Persecutor

Jon Sol did not consider himself an assassin; he considered himself a patriot.

He kept that thought to himself, as he allowed himself to be led to the limo-craft that would transport him and the rest of the delegation from the port to the mansion of the Van Sanderstromms.

During the ride, he gazed out the window, looking out at the familiar countryside of Jannos 3, home planet of the Van Sanderstromm Conglomeration. He easily recognized the forests and neighborhoods they passed. He recognized the mountains on the distant horizon, and the shadows on the three moons overhead. They had passed numerous farms near the port, but the closer they got to the estate, the more he noticed the farms slowly disappeared, being replaced by wooded estates and expensive ranches. None of the estates were as big, nor as costly as that of the Conglomeration's number one family.

Soon, the limo reached the estate of the planet's leader. The craft stopped and it's door was opened by servants, who helped Jon Sol and the rest of the riders out. They stepped from foot to foot for a moment, their balance returning slowly after the long space flight, followed by the cross-country ride in the limo.

"Is there anything you need, young master?" one of the servants, a butler named Jennings, asked him.

"Nothing," he replied, not looking toward the man. The man expected him not to look at him. The Van Sanderstromm's were like royalty, and the man was only a servant. "I just want to talk to my father."

"He should be along shortly, young master."

After a few moments, Jon Sol made his way up the walk that led to the front door of the mansion, he noticed the statues of winged, lion-like beasts that had once been native to this planet. The beasts were now gone, after being hunted to extinction by the first colonists to settle here, the ancestors of the Van Sanderstromm Conglomeration.

A middle aged man stepped from the front doors, wearing an expensive angel-silk suit of green and gold. He was accompanied by a handful of uniformed, armed guards. The man in green and gold stepped toward them, his sun-browned face breaking into a smile.

"My son!" he exclaimed, hugging Jon Sol.. "It's good to have you home."

Jon Sol hugged the man back. "Papa," he whispered in the elder Van Sanderstromm's ear, not loud enough for any of the others to hear. As they parted, he saw the Father's face beaming in delight.

"My son," the man repeated. "How was your journey? Was the parlay a success?"

"There are some things we need to discuss," Jon Sol said. "The Confederacy is trying to stop our merger with the Rafkin Alliance."

"We expected that," the father said, looking concerned.

"We need to discuss some of their tactics," Jon Sol said.

"Of course, later, my son, after you have eaten and rested," the old man suggested.

"Of course," Jon Sol broke into a grin. "I hope you're having my favorite. Local Venison and Earth Potatoes."

"Would I have anything else waiting for my son, after he's been gone so long?" Van Sanderstromm asked cheerfully.

Later, after supper, Jon Sol went to the garden, finding the senior Van Sanderstromm there. As he stepped into the green courtyard, he noticed the ever-present guards that followed his father everywhere. As he walked into the garden, his mind was flooded with memories of playing there, the games he and other youths used to engage in, while exploring the vast square filled with exotic and strange plants and flowers.

"Remember when I used to run and play here?" Jon Sol asked. "We used to make our gardeners crazy, pulling up plants, and wrecking hedges, my friends and I."

"Yes," Van Sanderstromm smiled. "You were a wild boy. You've grown into a fine young man. I'm proud of you attending the parlay in my place. We haven't had an easy time, since we split from the Confederacy. The years ahead may also be rough, but a merge with Rafkin will help."

"I need to talk to you about that," Jon Sol said.

"Can it not wait until the briefing tomorrow with the other delegates?"

"No, there is something I need to tell you now," Jon Sol said, then glanced toward the guards.

Sensing his son's wariness, the elder Van Sanderstromm waved the guards to leave them. The guards disappeared among the foliage, but Jon Sol knew they were still nearby, ready to come to their master's aid.

"What is it my son?" Van Sanderstromm asked. "Is something going on with one of the other delegates? Is one of them betraying us?"

"No, Father," Jon Sol said, stepping closer to the old man. "It was a mistake to betray the Confederacy."

"What do you mean?" the elder Van Sanderstromm started to ask, when suddenly, Jon Sol lashed out, striking the old man in the throat. Van Sanderstromm shrieked and collapsed, gasping for air.

Suddenly the guards appeared, attracted by the noise.

