by A K Lambert
Is this the Brukkah?
The thought was just a vague impression floating in her mind—the feeling was now all consuming.
She shrieked again, high-pitched and piercing, reaching the far corners of the subterranean arena. The bear stood up and roared, feeling its mistress’s new emotions.
The fire in her eyes was vivid, and her lips were drawn back, exposing needle sharp teeth.
The emotions eased, but the desire remained, stronger than before.
A desperate desire to kill.
Her thoughts fixed on the three stocky soldiers from a world recently subjected to a visit from her people. Faded and dirty uniforms gave her the impression that they were well trained and would work as a team. Each of them carried a small bronze coloured sword, and a circular metal shield adorned with a fire-breathing dragon.
Quick and spectacular with no mistakes was her subconscious demand. She moved her sword to her left hand and set off towards the family. With her right hand, she reached for the booster throwing knives attached to her breastplate, and with a fluid movement released them. Their trajectory was perfect. Birjjikk didn’t need to will any adjustments to the three flying blades. As the knives detected their targets, the little rocket boosters took effect, accelerating them to such a speed that flesh and bone would not stop them. The results were devastating—blood and chunks of flesh everywhere, just as promised. She didn’t even wait to see their stubby bodies crumple to the ground.
She was almost upon the family. The male had taken a protective stance, trying to shield his mate and offspring. She dodged the lunging father and dispatched his wife and child with two swift thrusts of her sword. The father screamed his horror at seeing his family cut down. A moment later he turned away, unable to look at his loss. Birjjikk wasted no time driving her blade into his midriff, the momentum bringing them face to face. She anticipated the pleasure of his terror and disbelief. What faced her though, as his purple hair swung away from his snow white face, was the cold, deadly stare of a determined man who managed to whisper to her, ‘We know who you are, we will stop you.’ She twisted the blade to one side and then the other, watching the life ebbing from his body. He remained stoic. She had lost the joy of the kill, and that annoyed her more than she would admit. She finally pushed him away, raised her arms, and shrieked once more.
She came back down, the unknown urge in her loins subsiding, and calmed herself. The only noise now was the whimpering from the injured Tagra. She turned to the bear and waved a hand at it. The beast rose immediately and pounced on whim. Lifting it high in its mouth and shaking it violently, finally enjoying the pleasure it had watched his new mistress have. It flung the Tagra against one of the cages. One final cry and it fell to the ground, silent. The beast pounced on the convulsing feline wanting to feed, but a voice in its head said, No.. It stood up again and roared in defiance at the watching elders, then dropped to all fours and, head bowed, followed its mistress out of the arena.
The only sound now was the murmuring of the Zerot elders. Were they pleased or displeased? She wasn’t sure, but once again, she had gotten their attention.
As she was leaving the arena she noticed her tutor, Master Nama-Krikk, high up to the left. He was in her head.
You have performed well, little one.
Thank you, Master
Enjoy a recovery day, and don’t be late for first day of advanced training. This is where it gets interesting.
Birjjikk didn’t respond. She kept on walking, a rare smile on her face that no one saw.
Chapter 12
The Assault
Earth - The Republic of Ireland - 2002
* * *
Jon and Grace walked slowly across the stepping-stones in the stream. This silly game was Mandy’s latest invention. She stood on a small hillock throwing pinecones to try and unbalance them.
‘You’ve got to stand one legged on each stone for the count of five. First to step into the water is out and then we swap over,’ Mandy ordered.
Grace, as usual, took the game very seriously, and with excellent balance never wavered under the barrage of cones. Jon, however, succumbed when he turned to Mandy to moan about the number of cones thrown at him and received a direct hit right on his forehead. They both got to the far side, laughing about his wet feet, with Mandy dancing about on the small hill in mock victory.
Everything around Grace froze.
“Tauriar, quickly, stretch the moment. I cannot hold it for you much longer from here.”
Grace’s reaction was instantaneous. “I have done it, taking over.”
