The Crimson Deathbringer

by Sean Robins

  “So how’s your love life now?” I asked.

  “Have been single since Janet was killed.”

  “Dude! Not for nothing, but that was two years ago. You can’t be planning to live like a monk for the rest of your life.”

  Kurt responded philosophically, “There’s no place for romance in the life I’ve chosen. It does get lonely sometimes, but this is the only way.”

  “Speaking of romance, I was planning to propose tonight. Thank you for ruining my perfectly laid plans.”

  He looked regretful. “You can always do it tomorrow night.”

  I shook my head. “Nah. I want to do the dinner and dance again, so I have to wait a few days. I might do it on New Year’s Eve.”

  “Can I see the ring?”

  “It’s in the bedroom under my pillow,” I answered. “I hope Liz doesn’t accidentally find it.”

  “She seems great, by the way.”

  “She is. You couldn’t find a warmer, kinder and more caring woman. But just between you and me, we have a little bit of a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde going on in here. She’s super volatile. She gets angry quickly and makes rash decisions. I know I just described all women, but—”

  Kurt laughed. “That’s sexist. All women aren’t like that.”

  “Since when are you an expert on women, Mr. I-Have-Had-Only-One-Relationship-In-My-Life? Anyway, as I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, you have no idea how bad she gets when she loses it.” I added, “Can I ask a super personal question?”

  “Shoot.”

  “How many people have you killed?”

  Playing with his goatee, he thought about it for a minute. “Hard to tell, with all the gunfights, explosions, and whatnot. I can tell you this though: Including Palermo, I’ve assassinated fourteen high-ranking government officials. This should be some sort of record.”

  Only half-jokingly, I said, “And how do you sleep at night?”

  “Like a baby. I only kill evil bastards. My methods are brutal, and I don’t kid around, but I never kill someone who didn’t have it coming. Plus, I am doing humanity a favor.”

  I stifled a laugh. “How do you figure?”

  “Zheng’s regime will eventually fall. A war is coming. Keep in mind several countries didn’t want to join the Unification even when it was a democracy. Japan, France, and Germany are already up in arms. A strong dictatorship can fight for years and bring down the whole world with it. If we manage to seriously weaken it, we’ll expedite its inevitable downfall.”

  “Wow! Lots of big words there. Have you practiced this speech before?”

  Kurt smiled. “I tell you something else too. The tide’s turning. The way we’re going, it’s entirely possible we can topple the regime in the next couple of years ourselves, even without a war.”

  I didn’t buy it. From where I was standing, Zheng’s regime was way too entrenched to fall any time soon. That was probably just wishful thinking.

  Changing the subject, I asked, “Do you still play?”

  Kurt used to play the piano, and he was very good at it. I was sure he could be a professional pianist if he hadn’t become a politician. He grinned. “Do you honestly think I carry a piano with me from hideout to hideout?”

  Liz, having changed into jeans and t-shirt and somehow looking even sexier, joined us for breakfast. She’d just started sipping her morning coffee when Kurt said, “It’s time for me to go.”

  Liz and I protested at the same time. “Absolutely not! Are you crazy? In the state you are in, you’ll faint before taking five steps. You need rest. It’s not safe out there.”

  Kurt looked at the two of us in surprise. “I expected Jim to react in this way, but I must say I’m touched by how much Elizabeth cares about me, given that we’ve just met.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” I said. “It isn’t actually about you. Liz is sort of obsessed with doing the right thing.”

  Liz laughed and punched me in the arm.

  “I really have to go. I’ve set up a time and place to meet up with other members of the Resistance. If I stay any longer, I’ll lose the chance to contact them for a while.”

  I had no idea if he was telling the truth or wanted to avoid jeopardizing us any further.

  Kurt put on his black trench coat, holstered both his machine pistols and shook my hand. “Thanks for everything. Maybe next time we meet we won’t be living under Zheng’s dictatorship.”

  I answered, “Who knows? If Zheng does go, maybe there’ll be another President von der Hagen in office.”

  He hugged Liz. “It was a pleasure meeting you. Jim told me about your charity organization. I’ll be making a hefty donation soon unless you don’t accept a terrorist’s money.”

