the ongoing conflict. He thought about the Mitel resistance might respond before speaking.

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“His absence certainly put you in a difficult spot, but it’s probably for the best,” he said. “He’s presumably with his comrades — people he can trust. Maybe together they can somehow still make a difference.”
Kara nodded in agreement.
By now, the trio had caught up to a large group head- ed in the same direction toward a small population center off in the distance. As they approached, they reached an elevated walkway which sliced through the middle of the population center. Glancing to his left, Lon noticed a mili- tary hover craft parked in a nearby field. Stepping onto the walkway with the rest of the group, he and Kara heard people talking about a checkpoint up ahead. Rumors quickly spread that men, women and children were being detained by rebellion forces.
“To be beaten or worse,” muttered Kara.
Lon then listened to three men directly in front of him voice similar concerns.
“Why don’t they leave us alone?” asked the first man. “Good question,” nodded the second man. “We didn’t
ask for rebellion forces to enter the conflict against the wretched Leadership. And because of them, we’re now being forced to flee our homes.”
“If there was something I could do to stop these mer- ciless butchers, I would do it,” mused the third man.
Still carrying Jada on his shoulders, Lon got in line with the rest of the crowd. Looking over their heads, he studied the checkpoint up ahead. It was manned by seven rebellion soldiers. Four were standing on one side holding their ball laser long weapons, while three others operated a retinal scanner in the center of the walkway.
“An ID scanner,” muttered Lon.
“They’ll detain us again,” replied Kara visibly frus- trated. “I’m certain of it. And I’m afraid to think of what

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they’ll do to us this time.” Her eyes once again started to well up with tears.
As they shuffled toward the checkpoint, Lon watched with growing anger as the four soldiers forcibly separated two young children from their parents. One soldier grabbed the arm of a young boy while another gruffly restrained a young girl. As both children cried, their mother pleaded for their release. A third soldier sternly instructed the children to stop crying. When they didn’t, he slapped each in the face while their mother rushed to their defense.
“Please, no,” begged the mother.
“Shut up,” barked the soldier, while also slapping the woman hard across the face, knocking her to the ground. As the father stepped forward in anger, the fourth soldier struck him in the face with the butt end of his long weap- on. The father crumpled to the walkway, blood gushing from his nose.
Lon glanced down at Kara.
“I’m sorry Kara, but I need you to take your daughter for a few minutes,” he said.
“But —“
“I also need you to stay several feet behind me.” Lon instructed. He then gently handed Jada to her mother be- fore tapping the shoulder of one of the three men standing directly in front of him.
“Hey,” said Lon quietly.
All three men turned to look up at Lon simultaneous- ly. They were taken aback at his size.
“You’re a really big guy,” said the first man. Lon flashed a quick smile before speaking. “I need you guys to do me a favor,” he said. “What?” the first man asked.

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“When it’s your turn at the scanner, I want the three of you to pretend to have an argument about who goes first, OK?”
“Why?” asked the second man.
“Because I’m going to put a stop to this . . .” “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“I bet he can do it,” mused the third man.
“When I say now,” instructed Lon, “I want you guys to hit the ground,”
The three men looked at each other.
“C’mon, let’s do it,” said the third man. “I’m sick of all this.”
“OK,” replied the other two men in unison. “We’ll do
it.”
“Great,” nodded Lon. “Don’t forget to drop to the
ground when I say now.”
When their turn arrived, the first man was motioned toward the scanner. As he moved toward the device, the second man grabbed him by the shirt.
“Hey, he was motioning for me,” he said loudly. “Mind your own business jerk!” barked the third man
as he pushed the second man away.
“I don’t care which one of you goes first,” growled the soldier.
Lon quickly stepped around the three men while the scanner operator and two closest soldiers watched the trio with condescending amusement. Lon quietly pulled out his dwarf laser from under his shirt with one hand and a long knife from his pant leg with the other. Reaching the scanner, the operator looked up at Lon.
“Hey, it’s not your turn,” he said gruffly. “No, but it’s yours,” Lon replied.

