The Crimson Deathbringer

by Sean Robins

  The only tangible result of the meditation classes was that Liz liked Keiko’s tattoos so much she decided to get one of her own. To my immense relief, she settled on a small butterfly on her lower back, rather than the horrifying dragon apparently covering half of Keiko’s body.

  One evening, Elizabeth asked me, “Did you know Sergei was gay?”

  I raised a brow. “Sergei? The super-macho, scary, bad-ass Universal Soldier’s gay? You sure?”

  “Yep. Matias introduced me to his boyfriend the other day. He’s a doctor, working in the sickbay.”

  “I’m sure Sergei’s parents always wanted him to marry a doctor,” I said.

  My wife, wrapping a curl around her finger, continued, “His name’s Robert, but everyone calls him Dr. Bob. He’s twenty years younger than Sergei and very cute. In fact, he kinda looks like you.”

  I decided to take it as a compliment. “Well, this explains something. You know Sergei and Oksana have become very close since her sister’s suicide, and I often see them playing chess together. I was wondering why Sergei didn’t ask her out.”

  “Why did you think he had to? Maybe they are just good friends.”

  I scoffed and quoted Harry, “‘Men and women can’t be friends. The sex part always gets in the way.’ Also, have you seen Oksana? Everyone wants to go out with that girl. She was born with men running after her asking for her phone number.”

  She gave me a look that made me realize I had put my big foot in my even bigger mouth. I quickly recovered. “Except for me, because I’m married to the most beautiful girl in the world.” Trying to change the subject, I added, “Isn’t Sergei super religious? I think he goes to church regularly.”

  “He does, and most of the time together with Dr. Bob,” said Liz. “Your sexual orientation has got nothing to do with your personal relationship with God. You know, it’s comments like this that makes people think you are, eh, slightly intolerant of others.”

  I glared at her, “I am not…oh, forget it!”

  We spent most of our free time with Elizabeth’s siblings, Kurt and Keiko. Liz was hoping to hook these two up. She once told me Keiko had a crush on Kurt and that they’d be a perfect match since Keiko was basically a female version of Kurt with an eye-patch and an impressive tattoo. I knew as a result of his life as a Resistance fighter/assassin, not to mention losing his ex-girlfriend fighting the government forces, Kurt had decided to stay away from emotional involvements, so I didn’t think it’d work.

  My wife’s other match-making project involved hooking up her brother with Oksana. I saw more potential there. Matias was an extremely easy-going fellow, and a lot of people felt calm and relaxed around him, which was exactly what Oksana needed after everything she’d gone through.

  Liz was successful in her efforts. One day, nearly three months after the Xortaags’ invasion, Matias and I were playing tennis when he told me he’d started dating Oksana.

  “Oksana? The hot blond Oksana?” I asked, panting.

  Matias chuckled. “Yes, but don’t let Liz hear you say that.”

  “Come on. You know I think your sister’s the most beautiful girl in the world. Oksana’s kind of Playboy-model hot.”

  Matias gave me an exasperated look, a carbon copy of his sister’s. I hurriedly tried to recover. “Well done, buddy. I would’ve thought she was way out of your league.”

  Sometimes I just didn’t know when to shut up.

  The next day, Liz and I were having breakfast in the mess hall when Keiko joined us and said, “Good morning.”

  I looked at her and then jumped out of my seat so quickly I spilled milk all over my uniform. “You’ve got eyes!” I exclaimed.

  “I had one already,” answered Keiko. “I have a new one now, in place of the one you ruined in another life, compliments of the Akakies’ medical technology.”

  We both stared at her with fascination. She somehow looked totally different without the eye-patch, and some of her hard-as-nails facade was gone too, despite her tattoos. She added, “With us going to war soon, having only one eye would just not do, would it?”

  “When did you do the surgery?” asked Liz. “We didn’t know you were in the hospital.”

