The Crimson Deathbringer

by Sean Robins

  If Allen ever told her I’d expressed regret about not seeing the new Star Trek rather than not being with her when I was about to be executed, I’d be dead. On the other hand, I thought she’d understand some things were too painful to talk about to people like Allen.

  We had a big laugh when we remembered how she kicked a security guard in the nuts. When she described how she bit a gangbanger’s ear off, I said, “You know, I think there’re two Elizabeths. One’s gentle, tender and caring, and one gets mad quickly and does crazy things.”

  She flashed her beautiful, contagious smile. “I’m like the Incredible Hulk,” she said, adding in a hilariously exaggerated raspy voice, “Don’t make me angry. You wouldn’t like it when I am angry.”

  I couldn’t help wondering if she were suffering from a split-personality disorder. Not that it mattered. I loved her, craziness and all.

  We also used the PDDs Tarq had given us to go online and see what was going on in the world—the aliens used the internet, who knew. The whole world was in a state of shock. It wasn’t every day that a spaceship saved a group of freedom fighters from certain death. It turned out Tarq’s people, while saving us, had shot all the guards and government officials in the prison in the head at close range. Among other people, they killed the new head of STCU who was at the prison to witness the executions, using an energy weapon that melted the targets’ faces.

  Brutal. Kurt and Allen would approve.

  It was obvious Tarq was sending a message: Don’t mess with us, or we will take your face off.

  Her eyes sparkling, Liz said, “Do you believe just a day ago we were waiting for death, and now we’re gonna play a role in saving humanity from aliens? It really feels like destiny.”

  Listening to her, you’d be forgiven for thinking humanity was a damsel in distress, and we were destined to ride in on white horses to save her. I found it amusing she simply assumed it was her responsibility to counter an alien invasion, but it was no surprise. Liz always tried to do the right thing, regardless of the repercussions.

  “I admire your enthusiasm,” I said, “but I for one am less enthusiastic about going to war with on-steroid Klingons, who are apparently very good at killing off other races.”

  She punched my arm. “Oh, come on! You love being a hero, Mr. I-Am-The-Best-Fighter-Pilot-In-The-World. It’s your chance to be like Captain Kirk and save Earth.”

  Captain Kirk saved the universe, but I decided not to argue. I started kissing her. Before that got very far, we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  Right before I went to sleep, Venom said, “I miss Cordelia.”

  Welcome back, old friend.

  New York - January 12, 2048

  Oksana Zelenko and her sister, Anastasiya, entered a luxury suite in a five-star hotel, accompanied by one of The Harem’s “security guards,” a big man who looked like a professional wrestler. On the way to the hotel, Oksana had noticed he was carrying a sidearm, like all the other guards.

  The two young women wore very short, tight dresses, high heels, and lots of make-up. There was a middle-aged, obese man wearing a white bathrobe in the room. He looked at Oksana with hunger in his eyes, whistled and said, “Now that’s a figure that turns heads everywhere. Such a beautiful face too.”

  Good thing he can’t see all the bruises under my make-up, thought Oksana.

  The fat man gave an envelope to the goon. “Thanks, Sasha.”

  Sasha pocketed the envelope and in his thick Russian accent said, “I’ll be waiting outside.”

  The man went to the bar next to the room’s door, chose a bottle, and while pouring himself a drink asked, “You girls want a drink? Or something stronger perhaps? What’s your poison?”

  Oksana’s heart pounded. She had practiced this moment in her mind a thousand times, but now that the time had come, she found herself unable to move. She looked at her younger sister’s wide-eyed, frightened face. Her lower lip was trembling. If she didn’t act now, Anastasiya would surely die in The Harem, sooner than later. Oksana couldn’t let that happen.

  Come on, girl. You had Martin Palermo killed. He was of the most powerful men in the world. Now you are afraid of Fatso and Henchman?

  Pumped with adrenaline, she approached the man from behind, grabbed his hair, pulled his head back and held a knife she had stolen from The Harem’s kitchen under his triple chin.