Everything around her appeared to stand dead still. She took control of the time acceleration bubble that Prime had initially created from the hall.
“Find the danger, Tauriar.”
The Princess looked around and spotted the only object moving. “It's a small missile, a dart—moving fast. I have about... twenty seconds.”
“AM Dart, seeking your DNA. You’ve trained for this. Your brooch! Throw it into its path.”
“But, they’ll discover my identity.... no time.”
She clutched at the brooch and threw it out of the bubble. It stopped just outside and hovered there, now in regular time. Because the holo transmitter and skin modifier were embedded in the brooch, she reverted to her natural self. But it also contained a strand of her DNA—that gave her hope. She only had about ten seconds to get away from the brooch and scoop up the other two. She stepped back so that the bubble engulfed Jon. He found himself facing a slightly distorted and blue skinned version of Grace. She grabbed his arm. ‘Run!’
She half led and half dragged Jon across the shallow stream in the direction of a stationary Mandy. ‘Grab her,’ she shouted as they reached the top of the small mound and the bubble engulfed her as well. The fell to the far side of the mound as the bubble collapsed; Grace’s concentration had failed. The crack of the dart behind them filled the air. The displacement of air from the acceleration rushing past them nearly lifted them off the ground. They all reached helplessly for something to cling to.
A moment later all was quiet.
The three children were lying in a heap. One rather blue Vercetian and two rather astonished humans.
The children freed themselves, stood up and faced each other. For about five seconds there was a tense silence while they looked at each other in turn, trying to assess what had happened.
Then they all started shouting at once.
‘What was all that about? I was dancing on the hill, and then I’m in a ditch with, with a blue person!’ exclaimed Amanda.
‘Please... I’m sorry. Don’t stop being my friend. I wanted to tell you.’ Grace was almost in tears and speaking in broken English.
‘Wow! How cool is this?’ Jon looked around in delight. ‘An alien. Explosions! What’s going on?’
Before any of them could answer, Peter and Krankel arrived and took a defensive stance, facing away from Grace. Peter had a strange weapon, and held it up in a protective manner. Krankel, head low and hackles raised, growled menacingly: both were looking for an unknown foe. Within seconds, Gordon and Helen appeared, and the three defenders formed a ring around the children, all holding the same weapons.
Within thirty seconds everyone was there.
Ann and George were hugging Amanda. Mr. and Mrs. Shaw were embracing Grace. Douglas Faulkner had both hands on Jon’s shoulders looking closely into his eyes for signs of any adverse effects. William had joined Peter, Gordon, and Helen, now moving away from everyone in ever increasing circles, securing the site. It was twenty minutes before it all began to settle down. With everyone accounted for and no sign of an intruder, they all headed for the hall. Helen got back to finishing the work on the security system. William, Peter, and Gordon remained outside until the shield was back up. Everyone else gathered in the day lounge, except Mr. and Mrs. Shaw, who went to prepare tea and some food.
Douglas accessed a computer that appeared out of nowhere. His hand glided over
what looked like a mouse pad, and a holographic image appeared and displayed a small three-dimensional object. Within moments, he was able to give Grace another brooch. She clipped it on and touched it, reverting to her human form.
Jon and Amanda watched in awe at the transformation. Soon they sat next to her and started whispering and giggling. Jon’s hand was within a few centimetres of Grace’s cheek, and he was asking if her facial changes were real or some illusion. Mandy couldn’t help admire the brooch, asking questions about it. Grace was answering Jon, ‘Solid, but not real,’ she said, and moved his hand closer so that he could feel it. She turned so that Mandy’s already advancing finger could touch the brooch. Zap. She was Vercetian again. Jon and Mandy jumped back at the sight of Grace in her alien guise. Then all three burst into laughter—quite uncontrolled—causing everyone in the room to stop and stare, and after a moment, the tension in the room lifted markedly, dissipated by the innocence of youth.
But for one of the group, the torment remained. Failure combined with utter relief.