"What happened?" one of them asked Jon Sol, while the other bent down to check on their master.

"He just collapsed!" Jon Sol shouted. "Get help!"

The guard turned momentarily, glancing toward the door, and Jon Sol was on him. He crushed the guards windpipe and broke his neck in a matter of seconds. The other guard rose, reaching for his weapon, but Jon Sol kicked him, knocking him down. With incredible speed, Jon Sol snatched up the fallen guard's weapon, and shot him with it. Then he turned toward the elder Van Sanderstromm.

"Why, my son?" the old man forced out as he gasped for breath. His face was nearly purple.

"I am not your son," Jon Sol said, and shot the elder Van Sanderstromm in the face. He shot him twice more in the chest, then tossed the weapon aside. Grabbing the other guard's weapon, which he hid under his shirt, he left the garden.

Jon Sol went straight to the garage of the mansion, and found a jet-bike, which he knew would be there. Quickly, with the machines engines humming between his legs, he fled the grounds. As soon as he was out of sight of the mansion, he left the road, traveling across country, to a specific abandoned farm, where a small shuttle craft waited for him. Climbing into the passenger cabin of the craft, he uttered a single pre-arranged word. At the sound of the word, the computer activated the engines, and began liftoff.

Jon Sol lay down on the cot in the cabin, falling asleep as the craft lifted away, to meet with a waiting starship. There was nothing else for him to do until he was docked. And he would need his rest for the upcoming surgeries.

On the planet below, Jon Sol knew there would be turmoil. Once the body of the elder Van Sanderstromm was found, there would be a manhunt for his missing son, who had fled the mansion. The regular space ports would be closed. Within a day, maybe less, the body of Van Sanderstromm's son, whose name was Jeffers, would be found in a hotel near a space port. It would appear to be a suicide, though Jon Sol knew better.

The starship had followed him and the rest of the Van Sanderstromm Delegation from the parlay. Jeffers Van Sanderstromm had been abducted and replaced weeks ago, without any of the members of the delegation suspecting a thing. His mind had been stripped, with the memories implanted into Jon Sol's mind. That along with the surgically altered body, gave him the ability to masquerade exactly as young Jeffers. Jon Sol had been careful not to raise any of the others suspicions. There would be no doubt that people would believe that for some unknown reason, Jeffers had slain his father, fled, then killed himself in his guilt.

In the political storm that would follow, including power struggles among the surviving rulers of the small planet, Jon Sol knew the Confederacy would take a hand in deciding the planets new ruler.

* * *

Three weeks later, Jon Sol worked out on a treadmill in the exercise room of the starship. His body had been changed back to his original form, his face re-altered. The splints and shims, which had been placed in his back and legs to make him as tall as Jeffers, had been removed. The added weight around his midsection, chest, and shoulders was now gone. The real Jon Sol was a small, slight man, with a wiry body and quick reflexes. Steroids to speed the healing had been given to him, and the wounds from the surgeries were practically nonexistent. Other medicines had been given to him as well, to help him forget his assignment, and forget the implanted memories in his head, so his own memories could re-emerge.

Jon Sol got off the treadmill, and toweled the sweat off of his body as he walked toward the weightlifting machine. He stopped suddenly, sensing someone approaching. He turned toward the door, as it opened and Cal, one of the starship's crew entered.

Jon Sol noted the man's nervousness. The crew usually avoided him, and when he did have to interact with them, he could sense their fear of him. The squad of elite soldiers, who usually did the abducting of the person Jon Sol replaced, and who placed the body of the victim where it was to be found afterwards, feared him. The technicians who ran the surgical equipment also, feared him. Even the captain of the vessel he rode in, feared him. He wanted to tell them that they had no reason to fear him, as long as they were loyal to the Confederacy, but had never brought himself to do it. He was generally uncomfortable dealing with people as himself. He found it strange that he related better to people when he was in disguise. Even back home, when not on tour, he had a hard time interacting with his neighbors and his family, who knew nothing of his occupation, and the role he took in keeping the Confederacy sound. They thought he was merely some sort of traveling representative or diplomatic assistant. He knew he should mention his discomfort of being with other people as himself it to his therapist, but he had never brought the subject up, and doubted he ever would.

