Lone Star Renegades

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  It was no surprise to the knights of the Brotherhood that Commandant Nari and his ever growing fleet of warships would only stop reaching when he had total, unhindered domination of Notares space. It was also clear that he would soon have designs on the monarchy itself.

  When the order came for the dismantling of the Brotherhood, exactly two years past, a declaration of war against Nari’s Kardon Guard, but not against the monarchy, was the inevitable result.

  Ignoring the Brotherhood’s warnings of Nari’s obvious true intentions, Queen Arabella Valora, furious, sided with the Commandant and his Kardon Guard. In a broadcast that reached throughout the realm, the queen denounced the Brotherhood, and condemned anyone who maintained allegiance to what she now called an antiquated sect of old mystics and knights to a sentence of death by decapitation. Collin glanced above to the knight’s cleave-sheer, hung high up on the bulkhead. At least death would be quick, he figured.

  The last of the recruits joined the line and stood at attention. Bragg appeared less than a minute later.

  “Eight minutes. What takes one eight full minutes to accomplish a simple morning ritual? You there, the one everyone calls Tink. Do you have bathroom problems, perhaps a bit of constipation?”

  Tink shook her head, “No!” she replied vehemently, her face blushing crimson.

  “How about you … the big fellow with the belly; you were last out of the bathroom. Were there long lines? Or, perhaps, your shower head was malfunctioning?”

  David the Brick Burk shook his head. “I actually am a bit constipated.”

  That brought laughter from everyone and while the chief tried to keep a straight face, he was doing a poor job of it. “Listen up! You will complete your bathroom routines in five minutes or less. After today, you will start to lose tributes. Since you don’t currently have any, you get a one-day pass. Understand that life, from this point on, will not only be about acquiring tributes, but also keeping them. Talk to your leader. Any chance you have of returning to your home world will depend on your accumulating more tributes than the other two Chains.”

  Eyes locked on Collin. All humor was replaced with apprehension.

  The chief was pacing; the briefest of smiles crossed his face. Collin learned the first of many lessons to come: They like to stir up the pot. They like to manipulate.

  “By now some of you, maybe even most of you, are cognizant of the fact that you know more about the Brotherhood, the Kardon Guard, and life here, within the realm of the Notares, than you did yesterday. We tripled the SLP downloads in order to get you up-to-speed more quickly. Tonight, we’ll do the same. Let me know if any of your little brains exhibit side effects. We’re going well beyond the recommended subliminal allocation of information in order to even the playing field.

  “In a few moments you will be marched up to deck six. There, you will meet the other two Chains. Let me give you this bit of advice before you embark on today’s competitions. They want to win. Their futures, like your own, depend on them winning. Here’s some free advice— assess your enemy’s strengths, as well as their weaknesses, and make adjustments accordingly. Be strategic. Any questions?”

  Darren was the first to raise his hand.

  “Mr. Mallon?”

  How the chief knew Darren’s last name was beyond Collin’s understanding. It was then he realized the second important lesson since being there: the mind-bands worked both ways … not only did they deliver information into the mind—they collected from it as well.

  “What is it … what kind of competition will it be?”

  A mischievous look came over the chief’s face. “One you may be quite pleased with. I understand you have already played together as a team, am I right?”

  Darren also smiled and looked over to his buddies. “You might say that,” he said, with a bit of bravado.

  “Then you should have no problem defeating the other two teams in a little game of Pangallo.”

  Another hand went up, this time from Humphrey. “What is Pangallo, Chief?”

  “It’s a game and it’s a sport. All the boys and girls here, from the age of five or six, grow up playing Pangallo.”

  Collin raised his hand. “Chief, how are we to compete with recruits who have played this sport since they were little kids? That doesn’t seem fair.”

  The chief slowly walked over to Collin and held his gaze for several long seconds before answering: “Is it fair when three Marauder-class warships lie in wait behind an asteroid, only to surprise their quarry, a small Brotherhood freighter? Firing upon that vessel and killing all crew on board? Is it fair that Brotherhood knights have been ostracized and can no longer return to their homes … to their families?”

  “No, sir, it’s not.”

  “Do not confuse our Brotherhood values of commitment, honor, allegiance, and sacrifice with strategic necessities of war. Over the next six weeks you will be faced with what may seem to you to be contradictions … even paradoxes. Remember, above and beyond the final scores, you will be measured and rewarded on how you conduct yourselves.”

  “One more thing …” the chief looked down and began walking again, “the Brotherhood’s basic training is intense, to say the least. Most Chains, over a six week period, will have several casualties.”

  He let that sink in. Up until then, Collin had equated the Brotherhood’s basic training with something akin to the U.S. Army’s. Yeah, certainly tough and even physically daunting—but no lethal consequences were typically involved. What the chief was talking about was a ten percent mortality rate.

  “Take a moment and look around. The truth is, young men and women, there’s a damn good chance some of you won’t survive the day, let alone the full six weeks.”

