Galactic Satori Chronicles: Kron

by Nick Braker

  “Davidson is dead, too,” Brock said, pulling his hand from the man’s neck. “No pulse.”

  Brock pulled out a second pistol, pushed past Grep and dove through the first doorway into a forward roll.

  “Brock, no!” Magnus ordered.

  Brock came up on one knee and fired. Someone screamed. Brock’s head snapped left. He fired his right pistol, aiming his left at the same time. He fired three times in rapid succession. Miguel’s men fired, too. Brock jumped right and rolled again into a kneeling position behind a small crate. He fired again, his head making quick movements left, left and then right. Each time he fired multiple shots. The warehouse grew quiet. Brock stopped moving, keeping his guns pointing into the shadowy sections.

  “What-” Magnus said to Brock from the doorway.

  Brock held up his index finger at Magnus, his guns still in both hands. Another gunman slipped out from behind one of the tiered racks. The gunman aimed. Brock’s arm snapped around to target the man, firing first.

  “Okay,” Brock said, giving them the all clear.

  Magnus’ jaw dropped open.

  “-the hell,” Magnus finished.

  “That was alien-enhanced reflexes and agility,” Grep said, “thanks to our friends, the Aliri. Combine that with two high capacity 45s, giving him 26 shots. I would call that, not bad.”

  “You can call that, fucking awesome,” Brock said, “and follow that by saying, Thank you, Mr. Stone.”

  Grep shook his head.

  “Oh,” Brock continued, “and I find your summation quite accurate, Mr. Egghead.”

  “You stole that line from me, jack,” Grep said.

  “Damn it, Grep, Brock.” Magnus said. “We have three dead agents behind us and-”

  “I ain’t got time to grieve. The world is still in danger,” Brock said. “Besides, there’s still one more bad guy out there. It’s probably Miguel.”

  “Mag-” Grep started to say.

  “Come on guys, let’s get this fucker,” Brock said. “I’m ordering toasted alien for breakfast and I’m very, very hungry.”

  Magnus and Grep exchanged glances. Grep pointed at the agent Magnus had pulled from the room. “He’s dead,” Grep said.

  Once again, it was down to his team. The Aliri had changed each of them. Some changes good, some bad. Right now, Grep’s and Brock’s callous behavior surprised even Magnus. These were not the friends he remembered. Twenty plus human beings were dead and they both appeared to care little about it.

  They had changed, almost a year ago, during Magnus’ time in the hospital, only a week after his car accident. That was the night he lay in the hospital with a large metal fragment in his head and, the next day, it was gone. The Aliri had abducted them and then healed Magnus while augmenting the three of them, taking their natural gifts to supernatural levels. He hated the Aliri for using him like a lab rat, but Magnus tolerated it knowing it was the key to getting revenge against the Kron who had killed Beth. He would find a way to reach their planet and kill every single one of them.

  Brock took off, heading toward the warehouse’s rear exit.

  “I guess you guys are just going to have to catch up. Miguel is getting away,” Brock yelled back.

  Magnus slapped Grep on the shoulder.

  “Let’s get going,” Magnus said, “or Brock is going to get himself killed.”

  “Don’t tell him I said this, but that was bad ass,” Grep added.

  “Augmented or not,” Magnus replied, “that little stunt had stupidity written all over it.”

  Kron - Royal Palace

  Tuesday, October 13, 1987 - 11:50am

  Katerra

  An image of Voltenna, a planet sixty light years away from Kron, played out in front of Katerra on the wall of her stargazing chamber. The planet had been the home of the Cortians, a race of beings the Aliri had recruited to destroy Kron. The image flared with light as the atmosphere burned in an explosive chain reaction that ended all life on the planet. With a wave of her hand, Katerra replayed the holographic video. Kron had attacked and destroyed all life on the Cortian planet because it meant saving what remained of Kron. The Cortians had nearly succeeded in destroying her people, largely due to help from the Aliri vermin.

  The Kron were on the verge of extinction. Katerra’s people would no longer exist if not for their superior genetic science and her own efforts to save them. Her people’s tenacity combined with the Time Line Analytic (TLA) system that she stole from the Aliri were the tools offering them a chance at survival.