"Yes, Cal, what is it?" Jon Sol asked, hiding his own nervousness from the frightened man before him.

"There is a message for you," Cal spoke shakily, obviously startled that Jon Sol had known his name. "It's been directed to your quarters, in code. And the Captain wishes to see you when you are done viewing your message."

"Very well," Jon Sol said, trying to sound confident. "Tell the Captain I will contact him after I've seen the message, and freshened up after my workout."

Cal nodded and left hastily.

Jon Sol continued on toward the weightlifting machine. There was no need to hurry. If the message was another assignment, then the Captain, no doubt, would have received corresponding orders, and would have made the necessary adjustments in their flight schedules. More then likely, it was a thank you from his commander back on Earth, for a job well done. Either way, the message could wait until he was done with his exercises.

* * *

Jon Sol, freshly showered and dressed, sat in front of his monitor, in his quarters. He set a cup of steaming coffee in front of him, and activated the monitor, uttering the code that would allow him to see the secured message. He attached the plug into the socket in his head. The message would be emitted directly into his brain, so no outside spies could possibly hear. He was certain his room was free of eavesdropping devices, but he didn't want to take any chances. While waiting for the computer to de-scramble the message, he calmly sipped the hot drink.

"Congratulations on your assignment," the voice whispered in his ear, as a face appeared on the screen. The computer altered his superior's features, so if anyone intercepted the message, they wouldn't know exactly who was giving Jon Sol his instructions. "You have served the Confederacy well. We should soon be able to reclaim our lost child, Jannos 3, which was taken from us by the traitor, Van Sanderstromm. The people of Jannos 3 and the Confederacy thank you for the service you have done them. You will be rewarded for your efforts."

Jon Sol smiled. The life he lived was reward enough. He was given a nice house, nice vehicles, and a large expense account. He only did a couple of jobs a year, spending the rest of his time travelling and staying in shape. He was already well rewarded for his service. The Confederacy took care of it's loyal servants.

"There is another problem we need you to take care of before you return home," the voice continued. "Another threat to the peace of the Confederacy. Another threat to our way of life."

The face on the screen disappeared, and was replaced with a map of a star system. "This is the Dylasian system," the voice continued. "It is on the outer edges of the Confederacy. There are twelve colonies, scattered among three primitive, Earth-like planets. We absorbed these colonies in our expansion. They are very important to our security in that section of space. The colonies were originally founded by independent pilgrims, fleeing Earth, and have been populated by thousands who have migrated there from various settlements. On one of those planets, a movement has started, protesting the Confederacy's involvement with these colonies. The movement appears to be spearheaded by one man, a charismatic leader named Kiljan. You will go to the Dylasian system, apprehend one of his followers, take his place, eliminate this threat to the Confederacy. All of our resources will be made available to you in this effort. Prepare for a detailed briefing."

Jon Sol smiled, then braced himself, as his mind was flooded with images of maps, faces, and information. The computer downloaded the necessary information into the memory chip that was planted in his brain, where it would be temporarily stored until his mission was complete and he was de-briefed. When he assumed the follower's identity, that person's memories would also be added into the temporary files.

The message ended and erased itself from the computer's drives. Jon Sol sat for several minutes, catching his breath, as his mind started sorting through the various information he had just received.

* * *

Jon Sol sat across from the Confederacy's Representative on the second planet in the Dylasian system. Hayl was a dark man, tanned from years of living on the hot planet. Jon Sol noticed the impatient look on the representative's face.

"So what is it you want to know, Mr. Smith?" Hayl asked, using Jon Sol's field name. He folded his hands on the desk in front of him.

"I want to know about Kiljan," Jon Sol said.

"Well, there's a touchy subject," Hayl started, pausing to take a deep breath as he thought about it for a minute. "Why exactly do you want to know about Kiljan?"

"That is confidential," Jon Sol replied. "I can only say we are doing a field study of his popularity. I understand he is a charismatic individual, and we are looking into the possibility that his capabilities could be a benefit to service in the confederacy."

Hayl looked at Jon Sol incredulously. "I never knew of the Confederacy to initiate a recruitment from a colonist," he said skeptically. "Usually, they recruit from university campuses, or from those who apply at a recruitment office."

