Sleepers and Scouts

by Phillip Murrell

  “What the hell is that?” Air Tank asks.

  “You like it?” First Line grins. “This is the Tazdeve assault cannon. Saager told me that it holds over twenty thousand needles inside that are fired at a velocity that will easily penetrate our armor. Once inside, they explode when they contact with blood while traveling at a certain rate.”

  “Needles? They look pretty small,” Stage observes.

  “Nah, man,” Knight Terror says as he approaches from behind. “These bitches will put the hurt on you something fierce. I’m gonna be rocking a pair of them when we get inside that ship.”

  Knight Terror transforms his arms into two Tazdeve assault cannons, then switches them to metal arms.

  “What do they do when they react?” Air Tank asks.

  “I just told you,” First Line says. “They explode. I’ll be sending dozens of grenades into them bitches and watching the body parts separate. It’s the best part.”

  “Hell yeah!” Knight Terror adds.

  “Templars, everyone, come over here for a second!” Seal Pup shouts.

  The Templars assemble in a circle, as requested, between the Eden and Valhalla. Seal Pup waits for everyone to pay attention, then gestures for Votary to address the troops.

  “Thank you for being here. I know I’m rough on a lot of you, and I respect the hell out of you for taking it and giving Father one hundred percent. I’m sure some of you have your reservations about Father now, but I for one wish he was here. Regardless, I know that he has his reasons for not being here and must trust that his faith in this team is not misguided. Things may go bad up there, but remember, Stitch has our back. Call for help, and you’ll be back in the fight right away. We also have Lottery and two dozen drones going with us. They’ll take the brunt of the fight so we can pick off the careless. We stay together, and we’ll come back together. We can do this. We’re Templars. We’re Earth’s best hope. Not everyone on this planet believes that, but who cares. I believe it. I hope each of you believes it, too. Make me proud today.”

  The Templars clap each other on the back and steady their increasing nerves.

  “If nothing else, take comfort in knowing that, after today, we’ll get to claim the rights of Earth’s very first space pirates,” Lottery reminds the group.

  “Hell yeah!” Knight Terror shouts.

  The Templars laugh.

  “I call dibs on being Blackbeard,” Votary says.

  The unexpected joke is well received by the Templars. They share a hearty laugh.

  “Let’s go!” Seal Pup shouts.

  The Templars shout their enthusiasm, pass out hugs and fist bumps, and load their respective vessels with their tools of war in tow.

  The engines whine and steadily build as both the Eden and Valhalla go through their pre-launch preparations.

  “You ready for the ride of yo life, girl?” Knight Terror asks.

  Gallery rolls her eyes behind her helmet, but doesn’t answer.

  “Speechless, huh? I understand. My name ain’t Power Wiener for nothing,” Knight Terror jokes.

  He transforms his body into a Gudz fighter and opens his canopy. Gallery must lie on her stomach to fit inside and makes sure that her hands will reach the end of Knight Terror’s nose.

  “I can feel your nipples, girl,” Knight Terror says through his radio.

  Gallery shudders at the thought.

  The things I do for my fans, she thinks.

  Knight Terror seals Gallery inside his fighter body and preps his own engines.

  “Everyone ready?” Votary asks over the helmet radios.

  “Templar Five, standing by,” Lottery jokes.

  “Oh, hell no!” Votary screams. “If anyone is Luke, it’s me.”

  The Templars share another laugh. The camouflaged door above the bay opens and allows the three ships to hover, then, one by one, take off into the desert sky.

  “It finally happened, my Driblets. The aliens decided to go home,” Papa Nutmare boasts to his listeners.

  “Weren’t those the Templar ships, Papa?” Shattered Blanket asks.

  “Yes, SB, but let me explain. They’re the aliens. They don’t belong here and have finally gotten the message. Don’t fall for that shit that Walrus Doggy Style said on his groupie’s show. They aren’t showing up for a fight. That was just them trying to cause a panic before leaving. One last middle finger to us.”