  The TLA system allowed them to stay ahead of attacks from other races, giving them advanced notice so they could destroy their enemy before they even started planning, sometimes years in advance.

  Katerra’s first obligation was to her people and she would protect them no matter how many other worlds she had to destroy. Her thoughts went to Satirra, the second Omarii killed in action against the Earthlings. These creatures had successfully defended themselves against her Omarii, even though the humans were decades behind in their technology. The Earthlings were bipedal and remarkably similar to Kron, but they were not genetically the same, so why were they having so many problems with these beings? Was it because the Aliri were helping them or was there something unique about the humans?

  “Show me the most recent picture of Satirra,” Katerra ordered the computer.

  Satirra’s holographic image appeared in front of Katerra. Satirra’s thick, black hair hung down over her shoulders, coalescing into gentle curls near the ends. Her steely gaze, even within the hologram, was confident and self-assured. Her petite nose ended above thin, red lips.

  “What is her status?” she asked the computer.

  “Status: stranded alive in the body of an earth scientist,” the computer replied. “The tracking system connection was disrupted by the shield generator near the portal. Satirra cannot be located.”

  Katerra pursed her lips. She would find Satirra and return her to Kron.

  Katerra spun around and left her private chambers. Several minutes later, she entered the palace’s computing facility. Constructed deep underground, it housed the entirety of Kron’s networking and operational computer systems, systems that were the nerve center and protection grid designed as a vanguard against all other races. This facility monitored every vital piece of equipment responsible for protecting her people, including Kron’s space armada, communications, planetary shielding, and power systems. It also housed the only interface for Kron’s TLA system, stolen from the Aliri decades ago. Under her own volition, she had defied her queen’s orders and successfully acquired the technology through force. The queen ruled the plan too risky. Katerra had proven her mother, the queen, wrong... and weak. She no longer deserved to rule Kron and Katerra had made sure she no longer would.

  Two of her technicians, closest to the entrance, noticed their queen and stood, their motion creating the only sound in the room.

  “My queen,” the two said in unison.

  “Stay,” Katerra ordered, “return to your duties.”

  They bowed their heads, taking their seats. The circular room, nearly 200 feet in diameter, had a textured black floor with a silver-blue ceiling of solid titanium, polished smooth. The room’s only odors were those from its inhabitants. Katerra, like all Kron women, possessed heightened senses from centuries of genetic manipulation.

  The room contained various computer stations. Each station sat along the room’s perimeter with multiple monitors displaying data appropriate to that system’s function.

  “Deira, report,” Katerra ordered.

  Deira sat at the station closest to the door and had been one of the first to notice Katerra’s entrance. Deira’s station monitored Kron’s space fleet. There, displayed on three large screens in front of her, floating in space, was the second line of defense protecting the people of Kron - Katerra’s entire armada patrolled Kron’s solar system. A necessary precaution as the Aliri would jump at an opportunity to wipe her people from t
he fabric of this universe. Her fleet would ensure no Aliri probes or other threat could enter Kron space without being met with immediate destruction. Interplanetary trade or commerce did not exist for Kron and nothing entered, or left, her system for any reason.

  “My queen,” Deira said. “All ships report normal status apart from Epsilon fleet’s command ship. They experienced another intermittent power surge 2.32 hours ago. There is still no explanation.”

  “Remind fleet Commander Kada the importance of locating the source of that surge,” Katerra ordered.

  “Yes, my queen,” Deira said, nodding.

  Katerra had promoted Commander Kada after taking the mantle of queen. Kada’s leadership over the crew of her fleet was strict but fair and Katerra would find no better commander.

