Age of the Marcks

by Gregory Benson

  “No,” Kerriah said. “This was inevitable as Zearic and the Marcks tighten their grip over the Oro System. All worlds and species will fall victim to his insanity eventually. However, you saved Troika. You have that crystal, right?” Crix slowly nodded.

  An explosion rocked the rear quarters of the ship. “Dang it! I just knew it!” Krath barked. “We picked up several Marck scrappers before we left the hangar. I’ll take care of these chumps.” He then stormed off to the back of the ship with his fists pumping with every pounding step.

  Two more explosions severely rock the ship. Then a large, shocking explosion jarred the ship upward, knocking Crix to his backside. Kerriah gripped the controls as alarms sounded, and the ship tilted sideways and into a spin. Somehow, she was able to regain control, for the moment, though the ship was on a downward descent that she could not stop.

  “What is going on back there? The stabilizers are no longer responding!” Crix jumped up to call the doors open for a look. As the door swooshed open, a gust of swirling wind and fire threw him to his backside again. He crawled back up to his hands and knees to witness a large section of the ship’s midsection missing. The rear of the ship was gushing flames and debris as the remaining midsection eroded away before his eyes.

  “Get back!” Krath shouted as he bounded across from the back of the flaming ship and into the narrow passage with Crix.

  “One of our party crashers decided to blow himself and half the ship up with a fusion detonator! Luckily, I was able to use his buddy to shield myself from the blast!” Krath yelled over the crackling of the ship falling apart while dusting himself off nonchalantly.

  “The ship is going down, and Kerriah is struggling to keep control of it!” Crix shouted.

  Krath appeared annoyed by the news. “Awww . . . no kiddin’? I mean we just lost the whole back half. Do tya think we really needed it?” He pushed Crix aside and tromped ahead to get back to the cockpit.

  Kerriah looked back and noticed the concerned looks on their faces. “I’ve lost forward propulsion, so my guess is that we are in bad shape back there.”

  Krath strapped himself in the seat next to Kerriah. “Tya can say that all right. How we are lookin’ for a good ole crash landin’?”

  She gave a long sigh as she took in the situation. “I need to find a way to crash out of Marck visibility . . . There!” She pointed toward a lake of murky water below. Tall reeds and purple flora surrounded the dark lagoon. The fertile, black soil around the lake had darkened its waters to the point that there seemed to be no visibility below the surface.

  “If we crash there, the ship will sink into the dark water and disappear with the water smothering the smoke and flames.” Fortunately, her father was a thorough flight instructor. He had made it a point to teach her how to emergency land a ship in nearly any scenario he could imagine in the event that it was ever necessary. This would, of course, include crash landings. It was here that the years she spent surveying with her father would once again pay off in her flight skills.

  She guided the ship down as steadily as she could as it violently approached the lake below. “Brace yourselves, this is going to hurt!” she yelled as the ship gave out a screech then a deafening crack from its belly as it smacked against the watery surface. The impact knocked them forward; loose items zinged through the cabin like missiles past their heads. Black water gushed inward from all directions, and the ship pulled down into the lake.

  “That’s it! Get out!” she ordered, taking full charge of the situation.

  Krath kicked out the remaining portion of the compromised cockpit window. The incoming water blasted into the ship along with a strong, pungent smell. The water was laden with organisms, both large and small. The slithery lake critters whisked about, frenzied from the sudden commotion.

  Incapable of fighting against the inward gush of water, Kerriah and Crix submerged into darkness. They were both blown back against the inner wall of the ship and pinned against it with what felt like the weight of a concrete slab pushing into them. The gushing water swiftly released its vice-like hold on them, but there was little hope to find their way out in the murky, black water as the ship’s nose dipped downward. Then, out of the darkness came Krath. He easily snatched them up and kicked his way back to the surface.

  Krath pulled them up on the shore. His eyes’ membranes closed and opened several times to clear the soot from the lenses. The three leaned back on their elbows of the muddy lake edge and took a moment to gain their thoughts. The ship’s tail was the last thing still visible before bubbling into the depths of the dark lake.