  Even if we don’t succeed, just seeing the look on the pervert’s face makes it all worthwhile, she thought.

  “Call him,” said Oksana.

  The man whimpered, “What?”

  Oksana pulled his hair harder. “Call Sasha. Sound normal. If you warn him, I swear I’ll cut your throat.”

  The fat man hesitated, but he didn’t have a choice. With a trembling voice, he called out, “Sasha, can you come here a second?”

  Oksana hit his head against the bar with all the power she could muster. The man collapsed on the floor. Oksana ran and hid behind the door.

  The door opened, and Sasha walked in. He saw the man unconscious on the floor and hurried toward him, his back to Oksana. She took two quick steps and buried the knife to the hilt in his back.

  Blood oozed out of the wound. Sasha fell to his knees, his face filled with surprise. Anastasiya let out a faint scream. Oksana bent over and gently whispered in Sasha’s ears, “These violent delights have violent ends.”

  She stabbed him again. “This one is for raping my sister.” She looked up and told Anastasiya, “Time to go, little one.”

  A few minutes later, they walked out of the hotel and disappeared into the night.

  We all looked much better when we met for breakfast in the mess hall. In contrast to the bedrooms, the mess hall was luxurious. It was huge, and besides the massive, wooden dining tables with very comfortable upholstered chairs, there were plush sofas and handsome coffee tables scattered around, plus a couple of pool and foosball tables. The floor was covered with a thick carpet, and classical music was being played with such crispness that if I closed my eyes, I’d think a band was present. Kurt did close his eyes for a second and let the music wash over him.

  And everything was white. I had to start wearing sunglasses around here.

  Liz and Kurt excitedly talked about yesterday’s events, with Allen listening and making sarcastic comments from time to time. They seemed as passionate as Liz about defending Earth. Hardly a surprise, since as freedom fighters they were already fighting for a cause. Saving humanity from aliens was a higher calling. I was beginning to feel left out. I realized it was my duty to do something, but I was still adjusting to being alive.

  After Liz dropped “saving humanity” for the fifth time, Allen finally had enough. “You do that,” he said. “I’m fighting for my children.”

  “Children, plural?” I asked. So far as I knew Allen had only one daughter.

  “Lilly and this one here,” Allen pointed at Kurt, who blushed.

  Now, this was something I could identify with.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m with Allen on this one,” I said. “I have a hard time wrapping my mind around fighting for humanity, but I’ll fight tooth and nail to protect you guys, even Allen.”

  “Okay. Screw humanity. I’ll be fighting for the people in this room too, plus my brother and sisters,” said Liz, wrapping a curl around her finger. I knew her well enough to understand she was only kidding.

  “Have you noticed we’re all surprisingly calm, given the circumstances?” asked Kurt. “I wonder if we’re still sedated.”

  Tarq and Barook joined us after breakfast, both dressed the same as yesterday. They took us for a tour of the base, which Tarq told us was built in Yukon.

  “Yukon, dude?” I said.

  Smoking his pipe, Tarq explained, “We chose a freezing cold place on purpose. The Xortaags hate the cold weather, and it is extremely unlikely that one of them will stumble onto the base out here.”

  “Good thing they don’t like cold weather,” I said. “Ot
herwise the Canucks would probably welcome them with open arms and apologize for the weather not being cold enough.”

  Allen growled.

  We walked outside. Warm sunshine and a clear sky welcomed us. It was a beautiful summer day—in Yukon!

  “This is an illusion,” said Tarq, “created by the force field above us. We could imitate different weather or even make it rain sometimes, but it would take too much effort, so you have to get used to sunshine while you live here.”

  “How lovely,” said Liz. “Perhaps you fellows would like to stick around after we defeat the Xortaags. You’d be very welcome in London.”

  “Thank you,” said Tarq. “Let’s see how things go.”