  “I don’t know, Papa, I’m scared. Why would they just leave?”

  Papa Nutmare tries to calm his own worries. He keeps up the act of a cool character, but his hands are trembling.

  “I’ll protect you, Shattered Blanket,” Papa Nutmare says in a soft voice without conviction.

  Cammy reports to her audience. They see a shot of the trio of spaceships flying toward the atmosphere.

  “We’re all watching the same thing, people. The Templars are answering a challenge that they assert came from the Malignant Empire. Some of you out there may not believe them and claim it’s just a publicity stunt. I wish I could count myself among you, but my intuition says that this is for real. Despite what I may have said in the past regarding the Templars, right now I wish them luck. I believe in their mission and hope it succeeds. If for no other reason than to get a chance to interview them about what happened.”

  Cammy smiles at her audience and wipes a small tear from her fear that she’s barely keeping contained.

  Claire watches Cammy’s special report on the Templars from a dingy motel room. Empty takeout and microwave meals are spread around the room. A nearly consumed bottle of cheap whiskey sits on the end table. An empty one has rolled under her bed. Despite this, Claire is more hung over than actually drunk at the moment. She hears the ships flying over and steps outside her room to have a look in a pink bathrobe.

  “Well, well, well. I told you she was here,” Gabe gloats.

  Claire turns and sees Wynona and Gabe, both smiling immensely at Claire’s misery.

  “Really? You have nothing better to do?” Claire asks. She isn’t sad, embarrassed, or angry. Numb is the appropriate word. She’s detached from the world. Nobody from work knows where she is. Neither does Benji nor her family. In fact, since Gabe and Wynona are standing by her and leering, she begins to feel annoyance.

  Wynona holds her phone in Claire’s unwashed and makeup-free face.

  “How’s it feel at the bottom, bitch?” Gabe gloats.

  “Just go away,” Claire flatly says.

  “I don’t think she likes it.” Wynona cackles. “Boo hoo, poor little rich girl. Life’s hard sometimes.”

  “Not me, not today,” Claire warns.

  “Or what?” Wynona mocks. “You touch me and I’ll sue.”

  Gabe begins to back away. Claire laughs at the pathetic man.

  “I’m good with that,” Claire says.

  “Huh?”

  Before Wynona can say anything else, Claire punches her in the face. The blow lands perfectly on her nose; blood explodes while bone crunches. Wynona drops her phone onto the ground. It clatters twice, then bounces off the second floor to drop into the dirty swimming pool below. Gabe completely abandons Wynona and races back to his vehicle.

  Wynona screams and holds her nose, but bright red blood flows down her blouse. Claire isn’t finished. She grabs Wynona by the arm and swings her into the side of the motel. Wynona hits hard and falls to the ground. Claire gives her a look of contempt and walks back into her motel room. She’s surprised when Wynona summons her courage and charges into the room after Claire.

  She grabs Claire by the hair and pushes her face into the vacuum tube television on the dresser. Claire splits her lip when she hits it and feels Wynona kicking her in the side while she lies on the dirty carpet.

  Claire rolls over and grabs Wynona’s leg. She pulls the smaller and younger woman to the floor. Each
slaps at the other as they try to get their footing and stand back up.

  By this point, spectators have assembled outside Claire’s room. All hold their phones out to record the brawl. Claire realizes that her bathrobe is a mess and she’s giving the internet a better show than normal. She resolves to tell Larry first, but needs to put a nuisance down before she can think of work.

  “You sucker punching little bitch!” Claire screams.

  She punches Wynona in her injured nose again and this steals the last bit of adrenaline from Lou’s sister. She squeals again and runs out of the room. Taunts and laughter follow her as she races down the steps of the motel. The cameras turn back to Claire, who fixes her opened robe, then closes the door on her audience. Claire locks the doors and hears boos coming from the other side.

  Claire walks to the bathroom and looks at her face. Besides the split lip and bed head, she looks pretty good.

  Pity time is over, she thinks.

  The Templars break Earth’s atmosphere and fly toward the moon.