  On the shore, serpents slid away, and jelly-like critters oozed back into the water for safety at the presence of the three disturbing their leisurely day in the sun. After the three sat quietly for a moment, Crix looked over at his two companions and exhaled deeply.

  “I honestly don’t know how we are still alive, but thanks. I mean, I just want to say thanks for you being who you are. I can’t image who else I would want here with me at a time like this . . . aside from Haflinger.” Crix ran his hands through his hair and rested them on top of his head. “He would have something wise to say right about now. Something that would just make you know that this all has a purpose.” He lowered his hands and stared off into the distance.

  “No worries, buddy, I’m sure wherever tya keeper is right now, he’s lookin’ down on tya with a big smile of pride. Besides, I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Krath responded. Never having any offspring of his own, he felt deep warmth settle over his normally reclusive inner self that came in a fatherly sort of way. For Krath, Crix was a child he had an overwhelming need to watch over and protect from harm.

  Krath glanced over at Kerriah. “How in the heck did tya learn to fly like that, little Mendac?”

  She leaned over onto her elbow to answer. “Well . . . my father. He felt it was important for a woman to learn to fly a ship beyond the confines of skyway pipes. He was always amazed at how quickly I took to his instruction; it just came natural to me. I later used this skill to dodge Marck blockades for the insurgency.”

  “Very good . . . tya turned me into a believer. Well, let’s have a quick look around here and see what we have to work with.” Krath stood up. The reeds were tall, and he pushed some aside in an attempt to get a better view. Air spurted out from a distance and quickly caught his interest. He pushed further into the reeds and pressed down more. The random spurting drew in closer.

  “Krath?” Kerriah whispered. Krath pushed his arms deeper in and folded down a large section of reeds.

  “Dang!” he whispered loudly in his gravelly voice. “Jet-propelled Marcks and a whole mess of them.” A wall of Marcks hovered just above the reeds, scouring the landscape for their prey.

  “There are too many, run!” Krath stomped by, giving a pushing nudge to Crix and Kerriah. They raced after him as he created a path ahead through the thickness. The spurting now turned to continuous thrusts that swarmed all around them.

  They reached a hillside that was slick with mud and thicket. Without hesitation, Krath leaped down and backslid through the muddy slope, tearing through the coarse vines and thorny brush. Kerriah and Crix stayed close behind trying to benefit as much as possible from the wake he was creating. They reached a bottom and a clearing, but the Marcks encircled ahead. Dozens of Marcks surround them with their rifles drawn. A metallic voice sounded off from one of the hovering assailants.

  “We want the boy, the one in possession of Tolagon weapon. Send him forth, and your lives will be spared to hard labor within the mines of Dispor.”

  There was only one reply in Krath’s mind, and he did not need a second to consider. “Tya can take your propositio—” he lashed out just before a plasma blast ruptured directly in front of him.

  “You will receive no further warnings,” the voice proclaimed. A Marck ground assault ship dropped down directly above them with a loud boom. The ship darkened their view of the sky with its crescent shadow.


  “Guys, our odds aren’t getting any better here,” Kerriah said, affirming the obvious. Just as she got her words out, a vertical beam of white light drew up directly in front of them. It was about four meters in height and broke open into a rectangular doorway. The light from the doorway blinded them and gave off a soft hum that pulsed. Krath took several cautious steps back, unsure if it was a new Marck weapon.

  A distant and solemn voice called out from the light source. “Enter, there is safety here.” Krath tilted his head, somewhat puzzled. “No time, come quickly,” the voice persisted.

  “Wait just a minute there; I know that voice. If I’m correct . . . then . . .” He paused and then motioned for his two companions to follow.

  “Halt!” one of the Marcks warned.

  “At this point, we got nothin’ to lose here. Come on!” Krath dashed into the illuminated field and vanished. The white light flickered for a second as he passed through. The Marcks closed in just as Kerriah and Crix leaped into the doorway. It gave out a loud pop and crack just before it closed, leaving the Marck force without its prey.