  “Nothing under the force field is visible or detectable from outside,” Barook said. “So unless the Xortaags can find our location through other means, our existence here will remain a secret.”

  “A force field this size is centuries ahead of our technology,” Kurt told me. “Why do you and Liz behave like this is all normal?”

  “Sci-fi fans here,” I said.

  The place was enormous. There were dozens of buildings, one of which was our Command Center, three air traffic control towers I could see, firefighting stations, ammunition and ordnance depots, and a few huge laser cannon turrets that according to Tarq could engage an enemy fleet in space if our location were ever exposed and the enemy found a way past the force field. Tarq showed us a state-of-the-Akaki-art hospital, full of equipment I didn’t recognize. The base also had all the amenities you could imagine, including gyms, swimming pools, running tracks, three small parks—the Akakies had taken the trouble of planting oak trees in the parks—and even a movie theater. It was luxurious, no question, but the dimensions were just slightly off, what you’d expect from a race that looked at lots of sample blueprints but didn’t have a natural feel for human design. The swimming pools were deeper than they should be. The elevators were smaller. The main structures were both classic and modern in a way that didn’t seem cutting-edge but more like the work of a hungover first-year associate.

  The base could house up to fifty thousand people, and it was completely self-sufficient, with hundreds of small robots taking care of maintenance and repairs. Tarq did provide us with a gigahertz and nanoseconds explanation on how they managed to provide food for this many people, but I was too amazed to pay much attention. The robots, to Liz’s sorrow, weren’t interactive. They did their work and ignored all attempts to turn them into pals, pets or playthings.

  What did catch my attention was the sleek, gorgeous, straight-out-of-a-science-fiction-movie space fighter Tarq showed us, sitting in an underground hangar. It had a triangular shape, twin elliptical fins and rudders, a bulbous cockpit and a droopy nose that reminded me of USS Enterprise NCC 1701-D.

  Liz and I said, “Wow!” together. Great minds and all.

  For me, it was love at first sight. I can’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t passionate about flying. Soaring the skies in this beauty would be a dream come true. If she were a real woman, I’d take her home and make sweet, sweet love to her right now.

  “Dude, your girlfriend is standing right here,” said Venom.

  “AX-23 is an older model space fighter,” said Tarq. “They were decommissioned and scheduled to be scrapped, but we brought ten thousand of them here in revetments and multi-level underground hangars similar to this one to form your fleet.”

  “Decommissioned? Are they any good?” I asked.

  Tarq smiled. “They are much better than anything you have, or even the Xortaags, for that matter. You will learn about their full capabilities later on.”

  “Do you use these to travel in space?” asked Liz.

  Tarq laughed. “These are fast, but nothing is that fast. Moreover, these are small single-seat fighters, and their energy reserve is limited. No, all space-faring races use some sort of a space-folding device. As the name suggests, it folds the deep space, and you can send something as small as a pen or as big as a whole fleet from one side of a galaxy to the other instantaneously. Still, its range is limited, and it takes a few minutes to calculate and execute each jump. For example, it takes six of your months for the Xortaags to travel from their homeworld to here. We have an SFD here in the base too, as do all spaceships, excluding the shuttles and space fighters.”

  “How do the fighters travel in space then?” I asked.

  “The transport ships are equipped with hangar bays,” answered Tarq. “When the Xortaag fleet is one jump away from the target, the space fighters leave the transport ships and are sent as close as possible to the planet.”

  “Can we use the SFD to transport Zheng here?” I asked, only half joking.

  Tarq shook his head. “It can be operated by planet-based equipment, but it only works in space. Gravity caused by a large mass like a planet interferes with its function.”

  At the end of the tour, we stopped in front of a small room, with a glass window at one side. There were some touch-screen controls mounted next to the window. Tarq said, “And this is the crown jewel of our technology. It is called a Memory, Information, and Capabilities Implanter, or in short, MICI.”

  If I heard this name in a sci-fi movie, I could easily guess what it did, but it was just inconceivable in the real world. “Does it do what its name suggests it does?” I asked.