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The soldier gasped as he saw Lon’s dwarf laser point- ed at his face. Lon shot him at point blank range before turning the weapon on the other two soldiers, killing them both in rapid succession.
Men, women and children screamed while everyone panicked.
“Now,” instructed Lon calmly as he switched weapons in his hands.
As the three men ducked to the ground, Lon whipped his knife at the soldier holding onto the young girl. The soldier gasped as the knife plunged deep into his chest, forcing him to release his grip on the girl as he fell to the ground. Lon motioned for the girl to run as he stepped purposefully toward the remaining soldiers. He shot the second one in the chest causing him to let go of the young boy.
As the boy ran away, the two remaining soldiers opened fire at Lon with their ball laser long weapons, striking him repeatedly in the chest. Stumbling backward, Lon was grazed in the right arm by two more laser blasts. Grimacing in pain, he fell to the ground, smoke rising from his torso.
The two soldiers cautiously approach Lon’s body as the visibly agitated crowd gathered around them. Fearing for their own safety, the soldiers pointed their weapons menacingly toward the crowd, worried that they might be attacked at any second.
Sensing the distraction, Lon rolled onto his side. Be- fore the soldiers could react, Lon shot and killed both with his dwarf laser weapon.
And just like that, it was all over. The crowd stared silently at the dead soldiers, smoke rising from their bod- ies.

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Lon groaned as he pushed himself up to one knee, clutching his injured arm. The pain was intense.
The crowd looked back and forth between Lon and the dead soldiers as Lon struggled to his feet. Someone in the crowd yelled “he’s with the resistance!”
Seconds later, another person shouted “to the re- sistance! They will save us!”
Other people yelled and cheered.
Waving his good arm, Lon quickly quieted down the crowd.
“Listen,” he shouted, “All of you. You need to keep moving. Rebellion soldiers will come here looking to pun- ish the perpetrators. You need to be long gone by the time they arrive. But before you go, I need some help.”
“What can we do?” a man asked.
“I’m going to take the bodies with me in their hover craft to make it harder for the rebellion to figure out exact- ly what happened,” explained Lon.
“OK,” nodded a second man. “That’s a good idea.”
“I need your help loading the bodies and the retinal scanner into the hover craft,” replied Lon, clutching his injured arm.
“We can do that,” replied a third man. “Let’s go,” he waved.
Several men dragged the soldiers’ bodies over to the hover craft, and one by one pushed them in. They also carried over the retinal scanner and placed it onto the deck of the hover vehicle. Still clutching his injured arm, Lon monitored their progress. He glanced at the sky and noticed it was dusk.
It’ll be dark soon, he thought.
Just then, another man walked up to him.
“I’m a doctor,” he explained. “Let me help you. Can you take off your shirt?”

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Lon nodded and gingerly removed his shirt, exposing two large burn marks on his arm.
The doctor removed two clear packets from his small bag and pulled them open.
“These are curing patches,” he explained. The doctor gently applied the patches over Lon’s open wounds. Rummaging through his bag, he pulled out a rectangular device. After activating it, one end glowed bright red. The doctor quickly administered concentrated absorption vac- cinations around the perimeter of the patches.
“To reduce the pain and shock,” he explained.
To Lon’s surprise, the intense pain lessened almost immediately.
“Thank you,” replied Lon.
“I didn’t do much,” scoffed the doctor. “Thank you for what you’re doing to help our people. The resistance is filled with brave men and women like you. Although I don’t condone killing, the situation is getting dire. Now that rebellion forces have entered the conflict, I fear it will trigger a mass genocide of innocent civilizations.”
Lon nodded but didn’t respond.
Kara and Jada walked up to Lon as he put his shirt back on.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I’m just glad nobody else got hurt,” replied Lon. “Are the two of you going to be OK?”
“I hope so. And hope is really all we have left.” Lon thought for a few seconds.
“Doctor,” said Lon. “Could you do me a favor?” “Of course . . .”
“Could you make sure that Kara and her daughter Jada reach their destination safely? They’ve been through a lot lately. Her husband is also with the resistance.”
“I promise,” smiled the doctor.

