Rubicon Crossing

by Ralph Prince

  Don considered the question, and realized he was right. The past year would have played out far differently if anyone other than Victor had died that day. “But why?” he asked.

  “Better not to question the plan, b’y,” Victor warned with a smile. “Besides, you have more important things to worry about. That’s quite a bunny you’ve found. You should be getting back to her.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  His eyes snapped open, and he found himself in his bed. He threw aside the clammy, sweat-drenched sheet and sat up. The pain, fever, and dizziness were gone, and there was no trace of the bio-mend’s characteristic stiffness in his muscles. Casting a quick glance around the room, he found he was alone, though the book of poetry rested on the bed beside him. He noticed it was opened to Karen’s favorite passage: Marlowe’s “The Passionate Shepherd to His Love”.

  “Good morning,” Karen said cheerfully, emerging from the bathroom, brushing her damp hair.

  “Morning?” Don asked, looking toward the chronometer. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Last night and most of yesterday,” Karen replied, setting the brush aside and drawing the belt of her robe tighter about her slender waist. “How do you feel?”

  “Well rested,” he said, prodding his bandaged abdomen and finding no trace of pain, “and hungry.”

  She stood next to the bed, folded her arms, and issued a heavy sigh. “We can get something to eat after you clean up.”

  “You redressed my wound,” he observed.

  “I had to,” she replied, her tone uncharacteristically flat. “You were bleeding all over yourself. I even had to take off your shirt and pants.”

  “You’re angry,” he observed. “You have every right to be.”

  “I was scared,” she said averting her gaze from him. “I thought you were going to die.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, sliding from the bed and enfolding her in his arms. “It was stupid of me to push myself like that. I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m just stubborn sometimes.”

  “I don’t know what I would do without you,” she said, burying her head in his bare chest. “I don’t have anyone else anymore, and when you leave—”

  “I’m not leaving you,” he interrupted. “Why would you even think that?”

  “The Overseer said you had to leave me behind,” she replied.

  “Who says I’m going to listen to him?” Don scoffed. “I told you when we got out of the tower I would take you as my mate. I don’t intend to break that promise.”

  “You still want me as your mate?” she asked, her gaze meeting his.

  “Nothing would give me more pleasure,” he affirmed. “Is there some kind of ritual or ceremony your people perform?”

  “No,” she replied, her angelic face aglow with joy. “You just have to declare your intent to take me as your mate,” the smile vanished only to be replaced by a pained expression, “and get the approval of my family. Dillon was the only family I had.”

  “I know Dillon and I didn’t see eye-to-eye on most things, but I promise I will protect and provide for you as long as I live,” he stepped back and took her hands in his. “Karen, I hereby declare that from this moment forward, you are my mate. I will stand by your side and love you with all my heart for days without end. That is, if you’ll still have me.”

  “Of course I will,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck.

  They embraced in a passionate kiss, and euphoria washed over them, seemingly causing time both to race past them and stand still simultaneously. With synchronized sighs, they drew away from one another, wishing the moment would never end; yet knowing it must.

  “Your injury,” Karen realized. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” Don replied. “In fact, I feel fantastic.”

  With another heavy sigh, Karen rested her head against his chest and began to cry. “Oh, Donald,” she sobbed, her emotions in turmoil. Never had she been so happy, yet with such profound underlying sadness. “If only Dillon were still alive. Now he could take a mate and be happy like I am.”

  Don, too, was experiencing mixed emotions. Victor, who had always told him all he needed was a good woman to make him happy, would never meet Karen; he would never know how right he had been. Thoughts of his friend conjured memories of the dream, and reminded him that he had other concerns.

  “I wish I could hold you forever,” he said, “but I have things I need to do. Soon, we’ll be able to spend more time together; I promise.”

  “I understand,” said Karen, wiping away the tears, “I’ll go get you something to eat, and you can clean up a bit.”