  “Why don’t we demonstrate?” Tarq puffed on his pipe. “Would you mind stepping inside?”

  “Are you sure it works on a human brain?” I asked. “If my brain explodes, I’ll be seriously pissed.”

  “Yes. We have calibrated it to work on the human brain, and we have already tested it. It is completely safe, but there is a small chance it might not work on certain individuals.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “We do not know,” said Tarq. “But it cannot safely imprint anything on a small portion of the population, between half a percent to one percent. It might work if we dial it up, so to speak, but then it might explode the brain, which, as you suggest, would be unfortunate.”

  This wasn’t reassuring at all, but I didn’t want to embarrass myself by acting like a coward in front of Liz and Kurt. Plus, if I didn’t do it, Liz, with her jump-then-look tendencies would volunteer. I stepped into the room. There was nothing but a chair inside. I sat there and waited. From the window, I could see Barook working on something on the control panel.

  “It will take a few minutes,” said Tarq.

  I waited. Nothing happened, and then suddenly, BOOM!

  One second I was sitting there, beginning to get bored, and the next thing I knew my brain was full of knowledge I didn’t previously possess: AX-23’s specifications, capabilities, weaponry (laser cannons!), and how to fly it. More impressively, I had hundreds of hours of memory flying the fighter and engaging in dogfights with enemy space fighters. Nothing that looked fake—real, vivid, actual memories.

  Trying to sort out my new memories from the old ones was overwhelming. I thought it might take weeks just to get used to that new information slithering through my thoughts. It was creepy—but also thrilling. If only they’d had this in my school days. We all could have gone into school for ten minutes once a week and had the rest of the time to play. I was fantasizing about that when I glanced up to see everyone staring at me. I stood up and stepped out of the room.

  Having just been introduced to the most awesome piece of technology in the world, I did what I always do. I looked at Liz and tried my best Neo impression, “I know Kung Fu.”

  “Why did MICI teach him martial arts?” Tarq asked Barook.

  She laughed and said, “Show me.”

  “MICI scans the user’s mind,” said Tarq. “Depending on their natural talents and previous experiences, MICI assigns their duties and implants the knowledge and experience necessary to perform those duties.”

  Liz was next to enter MICI. Barook touched the controls a few times.

  “All this technology and you still use touch-screen? No voice
control?” I asked Tarq.

  “Voice control? We invented brain-interfaces when your great-grandfather was not born yet. But they both can be hacked remotely. I once hacked into an enemy fleet’s brain-interface and made them shoot their own ships, destroying the whole fleet.”

  I looked at the small man with new-found respect. He had singlehandedly destroyed a whole fleet.

  Tarq continued, “The only way an enemy can hack into our equipment is if they are physically here, and then they have to deal with various security measures and biometrics.”

  “You don’t seem to be using an AI either,” observed Kurt.

  Both Tarq and Barook shuddered. Tarq’s eyelids started twitching. He rubbed his eyes and said, “We have had a very bad experience with AIs.”

  “What did you do?” I asked. “Create Skynet?”

  “No. Why would we create a net for the sky?” said Tarq. “We built an AI that almost wiped out our species.”

  “Commander Tarq cut through the AI defenses and destroyed it seconds before it launched an attack that would have killed all of us.”

  “I’m beginning to really like these guys,” I told Kurt. “They talk about destroying enemy fleets and saving their species like it’s their everyday job.”

  “Right? Super bad-ass,” he said, then he gave me a hard look and asked, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  I let go of his neck. “Nothing. Just wanted to see if MICI had thought me how to do a Vulcan nerve pinch.”

  Buzzing with happiness, Liz came out of MICI a space fighter pilot. Kurt was assigned to the base’s Special Forces Unit (obviously!). He said he had learned about weapons and tactics he couldn’t even imagine before stepping inside MICI. When Allen came out, he complained, “I didn’t learn anything new.”