Bala Prime sat with Bala Temper in their private quarters. With brooches deactivated they no longer played the roles of Squire and Lady Faulkner. They were once again Team Leader and Cultural Instructor to Tauriar—the two senior members of the Life Team.
‘I nearly missed it, Temper. If it had happened a few moments earlier, I would have been helping Triquo Rosa with the problem she was having accessing the shield protocols. The Princess might have been killed, and I would have failed.’
‘Well, she wasn’t, Prime. You sensed the danger in time, and Tauriar stayed calm and remembered everything we taught her, which, for a Royal of her age, shows excellent progress. She will make a exceptional High Councillor one day,’ said Temper.
‘Yes, well, what we do know is that we have a traitor within our team, and with the exclusion of Seca Rosa, you and myself, it could have been anyone. And with the artificial intelligence inactive, we have no way of investigating.’ Prime was deep in concentration. ‘The threat will always be with us.’ He pulled up the data page on his implant viewer and pasted it to the adjacent wall. He knew this information off by heart, but somehow it helped to see it in the written form. Perhaps there was a hidden clue somewhere. Who could it be?
* * *
Life Team:
- Princess Tauriar (birth name Manjena). Grace, daughter of Squire and Lady Faulkner
- Bala Prime - Life Team leader. Squire Douglas Faulkner
- Bala Temper - Cultural Instructor. Lady Gwyneth Faulkner
- Bala Soff - Educational Instructor. James Bunter - Tutor
- Bala Campazee - Physical Instructor. Katie Thorpe - Tutor
- Dom Seca - Chief of Security, Life Team. William Smith - Accountant
- Seca Jobe - Pilot and security. Peter - Gardener
- Taur-Mao - Manjena’s birth mother. Mrs Joan Shaw - Housekeeper
- Taur-Dao - Manjena’s birth father. Mr Adam Shaw - Butler
Additional Security with Specialities:
- Seca Mika - Engineer. Gordon - Odd job man
- Seca Rosa - Scientist. Helen - Cook
* * *
The Life Team had been with Tauriar since her selection at birth, except Dom Seca. He had replaced Thormin Seca eight years ago, when he fell ill with a rare form of cancer that was resisting all treatment. The additional team members had distinguished service records. No one stood out to him. With no hidden clues jumping out at him his concentration wavered momentarily. He remembered the naming process and the job descriptions given to them by the Walkers. He smiled to himself at the naming of Grace. The professor’s favourite Hollywood actress who became a real life princess.
‘Prime. My telepathic abilities are not the best, as you well know. What are you thinking?’
‘Sorry. I see no obvious candidates for our traitor. We are going to have to be much more rigorous with our security.’
Chapter 13
The War Ministry
Preenasette - Trun Rizontella - 2002
* * *
Nearly two years on and Sub-Officer Anton Pilz was still being made to wear his formal sash to the Quarter Luna War Council meeting, visibly highlighting his demotion following his error when the Vercetian Life Teams escaped. He was here with Supreme Commander Komitry Zander and Commander Dori Mancer, to keep a record of the proceedings. He still felt, that he was being paraded as an example of an officer failing in his duties.
He despised the council building. It represented everything that was grim about Trun society. Built entirely from dark grey granite slate, it had two characterless statues of uniformed soldiers from a former age guarding the severe entrance. Just inside they were greeted by a circular stone registration desk manned by two stern looking receptionists.
They stopped there, with Pilz carrying out the duties of registration, before proceeding through a long, dimly lit corridor with portraits of Trun political leaders, each trying to look grander than his predecessor, and not a smile between them. At the end of the corridor was the Assembly Antechamber, with four quite uninviting sets of dark bronze double doors leading to the Great Debating rooms. They entered Assembly Room 3, where a fully assembled War Council awaited.
