Chapter 1: An Obrob

Gusts of wind banged on the ship like some mad pirate demanding access. Rattling and croaking, the vessel stayed motionless, anchored stiffly in place. Outside, the wild forest subjugated all in its shadow with the embrace of an abusive partner. The singing birds had fallen silent, the river water seemed black, and a few glimmers of the moonlight shuffled in with the quivering leaves. As the shadow slowly grasped his heart, Rafay looked away from the windshield, stood up from his chair and began pacing the pilot’s bay.

“Umm, Hashif, shouldn’t they be back by now?” Rafay said, turning to his bodyguard, a large, muscular man sitting in the pilot’s chair.

“That was the case an hour ago,” Hashif said, rolling the edge of his thin silver moustache.

Rafay sighed. His shirt seemed tight, and his breath had dried up. He looked around the pilot bay to the controls, lights and knobs – all useless in the face of this unending wait. “I still don’t understand why Norphelia chose Kaffee?”

“He volunteered,” Hashif said, scratching his bald head.

“But still, we’re new to this team. Why would she trust him?”

“Her crew was conspicuously silent when she asked for volunteers,” Hashif said, looking at the windshield in front and the forest beyond. “I’d be more curious about why the order would want us to kidnap some child.”

“Protecting the Federation is a messy business,” Rafay said, avoiding Hashif’s gaze.

Hashif didn’t respond. Rafay peaked and found Hashif glaring at him. Rafay stopped pacing, leaned against the chair and buried his face in his hands, “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but this warlord is refusing to negotiate and abducting his kid may sway him to reconsider.”

“Hmm,” Hashif grunted, “That’s noble.”

“My father says that this stunt may end up saving thousands of lives … Makes no bloody sense if you ask me,” Rafay said. “I wonder if this is what peace patrols normally entail.”

“I’m sure this is an exception.”

“What’s the name of the violet-haired pilot?” Rafay asked.

Hashif shrugged.

Rafay went on, “The introductions were a bit too quick for my liking. I don’t remember any of their names except for the Lady Marshal Norphelia.”

“Probably enough,” Hashif said.

“The others have been rather aloof; they don’t seem to want us here. I don’t think we’ll last in this team for long.”

“Probably for the best.”

“Except Kaffee. Norphelia may end up inviting him to join her crew.”

“Formally, it’s called an inner circle,” Hashif corrected him. “And yes, she’s taken an interest in him.”

“They all treat me as if I’m some spoilt brat.”

Hashif looked up. “Aren’t you?”

“Maybe I should reprimand you … in front of them. That’d be a way to earn their respect.”

Hashif nodded, “Loyalty borne from fear is always stronger.”

“Is that advice?” Rafay asked incredulously.

Hashif surveyed his nails. “It’s the truth. A sincere leader almost always ends up with subversive followers, while a tyrant has devoted ones.”

“You’re not a very good influence, Hashif.”

Hashif got up; the chair croaked with relief. “Do you mind if I get some air?”

“You don’t need my permission,” Rafay said.

“And that’s why they don’t respect you. Use orders. Put me in my place. I’m your servant, remember.” Hashif smirked as he exited.

As Hashif’s shadow receded on the wall, Rafay fell back into his chair. He turned to his screen – Kaffee and the cover crew were all off-grid.

Rafay turned to the squeak of mechanical legs and arms and found a tall, lanky droid entering the pilot bay. It halted at the sight of Rafay.

“Oh, hello. You startled me, sir.”

“Spire, where is your master?”

Chinking and ticking, the towering droid passed him and bent down to a screen next to the co-pilot’s chair, pressing a series of buttons with its steely fingers. “I’m afraid Master Kaffee has not turned on his identifier yet.”

“And Norphelia?”

“Based on thermal data and noise indicators, Lady Marshal Norphelia and the cover crew are still in position. No shots have been fired,” the droid said.

“Let me know as soon as there is movement from any of them,” Rafay said, getting up and securing a small b-calibre blaster from under the floorboards. “I’m going to go and help.”

He exited the pilot bay and arrived at the kitchenette, where a deckhand stood buttering some bread. He froze at the sight of Rafay – as if caught red-handed with his hand in the cookie jar where it did not belong. Rafay moved on and found Hashif seated laterally on the doorway to the unboarding ramp; one leg dangled out of the ship, the other folded inside.

“Going somewhere?” Hashif stroked his thin moustache, the moonlight bouncing off his shiny bald head.