Jon Sol felt himself grow hot with anger. He could tell that Representative Hayl was a fence-rider, willing to serve the Confederacy only to the point where it wouldn't cause trouble in his little territory among the stars. Taking a deep breath, Jon Sol swallowed his rage, then started talking again. "It doesn't matter why I'm here," he said sharply. "I was under the assumption you were directed by your superiors back on Earth, to cooperate with me. If that is not the case...."

"No, I am willing to cooperate," Hayl said. "I just don't want you here stirring up trouble that I have to deal with once you've returned home, Mr. Smith." He spoke the name 'Mr. Smith' in a tone that told Jon Sol that he knew that wasn't his real name.

"Is it not your job to deal with trouble here?" Jon sol said softly.

Hayl snorted, then asked, "So what is it you need to know?"

"Anything you can tell me about Kiljan."

Hayl paused, then said, "There isn't much to tell. I've never met the man. He lives on the fourth planet, and has gathered a large following. It's said he heals by touching, and that he can work miracles. He preaches peace. There have been reports of people abandoning their families, and their jobs, to become one of his followers. It sounds to me like a resurgence of a fanatic religion, or a 20^th century cult. I've even lost a couple of my own field agents to his cause. I think he may be brainwashing them somehow, but we haven't been able to prove it yet."

"What is his opinion of the Confederacy?" Jon Sol asked.

"He doesn't say much about it," Hayl said. "There are rumors he is in the beginning stages of leading a resistance, but that hasn't been established."

Hayl leaned across the desk toward Jon Sol. "He's a potential powder keg," he said, meeting Jon Sol's eyes. "He has more then half the population on the fourth planet following him, and his disciples have gathered hundreds, if not thousands of others on the other two planets. His people greatly outnumber mine. If something happens to him, it could be chaos in this system."

"Then, it will be your job to clean up the mess afterwards," Jon Sol said. "If you need reinforcements, I'm sure they will be provided. I will recommend it to our superiors once I've completed my study."

Hayl nodded, his eyes dark. "You can have access to my files, and databases on him and his followers. I'm sorry I cannot spare any personnel to assist you. If I can be of anymore help."

"That's fine," Jon sol replied, not expecting anymore help than he was getting. "You've been quite helpful. I'll have one of my own people look at your files."

* * *

Jon Sol watched the man from the second story room he had rented. Ollar Stan stood on the street below, talking to people as they passed. Ollar was a medium-built man, slightly larger and heavier then Jon Sol. He had arrived on the second planet two weeks ago, to spread the word of Kiljan's message of peace. During the day, he approached potential followers, gave them his little speech, and invited them to nightly meetings. During the night, Ollar held his meetings, preaching his lessons of peace, and healing those he could.

Jon Sol believed the 'healings' were frauds, part of Kiljan's scheme to recruit followers. He had approached Ollar earlier, hoping to get invited to the man's meetings, but the disciple merely avoided his questions, and refused him an invitation, as if sensing somehow that Jon Sol had meant him ill. Jon Sol turned the man's words over and over in his mind. "I can sense the turmoil in your soul. I wish I could help, but you need to be willing to accept that help first, and that, you are unable to do," Ollar had said to him. Jon Sol scowled as he thought over the conversation. He didn't have any turmoil in his soul, he knew his duty, and lived for one purpose, to serve his Confederacy that had served him so well, providing him with a purpose and rewarding him for his service.

Jon Sol smiled at the man in the street below, watching him as he invited people to the meeting tonight. He knew the meeting tonight would be the last one the disciple attended.

* * *

Jon Sol entered the dark room, and looked at the prone, unconscious body of the Ollar Stan strapped to the long, cold table. Two members of Jon Sol's team had abducted the man when he had returned to his rented room after the night's meeting. No one was expecting to see the disciple again until the next day. Just enough time to replace him.

