Cosmic Genten

by Grady P. Brown

  Baffled, Bralu asked, “What do I think? I think this is unnecessary. Our city is protected by a force field. We are safe from pirates and orbital bombardment. Besides, where did you guys get all this stuff? Is this even legal?”

  “Devan gave them to us. Because we are a strategically important system, he knows the Shogunate will inevitably invade. Therefore, he and his militia have been getting everybody ready,” Kelba explained.

  Bralu almost choked when he heard Devan’s name and exclaimed, “You got weapons from that lunatic and his zealots? You’re mad!”

  “Nope. We are alert. We don’t want to be caught off guard if our shield comes down. Know what I mean?” Jarek countered.

  Pausing, Bralu murmured, “I guess.”

  A series of loud beeps echoed throughout the hangar, causing the racers and their mechanics to prepare to move to the racetrack.

  “That’s my signal. Wish me luck!” Jarek said as he climbed to the cockpit of his jet.

  “Will do,” Bralu said before jogging toward the audience outside.

  ______

  Bralu sat behind a sheet of laser-proof glass as he watched thirty jets prepare to race. The crowd in the arena cheered at deafening volumes as the anticipation for the race grew. He could see the night sky overhead through the city’s force field.

  The jets looked like oversized boomerangs, with the cockpit in the middle, the lift engines on either end, and the thruster engine in the rear. Each one was painted with different patterns that suited their driver. Their engines rumbled as they prepared for launch.

  Bralu could see Jarek revving his controls in the middle row of the racers. Jarek’s helmet was specially designed to accommodate his avian head. Bralu could see Jarek’s cocky smile on his beak even from where he was sitting. The prize for the race was two million euros, and Bralu could tell that his friend wanted that money with a passion.

  “Go get ‘em, Jarek!” Bralu cheered, pounding on the glass.

  Suddenly, an unexpected noise screamed through the city. Bralu instantly recognized the noise as air raid sirens. The sirens quickly stirred the crowd into a panic, and they ran in every direction.

  As he pushed through the mob, Bralu glimpsed Jarek and the other racers drive back to the hangar. Bralu had an idea of what they planned to do. Gripping his Kiru strapped to his belt, Bralu channeled psionic energy through his muscles. He jumped over the stampede and landed in the race track before sprinting toward the hangar.

  Due to his enhanced speed, the world seemed to move in slow motion around him. He ran to the hangar in less than a minute. When he reached the hangar, Bralu stopped augmenting his speed. The strain of pushing his speed beyond its limits left him out of breath for a few moments.

  Bralu saw all the racers starting to attach their laser cannons and shield generators to their jets. It was clear that Jarek, Kelba, and their compatriots were preparing for war. When Bralu found Jarek and Kelba, they were doing the finishing touches to their militarized vehicle.

  “Please tell me you guys are not going to do something stupid!” Bralu begged.

  “You heard the sirens! We’re under attack! It’s time for us to take action!” Jarek shouted.

  “Yeah! We’re going to slam this jet right down the Shogunate’s throat!” Kelba boasted.

  “Then let me come with you. I may not be a Bushi yet, but you guys might need backup.”

  Shrugging, Jarek said, “The more the merrier. Hop on!”

  Bralu drew his Kiru and leapt onto the right wing of Kelba’s jet. Within moments, all thirty of the weaponized jets started flying out of the hangar and onto an unknown battlefield. When they were outside, they could see something burning in the atmosphere above Londinium.

  “What is that?” Bralu whispered.

  ______

  Memories of his nearly fatal dogfight returned to Kyle as the Benfold was engulfed in flame as it entered Spica Prime’s atmosphere. The stars in space faded, and the surface of the planet slowly came into view. The whole frigate shook violently as the control panels shattered in bursts of sparks. Shrapnel flew in every direction, slicing through personnel as they were thrown out of their seats.

  “What’s our status, Olaf?” Kyle demanded as he wiped drops of blood off his helmet’s visor.

  “The ship’s losing pieces, along with half our engines! Life support has failed through half the craft and our artificial gravity is on its last legs! Our shields are the only things keeping us from being incinerated upon entry! I’m trying to maneuver us for a straight crash landing, but it’s damn tricky with half our engines gone!” Olaf shouted over the chaos.

  “What about the escape pods? Can we evacuate?” Kyle demanded.

  “The circuits controlling the escape pods are fried! We can’t abandon ship!”