  “Everyone good?” Votary asks.

  “No!” Knight Terror shrieks. “This bitch puked inside of me.”

  Votary only hears laughter instead of sympathy.

  “I wasn’t going to puke in my helmet,” Gallery responds.

  “Didn’t you want to swap fluids with her?” Lottery asks.

  There’s more laughter at Knight Terror’s expense.

  “I feel violated.” Knight Terror moans.

  “Knock it off!” Seal Pup exclaims. “It’s game time. There they are.”

  The Ahika is in front of the trio of Templar ships. The bay doors open and two fighters streak out of it. The fighters are triangular in shape, but the top corner never closes. Instead, an opening sits there for the pair of rocket launchers to fire without hitting the ship itself. The cockpit rests on top of the base opposite the open corner with the rocket launchers on both sides of it.

  “Get ‘em!” Votary shouts.

  The Eden and Knight Terror streak in front of the Valhalla.

  “I’ll go left, you go right,” Karmic informs Knight Terror.

  “Solid,” Knight Terror responds.

  The fighters stay in formation as the Templars maneuver to try and force them to separate. They don’t fall for the ruse and select Knight Terror as the first target. Rockets spill endlessly from their launchers, and Knight Terror must spin to avoid them.

  “You have counter measures!” Votary shouts to remind the junior Templar.

  “Shit!” Knight Terror screams.

  “Exactly,” Votary says.

  From the rear of Knight Terror, decoys launch. Many of the rockets follow the decoys and explode when they collide. Unfortunately, Knight Terror runs out of countermeasures before the Malignant run out of rockets. One slams into his shields and puts him into a spin.

  “Shit!” Knight Terror screams. “Get them off my ass!”

  Karmic lines up the Eden behind the trail Malignant fighter.

  “I’ve got you,” he assures.

  Rockets spill from the Eden and collide with the closer fighter. Its lack of shields is evident by the bright, but brief, explosion. The other fighter peels off Knight Terror and zips around to engage the Eden. The Ahika itself also fires at the three Templar ships, but focuses most of it on the larger and slower Valhalla. Votary pilots it superbly and keeps his passengers safe from a fiery death.

  Knight Terror corrects his spin and comes back around to return the favor from Karmic. It’s unnecessary. The Eden flies straight at the Malignant fighter and unloads its rocket launchers. The Malignant fighter fires its own rockets at the Eden. The explosives pass each other in space, and both collide with their intended targets, but the outcome is decidedly different. The Malignant fighter is systematically destroyed, but the Eden’s shields, coupled with Karmic’s exceptional piloting skills, allow it to endure the few rockets that hit it. The Eden has some damage to the right engine, but it still functions, and now Karmic no longer has to worry about dogfights.

  “Are you alright?” Votary asks.

  “Allah gave me strength,” Karmic answers.

  The Valhalla rocks from a successful volley of rocket strikes from the Ahika. Votary grits his teeth to avoid the next salvo.

  “Gallery, Knight Terror, make us a door!” Votary orders.

  “It’s still kind of hot out here!” Knight Terror complains.

  “You think?” Karmic says back. “We’ll take out as many launchers as we can, but you’ve got to start your run. Just don’t stay in one place too long.”

  Knight Terror momentarily hovers alongside the Ahika, but quickly moves. Gallery’s beam attack doesn’t even dissipate the shields.

  “Hold still!” she demands.

  “Sure, if you want to die,” he counters.

  “How long can they keep these attacks up?” Karmic wonders.

  “A long time,” SOT answers. “We have to land to get past them.”

  The Valhalla rocks again. Warning sirens erupt inside the ship. The Templars hold onto their seats and hope for the best.

  The Eden strafes the front of the Ahika and is awarded with an explosion from one of the rocket launchers on the port side.

  “Good shot, Karmic!” Votary compliments.