Jon Sol smiled, and lay down on the table next to the one that held the disciple. He shut his eyes as the technicians strapped him down, and connected the plugs to his head, which would allow Ollar's memories to be transferred into him. They inserted needles into his skin, for medicines to be administered by the computer. Ollar already had probes protruding from his skull, recently placed there by the technicians. One of the technichians gave Jon Sol a sedative, to help him relax and sleep through the transition. As soon as they were done, the technicians left, and the computers went to work. It copied Ollar's memories and transmitting them to Jon Sol. It examined Ollar's physical features, and started to change Jon Sol so his body would be identical. The computers' mechanical arms attached struts into Jon Sol's back and legs, to make him taller, and injected silicone into his chest, belly and thighs, to make him heavier. It reshaped his facial features, altering his nose and cheekbones. It planted hair plugs onto his skull and face, to give him a full head of hair and a beard. The needles injected steroids into his muscle and bone, to help him heal from the adjustments they were making to his body.

For over an hour, the computers worked at blinding speed. At last, the computers were finished, and they injected him with a stimulant, to awaken him.

Jon Sol gasped painfully and tried to sit up. The table seemed to be spinning underneath him. His head throbbed, as his mind started sorting through the memories that had been introduced. He lay back down, letting his body become adjusted to the changes. There was always pain and discomfort after the procedure, but this was worse than usual. He realized it must be because this change had taken place so recently after the last one. Usually, he had months between jobs, but they had sent him into this one almost immediately after he had finished the Van Sanderstromm assignment.

As he lay there gasping, the computer diagnosed his symptoms, and injected proper amounts of painkiller, and stimulants, to help him recover.

After several minutes, Jon Sol rose off the table, and started to disconnect himself.

* * *

Jon Sol sat on the small shuttle, which was taking passengers from the second planet of the Dylasian System, to the fourth planet. The small craft was made for affordability, not for comfort. The area designated for passengers, consisted of a long, wide strip of seats, with a single aisle running down the center. The passengers were encouraged to remain seated for the entire fourteen-hour trip. Music and movies were provided, for those who desired them. The passengers consisted of business and salesmen, families going on vacation, as well as others travelling for reasons Jon Sol couldn't imagine, and didn't care. The rest of his team followed in the starship. Maps of the fourth planet had been programmed into his memory, along with the rendezvous of where the escape shuttle would be waiting for him.

Jon Sol didn't request music or a monitor for movies. He spent his time reviewing the memories recently placed in the chips in his brain. Memories of Ollar Stan, that now belonged to him. He had used those memories to arrange leaving the second planet, and when he contacted his associates on the fourth planet, to tell them that he was returning with some important news. News he had to tell Kiljan personally. Now, he reviewed those memories, of Ollar Stan's involvement with Kiljan. He 'remembered' the words of Kiljan, the miracles he had seen the man perform. The man had preached of peace, yet his words sought to weaken the Confederacy's strength in this sector, a strength that maintained the peace. He preached of love toward the fellow man, yet he didn't discourage his followers from leaving their families, and their responsibilities to follow him. Jon Sol reviewed the miracles Kiljan had performed, healing the sick, the blind, and so forth. He witnessed Kiljan saying words over a barren field, and the next day, there were plants sprouting new growth in that field. He saw Kiljan turn a violent storm aside, and later cause rain to quench a forest fire. If the miracles were indeed fakes, as Jon Sol suspected, then Ollar Stan had not been privy to that information, and had believed them to be real.

Jon Sol smiled to himself. Kiljan was clever, he decided. Only in some remote system like this, where the majority of the population hadn't seen the wonders of other worlds, could such a man convince a great amount of people of his 'miraculous' powers. Jon Sol wondered how he had done it. Perhaps he had received some sort of weather prediction ahead of time, for the storm and the rain. And the so-called sick persons could have been plants, or he might have healed them with some new technology that hadn't been made public yet. Jon Sol knew his machines could have healed most of those people, but his machines were kept confidential. As far as the barren field being made fertile, he knew there must be some kind of technology for that.

If only he knew where Kiljan had come from. There had been no record of him previous to his first appearance on the fourth planet, two years ago. Investigators working for Hayl had already looked for information regarding Kiljan's origin, but they had been unsuccessful. Jon Sol was sure he must have migrated to the Dylasian system from elsewhere, but from where, he didn't know.

Jon Sol reviewed Ollar's private memories, hoping to gain some insight on Kiljan. He had been born and raised on the fourth planet, travelling very little to the other planets during his life. Ollar had been a corporate salesman, for a company expanding the three inhabited planets in the system. He had a future and opportunities waiting for him. He had left his employment after hearing one of Kiljan's speeches, and seeing him heal people. He had tried to persuade his family to join him, but his wife had refused, and had not allowed him to take the children, so he had abandoned them as well. Kiljan had recognized his salesman abilities, and so, had sent him to the second planet to recruit new members.