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“Thank you,” Lon replied as he patted the doctor on the shoulder before turning toward the hover craft.
“Jun?” said Kara.
Lon quickly turned around.
“Thank you for everything,” she said. “I’ll never for- get you.”
“You’re welcome,” nodded Lon. “Safe travels and I hope you see your husband soon.”
Jada waved to Lon as he turned and headed toward the hover craft. The crowd watched as Lon climbed into the circular craft. He put on his night vision glasses and quickly scanned the console.
It wouldn’t be there, he thought.
Getting down on his hands and knees, Lon looked for a black switch.
There it is, he thought.
Lon flipped the switch, disabling the craft’s tracking device. Getting back up, he reached over and pulled the adjustable hand held controller toward him which auto- matically lit up. The ergonomic device controlled direc- tion, speed and several other hover craft functions. He pushed a green button on the controller activating the an- tigravity propulsion system. Hearing the familiar whirling noise, he then pressed an adjacent yellow button. Eighteen curved retractable overlapping clear acrylic roof sections closed tightly over him. Holding the controller with both hands, Lon pushed a black button with his left thumb while gently pushing on the hand held device. As the hover craft slowly took off, Lon pushed the controller forward while turning it slightly to the right.
The crowd yelled and waved as the hover craft sped forward, banked right and disappeared over the treetops.

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Lon knew full well he was risking his life by flying now. Rebellion strike fighters would shoot him out of the sky without hesitation. But he didn’t care. The feeling of doing something good for once in his life was exhilarat- ing.
Flying just above the terrain to avoid detection, Lon verbally programmed his wrist computer to plot a course to the abandoned development complex this time via hover craft. He then looked at the results.
“Three hours,” he mused to himself.
About one hour into the flight, the terrain below was now covered by a dense pine tree forest. Off in the dis- tance, the silhouette of the Black mountains rose majesti- cally into the night sky.
It’s time to get rid of my cargo, he decided.
Lon glanced down at the flight deck for a group of metal rings approximately three feet in diameter. He pulled the adjustable controller further out from the con- sole while he positioned himself in the center of the clos- est metal ring. Lon then pushed a keypad button on the controller which caused a metal ring to his left to flash bright blue. He quickly released that button and pushed the one next to it. The ring directly behind the first one lit up.

ton.

Lon sighed impatiently as he released the second but-

He then pushed the button below the first one which

caused the metal ring around his feet to light up. He con- tinued to hold down the button, activating a cylindrical silver cage, which self constructed via stackable sections, to rise up from the deck. It stopped just above his waist. Lon placed the hover craft on auto pilot before reaching down on either side of the cage’s top section for the re- tractable safety clips. He pulled on the clips and attached

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them to his belt. He then tapped another console button a few times causing the straps to pull tight.
Lon quickly resumed control of the hover craft flight system, slowly pulling the controller toward him which decelerated the craft. Lon pressed the yellow button, re- tracting the overlapping clear acrylic roof panels. As the wind whipped all around him, Lon banked the hover craft sharply to its left. He continued to rotate the hover craft until it was flying sideways, and then beyond. He could feel the clips holding him firmly inside his metal cage.
One by one, the bodies of the dead soldiers tumbled out of the hover craft into the darkness, followed by the retinal scanner. Lon immediately returned the hover craft to its horizontal flying position before closing the clear acrylic roof sections.
Not a heroic sendoff, he thought, but a sendoff nonetheless. He then glanced down toward the darkness. They deserved nothing better.
Lon released the harness clips and retracted his safety cage. He checked the three dimensional console displays for any signs of any rebellion strike fighters. Nothing.
So far so good.
As he flew toward the abandoned development facili- ty, Lon contemplated death and dying. He thought about the terrible things he had done over the years. Lon also replayed the conversation he had with his twin brother Jun the last time he was at the old test facility. Jun, a fear- less fighter for the resistance, had called him a traitor and an embarrassment to both his family and his people.
My brother suffered through the same sudden and violent loss of our father as I did, and then our mother. The difference being Jun joined the Mitel resistance to help free our people. Me? I did just the opposite. I joined the Mitel military.

