by Ma West
“Time has grown very short. Your planet will be destroyed any moment. I no longer have time to both execute an assault and recover my men. Two humans are attempting to take control of the Imperial warship. I need to know from you, what are their intentions?”
A picture of a man Hashmore had never seen before appeared magically in front of him. The picture shrank, and a picture of the baroness replaced it. After a moment, her picture shrank as well. “There is no time for delays. What are their intentions?”
Hashmore could feel a million eyes, all on him, most of them the commanders. He spoke verbally, still unsure of how to use thoughts in conjunction with the stones. “This man, I do not know. This woman, this woman is a strong, independent leader. She will take what is given to her and will do the best she can with it. To what ends, I cannot say.”
A new image appeared on the screen in front of him. This time, it was of a young black woman. “The human guardian, what role does she play in your society?”
The comment struck Hashmore like an extra-loud gong hit. “Guardian, what do you mean? The human race has no guardian. I have never seen her before. I don’t know if she plays any specific roles in our society.”
The questions came fast, impressing upon him the urgency of the situation. “This uniform has what significance, and who is this man?”
A picture of a black army officer now appeared on the screen. Hashmore examined it for a second, as if he might be familiar, but it was too far gone to be recalled. “This man is an officer in the army, a local . . . guardian organization. I doubt many, if any, others in his organization are aboard this ship.”
“The empire has removed hundreds of thousands of your species, and several artifacts. Please identify and indicate their level of importance.” Several objects appeared. Some had English translations, while most did not. “A large boulder” was labeled underneath a picture of a massive stone nearly the size of a small room. It had no context, so Hashmore moved on to the next, noticing that each picture had a series of indicators ranging from high to low as it scrolled downward. Moving on to the next picture, the theme quickly became apparent—a chalice, two stone tablets with 10 items listed, a ripped white robe, a copper-tipped spear, and two pieces of wood in the shape of a cross. Reacting on instinct, Hashmore immediately labeled each one as highest priority.
“Clarification required. Will the nature of your worship be impaired by the loss of these artifacts?”
“No, I guess not.”
“Clarification required. Will your relationship with your Lord be altered by the loss of these artifacts?”
“No, I guess not.”
“Clarification required. Will the structure or cohesion of your society be altered by the loss of these artifacts?”
“No, I guess not.”
“Clarification required. State nature of the importance of these artifacts.”
Hashmore paused. Before, he had reacted on emotion. Now his mind searched for a reason to hold on to something he had forgotten he had. It took another moment, but he lowered the importance setting on each object to medium.
The light above Hashmore darkened, the little MOP bot once again summoned his attention, and he was led back to the seating area, next to Mardoxx and the Great Mother. Hashmore sat beside Mardoxx, who stared with an unreadable gaze as he entered but then returned to normal.
Hashmore whispered as Mardoxx returned his focus back toward the general. “What just happened? What is going on?”
Mardoxx sighed. Then he wrapped his wing around him and responded most softly, bringing even the voice in his head to a mouse whisper. “The die has been cast. The general has chosen to protect the ark. Only a select few will be sent. Now, after your responses, it includes the human guardian and her caretakers.”
Mardoxx began to pull back, when Hashmore quickly asked another question. “Where are they going?”
Mardoxx held up a finger over Hashmore’s mouth. “Into the Lord’s hands.”
Hashmore’s face protested the vague answer, but he stayed quiet and tried not to pout via the stones. A brilliant flow of light engulfed the room, and as he looked up, the circular object under construction now held a beautiful bed of white light. A flurry of lights filled the surrounding sky as wave after wave of fighters cleared out the opposing side, but to be honest, Hashmore wasn’t entirely sure who was who.
The blistering barrages of lights came to an end as, just as quickly, a new image appeared on the HUD, and as its display moved, Hashmore saw that it was a countdown—a countdown to what, he wasn’t sure.
