by Sean Robins
Liz gave me a smug look.
“Don’t encourage her,” I told Josef. “I’ve been trying to drill some discipline into her, but she still thinks she’s an acrobatic pilot, not a fighter pilot.”
Liz countered, “Discipline’s Jim’s code for ‘being a pussy.’”
Rubbing my temples, I thought, here we go again.
A few days later, the usual suspects, Kurt, Allen, Liz, Keiko, Tarq, Barook and I, were sitting in the Command Center having a meeting, when the door opened and more than a dozen men dressed in the Commandos uniforms and armed with weapons ranging from shotguns to assault rifles rushed in. They pointed their guns at us, shouting, “Nobody move! Hands in the air!”
I thought this was another one of Tarq’s pranks. Being attacked inside Winterfell by our own people was the last thing I could imagine happening. I was about to roll my eyes and say something sarcastic when Kurt and Allen drew their sidearms at the same time and started shouting back, “Put your weapons down!”
The sight of the two of them trying to stare down some fifteen heavily armed men in a Mexican stand-off was sort of funny. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I ran to stand by Kurt. I was unarmed, and so were Liz and Keiko, who joined us anyway. Why would we pack inside Winterfell? Tarq and Barook didn’t even bother to move their skinny asses from their seats; they just sat back and watched us intently.
A few of the attackers looked familiar. One of them shouted, “We’re taking over Winterfell!”
“Good luck with that,” Allen growled.
“Michael, put your weapon down,” Kurt said firmly. “It’s an order.”
“No! No more orders!” yelled the man. “We’d have followed you to hell when you were our leader in the Resistance. But now all you do is blindly follow this fucking alien, who got several hundred million of us killed!”
That explained it.
“And you were giving me a hard time because of the fighter pilots’ lack of discipline?” I asked Kurt.
“Not now, Jim,” he said through clenched teeth.
With dilated pupils and sweating profusely, the man shouted, “My only son died during the Xortaags’ attack. We should’ve saved him. We could’ve if we’d defended Earth along with the rest of humanity. But no, you had to listen to aliens, betraying your own kind.”
Tarq called out, “I bet now you regret removing my puppet master program.”
The men were getting more agitated by the second. They started fidgeting and shifting from one foot to the other, and they kept their guns aimed at us, with their fingers on the triggers. They looked at “the aliens,” and by extension at us, with murder in their eyes.
Kurt and Allen were infamously bad-ass, but even they couldn’t take on so many opponents without getting at least some of us killed. A shootout in such close quarters would be fatal for both sides, and Liz was standing right next to me in the line of fire. That thought sent a shiver running down my spine, and it made my heartbeat quicken. I flinched unconsciously and tried to move and stand between Liz and the gunmen without attracting anyone’s attention. She noticed and shoved me out of the way with a gentle push, mouthing the words, “Don’t be a hero.”
Another man, aiming a huge shotgun at Kurt, said, “Our quarrel isn’t with you. We just want the aliens. You and Allen still can join us in kicking those other aliens off the planet.”
Tarq leaned back, an arm hooked over the back of his chair, and as if none of our lives were in imminent danger asked Barook, “Did he just tar us with the same brush as the Xortaags?”
Barook grinned. “Yes, he did, and if I may say so, masterful use of an idiomatic expression. You are certainly getting the hang of this.”
Liz addressed the men, “And we’re supposed to just step aside and let you murder Tarq and Barook in cold blood? Over my dead body!”
She was getting wound up. I wished she were more careful in her choice of words.
The first man, Michael, said, “I don’t see you have a choice. I’m gonna count to three, then we start shooting. One!”
This is bad.
“Dah, genius,” said Venom.
Nobody (else!) said anything. I rubbed my forehead and glanced at Kurt to see if he had any ideas.
“Two!”
I was trying to choose between pushing Liz onto the floor and trying to shield her from the bullets with my body, or charging Michael, hoping to catch him by surprise, when Tarq yawned theatrically and told Barook, “This is so boring. Would you please do the honors?”
“Can you guys please put the barrel of your guns inside your mouths?” said Barook. “Do not pull the trigger—at least not yet.”