  Kyle cursed loudly as he smashed his metal fist into a control panel. He thought furiously for a solution as his ship disintegrated around him.

  “At least have us land outside Londinium! That way, they can send a rescue team when the dust settles!” Kyle ordered.

  “I’ll try, sir! Hang on to something!” Olaf instructed.

  For what seemed like an agonizing eternity, the crew of the Benfold braced for impact. All the while, Londinium spiraled into view. When the flames subsided, clouds fluttered past the windscreen. Then the vast savannah surrounding Londinium came closer and closer until the impact came. The collision was so sudden and thunderous that everyone’s world went black instantly.

  ______

  Distant sounds briefly aroused Kyle awake. All he could see were shapes and shadows entering the Benfold’s shattered windscreen. The obscure figures were searching the bodies of the crew before turning their attention to Kyle. Then Kyle’s consciousness faded once more.

  CHAPTER 5

  Outside of its dome-like force field, Londinium sat in the middle of a vast savannah. Apart from its force field, the city was defended by an impregnable fifty-foot wall armed with battery cannons. In the sky, Spica Prime’s twin moons loomed like a pair of colossal ghosts. Three miles from the front gate, Bralu and company were heading toward the remains of the Benfold.

  It was a short ride toward the scuttled ship from Londinium. Bralu and the jet racers searched the smoldering crash for survivors. He could trace a long trail of fire and wreckage for miles behind the ruined frigate. Behind Bralu and company, hundreds of search-and-rescue vehicles hovered out of Londinium’s front gate.

  “It looks like this is not an enemy attack. This ship is a standard-issue Consulate vessel,” Bralu said.

  “Looks like an average warship to me. How do you know it’s from the Consulate?” Jarek asked.

  “Because my brother commands one of this model. He sent us holographic pictures,” Bralu answered.

  “Looks like it was in a battle. Do you think it’s lost or something?” Kelba asked.

  “It might not have been a battle. It could have had engine trouble upon entry,” Jarek countered.

  “Let’s enter the command bridge. Its cockpit is cracked open,” Bralu suggested.

  Bralu, Jarek, and Kelba crawled through the opening in the command bridge and found a ruined chamber filled with lacerated bodies and shattered machinery. Sparks flew from the fractured computers and smoke slithered out of the cracked control panels. The leaking fluids from the machinery gave the atmosphere a putrid stench that made Bralu gag.

  After several minutes of searching, Bralu saw something familiar amongst the bodies. One of the bodies wore a black helmet made of multiple interconnected metal plates. Apart from the seams between the plates and the rectangular eyeholes, the mask was featureless and concealed its wearer’s entire head.

  Bralu rushed toward the wearer of the mask and shouted, “My God! Kyle, is that you? Speak to me!”

  “Who is that?” Kelba asked.

  “He’s my big brother! He’s the captain of this ship!” Bralu cried.

  “I thought your brother was shot down a year ago,” Jarek said.r />
  Before Bralu could counter Jarek’s comment, Kyle moaned drunkenly.

  “Thank God! He’s alive! Quick! Help me get him out of here!” Bralu hoisted Kyle out of his command seat.

  At that moment, search-and-rescue personnel entered the ruined command bridge. One officer said, “Step away, please. We will evacuate the wounded.”

  “But he’s my brother!” Bralu shouted.

  “I understand, young man, but let us do our job so your brother can live,” the officer interjected.

  Scowling, Bralu stepped away from Kyle as the first responders loaded him on a gurney and carried him out of the ship. Then police officers in armored uniforms entered the ship with pistols raised.

  “You lot and your fellow racers are under arrest for possession of illegal weapons and equipment,” the first cop declared.

  Kelba and Jarek cursed loudly, but raised their hands in surrender. Bralu, however, said, “Wait a minute! We thought we were under attack! Do you expect us to not be prepared for the worst?”

  “The law is the law. I see you have a Bushi Kiru, but you are not wearing the Bushi uniform. You are either a cadet acting without a license, or a thief who stole a Kiru. One way or another, you are operating without legal authorization. That puts you under arrest as well. Surrender your Kiru, sir,” the officer ordered.

  Growling with frustration, Bralu unbuckled his Kiru and handed it over to the police before being handcuffed along with Kelba and Jarek.

  ______

  Bralu, Kelba, and Jarek festered in a holding cell while they waited for the court’s verdict. The atmosphere was tense, and the energy field that contained them crackled like static electricity. Outside of their cell, the other racers were detained as well.