  The Eden doesn’t maneuver well enough to escape the Ahika’s counter attack. Dozens of rockets track the small vessel. First, they explode on all the counter measures fired, but the Ahika easily keeps pace with the Eden because of the damage to the Templar fighter. Once the counter measures are exhausted, the shields begin to flash. They start as a regal purple and transition to violet, then pastel purple as each successive rocket connects with it. Eventually the shields fail entirely, but the Ahika stays with the Eden. It ignores the minor counter attacks from both the Valhalla and Knight Terror.

  “I need help!” Karmic screams in panic.

  Air Tank and First Line also fill the helmets of the other Templars with terrifying shouts. The other Templars are powerless to help them.

  “Eject!” Votary orders.

  The order comes too late. A final pair of rockets slams into the Eden, and the vehicle comes apart in a fiery explosion of twisted metal and Templar limbs.

  “No!” Votary screams.

  Many of his surviving Templars scream with him. Votary has little time to mourn the loss before dodging a lingering trail of rockets, which unexpectedly stops entirely.

  “Enemy ship down to ten percent hull integrity,” the Malignant gunner says of the Eden.

  She has a moment to smile as the Eden explodes, before her own body explodes at her station and damages it. The woman’s remains are thrown from the station as nearby Malignant sailors jump from their stations.

  “Back to your stations!” Guntho commands. “Sir, what was that?”

  Jillarni is likewise dumbfounded. He looks at the smoldering ruins of his weapon station and tries to wrap his mind around what just happened.

  “Sabotage?” he asks.

  “But who?” Flaimeson asks.

  “I do not know,” Jillarni admits. “Someone else assume his position.”

  “We are trying, sir,” another Malignant sailor says, but none of the controls are responding. “Our weapons are offline, sir.”

  “Unacceptable!” Jillarni screams. “We have no offensive capability! I refuse to accept that. How many ships remain?”

  “Two, sir,” Flaimeson answers from over the navigation station. “They are draining our shields rapidly, too.”

  “How?” Jillarni blurts. “Those archaic ships should not be able to take anything bigger than the trig fighters.”

  “Regard the monitor, sir,” Guntho says.

  The entire Ahika bridge crew watch as Gallery’s beams overload the shields, then begin the process of melting through the hull. The cr
ew are beyond shocked.

  “Is Father cheating again?” Flaimeson asks.

  “Negative,” Guntho says. “That is pure augmentation.”

  “Why are some of them so overpowered?” Jillarni demands. “They should be watered down from breeding with ISH for millennia. They should not be this powerful!”

  “Do you think they may have detonated our weapons station?” Flaimeson wonders.

  Jillarni whirls on Guntho and points a finger at her. “How many Earth augments willingly came with us?”

  “Just two, sir. One calls himself Vape and the other Vlad.”

  “Bring them to me at once. I need to know why they are so powerful. Lieutenant Flaimeson, I leave it to you to figure out why.”

  A klaxon interrupts Jillarni. It alerts the crew that the hull is breached and enemy boarders are on the ship.

  “Stage two it is,” Jillarni says with complete contempt for the Templars. “I want Fire and Lightning platoons to intercept. Make sure Golem platoon moves to protect the bridge. They will not take my ship.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jillarni is answered by his entire crew.

  “And make sure they engage with firearms,” Jillarni commands.

  The crew seems surprised.

  “Sir?” Flaimeson asks. “You do not wish our marines to engage with blades first?”

  Jillarni shakes his head. “Their augmentations are too powerful. Engage them with penetrators. We will see how quickly they fall.”

  “Yes, sir,” Guntho says.

  Jillarni sits back down in his command chair and sulks. What should have been a mere formality has turned into an actual battle.

  Karmic tumbles through space unconscious. He slowly opens his eyes and fights the urge to vomit. He remembers a bright flash and the final screams of Air Tank and First Line, but nothing since. He catches glimpses of the Ahika with the Valhalla dropping Templars inside it after Gallery burned a hole through the top of the enemy ship. He finally gains enough awareness to turn on his boots and direct himself back to his team.

  “Wait for me,” Karmic shakily says.