  The energy surge had been detected by the radiation it emitted. Her scientists and engineers had not been able to find the source of the problem, except to isolate it to one ship. The energy surge occurred in different locations on the command ship each time it activated. Epsilon’s command ship had experienced its first power surge moments after the Earth beings had succeeded in destroying Satirra’s wormhole. Commander Kada had initially reported it as a simple equipment failure, but Katerra had disagreed and ordered Kada to locate the source immediately. The power surge occurred intermittently with no discernible pattern. Katerra was certain either the Aliri vermin or the Earthlings were responsible. She ordered the ship to the edge of Kron’s solar system as a precautionary measure. Isolating it from the rest of the fleet would mitigate whatever plan one or both species may have hatched. Kada’s failure had thus far been the only mark against her. It could also be her last.

  Katerra crossed to the center of the room. There, mounted from floor to ceiling was another set of computer stations surrounding the TLA interface. The machine operated as the link to the main system housed inside Kron’s only moon. The moon’s core contained hundreds of miles of parallel computers whose sole function was the execution of predictive algorithms. The system was fed real-time data from both passive and active sensors scattered across the galaxy. Katerra’s scientists had broken the Aliri encryption codes and were now using the Aliri’s multi-phased probes against them. The probes transmitted data to the Aliri’s TLA system, but Katerra had hijacked the transmissions using them against the Aliri, completely unknown to their leader, Alestron, and his crawling little vermin race.

  Disgusting.

  “Naoma, report on Chitra’s progress,” Katerra ordered.

  “My queen, Chitra’s forces are closing in on the humans. They have them surrounded-”

  “Transfer the feed to my station,” Katerra ordered.

  “Yes, my queen.”

  The display changed showing Katerra the neural feed from Chitra’s visual cortex. Eight humans had taken shelter inside a large structure. Katerra recognized three of them. They were three of the four who had managed to stop Satirra from completing her mission of eradicating life on Earth. Somehow the three humans had managed to survive and were now attempting to stop Chitra, too.

  Today will be different. Run humans. Crawl into your dark hiding places.

  “Press the attack,” Chitra ordered. “Move in and keep firing. I want them dead.”

  Chitra giggled.

  Katerra’s finger twitched. She smashed her fist into the console.

  Again?

  These humans were volatile to her Omarii and, once again, they were sabotaging Katerra’s efforts to protect her people. Chitra had recovered from her first mission to Earth and Katerra had allowed Chitra to return to duty. Perhaps Chitra could maintain control long enough to finish her mission this time. Commander Agneta and her team monitored Chitra in the first Mental Projection room to ensure her safety. Chitra’s erratic behavior could sabotage their mission to destroy Earth.

  And what of these Earthlings? Were these three human males some of Earth’s elite force? Were they Earth’s version of her Omarii? If so, these humans were indeed dangerous. Earth would expand into the stars and, as the TLA system predicted, destroy Kron.

  That will not happen. I will kill them myself, if I must.

  Katerra continued to watch the events unfold on Earth.

  “Alejandro,” Chitra said, “take your troops down the left aisle, the rest of you on the right. They will try to escape from the rear of that internal building. Tactically sound, but if they do escape, I will have a nasty little surprise for them.”

  Chitra grinned gleefully, holding her fists up and then opening them quickly.

  “Boom,” Chitra said, laughing as she maneuvered her way around the metal structure.

  “Boom, boom, boom,” Chitra continued.

  Extended periods of exposure to the human psyche ultimately compromised Katerra’s Omarii and it appeared Chitra was losing control again. Chitra had returned from her first mission a sobbing and physiological wreck, a state that should not be possible since no two species were alike. Human and Kron DNA were not the same. Kron’s TLA system had intercepted the Aliri’s data stream containing all data on humanity. Katerra’s scientists constantly analyzed that information. Kron’s DNA contained 23 chromosome strands versus the humans’ 24. The data had been checked several times. Katerra’s suspicion that humans were identical to Kron could not be corroborated, yet something gnawed at her.

  The reason the Neural Projection System did not negatively affect either being was linked directly to their genetic differences. Controlling a host’s motor functions was a learned behavior trained into each Omarii warrior. Since the data clearly stated their species were different, how did the Earth creatures affect her Omarii at an emotional level?

  Chitra began to laugh again. “You’re gonna die, puny humans.”

  Katerra closed the feed, walking out.

  It appears I must to do it myself.