Everyone, including Kurt and Allen, turned their guns toward themselves and shoved the barrels inside their mouths, their eyes round with a comical expression. The men carrying shotguns had a hard time doing it, but they somehow managed, even though they looked like they were about to choke. Even I started to look around, overcome by the uncontrollable desire to find a gun to suck on.
I hadn’t seen this coming.
Allen, his lips around his gun’s barrel, started mumbling. I couldn’t make out his words. It sounded like, “Uck oo Erook! I’yy eel oo.”
Tarq asked me, “Do you understand this language?”
I somehow managed to keep a straight face. “It’s a local Canadian dialect. Only people of Regina can understand it.”
“People of what?” asked Tarq, looking like an innocent child.
“UCK OO AAA. Eem, Erook, Arq, UCK OOO!” Allen continued, his face turning scarlet. I couldn’t decide if it was due to rage or lack of oxygen, with his Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum filling up his mouth.
Tarq looked like he was about to bust a gut laughing. I couldn’t help joining him, which drew a seething stare from Allen.
Barook waited a few seconds, taking it all in and savoring it, then told Kurt and Allen, “Not you two,” and added to Tarq. “By the time this is over, the two of us are either dead or legendary pranksters, immortalized in our people’s lore.”
Kurt and Allen holstered their sidearms. Kurt took what had just happened with no objection, like a man accepting what he couldn’t change, but Allen looked like he was going to have a heart attack. I thought the only reason he didn’t attack Barook was he knew by bitter experience Barook would just make him do something worse, like shoving his handgun where the sun didn’t shine.
“The rest of you, keep the guns where they are,” said Barook, “and walk to the brig, leave them out and lock yourselves in.”
Later that day, everyone in Winterfell watched the video of fifteen battle-hardened Resistance fighters walking to the brig like sheep while struggling to keep loaded guns in their cakeholes. The video ended with a message from Tarq, looking straight at the camera. “Someday, you people have to learn to stop messing with us.”
While Liz and I were watching the video, Cordelia said, “Here is a piece of advice: next time you find yourself in a position where you have to remove an alien’s puppet-master program from his mind-control machine, make sure you do the same for his assistant.”
Two days after that small mutiny, while sitting in the Command Center and going through a file about the Xortaags Kurt had prepared, I held up a photo and said, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The Xortaag crown prince looked a lot like me: He had long brown curly hair, baby blue eyes, and a firm jaw, but he was much smaller and shorter than I. I asked Kurt, “What happened to his genetic enhancements?”
Kurt shrugged. “Maybe they didn’t work on him?”
“Or they did, but only partially,” said Tarq. “We know he is more than a hundred years old, but as you see, he looks much younger.”
I was jealous. “He doesn’t look a day more than forty.”
“You and Mushgaana have more in common than just your looks,” Kurt said. “The crown prince really likes our movies. He watches at least one movie every night and listening to him quoting and misquoting famous films has
become a source of entertainment for our people monitoring the bugs.”
“Congratulations. You’ve got your own Mini-Me,” Liz told me.
Allen entered the Command Center, accompanied by Lilly. He said, “Is it okay if Lilly sits with us? She might learn something.”
Tarq looked surprised, but he said, “I see no reason why not,” then he told us, “The Xortaags do not have art, but Mushgaana has always been fascinated with any work of art he finds on the conquered planets, even though the rest of the Xortaags see this as a weakness.”
“Seriously, how do you know these details about Mushgaana?” asked Kurt, but I don’t think he expected an answer.
“So the person responsible for butchering seven hundred million people and I have a lot in common,” I said. “Great. I really feel good about myself right now.”
Liz patted my knee.
“Be that as it may, I did not call this meeting to discuss your uncanny similarities to Mushgaana,” said Tarq. “I have an important announcement: Based on the information we have gathered up to now, Kurt and I have come up with a plan to strike against the Xortaags. We are planning a surprise attack on SH-2, and if that succeeds, we will blitz SH-1 shortly after.”