The military party settled at the north end of the great Vesica Piscis oval table, with Zander taking the northern, head position. At the southern end, immediately opposite Zander was Premier Gor. He had become premier a few years earlier, after the untimely death of the sitting leader. He went about his business quietly, but was very effective at getting results. Pilz watched Zander survey the assembly. Of all the people seated at the table, just three wielded real power. Pilz knew this as well as anyone. Gor, Zander, and the chief executive of the Space and Weapons Manufacturing Corporation, Salvia Kiy. Zander regarded Kiy as she marshaled her small entourage. The rumours surrounding her sudden rise to power were abundant, ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous. If only a quarter of them were real, then she had manipulated, slept, and poisoned her way to the top spot. Just looking at this woman sent a shiver up Pilz’s spine. He knew it was just a matter of time before Zander locked antlers with her, and he hoped to not be around when that happened. Missing was the secret organisation, the Reticent Guard. They were autonomous of the council even though their commander, General Kirk-am was part of the Council Inner Circle.
The room went quiet, and the Council Head Speaker welcomed them all and started laying out the agenda.
Pilz knew he was in for a long evening. The agenda, as usual, covered a whole ream of subjects ranging from funding appropriations and military training, through to Gor’s state of the war address. Even Zander was required to speak. He typically avoided this at all costs, but tonight had to give an update on the space battle against the Vercetians. Until recently, Zander didn’t even come to these meetings, but for some reason, had started taking a keener interest. He had even taken to analysing the full transcript with a select group of military personnel the following day. Pilz’s job was to record the meeting, then cut out the procedural rubbish and separate all political speech, leaving the facts for the following day’s meeting and the rhetoric for Zander’s private viewing. Pilz knew his Supreme Commander was mindful of something, but what? He had yet to discover.
The debate opened with Finance Minister Cammero’s report. As usual, there was a shortfall in nearly all the main funding streams. The war was slowly bringing Trun Rizontella to its knees. When he’d finished, the speaker invited questions, and Salvia Kiy quickly seized the floor and the attention of the chamber. ‘The sum allocated to our bifighter replication project is paltry. Surely, as this addresses one of the fundamental flaws in our arsenal, this project should be of top priority. We’ve had the completed plans for two years now, and the manufacturing process is now soundly developed and refined. We need to conclude development and begin!’ The last sentence delivered with her usual, and now famed venom. Pilz wondered if she would ultimately get the funds she wanted. He didn’t have to wait long for
an answer. After a short period of bickering, Premier Gor stepped in to end the debate. ‘Space and Weapons have a legitimate claim to more funds. I shall set up a subcommittee meeting with Minister Cammero and find a revenue stream for this money.’ His statement was final, and Pilz knew that Kiy would get what she wanted and that this part of the debate was over.
The Council Head Speaker then moved the meeting on to the Military Training and Recruitment Committee report and handed over to Sub-commander Lysanda. This statement caused many in the room to lose focus, and the Speaker had to jump in a couple of times to restore order. The only news of note was the increase in troop numbers. But this wasn’t a priority for the military. Zander didn’t want more troops, he wanted modern weapons for the men he currently had. He wanted a better arsenal and had pushed for it at the last few sub-committee meetings, but seemed to be banging his head against a wall. Pilz, usually in tow, had seen how frustrated he was getting.
Zander’s report was next.
Pilz knew that Zander hated this part of his job. Not that he wasn’t a competent public speaker, he was. He just didn’t see the need to report all of the military’s activities to the masses assembled here. His reports were massaged to tell them what the inner circle of the ruling council wanted them to hear. He could keep it short. Premier Gor would follow him with the battle cry stuff.
In the weeks and months following the space battle, Pilz knew Zander had questioned the need to take any further action against the escaped Royals. ‘Who cares that they have fled to some distant planet,’ he had overheard him telling Mancer. ‘Let them stay there and rot. Why waste valuable resources chasing after them?’ They had all regretted sending in a sorely overmatched squadron against the Vercetian armada. They now had two significant assets in space dock, out of commission for a long time, as well as four spheres still on a wild goose chase.