  Chapter 2

  OMARII MIGUEL

  Earth - Managua, Nicaragua

  Tuesday, October 13, 1987 - 08:00pm

  Magnus

  Magnus and his team had finally caught up with Miguel. It had taken hours to track him down again from the warehouse and, while they had to be careful, Miguel did not. This was his country and he ruled it. Other WSO agents in Nicaragua had sighted him in various locations and Magnus and team once again chased the Omarii in its human host. The alien mind that possessed Miguel should have returned to a more fortified enclosure but Magnus could only surmise the creature’s plans were focused on Earth’s destruction. The Omarii had an objective to finish.

  The Omarii agent was running on foot. Magnus had her in his sights and he wasn’t going to let this one get away. He had a dismal track record of capturing Omarii, though he had at least thwarted their efforts. Earth remained intact and safe from the alien’s first two attempts to destroy it. Could this Omarii be Satirra, the Kron agent that had nearly destroyed Earth less than a month ago? Her last words to him in France had indicated she was stranded here on Earth. Something had gone wrong and she believed she would die here too, martyring herself. If it was her, that explained why she hadn’t returned to her home world and was now running from Magnus and his team. If it wasn’t her, then why hadn’t this one returned home? The extraction process, as Alara called it, took thirty seconds to complete. The alien had several opportunities to return home so there must be more to her mission.

  Magnus had tracked Miguel through several city blocks and had caught up with him as he entered a dilapidated building from the rear. Brock had been the first one through the door, followed by Grep and then Magnus. Miguel was already ahead of them and ascending a stairwell inside the building. Grep and Brock stayed in the hallway as Magnus’ shoulder hit the stairwell door at a full run, nearly knocking it off its hinges. A bullet ricocheted off the wall beside him.

  Shit!

  “Get your damn head in the chase,” Grep yelled from the hallway.

  That’s her third shot.

  “Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Magnus yelled back, jerking to a stop.
Magnus had his back toward the wall, gun pointing up the stairwell. “You two take the stairs on the other end of the building. I’ll follow him up on this end.”

  Grep’s face betrayed his thoughts as he and Brock turned to run the distance to the opposite stairwell. Grep was parsing through the possibilities and had settled on the idea Magnus was right. If he hadn’t, Grep would have stopped to argue about it.

  “Hell yeah, baby. I’m gonna kick some alien ass before you get there, Mag,” Brock yelled back.

  Magnus moved again, reaching the first landing. The alien continued to ascend the stairs, several floors above him.

  “You had better be quick about it,” Magnus yelled back. “I don’t want that alien bitch getting away.”

  “I’m not a bitch,” Miguel shrieked from above, firing three shots down the center.

  That’s six shots, bitch.

  Magnus could hear the emotional stress in Miguel’s voice. The Omarii he killed in Paris had been bat shit crazy and, it appeared, so was this one. Magnus was dealing with a race of insane people. They all deserved to die.

  No elevator and two sets of stairwells meant Miguel was trapped. Why go this way then? Why this building? It was a rundown and unused office building at the edge of downtown Managua. Was the Kron agent desperate to get away or was this a trap? Both the Aliri and the Kron were masters of deception and guile and nothing could be taken for granted with either race. It really didn’t matter if it were a trap, his choices right now were slim. He either chased the being or he waited down below, trying to flush her out. Either plan had risks. His instincts gnawed at him that it was a trap. He double tapped just behind his right ear. His EP device activated, linking him to Grep and Brock.

  Beep, blip.

  “Guys,” he whispered. “This is a frickin’ trap. Be careful.”

  “I know,” Grep replied, “but we don’t have a choice.”

  “Hell, that means it is a trap,” Brock said. “He, she, it wants us to follow him, her, it. My head hurts saying that.”

  By the sound of it, through his EP, the two had reached the stairwell and were already on their way up. They were both faster than Magnus, but he had managed to keep up with Miguel and was still several floors ahead of them. His lungs burned and his legs felt like lead. He was past exhaustion. Training could never prepare one for this kind of endurance test. He pushed harder. Magnus simply didn’t care how much it hurt.