Rafay hesitated. “Going to help Kaffee.”

“Hmm, I cannot allow that. Your father would not permit it.” Hashif stood up; the moon lit up his silhouette, casting a massive shadow upon Rafay, enough to make him wonder how the light was getting through the thick canopy of the forest.

Rafay looked behind to find the deckhand frozen; the buttered knife was on the bread, but there was no schmearing. Reddening, Rafay charged towards Hashif, then abruptly stopped. The giant of a man did not budge. He remained as obstructive as a wall, tall and mighty.

“They are coming back,” Spire announced from the pilot bay. “Relaying Lady Norphelia’s feed.”

Norphelia yelled over the radio line, “Rafay! We have the little princeling. Heading back now. Prepare the ship for immediate takeoff.”

Rafay puffed out some air that had seemed trapped in his lungs. It emerged from his mouth as a mist and vapourised upon reaching Hashif’s armoured chest. Rafay turned away, not waiting for it to evaporate. He ran back, taking up residence in the co-pilot’s chair and began jabbing the controllers.

Abandoning his post, Hashif followed; taking the pilot’s chair, he pressed the button to the PA system, “Marksmen, prepare the artillery units, fast.”

“Standby for takeoff,” Rafay said, checking his screens.

“Is the Sonic drive online?” Hashif asked.

Rafay turned to the screen on his right and then the left. “Umm …”

“It’s on the ‘key screen’, on your left …”

Rafay pressed the screen, and an image of the drive popped up with a blue colour, “It’s online.”

“Always remember, both pilots need access to the key screen to pilot the ship solo if the other one is unavailable,” Hashif said. “Hence, the key screen is placed between us … your left and my right.”

Rafay paused, trying to memorise this little tip. “That’s rather intuitive. I didn’t think of it that way.”

He was still relatively new at flying a spacecraft. Hashif was meant to teach and protect him, one of the many functions he’d been allotted courtesy of Rafay’s father.

Rafay’s chest rose and fell. “Hashif, you can’t disobey me in front of the others.”

The concrete-like expression on Hashif’s face melted. “I take orders from your father and report to him”—A smile stretched out his silvering-thin moustache—“but next time, consider omitting the word please when giving a direct order. Otherwise, it’s not very assertive.”

“What’s the point? If you’re not going to obey.”

Hashif frowned. “They see you as a spoilt brat because it’s easy. Deep down, they know that your interests are not theirs. But with time, they’ll learn that the two are not mutually exclusive and that the only way to further their interests is to be loyal to your family. They’ll come to that conclusion soon enough.”

“I only wanted to learn to fly. He wanted me to join the Order,” Rafay blustered, unable to hold back.

Hashif glared at him like a physician eyeing a madman in his care.

“I mean my father. Eventually, he’ll need to accept that his wish to keep me safe and follow in his footsteps cannot coexist—”

Hashif held up his hand, “Do you hear that?”

“Sounds like the wind,” Rafay said, turning to the echo monitor as a gruffing murmur slowly set itself apart.

“Triangulate the source,” Hashif said.

Rafay quickly pressed a button on the screen, then slowly turned the dial under it.

Crack. Crack.

“Sounds like snapping twigs,” Hashif muttered.  

Rafay nodded, “Something’s headed towards us.”

“Preparing for take-off.”

Rafay surveyed the tree line as dark figures appeared along it. He checked his screens, and they all had blue identifiers. As they converged towards the ship, heaving and footsteps emanated, like the rapid sprint of steely hooves rushing into the ship. The surveillance cameras relayed several men and women boarding the craft.

“Go, go, go, go,” the last woman to board shouted.

“Hold on,” Rafay shouted back, pulling the balled lever on his right and locking it in place; the entrance ramp slammed shut.

“Shields?” Hashif asked.

“They’re online.”

Hashif gently pushed the gear away from himself, and the ship rapidly ascended into the air – ramming through a foliage of succulent, fleshy vegetation – until they burst out of the canopy. The moon glared at them for a moment, but an armada of clouds quickly veiled it. As the ship continued mounting, the raindrops blubbering onto the windshield turned into bullet-speed projectiles with the chime of showering stones against glass. The starship continued scaling the heavens.

“We don’t have a tail … yet,” Rafay said, unsure why that’d be the case.

He was expecting the hounds of hell to have been unsheathed by now, chasing to recover what had been taken from them. After all, this warlord had a fair-sized fleet. Yet no one came. There was nothing on his rear-view screen except for dark fluffy clouds burning up with flashes of lightning.