  “I wasn’t. There was no surgery. It’s not a transplant. The doctors grew a new eye right inside my eye socket. It took a couple of months, which is why I kept wearing the eye-patch, but I didn’t need to be hospitalized at all.”

  “I didn’t know our medical team could perform such miracles,” I said, adjusting my wedding ring.

  “With MICI and the Akakies’ technology at their disposal?” said Keiko. “This is nothing. Dr. Bob says they can grow back a severed arm or leg.” She looked at me closely and added, “You know, he sort of looks like you.”

  People continuously telling me I looked like Sergei’s boyfriend wasn’t good for my self-image. I rubbed my forehead and thought about growing a thick beard.

  “One question though: Why on earth is it blue?” I asked.

  Her other eye was black. She wrinkled her nose. “You forgot who our esteemed commander is? This was his idea of a freaking joke.”

  “You know what I am thinking?” Liz told me. “Keiko used to beat you with one eye. I don’t think you’ll win another simulated competition ever again.”

  Oh, crap!

  Chapter Ten

  SH-2 - July 19, 2048, 16:00 EST

  Maada was standing on the balcony of one of the control towers in the fleet base, enjoying a cup of the hot beverage called “coffee.” He was a man of few pleasures in life, but he had come to enjoy the drink with its crisp, bitter flavor and strong aroma.

  It was a warm, sunny day. The cloudless sky was like a spotless diamond, clear and shining. It was in such stark contrast to Tangaar when he used to live there, with its dark gray sky and difficult-to-breathe air, typical of a dying planet. Things were much better back in Tangaar now, mostly due to his efforts. He’d brought his civilization back from the brink of destruction. Still, without colonies like this, his species was doomed.

  He leaned on the railing and, touching the scar on his face, absentmindedly looked at the fleet base. It was the size of a small city. More than a third of their fleet was stationed here. The fleet base had ten sections, each with its own control tower, revetments, hangars, and barracks. The hangars’ rooftops were retractable, allowing the Deathbringers to fly directly in and out of the hangars.

  Each section was protected by three laser turrets. Maada could see two of those from where he was standing. The third was behind the tower, forming a triangle with the others. Each turret housed four huge laser cannons, which were the most powerful land-based weapons in the Xortaag arsenal, capable of engaging enemy fleets in space. They were manned at all times. No missile could pass through the cover they provided, and no enemy fighter could get anywhere close to the fleet base. Still, each section also had a Quick Response Force, which consisted of a hundred Deathbringers, stationed in a revetment, ready to fly at a moment’s notice, with their pilots camping right next to the fighters in full flight gear. With the comprehensive protection provided by the enormous laser turrets, this was a completely unnecessary precaution; however, Maada preferred to be prepared in the unlikely event the Akakies’ fleet decided to take a shot at them.

  Maada chuckled at the thought. As if the Akakies, or anyone else in the galaxy, would dare attack the Xortaags. They are all sheep waiting to be slaughtered, he thought.

  The Akakies were an advanced race and could summon a lot more ships than his own fleet, but they lacked the courage to fight. He couldn’t understand such cowardice: it wasn’t as if running away would save them. But he didn’t have to understand, only take advantage. Even if they did decide to attack, they would be defeated as easily as the last time. In case of any such imaginary attack, the planetary defense, including the laser turrets here, could keep the enemy fleet at bay long enough for his Deathbringers to fly off the planet and join the fight, and that would be that.

&
nbsp; Two trucks stopped in front of the mess hall, and soldiers started to unload them. Maada saw two of them, a man and a woman, leave the trucks and walk towards the control tower but did not pay much attention. His mind was already focused on their next campaign. In three months, their transport ships would arrive, and millions of Xortaags would complete the first phase of the colonization, at which point his fleet would be free to invade the second target on their list. That planet was more advanced than Earth, but Xortaag surveillance had marked them as an easier target. Their people had gone soft as a result of a few hundred years of peace and prosperity.

  Peace! Maada smirked. They were in for a rude awakening.