  Chapter 25

  The trek up to deck six was also an exercise in how to march. Three times the Lone Stars were ordered to return all the way back to the barracks and begin the march again. Finally, with their heads facing straight ahead, legs walking in unison, and with just the right amount of spacing between each person, the group was allowed to enter what was called the Training Field. Collin knew this because there was a placard above the double hatchway entrance that spelled the name out.

  They entered the compartment, which was like a small sports arena, to the sounds of grunts and bodies hitting other bodies. The two other Chains were already there, one team wearing blue uniforms, the other wearing gray, and they seemed to be in the midst of a practice game. What struck Collin first, other than both Chains looking highly athletic—was the simple fact they were adults. Again, Bragg had thrown another curveball into the mix—increasing the odds they’d be defeated.

  Collin tried to make heads or tails out of the game in progress. The field was roughly the size of a regulation football field, but probably closer in actual size to a soccer field. Each team consisted of ten players, their replacements standing by on the sidelines. The opposing players were in the process of lining up, in an inward-facing, circular formation. Now, with ten-man circles at opposing ends of the field, the players intertwined their arms at their elbows—creating an unbroken link around their own circle. A referee placed a yellow ball at the center of each circle.

  A gong rang from somewhere and play started. The two big circles began moving toward each other, gaining speed as they went. The two yellow balls were kicked between the team players on both circles as the teams moved down the field. When they finally collided, the slapping sounds of large bodies hitting other large bodies made Collin cringe. Only the circle with the gray-uniformed recruits came apart, as two of their players were thrown to the ground. A gong sounded again. Apparently, the opening play was over. Collin figured the play seemed equivalent to a kickoff in football. The two players on the ground got up and rejoined their gray-recruit circle. A referee took their ball and threw it toward the sideline. The opposing team, the blue recruits, which hadn’t broken apart during the opening play, got to maintain possession of the one single ball, now in play.

  �
��What the hell is this?” Humphrey asked. “No one said anything about f-ing adults being our competition.”

  Collin was only too aware that this latest surprise would take the wind out of his team’s sails. He also realized this could be his first test as their chosen leader.

  “Cool, huh?” he asked.

  Darren spun around on him. “Cool? You think this is cool?”

  Collin remained unfazed. “Do you remember last year when we played that scrimmage game? The one with those university kids … the Texan Musketeers? Most of those guys were in their twenties. We killed them. Sent them crying to their mommies.”

  Darren’s expression changed. “I remember … yeah, they were big mothers too … so you think we can beat these guys?”

  “I’m betting these guys and gals have played this stupid Pangallo game countless times. But are they an actual team … that’s trained and played together, day-in and day-out, like we have? Do they have the kind of mojo we have? No way.”

  Collin turned his attention back to the game. “Hey, we need to pay attention … watch what they’re doing so we can beat them.” Collin pointed to the field. “Looks like each team has ten players on the field at the start of the game. Seven players are male and three are female. I guess the object of the game is to move the ball down the field, in the direction of the opposition’s end zone. That much is similar to our kind of football.” But any other similarity seems to end there, he thought.

  “What the hell are they doing now?” DiMaggio asked, making a puzzled face.

  Both teams now had their three female players sitting on the shoulders of three large teammates—their legs held firmly in the grasp of the male players below. One of the females, on the controlling blue team, with short, dark red hair, now held the ball. As soon as the gong sounded she threw the ball across to another shoulder-riding blue teammate, who missed catching the pass and the ball dropped to the field. The players in blue used their feet to pass the ball between them. The gray opposing team, not having possession of the ball, immediately broke apart—though first ensuring that each team player was linked to another by at least one arm. In a whipping motion, the gray team players were sent in to break the opposing team’s linkage. All the while the blue team, holding the ball, continued to pass it between themselves. One of the blue male players, in a scooping motion, got his foot beneath the ball and kicked it up to one of the female players, who began passing it between the other two females. As soon as the gray opposition got close to disrupting the players closest to the ball, or around the ball, she’d pass it to another female. The blue team, as a Chain, moved the ball thirty yards towards the opposition’s end zone before the gray team managed to break through their circle and take possession of the ball. Then, in a surprise move, the grays—keeping their line of players still linked at the elbows—whipped one end of their line forward; then, abruptly, they swung the other end of the line forward as well. They quickly advanced, fifty yards down the field—all the while the ball was constantly in motion. Apparently that was another rule—the ball must not become stationary. The blue team, also reformed into a line of linked players, was doing their best to disrupt the grays’ advance, but to no avail. The grays’ line of players crossed over the opposition’s end zone. Then, in one final pass of the ball, a female positioned on shoulders just over the line caught the ball. Excited, she yelled, “Pangallo!”

  Chief-in-Command Bragg was already on the field, making his way over to the two teams. With hands extended overhead, he motioned everyone to huddle around him. He turned toward the sidelines and motioned to the Lone Stars, as well as the gray and blue sidelined players: “Everyone, move in … gather round!”