  Elizabeth beamed and flashed her dazzling smile. “Be careful, Kurt.”

  Kurt smiled back. “Careful is my middle name. How do you think I’ve survived this long? Don’t worry. They’ll never catch me.”

  “Jim?” said Cordelia.

  “Yes?”

  “Something’s wrong,” she said. “I’ve just found out someone has been tampering with one of my external cameras’ feed.”

  “Which camera?” I asked.

  “The one covering the front door.”

  With a deafening blast, my house’s door exploded inwards. Dust and smoke filled half of the living room.

  A cold chill grabbed my heart, and I was rooted to the spot for a second.

  Kurt didn’t miss a beat. He pushed Liz behind a sofa, shouted, “Jim! Get down,” and drew both his weapons. Two black-clad SCTU soldiers rushed in. Kurt shot them both. The sound of gunshots was ear-splitting.

  We’re so screwed.

  I jumped behind the sofa where Liz was hiding. She grabbed my hand and despite the fear in her eyes calmly asked, “What’re we going to do?

  My ears still ringing because of the explosion, I scanned the room, keeping my head down. Kurt hit another soldier. His ammunition couldn’t last forever. He took cover behind another sofa, the one that had his blood on it. Several bullets ripped through the sofa. It wasn’t having a very good day.

  All the stories I’d heard about the torture and abuse people suffered in Zheng’s prisons rushed back to me, sending a chill down my spine. The image of Liz in a prison jumpsuit hit me like an eighty-ton tank. A woman as free-spirited and full of life as Liz wouldn’t survive long in prison, and that was if the SCTU soldiers didn’t shoot us first. The last thought made me shudder. I shielded Liz with my body, thinking feverishly, trying to find a way out of this mess or at least a way to save Liz.

  Someone threw a gas grenade into the room.

  I had an air force-issued M-25 handgun with two extra magazines in the closet in my bedroom. There were more soldiers surrounding us than the number of bullets I had, but anything was better than lying here in my living room waiting to die. Plus, if Kurt and I were both armed, there was a small chance we could create an opportunity for Liz to save herself. That way, at least there was hope.

  A thought popped up in the back of my head. “Hope’s a dangerous thing.”

  Oh, shut up!

  I looked in Kurt’s direction to see if he could cover me while I ran to the bedroom to get my gun. He was looking at me. In his gray eyes, through the smoke, dust, and gas, I saw remorse, guilt, and the decision not to be captured alive by his enemies.

  My blood running cold, I shouted,” Kurt! No!”

  Kurt stood up, sorrow clouding his futures. He gave me a sad half-smile, dusted his trench coat off, sent me a small salute with one of his machine pistols, and with fire bursting out of both his guns’ barrels, started walking towards the door.

  I hesitated for a second, then I ground my teeth and ran out of my hiding spot, planning to tackle Kurt and stop him from committing suicide-by-cop. A hail of bullets hit the floor inches from me. I had no choice but to jump back behind the sofa. Helpless, I watched as Kurt, still shooting, disappeared in thick fog-like gas.

  Liz called out, “Jim
!”

  I turned my head to find her on the floor, eyes wide with horror, clutching her chest and throat. Only then did I realize I had a hard time breathing.

  The bastards had gassed us.

  Watching Liz slowly suffocate made my whole body start shaking. My breath ragged and harsh, I crawled to her, held her in my trembling arms, looked into her dark eyes and said, “Everything’s gonna be all right. I promise I’ll get you out of this; you hear me?” I was desperate for her to believe me, though I knew she was too smart for that.

  Her face pinched with fear, Liz clutched my arm, holding on tight, and managed to whisper between coughs, “Save yourself. Go now. Leave me here.”

  Go where, exactly?

  She closed her eyes. Her body shuddered then went limp.

  I pulled her closer, face buried in her thick, sweet-smelling hair, and said, “I didn’t give you your ring.”

  It was at that moment when I realized I was about to lose everything. My best friend was probably dead. My love was dying. I wouldn’t last much longer myself. Despair swallowed me up whole. Every single muscle in my body tightened, and I started hyperventilating, partly due to the gas and partly because of the terror. I felt like I was being pulled into a black vortex, and resistance was indeed futile.