  Something caught his attention. The man and woman he had noticed earlier were passing by the control tower now. The man was carrying a big backpack. A corner of Maada’s brain wondered what was in the bag.

  All of a sudden, his warrior instinct, honed over a lifetime spent as a soldier, yelled at him that something was very, very wrong. He tensed, jolted upright and started scanning the base, looking for a threat.

  He had learned to trust his instincts, but his brain didn’t immediately catch up with his intuition. In his very long military career, the threat had always come from above. In a planet where all inhabitants worshiped the Xortaags as gods, being attacked on the ground was unthinkable. Maada had no frame of reference for it.

  The two soldiers Maada had noticed earlier were out of his line of sight now. More out of curiosity than anything else, he decided to see where they were going. He walked to the other side of the balcony. Once he turned the corner, he saw something so unbelievable that for a second, he wondered if he were dreaming.

  The pair stopped, and the man pulled something out of the bag that could only be a small missile launcher. He kneeled on one knee and aimed at the laser turret behind the control tower.

  Maada’s jaw dropped, and he was frozen, but just for a second. He still could not comprehend how this was possible, but that was a moot point. He drew his sidearm and shot at the man wielding the missile launcher, hitting him square in the back. The woman glanced up and fired back immediately, forcing Maada to hide behind the railing. She picked up the missile launcher and aimed at the laser turret. By this time several other Xortaags had seen her. She was hit just before she pulled the trigger, and the missile missed its target by a small margin. The woman was severely injured and surrounded by Xortaags, but she kept trying to load another missile into her weapon. Maada admired her courage as he aimed carefully and shot her in the head. The woman died still struggling to arm the missile launcher.

  Maada heaved a sigh of relief, then explosions and gunshots rang out behind him.

  Outside SH-2 - 15:00 EST

  Kurt, looking through binoculars, touched his earpiece and said, “Here they come.”

  Wearing the Xortaag dark gray uniform, he was lying down by a tree next to a road leading to SH-2. The road passed through a dense forest. After surveilling the base for weeks, he knew a food convoy would be passing momentarily. There were twenty dark blue Volvo trucks in the convoy, bringing food to the ten sections of the huge fleet base.

  Kurt wondered for a second what would happen if they failed in carrying out their part of the operation. He concluded it’d mean swift death or at least heavy casualties for Jim and the rest of the pilots. The picture that appeared in his mind—thousands of bloody corpses in flight gear, trapped in the wreckage of their space fighters—made him cringe. He pushed the thought out of his mind and focused on the task at hand.

  Kurt put down the binoculars and picked up his suppressed M-28 Sniper Weapon System. Next to him, Sergei did the same. He knew all the two hundred Commandos in his strike force were following suit. Once the convoy reached the spot he’d designated, he shot the front tire of the first Volvo. The vehicle came to a screeching halt. All the other trucks behind it stopped too. The four Xortaags in the Volvo got off and gathered around the flat tire. From their body language it was obvious they had no idea how to fix it. They normally depended on their human slaves to do something like this, but since the completion of the fleet base’s construction, no humans had been involved in any fleet-related activities, including menial work like cleaning or preparing food. Tarq had guessed Maada didn’t want his precious fleet contaminated by human presence.

  The Xortaags didn’t have to worry about changing the tire. Kurt took a deep breath to calm his nerves and said in his PDD, “On three. One, two, three.”

  A hailstorm of bullets hit the Xortaags. Kurt shot an alien soldier and through his telescopic sight saw his head explode. The Xortaags were cut to pieces in a few seconds.

  His heartbeat racing, Kurt shouted, “Let’s go.” He left his sniper rifle, grabbed his STG 666 assault rifle and ran towards the convoy. Sergei followed him. An injured Xortaag was crawling next to a truck, trying to draw his sidearm. Kurt leveled his gun at the alien’s chest and pulled the trigger, giving him a short burst. Dark purple blood splashed from the Xortaag’s body, and he stopped moving.