  CHAPTER 12

  C rix stumbled back up to his feet after his hasty dive into the gateway. Everything was blindingly bright, so he rubbed his eyes to adjust, and tears poured out from sensitivity.

  “Kerriah?” he called out.

  “Quickly, put her over there in the suspension field,” a gentle voice unfamiliar to him spoke out.

  “Put who where? I can’t see anything. My eyes can’t adjust to this light.” Crix, frustrated, started to feel around for answers.

  “Hold still there, boy.” Krath placed a pair of light-filtering lenses over Crix’s eyes. The intensity of the lights dimmed and became clear. “There tya go. Tya see, Plexo’s kind likes it to be good and bright for some reason. Lucky he had these things handy for us.”

  The slender, translucent being with long arms and a heart-shaped head stood up straighter as if to gain composure. “Well, I designed my ship to mimic that of my homeworld of Eesolan,” he said in a soft, eloquent voice as he motioned his hands over a twinkling array of various colors dancing in the air, which swirled in chorus with his hand’s movement. The swirling colors appeared to control bright beams of light all around Kerriah’s suspended body.

  Plexo placed the back of his hand against her forehead. “She is beginning to come around. Fortunately, she was only stunned as their intent was for captives and not casualties.”

  Kerriah’s eyes opened, and she squinted while placing her hand over her eyes. She slowly removed her hand and looked around. “Wha . . . what sort of place it this?” she asked. Crix, Krath, and Plexo looked at her with amazement on their faces. “What?” She was confused by their expressions.

  Plexo moved so fluidly that watching him created the illusion of a spirit and not a physical entity. He approached Kerriah and leaned in as to take a closer inspection of her.

  “Astonishing . . . Most peculiar indeed. Your natural eyes have adjusted so quickly to the illumination here,” he said with almost a question to his statement.

  A being from the distant diplomatic world of Eesolan, Plexo was gifted with a heightened sense of logic and scientific reasoning. This was an inherited side effect of his home world’s encounter with a nearby gamma-ray burst. It wiped out most of their populace many centuries ago. A ghost-like appearance and the gift of enhanced focus and vision graced the survivors of that terrible tragedy. This vision allowed them to see things beyond that of normal eyes and minds.

  “Well, yeah, why shouldn’t they?” She looked over at Krath and Crix whose eyes had a strange, opaque look to them. “What the heck is wrong with your eyes?”

  “Well . . . well . . . normally, I would coat your optic lenses with a temporary synthetic filter, but in your case, it does not appear necessary.” Plexo put down his optic augmenter and placed his hands together with delight in his face. “You are an interesting one for sure; time permitting, I would be delighted to run some tests on you. With your permission, of course.”

  Kerriah appeared irritated. “Look, I’m not for being anyone’s science experiment, got it?”

  Plexo took a cautious step back from her. “Very well. I’m sure you have many questions as to where you are, and at least for two of you, who exactly I am. Let’s start with who I am first.

  “As Krath has already pointed out, I am Plexo, a Luminar as you may have guessed, sent as part of the second envoy from Eesolan. My primary directive was initially to design and construct this system’s first Komeectram-driven intergalactic gammac corridor sequencers, or commonly known as gammac corridors. I was later drawn into service as the Vico Legion’s chief scientific officer during the dreadful Thraxon War. As the UMO turned over to Marck control, I went into temporary seclusion while I made numerous modifications to this ship. Modifications that gave it a more home-like feel, as well as technologies that would better allow me to observe Marck activity undetected, amongst other things.”

  Only one portion of what Plexo told them perked Crix’s attention. “So you knew my father as well?”

  “I most certainly did, young Emberook. We can speak more of it in a little while, but first, please allow me to show you around.” Plexo spoke out a command in an alien dialect, and the wall at the far end of the room faded away as if it were never there. The room opened into an eccentric laboratory that had no visible floor or ceiling. Swirling colors and small spheres darted around as quickly as nighttime insects attracted to lights. At the center of the massive lab was a large, white, spherical control center with six teardrop seats that dripped from the underside.