  “That sounds fair,” he said as she drew away from him. “But first, I have to talk to Iva and find out how Jackie and Will are doing. I’ll meet you in the galley in a few minutes.”

  “Okay,” she said, kissing him once again before crossing the room to the door. “But, Donald, you might want to put on some pants first. The bridge gets a little cold when you’re just wearing underwear.”

  He smiled as he watched her depart, then went to the closet to get dressed. He felt an odd sensation, but couldn’t identify it. His senses seemed heightened, and he felt charged with vigor. He dismissed it as an adrenalin rush, and continued getting dressed.

  As he walked to the bridge, Don pondered the Overseer’s words. He had found love for the first time in his life, only to learn she and her planet were scheduled for termination. The world he had once called home had long ago ceased to exist. It all seemed like a nightmare from which he couldn’t wake; and, if the Overseer had spoken truthfully, nothing he did would be of any consequence.

  “Captain,” Iva said as Don entered the bridge, disrupting his dismal thoughts, her full-body holographic form appeared between the pilot and co-pilot stations. “You appear to be in good health.”

  “I’m feeling much better,” he responded, taking a seat at the tactical station. “And I see your new interface wasn’t a fever induced hallucination. What’s the status in the city?”

  “They seem to be in a stand-off situation,” Iva reported. “The Tants have ceased their attacks, after taking heavy casualties, but are guarding the entrance. Will and Lieutenant Monet are in the hallway leading to the shelter, while two of the Underdwellers guard the shaft.”

  “What about our visitor?” Don asked. “What have you come up with on him?”

  “It was an entity of great power and intellect,” Iva replied, “a being of pure energy. It has visited us before, on two separate occasions. I was never even aware of its presence. It was somehow able to infiltrate my dreams, and extract information about us. I’m afraid it knows everything I know.”

  “Is there any truth to its claim the planet is going to be destroyed?” asked Don.

  “Affirmative,” answered Iva. “From what I’ve learned from the residual information it left behind, there is no question as to the validity of its claim.”

  “Can you elaborate?” Don asked. “How does he intend to do it?”

  “It seems,” the agent explained, “the comet we encountered on our way here is on a collision course with the planet. When it strikes the surface, a cloud of dust and debris will be spread throughout the atmosphere, effectively blocking the sun’s rays. The planet will be cast into an ice age, and none of the indigenous life forms will survive.”

  “What if we were to divert the comet away from the planet?” Don suggested. “If it’s far enough away, even a slight change in speed or trajectory would cause it to miss the planet entirely.”

  “I don’t see how that would be possible,” Iva stated, “given the present condition of the ship. At this point it would be unlikely we could break orbit.”

  “The Overseer said you had solved that problem.” Don said.

  “I have found a possible solution,” corrected the agent. “I have located panels similar in function to our photon cells, but they are at the center of the Sands of Doom crater. There is a structure in the center that seems to be powered by s
olar power. With some modification, they may be suitable to our needs. We will, however, need additional help in transporting them here.”

  “That means we’re going to need the Underdweller’s help,” Don concluded.

  “But sir,” Iva said, “they are trapped in the shelter by the Tants along with Will and Lieutenant Monet.”

  Don sat back in the chair, realizing the implications of his next words. He had tried to reason with the Tants and had failed. He could think of no other alternative. “In that case,” he said, “the Tants must be removed from the equation.”

  CHAPTER 4: The Challenge

  Stitch hurried in response to his master’s summons with more than a little trepidation. Oaklander wasn’t getting what he wanted, and that always put the Tant leader in a volatile mood. That’s why Stitch had done his best to remain scarce throughout the night.

  Being Oaklander’s lackey wasn’t something he would have chosen to do with his life, but for the past two decades it had served him well in positioning him within reach of his ultimate goal. Stitch was only a boy when his tribe was assimilated into what eventually became known as the Tants. His father had been the tribe’s leader before Oaklander murdered him and paraded his head around as a warning to those who might oppose him. Stitch dreamed of reclaiming his birthright as leader.