  The rest of the Commandos dispatched all the survivors, then moved the Volvos out of the road and replaced them with their own, which were identical to the Xortaags’ trucks except for three things: They were armored—including hidden metal plates that would cover the tires when the time came—they had a hidden compartment in the back that could hide four commandos, and they had several smaller compartments that were used to hide assault rifles, machine guns, and missile launchers. The Xortaag energy weapon small arms were fine, but the aliens were hardly experts in land warfare, which was reflected in their weaponry. As Allen had put it, “Ain’t nothing wrong with some extra firepower.”

  Kurt climbed on one of the Volvos and concealed himself in the hidden compartment. Sergei and Oksana followed.

  Right before the truck started moving, a tall, blond man joined them in the back. Sergei glanced at him, then jumped out of his seat and yelled, “Moy bozh! What the hell is that?”

  Matias, unrecognizable with white skin, blue eyes and blond hair, smiled. “What’s up?”

  “Matias didn’t want to sit this one out,” said Kurt, looking at his PDD. “So Tarq talked him into this. He had to spend forty-eight hours in the sickbay for his skin color to change. He’s been busy running around scaring people since he got out. Tarq’s insufferably pleased with himself for his new masterpiece.”

  “Was this really necessary? He is creeping me the hell out,” asked Sergei, trying not to look directly at Matias.

  “You’re feeling hard done by?” said Oksana. “Tarq says it’ll take two weeks for his normal skin color to come back, which means I have to deal with this freak show for two damned weeks.”

  “Says Miss Unibrow,” Matias countered.

  Kurt, with the annoyed tone of a fed-up parent, said, “Children, I’m trying to work in here. In case you haven’t noticed, the first human versus alien guerrilla war has just started.”

  They entered the Xortaag’s fleet base and drove towards their designated section without any incidents. When they reached the mess hall, the Commandos not hiding in the hidden compartments got off and started unloading the trucks. Kurt, who was following all his team members as well as the other teams converging on their respective targets in the other sections on a PDD, noticed two Commandos separate from the group to deal with the laser turret behind the control tower.

  “Stop playing with your goatee,” Oksana told Kurt. “You’re making me nervous.”

  Kurt said, “Sorry,” but while staring at his PDD he unconsciously kept pulling his facial hair. A few minutes later he touched his earpiece and said, “Execute.”

  “Cry ‘Havoc’ and let slip the dogs of war,” said Oksana, removing the barrier to the hidden compartment.

  Sergei gave her a confused look.

  The Commandos already outside started mowing down unsuspecting Xortaags. The sound of shooting and the cries of the dying Xortaags made Kurt’s heart beat faster. He and Sergei each grabbed a shoulder m
issile launcher and jumped out of the truck, flanked by Oksana and Matias. Kurt went down on one knee and targeted the laser turret two miles to his left using the command launch unit. The turret was the size of a five-story building. Tarq had helped the Commandos develop a special armor-piercing missile capable of destroying it, and he was positive the laser turret wouldn’t be able to stop something as small as a shoulder-fired rocket. Kurt prayed Tarq was right and pulled the trigger. The missile slammed into the laser turret. The ground shook, and the Xortaag weapon disappeared behind a blinding explosion. Relief brought a satisfied smile to Kurt’s face.

  Bull’s-eye!

  He turned his head in time to see Sergei blow the second turret to bits.

  Some Xortaag soldiers were shooting back. A large number of them poured out of the various buildings around the mess hall. Kurt ordered, “Back to the trucks. Time to get out of here.”

  While getting on the Volvo, Kurt heard Tarq say, “All teams have been successful, only Alex and Kate are down.”

  Kurt cursed under his breath. “And the target?”

  “Still standing,” Tarq answered.

  Kurt taught about a full-frontal assault to the third turret. With the element of surprise gone and hundreds of Xortaags converging on them, it would be suicide, armored trucks or not. But they might still be able to pull it off.

  Tarq, all the way back in Winterfell’s Command Center, read his mind. “Don’t even think about it. Remember we have planned for this. Get out of there.”