The Dry Earth (Book 2): The Nexus

by Orion, W. J.

  Dwen arrived then. With arms the size of tree branches, the giant pyramidal alien reached down and picked up her burnt, torn body like the girl weighted nothing. Dwen ran in the strange, swirling run of the Galon to the far passages they’d been trying to reach. Caleb had never felt more gratitude. Not once, not ever.

  The next few minutes passed like hours as they searched for a way to get Yasmine to medical assistance. Dwen made call after call on his communication gear—functioning fine after the crab hovertank’s destruction—but all paths to them had been damaged or destroyed during the battle. Eventually they found a group of avian creatures huddled beside a destroyed trash-collecting robot that worked in a prosthetic clinic in the market. They could help stabilize her until more robust medical care could be made available. The small bat-looking creatures flew up to the fifth level of the market’s tiered stores and Dwen carried Yasmine up the stairs to their glass-fronted clinic.

  They ran DNA scans with machines so advanced Caleb couldn’t even fathom what they were capable of, and within a minute they had her respiration under control, her pain managed, and the burn sites sterilized.

  There were so many burns on her thin, underfed body.

  Perhaps most importantly, they were able to remove most of the shrapnel from her stomach. Where she’d been wearing the Galon shield generator was where she’d taken the brunt of the damage. Parts of the machine were embedded in her and some parts had blown straight through her, perforating her major organs and causing what should’ve been fatal damage.

  But here, two of their lunar cycles later, in the Nexus staff medical care facility, under the watchful eye of alien physicians from a half dozen races, she was healing faster than she could’ve on Earth and, according to them, faster than human DNA indicated she could.

  There was also the matter of her raging fever, and how she shocked people periodically as if she were a crab herself. Caleb still held her hand. She hadn’t shocked him yet and he felt sure she wouldn’t.

  Out in the hallway, on couches that were more like benches, Michelle, a further burnt Bernie, and Knox slept. Knox was due to return to the prosthetic clinic later that day to get a replacement leg, but Caleb was pretty sure she’d miss the appointment to stay with Yaz. He’d fight her on that. Make her go.

  In a room down the hall they had a guarded patient: their ally Trey. Despite so many vouching for him, Dwen’s security conglomerate insisted that he heal under guard. The Nexus had to sort out the insanity of the past few days before they could move forward on anything, especially trusting crabs in this moment. As far as Caleb knew, Trey didn’t care about the armed guards in the hall outside the room that contained the fish tank his colony swam in.

  All Trey kept asking about was Yasmine and how she was doing.

  “He’s a good kid,” Caleb whispered, then wiped his own tears away before anyone saw them. “He’s a damn good kid.”

  “She is too,” a familiar voice said from the door.

  Caleb looked over and saw Pyrameer Denol, the horned gorilla creature who sat as the head judge of the Interstellar Court. He’d been in the marke, and had experienced the worst of their fight. He’d stayed by Yasmine’s side for far longer than he should’ve.

  “You’re back,” Caleb said.

  “I am. It felt wrong to be away,” the primate said before walking into the room on his feet and fore-knuckles. He sat on his haunches on the floor and sighed. “She is better?”

  “She’s healing. Her body at least. Your doctors say she’s still in there mentally. Just in a coma. They keep talking about how shocked she is to have survived. Still hasn’t woken up.”

  “Healing is good. They expect her to wake up?”

  “Yeah, but they’re scared something will be different after what she did in the market. The blast. Everyone who comes through asks about it.”

  “I understand why,” Pyrameer said. “She did what was thought to be impossible. She withstood the storm unlike all others before her.”

  “I think you all got it backwards. Read that old meme wrong.”

  “I don’t understand. You’re laughing? Did I say something funny?”

  “Sorry,” Caleb said. “There was an old stupid saying that used to circulate on my planet before the crabs invaded. It said something about strong people not having to fear a storm, because they were a storm in and of themselves. In Yasmine’s case, that saying is pretty frigging factual.”

  “I see, and I see what you mean. She does seem to be fearless–and powerful.”

  “You don’t even know the half of it. What’s happening out there? Are we at war?”

  “This is a precipitous moment in galactic history. We are at war, but the races of the Nexus have not officially taken on the mantle as such. We are, for lack of better words, trapped into a few courses of action right now. We are sorting out a best plan to move forward.”

  “Explain.”

  “Benno, master of flight controls here, shut down the twelve wormholes during the battle to try and stop any messages or craft from escaping. Multiple craft did pass through several wormholes before the doors could be shut. Five crab shuttles are the second worst news. A traitorous Mulgorod battle group is the worst news. They departed through two wormholes, ostensibly to alarm elements of the crab fleet that war is upon us. It also means the entire Mulgorod Coalition is suspect. That hurts me personally, as a Mulgorod.”

  “I’m sorry. So, if we open the doors they left through and try to leave, whatever’s on the other side could attack the departing ships.”