Shutting his eyes, and pretending to sleep, Jon Sol mentally reviewed the information he had on Kiljan, and organized his plans.

* * *

"And how was your trip, Ollar?" the heavy-set man greeted him at the spaceport with a big smile on his face.

"Fine, Maj," Jon Sol smiled back. He matched the man's face with a name from Ollar's stolen memories. Stepping forward, he hugged the man as was the manner of all Kiljan's followers. Inside, Jon Sol cringed. He hated showing affection. It was the worse part of his job. In his private life, there was no one he cared about but himself, and his Confederacy.

"What is wrong, Ollar?" Maj asked, stepping back, and looking Jon Sol in the face. "I sense a tension inside of you. What troubles you?"

Jon Sol hesitated. He mentally chastised himself for his thinking. He had to be Ollar Stan. He had to think like Ollar Stan. If they suspected anything, he wouldn't be able to get close enough to Kiljan to complete his mission. He forced Jon Sol's memories and thought's aside, and brought Ollar's memories to the front of his mind.

"I'm fine, brother," he said, smiling. "Just tired from the long flight."

"Come, then," the heavy man said, and started to lead him to an awaiting vehicle. "What is this news you bring?" Maj asked.

"I need to discuss it with Kiljan first," Jon Sol replied.

Maj shot him a hurt look. "But, brother. Kiljan tells us to keep no secrets among ourselves. We must let him, and each other into our hearts."

Jon Sol hesitated, his mind racing. He hadn't considered the curiosity of his fellow followers. "You'll know soon enough," he explained. "I must first break the good news to Kiljan."

Maj' hurt look remained, as he opened the vehicle's door. "But we are not to put ourselves above our brothers. I fear you may have suffered in faith on your journey. Is it pride that makes you want to present the good news you have, so you will not have to share the glory. We all share Kiljan's glory."

Jon Sol gave the heavy man a pained expression. "Please, brother. I don't feel well. I just don't wish to discuss it at this time."

Maj climbed behind the controls of the vehicle, a worried expression on his face. "I'll pray for you, brother," he said, as he put the vehicle in motion.

"Thank you," Jon Sol replied.

* * *

"Kiljan wishes to see you now," Maj announced, opening the door to the room where Jon Sol was resting on the cot.

Jon Sol got to his feet, and followed the heavy man through the halls of the building they were in. At last, they came to a door leading to the outside. Next to the door, a tall, thin man waited alone for them.

"Welcome home, Ollar," Kiljan said.

Jon Sol stepped forward, and went to his knees, grasping the man's sleeve and bringing it to his lips, as the stolen memories he had told him to do.

"Rise, and let us walk," Kiljan commanded him. "There is much to discuss."

Jon Sol climbed to his feet, and glanced around. Maj had a strange expression on his face. Did they find out who he was? Did they suspect? Jon Sol pushed those thoughts away. If they suspected anything, he would not have been allowed near Kiljan, and there would be people nearby, ready to jump to their master's protection.

"Stay here, Maj," Kiljan replied, as he started to walk toward the nearby forest. "Ollar and I need to discuss things."

"Yes, Master," Maj replied hesitantly. "Are you sure?"

"Do you question my judgement?" Kiljan said softly. "After all I've shown you, and you still question my judgement?"

"I'm sorry, Master," Maj said. "I'll wait."

"Come, Ollar," Kiljan said, as he entered the forest. It was a tropical forest, thick with small, twisted trees, with clinging vines, as was normal for this planet.

Jon Sol hesitated, then followed Kiljan into the forest.

Together, they followed a small path that wound twistingly through the dense jungle. Birds and insects made noise all around them. Monkeys in the upper regions of the trees, fled from their approach, chattering angrily at them. The air was heavy with the moisture and humidity. Thick, green, leafy vines hung from the small trees, some of the vines growing across the path they followed. Thick bushes covered the ground between the trees, some of the bushes bearing flowers, some having large green leaves. Jon Sol glanced about, wondering if they were being followed. He didn't see or hear anyone, but the forest could have kept anyone following them, hidden.