  I gently lay Liz’s motionless body on the floor, feeling blank inside. I covered my nose and mouth with my shirt, held my breath, and used the increasingly thick gas as cover to run to the bedroom. I got my M-25, loaded it, hid behind the bedroom door frame, controlled my shaking hands with sheer willpower, aimed and shot at the silhouettes I could barely make out in the living room. The gunshots echoed deafeningly in the confines of my bedroom.

  I hit a soldier who went down screaming in pain. Another soldier shouted, “Man down! We’ve got a man down!” and ran to the side of his fallen comrade. I drew my lips back in a snarl and shot him too. The bullet punched its way through his neck, causing a gaping hole. He fell to the ground, a pool of blood forming around him.

  I shot the sheriff, and I shot the deputy.

  Another soldier, wearing a black gas mask, stepped out of gas and smoke less than ten feet to my left. He was pointing a deadly looking assault rifle at my head. I reacted a fraction of a second faster than he did and shot him in the forehead, right where the Mark of Cain would’ve been. The sight of his brain splattering all over my living room bookshelves filled me with a primal, savage satisfaction.

  A bullet grazed my right thigh. A sharp pain lanced through my body. It was like being stabbed with something white hot. My knee buckled, and I fell to the floor, grabbing my injured leg. I hid behind the door frame for a few moments and took several deep breaths.

  “Major Harrison!” someone shouted. “Put your weapon down and walk out with your hands above your head. This is your last chance.”

  “We know you’re injured,” said a woman. “We’re ready to offer medical assistance.”

  These guys were trying to good-cop-bad-cop me.

  “I would rather suffer the end of Romulus a thousand times. I would rather die in agony, than accept assistance from you,” I yelled back.

  “What?” said the woman. She sounded confused.

  “What’s Romulus?” asked the man. “Is it a code-name for the Resistance’s headquarters?”

  I burst into hiccupping laughter, which somehow made my bullet wound’s pain more excruciating. I didn’t expect STCU goons to understand Star Trek references. “Yes, it is, and you’ll never find it.” I wished I could see the look on their faces when they ran Romulus through STCU’s databases.

  “That’s it!” yelled the man. “I’ll count to ten, then we’ll come in, guns blazing. One, two . . . ”

  “Dramatic much?” I asked.

  Resting the back of my head against the wall, I looked at my blood-drenched pants and thought about bandaging the bullet wound, but it sounded like a waste of time. I’d be dead in a few seconds anyway. I’d always imagined I’d draw my last breath in a jet fighter’s cockpit during an aerial battle, not in my own bedroom in a Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid style shoot-out. I looked around my bedroom one last time, thought about Liz, bit my lip, and inserted another magazine into my gun.

  I shouted, “Say ‘auf Wiedersehen’ to your Nazi balls!” rolled on the floor and pulled the trigger several times at a fast pace. The M-25 thundered. Enemy bullets whizzed past my head.

  Chapter Two

  Commander Tarq watched his daughter walk towards him and both his hearts swelled with pride. Varina looked dashing in her white fleet uniform. All around, the Akaki war machine moved into high gear to defend against the incoming Xortaag invasion. Hundreds of shuttles and cargo ships were coming and going in preparation for the imminent battle. The sight of Alora Planetary Defense Force soldiers running around trying to be helpful made Tarq chuckle.

  When she got close enough, Tarq tilted his head forward, and his two front antennae touched Varina’s, sending a warm sensation throughout his body.

  “Look at you, the fleet’s flagship’s new helmsman,” Tarq grinned. “You could not possibly have asked for a more prestigious assignment in your first year of service.”

  Varina narrowed her eyes. “You did not have anything to do with it, did you?”

  “Of course not.” Tarq tried to look offended. “Just in case you have forgotten, I am the commander of Special Operations Force and have nothing to do with the fleet.”

  “Really? ‘I have nothing to do with the fleet?’ You are going with that?” asked Varina. “You think I do not know everyone shakes in their boots when they hear your name?”

  “I do not have a clue why. I am such a nice, witty and likable person!”