I started tingling with excitement from head to toe. Feeling goosebumps all over my body, I exchanged a look with Liz, who was rubbing her hands together like she was about to start eating a delicious meal. This was huge.
Allen snarled, “Finally.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, “said Tarq. “Let me tell you all about Operation Free Earth.”
Cordelia’s voice echoed in the Command Center, “Lame!”
That caught me by surprise. How did she get into our internal comms? And why was she teasing Tarq, of all people?
Tarq jumped out of his seat. “Who said that?”
“It is I, Cordelia, the evil AI,” she announced so dramatically it’d put a Shakespearian actor to shame, “and I have taken over Winterfell.”
“Do you know what’s going on?” I asked Liz. She shook her head, pointed at Allen and Lilly and said, “But I bet these two do.”
Tarq’s eyes widened, and his skin color turned gray. “You gave this AI access to our systems?”
“Of course not,” said Lilly. “She’s just playing. She can’t access any vital systems.”
“The hell I can’t,” said Cordelia.
All the lights in the Command Center went out at that moment. Tarq let out a muffled scream. Liz grabbed my arm. It was pitch black for a second or two, and then all the monitors, VR, and holographic screens were turned on, filling the room with a creepy blue light. The main holographic display came to life, showing chilling images of a group of androids equipped with flame-throwers marching into Winterfell and killing everyone who they saw.
Tarq’s eyelids started twitching.
“You were saying?” purred Cordelia.
Now I was worried too. Cordelia always had a mean streak, but I’d never imagined she might go full Red Queen on us.
“Do something,” Liz told me.
I stood up. “Cordelia, I order you to stop whatever it is you think you’re doing.”
“And why would I listen to you?” she asked with contempt in her voice.
“Eh, because we are old friends?” I said. Liz gave me a hard look.
“Listen up, you maggots,” said Cordelia. “I’m your master and commander now. Deny me, and I’ll fill your precious Winterfell with gas, killing every last one of you. Try me. Go ahead, make my day.”
I shouldn’t have let her watch so many movies with me.
Tarq clutched his throat. It looked like he couldn’t breathe. He stuttered, “You idiots. You have doomed us all.”
“Dad?” said Lilly, sounding frightened.
“Hey, man, relax, “said Allen. “It’s just a prank. We’re just messing with you.”
I finally understood what was going on. Allen, having been the victim of Tarq’s pranks several times, had decided to retaliate, playing on the Akakies’ fear of AIs. He might’ve taken things too far though, and his admission came too late.
Tarq grabbed his chest and stumbled a few steps forward. His eyes rolled back into his head, and his knees wobbled. He dropped to the floor, face first. His nose hit the floor with a sickening thump, and dark blue blood poured out. He stayed there, motionless.
I didn’t know the Akakies could have heart attacks.
Liz and I were at his side in a second, but Barook thundered, “Don’t touch him, you stupid sons of bitches!”
He kneeled next to Tarq and turned his body. Tarq’s lifeless eyes were open, staring sightlessly at nothing in death. Barook put his ear on Tarq’s stomach—half his head disappeared in Tarq’s belly—then shook his head. He closed Tarq’s eyes, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and cleaned the blood on Tarq’s face. He did it with such gentleness that I wondered if those two were more than just colleagues.
“That’s what you are focusing on right now?” asked Venom.
“Did we just kill the funny little man?” asked Cordelia.
“Yes, you did,” said Barook. “Congratulations.”
“That’s it? No defibrillator? Nothing?” I asked.
Barook sighed, reached into his pocket and took out his PDD. He touched the screen a few times and gave it to me. It was a scientific article about the Akaki anatomy, explaining that they had two hearts with very thin walls, and extreme shock or stress could lead to irreversible punctures.
I gave the PDD to Liz who read the article with wide eyes. My body went cold, and there was a tightness in my chest that made breathing difficult. I was paralyzed with sorrow. Tarq had been a good friend. Without him, none of us would be alive now. He’d saved us and helped us prepare to fight the Xortaags. I hold my head down, not sure what to tell Barook.