The image zoomed in on a hangar bay. A dozen ships, two of which were noticeably larger, exited the bay. They grouped up in a formation. Then the image changed to that of a mammoth portal. Bright white light blazed across its opening.
Oh, Lord, why have you chosen me? Have I not given enough for you, Lord? How do you ask me to be more? I’m an old man. I can’t learn the skills you need me to. I want to retire, Lord. I want to rest. Lord, why do you call on me still? To what quota do you now ask of me? Is not faith alone enough? Why must I live it out? Oh, Lord, it’s just too much to be a good Christian. I can’t meet the standard. I can’t be your servant.
I was a good enough boy. I didn’t chase the girls too much. I always tried to be a good neighbor. I have spoken your name in the face of evil. I have smitten your enemies. I have not lived a greedy or slothful life. Lord, why isn’t that enough? You ask too much of me, Lord. Let this be the end of my role.
Did I not sacrifice enough, Lord? Did you not already take my beloved? Did you not already outcast me from my home? Did I not follow you then? Now, Lord, again you have taken everything that is important to me. For what? I serve no useful purpose here. I am a pawn, nothing more. Will you not let me retire, my Lord? Please give me rest.
“Transverse gate open. Departure in ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . .”
Oh, Lord, what now? Please protect me. My Father, who art in heaven.
The sensation was more than unique. It was trippy. Space, time, matter, substance—all seemed to merge together as if everything was being compacted together. Then, just as suddenly, it reversed and everything returned to normal. Only now, a brilliant-red planet now lay off in the distance as a small blue sun raced across the command center’s sky. Everyone, minus Hashmore, in the pews now stood up and executed a series of movements before assuming a bowed position, facing General Pigmy.
The general returned the same series of movements, as if it was some kind of salute, stood in front of the pews, and spoke both verbally and telepathically. “As leader of the Battle of Sol, I am now prepared to give my report to the council.” The group in the pews now stood, and the Great Mother took one step forward, one step to the right, and then she hopped forward and assumed a position to the rear of the general.
Mardoxx added the commentary this time, without prompting. “The Great Mother was the one to choose the general, so it is now her place to either lead the interrogation or assume a supporting role, which she has done this time.”
“Are there any who wish to question me concerning the battle?” The general almost smiled, until Baronious stepped forward.
“I will question. I will question the courage of our commander. We finally acquire what could potentially be the most important discovery in recent history, and we cowardly run at the first sign of danger! Tell me, General, how much more time would you have needed to recover the child?”
The general took a short moment to compose himself. “The time allotted to execute and plan, and the actual amount of time it takes to do it, are often very different. I don’t accept your premise.”
“I was there. We were all there, General. There was no immediate danger. You should have stayed. How do you defend your cowardliness?”
“I am not a coward. I acted in the best interests of this ship and its mission. Acting like a hothead and taking unnecessary risks are not the actions of a responsible leader. Ensuring today is
not a priority we can lose.”
“Ha, destroying tomorrow is all that you have accomplished here today. If the empire ends up with such a mighty weapon, even I will be powerless to impede them. Sentencing us to a slow death is all that was achieved today.” Baronious spun around and stormed out of the command center.
Hashmore looked at Mardoxx, who, for lack of a better description, shrugged his shoulders and stood up. “Come, we have one more task for you to complete before we can return you to your people.”
Chapter 44
The Final Battle
Alarms blazed, smoke clouded the room, and a startled and shorthanded crew battled in chaos, but none of it mattered. Only he mattered now. Prisoner 00’s tears brought forth great compassion in the baroness. She had wronged him, and it was going to cost him, or her, or both for the rest of their lives. The baroness, after some exanimation, was able to release his restraints. He moved slowly, much slower than normal. First, it was the breathing. A heavy, quick-paced rhythm had overtaken the wild, frantic, emotional breathing, and as he focused harder, it decelerated to a gentle breeze.
