Meltdown Ophilion - Book One

48_CONFESSION

As they walked away from the security gates Orion glanced back at the aftermath of their passage: scores of guards littering the floor, a crowd of executive staff gathering at the security gates to watch their prime rulers being taken into custody by the strangest people they had seen. The shock of the situation produced a calming effect that settled on everyone. The force of the intruders, the impotency of the guards, the look of the invaders, the way light glistened off their archaic weapons, the way their apparel clung to their athletic bodies, something they saw in their faces.

Maria and Arthur led them on a new route through sparsely populated service passageways. The few people they met on the way stood flat against the wall, watching with mouths agape as the entourage passed them by. No alarms were raised, no words were spoken. It was something about the way the intruders looked.

When they reached the media complex the Melorian guard guided the rulers into the spacious central studio. Arthur motioned to the four Ophilion and they entered a control room to the side and broke into smiles. Waiting for them were their trainers: Cathandra, Kylor, Galian, and Takea. The stress that had been mounting drained away when they saw them. It was as if they had never parted. They embraced and laughed together. Their trainers told them how proud they were. They told them that soon they would have time to spend together, to talk and evaluate their mission and sip strawberry nectar, but now they were reaching the culmination of the current stage. Time was against them.

The four Almaron Terrans, the four Melorian trainers, and the four Ophilion teenagers entered the main studio which had been prepared for broadcast. The twenty Melorian guards placed the twenty prime rulers of Kypro in the center of the studio, near the transmission equipment where they were instructed to sit on the floor. They did, albeit, very reluctantly.

"Nice work," Miguel said when he saw their hostages.

Arthur and Maria returned his smile, "Just like old times, eh?"

Chi and Miguel turned their attention to their apprentices. "You outperformed our expectations," Chi said, looking at them with pride.

"A beautiful piece of work," Miguel told them.

The Ophilion smiled at the compliments. It was good to be back with the team.

One of the Meloria gave a status report: "We're ready here. Seventeen mec-tah till broadcast."

There was a disturbance within the clutch of rulers sitting on the floor – Greshon and two others were protesting. Their voices were indignant, they demanded the correct treatment their status afforded them.

Arthur glanced over and raised his voice so they could clearly hear him from across the studio. "Rulers of Kypro," he said, "you are not permitted to speak at this time."

Greshon's eyes flashed hatred at the insurgent commander. He would not be ordered about like a Cholan. "May I remind you whose tower you have invaded." He spoke with as much hostility as he thought he could get away with. "You might at least bring us suitable chairs while we await your pleasure." He raised his chin. "We are not criminals. I demand..."

Greshon's monologue was cut short as Arthur manipulated his heartbeat. The ruler gasped for breath and sank to the floor, his hands on his chest. His fellows knelt around their alpha, wondering what they could do to aid him. "Sit back down," Arthur commanded, "he'll be fine." The rulers did, glancing at Greshon with worried expressions.

"You are not permitted to speak at this time," Arthur repeated, and their captives took him seriously this time. "You'll get your chance soon enough; but keep this in mind: you will be required to tell the truth. Any misleading statements will be accounted for." Arthur didn't say how, and they shuddered to think about what methods of reprisal they might choose to employ.