  Everyone circled around the chief. Collin assessed the other players and started to feel discouraged. Some of these men and women were older than he’d thought—perhaps as old as twenty-five?

  “Take this opportunity to greet the other Chains, the other recruits, that you will be competing against over the next six weeks. First, under command of Fico Lucan, we have the Brave Hearts in blue.”

  A beefy-looking guy, with several days’ stubble, half-heartedly raised a hand.

  “Next, we have Commander Rocco Puma, of the Righteous Warriors in gray.”

  Rocco bobbed his chin once.

  “Lastly, we have Commander Collin Frost, with his Lone Stars, garbed in red.”

  Collin also gave a half-hearted wave with his hand. “What up!” he offered.

  “Starting now, there will be the awarding, and detraction, of tributes … which will include the short Pangallo game you’re about to participate in. And later today for the weapons and marksmanship training; the one-on-one close-quarters combat; and on your on-station duties. You have a full day ahead of you. Now, you will play three-team Pangallo for one hour. Take your positions.”

  “Chief, can I ask a question?” Collin asked.

  The chief raised his eyebrows.

  “Where does the third circle formation start from?”

  Apparently that was a stupid question; recruits from both the blue and gray teams snickered.

  The chief turned to Rocco Puma. “Commander, can you inform Commander Frost of the correct third team starting position?”

  “Your choice, either end,” Puma answered.

  “Take your positions,” the chief said again.

  Collin turned to Darren. “Any suggestions?”

  Without hesitation, Darren began tapping on shoulders, “Bubba, you’re in, Collin in, Humphrey in, Lydia in, Tink, Karen, DiMaggio, White, you’re in, and Gregg, you’re in. The rest of you are sidelined.” There were a few groans as the latter moved off to the sidelines.

  The Lone Stars took up position at the same end of the field as the blue Brave Hearts team. Both teams moved away from each other, closer to the sidelines.

  “Okay … everyone join arms,” Collin said, joining elbows with Bubba on his left and DiMaggio on his right. As soon as their circle was linked together, a referee rolled a ball into its center.

  Collin looked around the circle and saw apprehension on their faces.

  “By the way … I received a memo from Captain Dante Primo last night. He informed me, we only get the Turd back if we come out of the six-week training with more tributes than the other two Chains. To the winner goes all spoils.” Collin shrugged, the news now delivered.

  Humphrey looked like he was about to have an aneurism. “How the hell can he just change things like that? That’s total bullshit!”

  Several in the group spat similar remarks. The apprehension on their faces from moments before was now replaced with anger. Collin inwardly smiled.

  At the sound of the gong, Collin shot forward for the ball.

  Chapter 26

  The gong came again five seconds later as the referee stopped play. Apparently Cine had wandered onto the field.

  The referee raised a hand and made an unrecognizable gesture. “Too many players on the field; subtraction of ten tributes from red team!”

  Humphrey screamed toward the sideline, “Get the hell off the field, freak!”

  Bound arm-in-arm, Lydia and Tink, looking small and scared, stared at each other and then at Darren and Collin. Frustration was clearly evident on their faces.

  “Can we just wait up a sec? I’m not like one of you football players … or the Pangallo players. Neither is Tink. What if we drop the ball? We’ll get killed out there,” Lydia said in exasperation.

  Everyone got ready again for the sound of the gong.

  “You’ll just have to buck-up, girls. We’re all in over our heads,” Darren told them, leaning forward, ready to attack the ball.

  Gong. Darren and the two players at his side ran forward while the players across from him ran backwards. Karen lost her balance, but the players on either side quickly lifted her up by her elbows and back onto her feet. The red Lone Star circle began to make unsteady progress down the field.

  “They’re leaving us in the dust,” Humphre
y screamed. “Pick up the pace!”

  Collin, positioned at the side of the circle, was doing his best to watch where he was going, yet study the other team. “They constantly move … keeping their circle turning. I think it helps them run faster,” he yelled.

  Slowly at first, Collin’s team started to move their circle counter-clockwise as they progressed down the field. They hadn’t gained any on the blue team, but they hadn’t lost ground, either.

  The gray team was now moving close to the midfield line. The blues and grays were going to collide. Collin heard the sounds of bodies hitting bodies again and watched as two blue team players tumbled to the ground. Without hesitation, the gray team spun around and moved away from the two fallen blues. Picking up speed, they headed toward the Lone Stars.

  Collin saw an opportunity. “Slow down … stop spinning! Let Bubba hit their circle first.”

  Easier said than done. Their circle slowed but continued spinning for several more seconds, heading for a collision with the grays. Fortunately, their two hundred and seventy pound center, Royce White, barreled into their players. Royce, like an immense bowling ball, caused four grays to go airborne. They grunted as they hit the ground. The Lone Stars held their circle together without any links broken. The gong sounded.