“Approaching the stratosphere, adjusting speeds to?” Hashif said.

“Between 50-100 micro knots per second,” Rafay finished.

“Correct—”

“AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHH!”

They both flung around at the sound of a high-pitched scream and warring people. The battle seemed to be raging in the kitchenette.

“What the?” Rafay ejected from his seat and ran out.

“Raf, wait!” Hashif tried to grab him, and the ship momentarily swerved. But Rafay broke free, crashing into the empty engineer chair. He didn’t have time to wait for the pain to rise. He coughed twice when it did, sprinting closer to the source of the fighting.

The kitchenette was deserted, but in the adjacent living area, Rafay found Kaffee slouched on the floor, his face propped up by an arm. He tended to a faint pink bruise on his cheek with his other hand. Meanwhile, three people held Norphelia back from him.

“HOW’S THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?” Norphelia blared. “ANSWER ME.”

The cabin door slid open, and a crewman rushed out. “Lady Marshall Norphelia, we need your help.”

Heaving, Norphelia continued glaring at Kaffee. Her hands raised to adjust a bandana which held back her bronzy hair. Then, without a word, she disappeared into the cabin with her companions.

“Is everything all right?” Rafay asked, bending and giving Kaffee a hand.

Kaffee considered it, then rose. He was taller than Rafay, thin and twenty years old. Brown hair obstructed part of his face. It was silky and persistent, even when he swept it aside.

“There’s something wrong with the kid,” Kaffee murmured.

“Is he hurt?”

Kaffee shrugged. His lips moved, but there was no sound, so he pursed them.

The cabin door swooshed open, and the child’s wailing blared out of the room. Rafay couldn’t catch a glimpse of the kid, but a violet-haired woman came out. She gave Kaffee a look of derision and headed to the pilot bay. The ship tremored, indicating they’d passed the planet Aarsythe’s stratosphere.

“Give it some food, that’ll make it shut up … Ow, the little monster bit me,” someone said as the cabin door zapped shut.

Rafay rounded on Kaffee, “What have you done?”

There was a disconcerted look on Kaffee’s face as if he’d been standing on a pile of burning rocks. “I might’ve … umm … nabbed the wrong kid.”

Rafay stared at him for a moment, “What, you sure?”

Rafay motioned towards the cabin, but Kaffee stepped before him, his face contorted, “I’m positive.”

“But—”

“It was so dark, and I didn’t wanna wake ‘em. So I accidentally grabbed the slave child.”

Rafay looked at the door, Kaffee, and then the door again. “Tell me you didn’t do this on purpose?”

“It was an accident, seriously.”

Rafay eyed him suspiciously, but Kaffee remained steadfast.

Rafay slapped his forehead. “How will I save you from the Order’s scrutiny this time?”

“I don’t wanna be a burden. I’ll step down.”

“How about stepping into prison while you’re at it,” Rafay spat, pacing the short area between the cabin and the kitchenette. He couldn’t bear the idea of going inside to inspect the abducted party. It was as heavy a task as being called to identify a dead family member.

“I’m sorry. What more can I say?” Kaffee said.

“It’s fine,” Rafay stopped, taking an extra deep breath, “I just haven’t slept in a while. I’ll handle the Order—”

The cabin door opened briefly, and a deckhand emerged, “You’ll need to handle Norphelia while you’re at it. She’s pret-ty mad.”

“Go wait in the pilot bay. Let Hashif know,” Rafay said.

Kaffee nodded, paused, then bolted.

Rafay immediately pressed the button to the cabin.

The door slid open, and Norphelia blustered out. “WHERE IS THAT TRAITOR? I’LL KILL HIM.”

Rafay stooped back to avoid her ramming into him.

Norphelia caught up with Kaffee near the kitchenette, reached for her holster, and pointed a blaster towards Kaffee’s brain, her finger fastening on the trigger.

Kaffee closed his eyes for the blow. But it wouldn’t materialise, as Rafay stepped between them.

“Lady Marshal, please,” Rafay said. “I’m responsible for him, whether in front of my father or the Order.”

Despite being in charge, Rafay’s superior family lineage meant Norphelia would not dare defy him. But the rage in her eyes told a different story.

Norphelia withdrew, heaving. She began pacing the area to quench her hunger to murder him there and then.