  “Exactly. We must assume that all exits could lead to ruin,” the judge said, his tone somber.

  “Why not just fly through space?”

  “When the Triumvirate built this station, they selected a system very, very far from anywhere worth traveling from with sublight engines. We could navigate to a system of note that way, but our children would do whatever work was required when the ships arrived.”

  “I see,” Caleb said, adding a frustrated sigh. “And now the smartest brains on this big metal ball are doing the math on what to do about it.”

  “Correct. We also must summon the Beru’dawn from their home space. We will need their support against the crabs, and it’s unthinkable that they would allow the Empire to run amok in the galaxy they worked so hard to unite.”

  “Can we help?”

  “You humans? Numbering… five? One of you with one leg, one with one arm, two burnt to a crisp? What could you do beyond mend and advise us as to the state of your world?”

  Caleb rotated his busted shoulder, just now out of a sling. The alien doctors had given him a shot the prior morning that hurt like a literal gunshot, but immediately started knitting his broken bones. He’d still be a day before being back to “heft a machine gun” levels, but by any measure, that was insanely amazing.

  “We can help. Don’t count us out. When she’s up, we’re gonna be a part of this. A big part.”

  “Dwen echoes your sentiments,” Pyrameer mused, “and the opinion of the head of Nexus security is not formed without solid basis, so perhaps my cynical statement should be disregarded.”

  “Goddamn right,” Caleb said, then added a chuckle. “Sorry. I’m just… It’s crazy.”

  “Yes, yes it is.”

  “I heard all these crabs came out of a fat crab ship. That got blown up, right?”

  “Mostly intact, actually. That’s a large point of contention for us as well. It’s sitting in what we call hard park, trapped in a dock for the most part, still filled with the crab remnants of those who were destroyed in the battle. We’ve destroyed their engines and weapons, but have no easy way to board their ship to eradicate the survivors.”

  “Trey can help,” Caleb said immediately. “He has crab allies that can get on that ship and do that work.”

  “And are they on the Nexus now? Because we can ill afford attempting to retrieve them through a wormhole.”

  “Is the wormhole heading back towards my
planet one of the passages that’s likely to have a crab ambush at it?”

  “I think they believe it to be one of the higher threats. Your planet was overrun with crabs, after all.”

  “Never mind then.”

  “No,” Yasmine whispered. “Not never mind.”

  “Holy SHIT you’re awake,” Caleb said, his heart exploding with sudden joy. “How are you feeling? Are you in pain? What happened in the market? Where’s Trader Joe? What the hell, girl? I’m so damned happy,” he rattled, then leaned over the bed and squeezed her tiny form.

  “Uncle Caleb… I love you, but this hurts,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, sure, sorry,” he said, and stood up.

  “Hi, Pyrameer,” she whispered to him.

  “Greetings, special human friend,” Pyrameer said. “I find it interesting that you were able to understand my speech without a translation headset.”

  “I don’t think I need one anymore,” she said softly. “I can hear your words, and somehow, inside my brain, the power that Trader Joe gave to me in his death translates it all.”

  “Impossible,” Pyrameer said.

  “Dude, were you not paying attention in the market?” Caleb said.

  “You are right. I am being cynical again. Something special is happening. Something fortuitous, perhaps. Yasmine, you said something about ‘not never mind’ when I mentioned returning to your home planet?”

  “I did,” she said, dragging her body to a sitting position in the bed. She winced but didn’t cry out. “The crabs are going to try and destroy Earth and our entire solar system to make an example. That ain’t happening.”

  “You have a plan?” Caleb asked her.

  Yasmine held her hand up—the same hand that had caught a plasma blast and then shot it back at the crab who had tried to kill her with it—and stared at it. She turned the hand so the red, sore palm faced up, and she narrowed her eyes as she slowly lifted the fingers into what might’ve been a fist, had she not stopped with her fingers raised. Tiny crackles of blue-white electricity jumped from finger to finger, finger to thumb, back and forth in a gentle storm of energy.

  “She is the storm,” Pyrameer said.

  About the Author

  W.J. Orion is the pen name of someone else, who you may or may not care about digging up the identity of. He really does have a daughter named Juniper, as well as another daughter named Willow, and a wife, and a dog too.

  They live in New Hampshire near the river, and are enjoying all that life has to offer.

  You can follow him on Facebook at facebook.com/wjorion (as well as sign up for his newsletter too) and he's on Twitter too: @orion_wj

  The Dry Earth Book Two: The Nexus

  Copyright © 2019 W.J. Orion

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author. Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America

  First Publishing Date 2020

  All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cover and interior layout by Alan MacRaffen

  Dedication

  This book is for my youngest daughter Juniper. You are funny, fearless, smart, and in every way, every day, make the lives of those around you better. You challenge us all to dance, and laugh, and you will never, ever allow us to let you go without.

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