The baroness rose, taking him by the hand. He stood and gazed ever so longingly into her eyes. He looked like a scolded puppy hoping for a chance to play. She began to turn, when he pulled her back. He moved in close and kissed her. Hundreds of times had she been kissed, hundreds of men had she been intimate with, yet only now did she know what passion truly was.
An immense sense of guilt clouded her happiness. She tried to pull away, fueled by her guilt and self-disgust, but he wouldn’t let her. Again and again she tried, but each time, she was brought back to face him. Oh, how did she want to love him back? She wanted to give in, to be his, but after everything, how could she? No, the baroness thought to herself, she had set herself up for failure yet again.
After she finally stopped trying to pull away, he moved in close and whispered, “You are forgiven. You are my love, and we are now one.”
Lady Imric and Lady Lyndia tended feverishly to their comrades. Several support personnel had arrived to combat the fire and chaos. A small collection of MOP bots had taken up positions along the far edge of the hangar visible to space. The robots used an accessory tool to open small holes in the shield venting the smoke out into space. The flames were rapidly extinguished, and soon the two humans were surrounded by a small contingent of Xendorians.
Undisturbed by the events around them, the two embraced as lovers lost in their own universe. The far door to the hangar opened, with the sound of electric spears striking out in combat. A Xendorian ran backward, off balance, nearly falling as he entered the room. The wonderful face of Aragmell quickly finished off the alien, and he was followed by Aramethel, the two doctors, and Logging.
The group that had surrounded the humans broke off, forming a new rank against the intruders. Aragmell and Aramethel rushed through, terminating each of the guards as if they were on a higher level of abilities altogether.
The two doctors hurried to the humans. Embracing them tightly, Dr. Fengie spoke. “Oh my, oh my. What a joyous happenstance. Please tell me, are you two all right?” The baroness nodded, while Prisoner 00 just responded with a stern head twitch. The doctor placed a tentacle on his forehead and frowned. “We must get you to the medical bay and administer the antidote.”
All action around the two Xendorian ladies had ceased as they stood back, having failed in their efforts to save their comrade. The ladies faced each other, shared unspoken words, and then faced the group. An awkward silence filled the room as they sized each other up, neither trusting the other.
The MOP bots had finished their venting and were now tending to the debris. Otherwise, the room was motionless, still, and tense. Aragmell moved forward, with gel-like green patches covering his scars. He stood in a warrior’s stance, before the two Xendorians and his human protectorates.
A gentle rhythm started to shake the room. Lady Imric slid back, an uneasy smile crossing her face. The rhythm changed into a storm of crackles and sparks as line after line of Xendorian soldiers now entered the room. Professional and trained, and in uniform, they quickly and effectively filled the shuttle bay in a military formation. They stood at attention, completely dismissing any threat that might have come from the two guardians.
With some unspoken command, the assembled group parted away and knelt down, spears vertical. The commodore moved slowly, more purposefully than normal. A reddish hue emanated from his body. He approached the group, looking specifically at the two Xendorian scientists as if to size up their loyalty.
With some embarrassment, the two knelt and turned their eyes away. “Lady Lyndia, for failure to produce the results demanded from you and your position, you are to be terminated. The empire does not accept such failure from those in leadership positions.” The commodore turned slightly, masking great discomfort, and spoke again. “Lady Imric, I will banter no more. You will take my bed, or I will take your head. What is your decision?”
An unmistakable look of terror crossed Imric’s face. She took a deep breath. Confidence flashed across her face before a garbled mess of words came from her mouth. Then, like a scolded dog, she hung her head and started toward the commodore. Lady Lyndia reached out, grabbed her comrade by the shoulder, and gave a look of reassurance. The act soured the commodore’s mood as Lady Imric returned to her kneeling position.
“Very well, with much regret, I, too, must sentence you, Lady Imric, to death for insubordination.” He spun around and began to exit the room.
Another Xendorian came forward and called the group to attention. “Who here wants the chance to earn a supreme victory?” Every Xendorian raised their spear up high and emitted sparks and cheers.