"So, do you have any questions?" Kiljan asked, after they had walked some distance.

"No, Master,' Jon Sol replied, wondering briefly if Ollar would be expected to ask something.

"Don't you want to know why you are here?" Kiljan prompted. "Don't you want to know why I allowed you to get this close to me?"

Jon Sol hesitated, then replied, as Ollar would, "What do you mean, Master?"

"You can drop the charade," Kiljan said softly. "I know who you are. I know what you've done with Ollar. And now you're here to kill me."

Jon Sol felt his blood rushing through him. How had the man found out? Had Hayl betrayed him? Someone else? Rage filled him. Rage at being betrayed. Rage at the calmness of the man before him.

"What are you saying, master?" Jon Sol asked, while his eyes scanned the forest around them. He expected the foliage to erupt with followers ready to come to their leader's aid.

"I know that you've killed Ollar," Kiljan said. "And that you are an assassin sent to kill me. Go ahead, do your duty," he offered, spreading his arms wide, as if preparing to hug him.

Jon Sol took a step forward, his eyes and ears continuing to search the forest around them. "I have a few questions for you first," Jon Sol said quietly. "And your answers to my questions will determine if you die slowly, or swiftly, and how much pain you suffer before you die. But, have no doubt, you will die."

"As you will," Kiljan said calmly, as he sat up. "We all die sometime. For some of us, that death is nothing but a new beginning."

"Don't waste your preaching on me," Jon Sol said angrily, biting back his fury. "I want to know how you found out who I was."

"It doesn't matter, Assassin," Kiljan said. "You have a duty to perform. But I have a suggestion first."

"What?" Jon Sol asked.

"Join me," Kiljan offered. "You are nothing but a servant dog to your leaders in the Confederacy. Follow me, and I will treat you like a brother."

Jon Sol snorted.

"Don't you dream about all the men you've killed, Assassin?" Kiljan continued. "Don't you feel all the suffering you've caused? It doesn't have to be so. I will bring you peace."

"All the men I killed deserved it," Jon Sol hissed. "They either betrayed the Confederacy, or were a threat to it."

"We are not so different," Kiljan continued. "We are both leaders. Don't the other members of your crew cringe at your voice, shrink at your glare. I can teach you how to make those lesser men follow you. Take Ollar's place by my side. No one but me will know the difference."

Jon Sol stared into Kiljan's eyes, and saw no trace of fear. "I have a duty to perform," he replied, expecting the eyes to flinch. "I never fail from my duty. You will die. Now tell me who told you who I was!"

Kiljan glared back, his eyes never wavering. "You are nothing but a pawn," he whispered. "A stupid pawn."

Jon Sol lashed out toward the other man, grabbing his arm. The assassin thought to throw the other man to the ground, and force the information he wanted from him. Suddenly, Kiljan twisted in the other's grasp, and with a movement faster than even Jon Sol's steroid enhanced speed, pulled a long thin blade from beneath the skin of his forearm, and stabbed the assassin with it. Jon Sol gasped and fell to the ground, as pain suddenly shot through him.

"You want to know how I knew who you were, Killer?" Kiljan said. "I was once in your shoes. I was once someone like you. I killed for the confederacy, just as you do. The only difference is I grew a conscious. I wanted to get out, and what did I get for my years of loyal service. I had an assassin come after me."

Jon Sol lay on the ground. He was finding it harder and harder to breath.

"Don't think that you're the first one," Kiljan explained. "There have been others. There are also many with me who were once with the Confederacy. I still have the altering machine. We use it when we seek safety elsewhere. And now that they've found where we are, once again, it will be time to move on, again." Kiljan tossed the knife into the brush. "The blade was coated with a fast-acting nerve poison. You will be dead in minutes. You should have joined us, brother."

Jon Sol lay gasping for his last breaths, as Kiljan turned and walked back in the direction they had come.

Peter is married and has three teen age daughters. He lives in the north woods of Rhinelander, Wisconsin where he enjoys hunting, fishing, and golfing. Peter has recently been published in the June issue of Planet Magazine and he has a horror story coming out in the October issue Dark Moon Rising. He has recently appeared in the March and the April issues of Aphelion.

E-mail: plbrgmn@newnorth.net

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