  It was a lofty goal, as his deformities made him a somewhat-less-than-powerful fighter—in fact, he was pathetic. He had no hope of defeating Oaklander in single combat, and assassination would not earn him leadership under the laws. So he bided his time, patiently hoping opportunity would present itself.

  It took a good number of years to earn Oaklander’s trust; a trust he would not have gained were his parentage known. Oaklander only respected power, and Stitch was not physically powerful, but knowledge, knowledge holds its own power.

  Stitch knew of a large stash of food that served him well in bribing others to do his bidding. He formed a network of informants who kept him apprised of anyone planning a coup against Oaklander. The would-be-challenger often met with an untimely “accident” while hunting. Arranging such accidents was one of the duties that earned him a position in Oaklander’s inner circle.

  The pinnacle of his efforts came unexpectedly when he discovered Oaklander’s most trusted friend was dealing with the Underdwellers – the thorn in the leader’s side. At first, Oaklander didn’t believe Stitch and threatened to kill him for voicing such lies, but the evidence held enough credence to stay his execution. When his claims were proven true, Stitch was given the position he needed – at Oaklander’s side.

  Granted, Oaklander didn’t trust Stitch, but he didn’t trust anyone after being betrayed by his oldest friend. That didn’t matter to Stitch. All that mattered was that Oaklander didn’t perceive him as a threat, and that offered him opportunity. All he needed now was the means.

  Then, it happened; Garris showed up, wielding the blue flame. It was a power unlike anything he had ever seen. If Stitch could learn to use that power, even the mighty Oaklander could not stand against him. The only catch was that he, alone, must be master of the blue flame. Then he could take rightful leadership of the Tants.

  As he left the relative coolness of the building’s interior, he wondered why his superior had insisted the meeting be conducted in the bright, rising sun. The light burned his black, irisless eyes, nearly blinding him, and the heat was already unbearable. Beneath the many layers of thick clothing he wore to protect himself from the planet’s frequent windstorms and cold night temperatures, his flaky skin perspired and itched. The wound on his leg, inflicted by the blue flame, stung relentlessly under the makeshift bandages, causing his limp to be more pronounced than usual.

  Oaklander waited impatiently near a large concrete block, his anger evident in his misshapen features. His ever-present bodyguards tensed visibly as Stitch approached.

  “Forgive me for the delay,” Stitch apologized, hobbling forward as quickly as his wounded leg would allow. “I was sleeping, and it took time for your messenger to locate me.”

  “They have given no answer to my demand,” the Tant leader growled. “Assemble the warriors and prepare to attack.”

  “But master,” the crippled Tant protested, rubbing the swollen, purple bruise above his left eye. His head still throbbed from his earlier encounter with Garris. “They have the tunnel well guarded. There are barriers to slow our advance, and the blue flame has stopped all our attempts to overtake them. We’ve lost hundreds of Tants already.”

  “Don’t question my demands,” warned Oaklander. “You will do as I say without question, or I will have you lead the charge. Even you, Stitch, are replaceable.”

  “Yes, master,” Stitch said, swallowing hard. He was now certain he didn’t like his current position, but he also knew that being a cripple, and unable to hunt for himself, the only alternative was death. “I will assemble the warriors,” he said. “But if you kill all the Terrans, the secret of the blue flame will be lost.”

  “Once the Underdwellers are all dead,” he said through clenched teeth, “I will not have need of the blue flame.”

  “Yes, master,” Stitch bowed and turned back toward the building’s entrance. He still didn’t think attacking was the best option. Many warriors were likely to die, and he wasn’t sure they would be able to breach the Underdweller’s defenses. Oaklander seemed to be letting his hatred of the Terran cloud his judgment, and that was a good thing. So long as he remained focused on Garris, he might not notice the proverbial knife Stitch was about to plunge into his back. His master was a fool for spending so much time worrying about a man who was most certainly dead.