“Very well, today’s honor shall belong to Sergeant Xendor.” The commander returned to his last position, and a Xendorian from the back made his way forward. Average in build compared to his mates, Sergeant Xendor twirled and flung his electric spear in a graceful display. He stepped toward the group of non-Xendorians, knelt in ceremony, and charged at the two guardians.
Sparks erupted, sending shower after shower of electric bolts through the air. The sergeant attacked aggressively and intelligently. Each time one of the guardians made a move to get behind, the sergeant attacked the flank and sent them back. It was a beautiful show of the mastery each of them had acquired. The conclusion of the second round of attacks without death brought out cheers from the assembled soldiers.
Sweat poured down the guardians’ heads, while flaps opened and closed in a hurried attempt to cool the reptile’s body. A third volley of attacks nearly allowed the sergeant to break free and make a run for the humans, but a quick slice from Aramethel’s tail ended the thought and forced him back on the defensive.
The action came to a natural lull as the three stood at the ready, trying to physically recover for next volley, when the Xendorian from earlier once again returned to the front. “Sergeant Xendor, you have failed to achieve a supreme, or even total, victory. Return to your place.”
With that, the Xendorian repeated the ceremonial action and returned to his place. Bringing the Xendorian soldiers to attention, the leader now turned, ignited his own staff, and yelled, “Attack!”
It was all over. Death was imminent. The two guardians took a knee, faced each other, and embraced foreheads, their long snouts running parallel. The doctors and the ladies had backed up against the far wall and were awaiting death. The hissing, jeers, and electric crackles all emanated in a wave at once as the soldiers started their assault.
Ripples of heat rushed through the shuttle bay. Laser lights flashed with a near-blinding power. Bolt after bolt sent row after row of Xendorians flying back, their corpses piling up as an obstacle for those behind them.
A new sound entered the bay as guardian after guardian howled in excitement as they charged down the ramps of the landing ships. The bolts of lasers stopped as two small crafts entered the bay and landed. Commotion and chaos once again exploded as indi
vidual battles commenced throughout the bay.
Wave after wave of Dognosis charged at and engaged battle with each Imperial Xendorian. Electricity filled the air as spears collided and sometimes struck their targets. Howls of pain and hisses of death filled the bay. Guardians banded together, coordinating their attacks in order to simply overwhelm the Imperial defenders. Yet the defenders proved their might and wouldn’t go down easily. Many guardians were pierced and dead as they laid down their lives, allowing others to press the attack.
This battle would have no winners, only death, as some of the universe’s greatest warriors fought hard and viciously for their lives. The losses for each side mounted. Untrained reinforcements were insufficient in turning the tide for the Xendorians, and as their numbers dwindled, fatigue started to take the last of them.
The last Xendorian fell at Aragmell’s hand. Standing taller than ever, sweaty and dirty, the guardian displayed no signs of the absolute fatigue he must have been feeling. Aramethel gathered up the last of the guardians, and together they formed a circle around him and howled like dogs toward the moon. For several gratifying minutes, the group enjoyed their victory.
Even the two Xendorian ladies finally expressed relief, yet they held their distance in the corner and had procured two staffs for themselves. The doctors scurried about, trying to save life where they could. Little black robots carried body after body out of the room as they pursued their programmed mission without regard for what was going on around them.
Again the rhythm of the situation came to a natural lull when one last Xendorian entered the shuttle bay: the commodore.
The commodore’s face blazed red with fury. His body stood ready, and his mind eyed the room as if he was determining the fate of each one there. The guardians formed a line, squaring up against the commodore. He stood fast, sizing up the situation, planning, anticipating, and preparing.
The lights in the hangar bay went out, and with almost instant reaction time, the commodore struck. He was impossibly fast in the dark, and barely a sound could be heard as the first guardian fell dead to the floor. Another screamed as his body flew across the hangar. A third yelped out in pain, and with the first burst of his spear, the body of a fourth guardian flew into the air.