  Plexo stepped off into the lab as if he stepped onto an invisible floor. His body appeared to skip across the area, much like a vision from a dream. So much so that Crix had to give his eyes a good rub, but the optic augmenter prohibited it.

  “Come, my friends, do not be afraid. On Eesolan, we have learned to control gravity even in our simple, everyday movements, and I have longed for that freedom again ever since leaving. Recent developments have allowed me to recreate it here. I can assure that you will not get hurt. The feeling has an energizing quality that you will learn to appreciate.”

  Kerriah looked at him skeptically. “Recent developments? Care to explain what you mean by this?” Plexo intentionally avoided the question by changing the subject.

  “Follow me, please; we have to get you cleaned up quickly as your soiled attire is at risk of contaminating the fragile elements here.” He skipped across to the far side of the lab, waving for them to follow, and then called out a command that revealed another room behind a disappearing wall. Nobody followed him.

  “Aww . . . well . . . considering what we’ve been through the past few days, does jumping out into this void really seem so bad?” Crix turned and gave a forced smile just before taking a leap of faith into the lab.

  His whole body felt a tickling sensation that started from his belly and pulsed outward through his body. The feeling gave him a slight shiver at first and then was followed by a heightened sense of calm and awareness.

  “Wow! This makes me feel like a child again!” he shouted back to Krath and Kerriah. “Plexo is right; this feels unbelievable!” He began spinning and leaping around with a smile cemented on his face. Even though he should feel traumatized after the ordeals that he had endured over the past number of days, including the demise of Troika and the death of Haflinger, somehow, this artificial force was making him feel joyful and full of energy. Crix took in deep breaths. The air smelled and tasted sweet, just like when he was a child.

  Upon seeing his instant bliss, Kerriah leaped out, joining him, and they danced around and giggled as if their years where instantly halved.

  Krath scowled and mumbled under his breath. “I never much liked being a kid. What the heck is wrong with just walkin’ anyway?” He reluctantly stepped out with the rigidness of a Solaran grit ox in his stride. He fought back the joyful feelings and kept his tempo moving toward Plexo, yet he cou
ld not help but crack a slight grin as he reached the other side.

  “Quickly, you two,” Plexo called out to Crix and Kerriah. “These instruments are highly sensitive to contaminants.” Crix grabbed Kerriah by the waist and swung her around, both of them smiling and feeling more carefree than they had in years. Looking into her deep green eyes, he felt his heart melt, a feeling he had never before experienced.

  “You know, you’re truly remarkable. I feel as though when you’re near, there is nothing I cannot achieve.” Crix was entranced in her stare.

  “I . . . I have to say that I have had similar feelings since we met. Crix, there is truly something different about you, and it is not just the orb. I find that I want to be wherever you are.” Their heads drew closer, and warmth flushed over them both. She had never had good relationships in the past. The egos of her male suitors had always been a point of contention, and her natural abilities were typically too much for their frail self-esteems. This had caused her to become more standoffish to advances. However, Crix did not appear to suffer from this underlying jealousy; maybe it was his rearing in Troika. It didn’t matter why; she was willing to let him in, but he needed to take the initiative.

  “Hey! Get tya butts over here before Plexo shorts out!” Krath cracked out in a startlingly loud voice, which broke their grasp from one another.

  As they entered a triangular room, Krath gave a slight chuckle.

  “It felt nice, did it not?” Plexo asked, not expecting a reply.

  A device with intertwining metal rods rose up from the floor. The tops of the rods were embossed with unfamiliar symbols. Plexo said several more strange words, and a drawer slid out from the wall.

  “Here are some loose-fitting garments that you can wear while I reconstruct your current apparel. These garments can also be worn through your cleansing process.” Plexo handed them each a white, long-sleeved top and trousers. The material was so light to the touch that it felt just a bit more substantial than air, yet was still opaque.