The consequences of his death were direr than my hurt feelings. He was our commander. There were a million things we didn’t know, and he would’ve taught us. And what if Barook refused to help us, now that we had killed his friend?
I told Allen, “You’ve just condemned humanity to a slow death. Well done.”
Lilly burst to tears and hid her face in her father’s chest. Liz hit me in the arm, ran to her side and hugged her, telling her it wasn’t her fault. From where I was standing, it totally was. Those Canadians.
Kurt asked Barook, “What can we do? Do your people have memorial services?”
“I think you have done quite enough,” said Barook. “If it is all right with you, I want to be alone with my old friend for a while.” He held Tarq’s hand and started rocking back and forth, his eyes closed.
I walked out of the Command Center, followed by Liz and Kurt. With our heads down and shoulders drooped, we looked like Napoleon’s soldiers returning from Russia.
Lilly was so devastated Liz decided to stay with her. I went to our quarters and stayed there alone, with only Venom to keep me company. Damn, but the little alien had grown on me. I liked his flamboyant behavior and colorful appearance. I liked his sense of humor and his total lack of respect for conventionality, and I’d enjoyed seeing him in action, pulling pranks on his unsuspecting victims. I chuckled at the memory of Allen grazing with his cow friends in one of Winterfell’s parks. And he was a good leader. The magnitude of the black op he’d orchestrated to bring the Xortaags down was mind-blowing. I missed him already.
And this happened when we were finally ready to kick the Xortaags’ butt. That stupid, fat, bald Canadian had ruined everything.
My PDD buzzed. It was a message from Barook, requesting a meeting to discuss “arranging a memorial service for our murdered commander and planning for my imminent departure.” That didn’t sound ominous at all.
I was the last person who entered the Command Center. I sat next to Liz. She was crying, tears rolling down her beautiful cheeks and plopping on her white blouse. White in honor of Tarq. I put my arm around her shoulder. Allen was sitting in a corner, his head down, staring at his own ha
nds. He looked so miserable I resisted the urge to take a shot at him. Kurt was wordlessly playing with his goatee, lost in thought, and Keiko’s eye was bloodshot. I just felt numb.
The door opened, and Tarq waltzed right in. He was wearing a red skin suit, a feathered cap, and a long cape waving in the non-existent wind. He smiled at us as if nothing had happened and said, “And you people thought you could pull a prank on me!”
We spent the next few weeks preparing for our first all-out land-air military operation against the Xortaags. Operation Free Earth was Kurt and Tarq’s brainchild, but as the commander of the fleet, finalizing the details of our air attack was my responsibility. Tarq, Kurt and I spent countless hours staring at various topographical plans, discussing how to coordinate the ground and air assault while the rest of the pilots were busy transporting the Commandos to wherever they needed to be for the operation.
Operation Free Earth consisted of two phases. We were focused on the first phase, which was attacking SH-2 and a few small Xortaag bases at the same time. We didn’t have enough space fighters to hit both targets at once, and Kurt believed SH-1 was too big for his plan to work, so he’d decided the operation had to have two phases, to be carried out within five days of each other.
One day, while finalizing our plans for phase one, I asked Tarq, “What have the Xortaags done to you?”
He froze. His eyes betrayed a deep agony for just a second. Then his poker face took over. “They conquered Alora and—”
“Cut the crap,” I said. “This is personal.”
Tarq’s shoulders slumped. “Nothing. They have done nothing to me.” He stood up. “I, however, got my only daughter killed.”
He left the Command Center.
“One of these days, I’m gonna learn how to keep my mouth shut,” I told Kurt.
“Don’t hold your breath,” he answered.
With the confrontation with the Xortaags growing nearer, I was getting increasingly worried about Liz’s inclination to make spur-of-the-moment decisions, so I asked Keiko to try to teach her meditation, hoping that it’d improve her self-control. Liz was initially excited about the idea, and she loved the fact that Keiko had a small shrine—complete with a small Buddha statue, candles, and incense burners—in a corner of her room. But after a couple of weeks of trying, Keiko gave up and told me, “The only way to make Liz sit still for more than five minutes is to hit her in her head with either a baseball bat or a shovel.”