Rafay took a deep breath; he knew she wouldn’t lay a finger on Kaffee now, or so he thought. She began walking away, stopped, turned around and punched Kaffee in the face, knocking him out cold.

Kaffee fell to the ground like a corpse.

Norphelia turned to the violet-haired woman who appeared from the pilot bay, “Where are we?”

“On course to Tauhser’s gate. We’ve got no one on our tail,” she said.

“Of course, we don’t, We-Nabbed-The-Wrong-Person!” Norphelia snapped. “Relieve Hashif and take the con. I’ll be along.”

Norphelia turned to the rest of the crew, “What are you all looking at? To your stations, now!”

Stunned, Rafay saw her disappear into the pilot bay as Hashif rushed out.

Rafay kneeled to check on Kaffee, but Hashif waved him away, “Stand back.”

Rafay complied, and Hashif picked Kaffee up as awkwardly and easily as a father picking up his newborn child.

He followed Hashif into a corridor. The ‘Infirmary Bay’ door swooshed open, and Kaffee was summarily deposited on a stretcher bed.

Rafay connected Kaffee to a monitor.

“I’ll send his droid to help,” Hashif said.

Rafay paused, waiting as the door slammed shut. His hands were shaking, and before he knew it, he began emptying the contents of Kaffee’s pockets with the hunger of a starving being. Kaffee always wore that old rust-coloured coat; the fabric was wrinkled and stained beyond repair. The pockets were flakey, and the cube-shaped object Rafay searched for was not there.

Someone grabbed his hand, and his heart pounded in terror. It was Kaffee.

“Looking for something,” Kaffee smirked, his eyes struggling to open.

“So, did you get it?” Rafay withdrew and sat down. He nervously gazed at the white metal door, hoping Hashif wasn’t eavesdropping again, a servant guard, who tended to poke his ear into places it didn’t belong.

 “I got something better.” Kaffee rummaged inside his jacket pocket.

Rafay didn’t know whether to be excited or scared. “Please, not another surprise.”

A solemn grin marked Kaffee’s mouth, “I didn’t just get names. I got holograms of every sentient face that has entered and exited that planet in the last decade.”

Rafay’s eyes glinted with amazement, “How did you manage that?”

“You keep your secrets, and I’ll keep mine,” Kaffee laughed.

He held out a small orb, far smaller than an eyeball.

“What’s that?” Rafay reached out.

But Kaffee didn’t give it up, “It’s an obrob – an older kind of storage system. Your father doesn’t know about this, does he?”

Rafay stared back, speechless.

Kaffee nodded, “I thought so. Be careful. Whatever you’re looking for will only end in pain. There is no hope out there in this galaxy.”

“I agree …” Rafay said, thinking of Kaffee’s earlier proposition.

“Huh,” Kaffee waivered.

“You keep your secrets, and I’ll keep mine,” Rafay said pointedly.

The frown on Kaffee’s face relaxed, and he handed over the little globe without further admonition.

“How the hell does one read this thing?” Rafay said, rolling the orb in his palm. It was heavier and more rigid than it looked.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Kaffee said, picking up a small bowl of water on his bedside table, but as his lips touched the rim, the door snapped open. Kaffee jolted, with half the contents of the bowl ending up on his coat.

Hashif stood there, and his eyes fell on the little orb.

“Need something?” Rafay said casually while slipping it into his pocket.

Hashif stared scornfully at Kaffee, “The droid is looking for you.” His eyes returned to Rafay’s empty hand. Then he threw Kaffee another contemptuous look before stepping aside.

Spire rushed in. “Master Kaffee, what have you done?

“I’m fine,” Kaffee said, patting a towel on his coat.

“There is a warrant out for your arrest?”

Rafay and Kaffee exchanged a glance of wonder; had the droid lost its mechanical mind?

Then they cried in unison, “Norphelia!”

The door opened again, and Norphelia stood tall. Accompanied by her lackeys, she started in a sanctimonious tone, as if pronouncing a prayer for the first time, keen to get the words right,

“As a ranger of the Arckyle Order, tasked with the protection of the Kasmanian Federation—”

“But we’re already acquainted, m’lady.” Kaffee interrupted.

“Uh…” Norphelia stammered, her gaze hardened. “Rallee Kaffee – in the name of the Arckyle Order of the Kasmanian Federation, you’re under arrest.”

Kaffee carefully stroked his cheek, “Call me Kaffee, please. Let there be no formalities between us.”