  As Stitch took his first step toward the building, a series of blue-white pulses of energy cut a path in the gray soil at his feet. Leaping back, he, Oaklander, and both guards turned toward the source of the discharge.

  Twenty meters away, Don stood brazenly with a photon rifle aimed at the group of Tants. His steely eyes glared through his tactical goggles from a callous face, warning that he was not to be trifled with. His stance was straight and tall, exhibiting an unshakable confidence borne of steadfast determination. Even without the weapon, he would have been intimidating.

  At Don’s side, stood Karen, wearing pants and a crisscross laced halter vest she had fabricated from the remains of her damaged flight suit, using her old clothing as a pattern. Armed with a photon blaster, her vigilant eyes watched, through a pair of tactical goggles, for any sign of movement from within the surrounding building.

  Both Tant guards raised their crossbows, awaiting orders to fire.

  “Oaklander!” Don said, his menacing gaze locked with the Tant leader’s. “How nice to see you again. I hope you weren’t seriously injured in your little fall. Why don’t you have your goons put down their weapons?”

  “Garris!” The Tant roared, advancing toward the captain. “I will tear your heart out with my bare—”

  Laying down a line of fire across the giant’s path, Don cut short his approach, as well as his threat. “I don’t want to kill you,” he said, “but I will if I have to. I want to talk with you about the war you’re waging against the Underdwellers.”

  “Talk is for cowards,” Oaklander rumbled, staring intently at the earthman and the weapon he held trained on his chest. “You are here out of desperation, because you know we have superior numbers and the tactical advantage. The Underdwellers are trapped and have no recourse but to surrender or die.”

  “If you don’t listen to me,” Don said, “everyone is going to die; Tants and Underdwellers alike. There won’t be a planet to fight over anymore.”

  “You speak in riddles,” the Tant said, cautiously eyeing the captain, but finding no indication he was bluffing. He doubted his guards would be able to kill the Terran before he could fire the rifle, and motioned for them to lower their weapons. “Do you think I would believe your weapon has the power to destroy an entire planet?”

  Karen placed her hand gently upon Don’s shoulder,
and indicated to him the presence of several Tants appearing from the nearby buildings. They cautiously emerged from their hiding places, but hesitated to approach.

  “My battle isn’t against you,” Don said, trying to find some way to reason with the Tant. “I could kill you now if that were my intent. There’s a bigger threat here. We have enough food and water for both the Tants and Underdwellers, but that won’t matter if you don’t put an end to the fighting now. I’m trying to save both your people from extinction.”

  “You want to save us?” asked the Tant leader incredulously. “We don’t need to be saved. Who lives, and who dies, is not determined by words, but by actions. We survive by killing all those who oppose us; only the strong survive.”

  “Then we’ll do it your way,” Don said, raising his rifle to the air. “But why involve the Underdwellers and the rest of the Tants? I propose a duel between just you and me. If you win, I will tell you how to use the blue flame, and not interfere in your war against the Underdwellers.”

  “And if you should win,” Oaklander laughed, amused by the foolishness of the outsider. “What will you claim as your prize?”

  “You and the rest of the Tants leave the city,” Don stated, causing Stitch to gasp. “And you never return.”

  A low murmur arose from the watching Tants as more appeared from the surrounding ruins. Karen became agitated, but Don stood unshaken.

  “Master,” Stitch whispered, “he has challenged you. By your own laws, you must accept. To do otherwise would be seen as cowardice.”

  “You ask for much,” Oaklander said, after a contemplative pause. No trace of his amusement remained. The presence of so many witnesses gave him little choice. “But I accept your challenge on the condition that it is without weapons. There is no chance of you winning without your blue flame.”

  “I accept your condition,” Don agreed. The murmur grew in volume.

  “But Donald,” Karen protested, “you can’t—”

  “I know what I’m doing, Karen,” he said. “Trust me.”