22

Having spent his entire adult life up to this point in the military, Lon knew that Jun would kill him without hesitation. He already tried at least twice.
I deserve it, he thought. I wonder what my sendoff will be like. Will I simply be left dead in a ditch? Or maybe blown to bits by a suicide bomb? Does it matter? Will anyone care?
Even though Lon’s father, a Mitel resistance fighter, was murdered by embedded Mitel Special Forces when he was only four years old, Lon had always refused to acknowledge how much that early traumatic incident af- fected him. Instead, he repeatedly rationalized much of his own behavior by asserting that the militaristic Mitel society is violent, ruthless and unforgiving.
Regardless of the reasons, I’ve made my choices in life, he sighed. And now I have to live with the consequences of those decisions.
Lon’s mind drifted as he flew above the tree tops.
What will be my legacy? he thought. And who will re- member me? Kara . . . ?
It then dawned on him.
She didn’t even know my real name.

Using his night vision glasses, Lon scanned the terrain for the landing strip. Seeing an open area along the moun- tain up ahead, he gently tapped the side of the glasses ac- tivating its zoom feature.
There it is, he concluded.
Lon simultaneously pulled the controller toward him and then down which decelerated and lowered the craft as he approached the runway. He stopped the craft twen- ty feet above the direct center of the landing strip before vertically descending to the ground. Lon pushed the green button on the controller deactivating the antigravity pro-

23

pulsion system and listened to the familiar whirling noise cycle down to a stop. Lon then pressed the adjacent yel- low button opening the retractable roof sections. Glancing around the area, it was dark and quiet. After a time, the sounds of the tree insects and other night creatures slowly returned.
That’s a good sign, he concluded.
Lon climbed out of the hover craft and made his way toward the largest structure. As he walked along, he re- called the recent firefight between the Mitel soldiers and resistance forces which almost cost him his life.
He approached a large sliding door which glided open on cue. Just to be safe, Lon pulled out a dwarf electro laser. Entering the building, he surveyed the perimeter which appeared to be filled with equipment. Lon located the power button, activated it, and bright white lights came on with a modest humming noise.
A lot of test equipment here, he thought. It’s probably what Zan Liss and his people used to develop the slip speed pro- pulsion technology.
He turned on what he thought to be the test facility’s monitoring system. It powered up with a soft whirling sound and after several beeps, came on line. Lon recog- nized the gravity assist landing system. To its right was a three hundred sixty degree high definition airborne track- ing system.
At least I’ll get advance warning that someone is coming after me.
Lon continued to snoop around. He located a box of protein bars and a rebellion ball laser long weapon. Sud- denly realizing how hungry he was, he ate a few bars while he kept rummaging around. Behind a long table and under a box, he saw a slim portable computer lying upside down next to several permanent markers.

24

I wonder . . .
Picking up the computer and turning it over, Lon saw the familiar Mitel resistance symbol inscribed on top.
“I’ll look at this later,” he muttered to himself.
Lon continued to search the area until he was con- vinced there was nothing else of value. Along a side wall, he located a bathroom area. Beyond that were several sleeping cots outside a kitchen area. One by one, Lon quickly opened the cabinets. The first one contained about a dozen Mitel resistance uniforms. Picking through them, Lon grabbed the largest sized shirts and undershirts. He also searched through the clothing until he located pants his size. The rest of the cabinets were empty.
I’ve got to conserve the energy bars, he concluded while he chewed.
Standing there, Lon suddenly felt exhausted. His en- tire body was sore and his arm still stung where it had been grazed by the two laser bursts. He turned off the overhead lights and aided by his detached helmet lights, made his way to the sleeping cots. He pulled one cot out into the main room, slipped the portable computer under- neath it and sat down. Lon placed his dwarf lasers, long weapon and two knives on the ground right next to him before turning off his portable lights. After lying down, he stared across the room at the multicolored computer lights intermittently flashing. A few minutes later he was fast asleep.