The Zygan Emprise: Renegade Paladins and Abyssal Redemption by YS Pascal

table were some of Mingferplatoi’s most illustrious
drop-outs: Ulenem, the chameleon-like Assassin of Orion Alpha;
Setsei and Suthsi, Meiotes from the planet Ytra; Nephil Stratum, a
cloud-like Syneph from the Plegma; and Sarion, the Comic of Megara.
So many classmates I hadn’t seen since my early days of catascope
training almost two years before.
    “Magnificent,” Spud muttered with no little
irony. “I’ve died and gone to juvie.”
    Matshi wasn’t as diplomatic as Eikhus. He
faced Spud with a sneer. “I see you’ve still got a rod up
your—”
    “Thank you,” Eikhus interjected quickly,
soaking Matshi’s robes. He turned to face the group. “Thank you all
for coming.”
    Murmurs of greetings in five different
languages came our way. I responded with the Zygan squeaks
expressing friendship and gratitude, and nudged Spud to take an
empty seat next to mine at the table. He forced a smile and mumbled
a half-hearted Zygan, “Hello.”
    Matshi offered us mugs of soothing Chidurian
ale to sip as we began to tell our story. A drop of Chidurian ale
is reported to not only refresh tired travelers like us, but repair
mitochondrial breakdown in muscle cells and enhance muscular
development. The drink is like ‘roids in a bottle. And the effect
lasts for months. That’s why the ale is a budget-buster outside of
the planet Chiduri and its Zygan Enclave. Chidurians serving as
soldiers and guards throughout Zygfed, who can’t afford even a sip,
speak longingly of returning home and indulging once again in their
native nectar.
    Well indulged, and appropriately grateful,
Spud and I related the singular events and experiences of the past
few days. After filling in the group, I summed it up. “So, we’ve
absolutely got to find Sutherland.”
    “You mean Benedict,” Nephil Stratum said, her
pearly nebulous cloud-like tufts shimmering as she spoke.
    Maybe her Ergal had mistranslated?
“Sutherland,” I repeated.
    “No, I mean Benedict,” she insisted.
“If what you say is true, that the E-shield on your ship was
breached, it has to be Benedict. Getting his buddy out of
trouble.”
    Spud shook his head. “Seems unlikely. There
is no loyalty among thieves.”
    I jabbed him in the arm, and nodded at Nephil
Stratum. “I think you’ve got something there. Benedict grabs
Sutherland to keep him from spilling his guts.”
    Perched on a tall stool that
dwarfed his solid reptilian two-foot frame, Ulenem the Assassin
jeered as he twirled his sharp athame dagger like a baton between
his limbs. “Spilling his guts would be better,” Ulenem said, his
lizard-green skin turning menacingly spinach-colored.
    Setsei, who resembled a four-foot apostrophe,
quickly moved his seat a few inches away with both his right hands
to avoid the spinning blade of the Madai weapon. From the head
portion at the top of his smooth ovate body, he emitted the Ytran
version of a dramatic sigh. “Well, peachy keen. All we have to do
is break into Benedict’s command center—wherever that is—kidnap
Sutherland, and get out alive. Oops, that last part … not so easy
…” His meiote and mirror image, Suthsi, was clearly nervous,
sliding closer and wrapping his two left arms and his flagella
around his partner. “Not so easy,” Suthsi echoed.
    Nephil Stratum’s own snowy hue turned a
darker shade of gray. She drifted over to face us. “Hate to rain on
your parade, but it may not be as hard as you think.” She broke off
a small tuft of cottony vapor and levved it to the center of the
table. It misted open and revealed a small multihedron gem that
sparkled with hundreds of colors. In a few moments, the sparkles
dissolved to reveal a life-size holo of Benedict before us in the
flesh.
    I gasped. Sitting only a few feet away from
me was the vicious outlaw reputed to have killed thousands of
Zygans in his quest to overthrow His Highness. I was grateful that
Benedict’s body was halved by the table, reassuring us that he was
only a holo. Still, my