  Above them, a space fighter nearly crashed into a cargo ship. The pilot avoided a collision by changing course in the last second. Tarq sighed. One day, the fleet personnel’s inexperience would cause a serious problem. Fortunately, not today.

  Pointing at the cargo ships and shuttles, Varina asked, “Is all this really necessary? Surely Invincible can deal with the Xortaag fleet on her own.”

  Tarq shrugged. “We figured as long as we were going to war for the first time in centuries, we should make it an overwhelming show of force. Plus, why not go all the way and put an end to this plague that has infected the universe for too long?”

  “So for once I am off to save the galaxy, and you have to stay behind and watch,” said Varina.

  “Do not get cocky, young lady.” Tarq feigned indignation. “Who do you think has devised our overall defensive strategy against the Xortaags?”

  “I do not know. The fleet admirals?”

  They both burst into laughter.

  “Those guys cannot find their own antennae unless someone smarter holds their hands,” said Tarq.

  Varina laughed harder.

  “And I am not going to stay behind,” added Tarq. “I will be on board the command ship. There is no way I would miss our first battle in several generations.”

  “My shuttle is ready,” said Varina. Their antennae touched one more time, and she walked away. Tarq waited until she waved goodbye and disappeared inside the shuttle.

  Tarq went back to the Akaki command center. He sat at his station and brought up a holographic image of Invincible. Tarq had denied it when Varina asked, but he had pulled a lot of strings to get his daughter on that ship. With the enemy fleet getting closer to Alora, he was certain the safest place for a helmsman right now was the bridge of Invincible. Varina’s old ship, Dauntless, was a fine vessel, but she did not have a fraction of Invincible’s firepower. Given how superior their technology was—The Xortaags did not even have starships, only single-seat space fighters—Dauntless was not in any real danger, but Tarq had decided to be cautious.

  Tarq looked at Invincible with bright eyes. Dwarfing all other capital vessels in the galaxy, Invincible was an awe-inspiring starship. An electroplated gold layer covered her sleek, stretched oval hull. The starship’s twin side-engines propelled
the craft forward, lighting a bright blue flare behind her. Alone, Invincible packed more firepower than the rest of the Akaki fleet combined: She was armed with several enormous, multi-barreled laser turrets, two blaster cannons powerful enough to vaporize a small moon, a few hundred missile launchers, and an impenetrable laser-based point-defense weapon system. Tarq’s people had built her to be both magnificent and invulnerable; a giant, lethal killing machine serving as the embodiment of the Akakies’ unparalleled technological superiority in the universe.

  Tarq had dinner with Invincible’s captain a few evenings ago. During the meal, the captain bragged, “If the galaxy’s best engineers combine history’s greatest achievements in military invention into a singular war machine, such a distinguished creation will pale into embarrassed insignificance beside my ship’s awesome ingenuity and scientific superiority.”

  Tarq chuckled. The captain had never participated in a war. The Akakies had lived in peace and prosperity for centuries, devoting their time and energy to art, enlightenment, technological advancements, and pulling pranks on each other. They were fondly known as galaxy’s pranksters, and it was a point of personal pride for Tarq that he had a reputation for pulling off elaborate and sophisticated pranks. They lacked both the experience and the aptitude for war, but it was a moot point. With the Akaki science and technology light years ahead of the rest of the universe, nobody dared mess with them, and the few times that an enemy was stupid enough to try, Tarq’s Special Operations Force had dealt with them with no need to involve the fleet.

  Well, if the Xortaags want to commit collective suicide, we are happy to oblige, thought Tarq.

  The Xortaag fleet attacked three days later.

  Aboard the Akaki command ship, Tarq touched the holographic display in front of him and zoomed on Invincible. With bulging eyes, he watched a crimson single-seat space fighter leading a few dozen similar but dark gray craft evade Invincible’s weapons and hammer her with energy bolts, causing dazzling explosions. Tarq gulped and clutched at his chest. The Xortaags’ small space fighters were a lot more maneuverable and had much better weaponry than the Akakies’ intelligence, gathered by Tarq’s own agency, suggested. That triggered an ominous realization, given force by his recognition of who was piloting the blood-red vessel. Tarq knew that pilot. Everyone in the universe knew him.