Norphelia’s fist tightened.

“Uh, Rafay?” Kaffee said, eyeing the fist meant for his face, “Maybe they can execute me as soon as possible. Wouldn’t that be justice served, Lady Marshal?”

Rafay ignored him, “As you wish, m’lady. Until we get to the Lunar station of Excelion, he is to stay here locked. Will that suffice?”

Norphelia grimaced, heading out. “Iras and Razearious, guard the door.”

Rafay followed her out, avoiding Kaffee’s eyes.

“I guess I’ll see you in hell,” Kaffee called out.

“Spire, my cabin,” Rafay said, marching along to the end of the short circular corridor.

Upon their arrival at the lunar station, Kaffee would be arrested. Rafay needed to act quickly to ensure Norphelia’s complaint didn’t get far.

With Spire in, Rafay pressed the console, and the door slid shut.

“Spire, establish a channel with father’s assista—”

The door zapped open.

Hashif stood there; a frown accompanied him like some pesky sidekick. Rafay briefly nodded, then turned to Spire.

“What are you up to?” Hashif said, his eyes piercing through Rafay.

“Saving Kaffee’s neck, he’s got a knack for screwing up.”

Hashif shook his head once, and his gaze stayed fixed on Rafay. The hair on Rafay’s arms stood up.

Rafay hesitated, “Norphelia was clever to forewarn the Order. I’m hoping Uncle Victor can stop the warrant in its tracks before word spreads. Or else it’ll get messy.”

“What did you ask Kaffee to do?”

Rafay opened his mouth, but his voice evaporated.

“The orb, please,” Hashif said, holding out his hand.

Rafay stared ahead, an odd energy rising in him. “None of your business. And stop eavesdropping on me”—He turned to Spire—“Any luck?”

“Droid, please leave us,” Hashif said.

Spire complied. Its joints seemed to be squeaking extra today as it walked away.

“What is it for?” Hashif asked. “You know I’ll have to go straight to your father.”

Rafay stayed silent, his chest stiffening with anger.

“Rafay!” Hashif barked.

Rafay’s heart shook. Hashif’s call was reminiscent of some kind of vision – someone calling Rafay, but he didn’t know how to answer. The memory was buried deep in the recess of his mind, and he had no way of accessing it. He wanted to let go, to let the tide take him so he could search for it.

But before he plunged with it, his fists tightened, and he retorted. “I need to know what happened to him.”

“Who?”

“My brother.”

“Wasay is dead.”

“They choose to believe that because they can’t handle—”

“This will need to be reported to your father. I’m sorry,” Hashif said, placing a hand on Rafay’s shoulder. “I was there when the news came. You were children then. Your sister was so grief-stricken about Wasay’s death that she threw herself from a balcony. With her death, you receded into a state of oblivion, which lasted two years. You must move on now. Wasay’s death is difficult to accept, but there is no doubt. I saw the evidence when it was presented to your father.”

Rafay stared at him, speechless.

Hashif went on, “That kind of orb is called an obrob, I think. What does it contain?”

Rafay weakened, “Wasay passed through Aarsythe back then. The orb is a manifest of some kind. Kaffee managed to get the faces of all those who entered and left the planet from that time.”

“Who gave you this lead?”

“I have a source in the Order. They’ve been passing information to me. The evidence is not as convincing as you think.”

Hashif surveyed him. “I wouldn’t dare defy your father—”

“Go tell him then. He can’t stop me, neither will you,” Rafay said, charging for the door. “I don’t need any of you. I’ll find him myself.”

Hashif blocked the doorway and glared at him from head to foot, “You’re going to find him? You’re seventeen years old with a golden spoon in your mouth. You don’t even know how to fly.”

“I’ll get Kaffee to teach me. He’ll help me.” Rafay stared back into his eyes.

“Kaffee?” Hashif smirked.

“You’ve said it yourself. He’s an excellent pilot. He’s a survivor.”

“Do you think your father will save him when I tell him all this?” Hashif shook his head cunningly, “Besides, Kaffee has a death wish. He’s not going to get far without getting himself killed.”

Rafay clenched his jaw; for the first time, he hated Hashif – another tool whose loyalty was bought and paid for by the highest bidder.

Hashif lowered his tone, “Your father is a formidable man, especially when protecting his only son. He can never know that I said this, but”—Hashif took a long breath and his gaze softened—“tell me everything. I will help you find the answers you seek.”

*****