  Bralu crossed his arms. “I know I shouldn’t have come with you idiots.”

  Kelba jabbed Bralu’s shoulder. “Hey, at least you thought the same thing we did. We thought our home was being invaded, and we acted accordingly.”

  Jarek pointed at Bralu. “No one asked you to come along, Bralu. You could have stayed with all the other noncombatants and cowered in a bunker somewhere.”

  Bralu wanted to say something back, but his words were stuck in his throat. The three companions sat quietly for a few moments. The uncomfortable silence gave them a rotten sensation in their stomachs.

  Bralu bowed his head. “So what happens now?”

  Jarek shrugged. “All we can do is wait for them to sentence us. Hopefully we will just get community service since we didn’t really use our weapons.”

  Kelba rubbed her hands together. “I think we have bigger problems to worry about than our sentences. The Benfold crashed here for a reason. It’s been all over the news that the Shogunate has their eyes on this star system. I think the Consulate tried to defend us, but they were defeated. If that is the case, then our situation is far from over.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Kyle’s vision returned to him, but it was blurred. At first, all he could see were shapes and shadows. His breathing felt more ragged than usual. Eventually, he could see his surroundings. He was in a hospital room with a window that displayed a serene cityscape. Sitting next to him were Mikal, Marthun, and GB-89, who looked at him with shock, concern, and affection.

  “Mom … Dad … Gee Bee … why are you here?” Kyle asked in a raspy voice.

  “Your ship crashed outside the city, Master Kyle. You and your surviving crew were rescued and brought here for medical attention. It is so good to see you again, Young Master. However, you look different from the last time I saw you,” GB-89 said.

  Marthun and Mikal glared at GB-89, both growling, “Gee Bee!”

  Turning to Marthun and Mikal, GB-89 asked, “What? Was that the wrong thing to say?”

  Trying to control himself, Mikal instructed, “I think it would be best if you waited outside, Gee Bee.”

  GB-89 bobbed his metal head. “Oh. Then I will be outside. If you require my services, please let me know.”

  With heavy metal footsteps, GB-89 lumbered out of the hospital room. Mikal and Marthun returned their attention to Kyle.

  “We’re sorry, Son. We’ll have a mechanic take a look at Gee Bee. His manners have been malfunctioning lately,” Mikal explained.

  Rasping again, Kyle asked, “Did Gee Bee blow a fuse or something?”

  Upon hearing his voice and the coldness that chilled his head, Kyle realized he was not wearing his helmet. The helmet was resting on a table next to his bed. Fortunately, his bed was equipped with its own breath mask, which covered Kyle’s mouth and nose.

  “We heard your injuries from your dogfight were severe, but we did not expect this,” Mikal commented.

  Marthun jabbed her husband in the ribs before saying, “It doesn’t matter what you look like. You are still our baby boy, Kyle.”

  “Don’t look at me! I never wanted you to see me like this!” Kyle pleaded.

  “Like your mother said, you are still our son no matter how bad your scars are,” Mikal said.

  “All we got were some minor details about how you were injured in your dogfight. We ask you to put our minds at ease and tell us the full extent of your wounds,” Marthun said.

  Sighing haggardly, Kyle said, “Fine. Before I was shot, I managed to destroy an enemy shipyard. When I was shot down, the entire right side of my body was comprehensively ruined. I lost a leg, an arm, and half my face, and my heart and one of my lungs were shredded by shrapnel. In addition to prosthetic limbs, my skeletal structure was put back together with cybernetic implants and nanite sutures. My scarred lung and heart are being supported by a positronic secondary heart. I have to wear my helmet at all times, or I won’t be able to breathe on my own for more than an hour. I am even given a daily dosage of painkiller injections. On the upside, I was promoted to captain after destroying the enemy shipyard.”

  “I’m glad you got promoted for your heroics,” Mikal said.

  “That’s not all that happened to you, is it, Kyle?” Marthun asked, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

  Wheezing heavily, Kyle added, “The shrapnel in my chest cannot be removed without killing me, even with the help of nanites. In addition, the shrapnel eventually gave me blood poisoning. Doctors say that I have three months to live. I am a dead man walking. Please don’t tell Bralu.”

  As Marthun wept on her husband’s shoulder, Mikal said, “Bralu’s been arrested trying to save you.”

  Baffled, Kyle asked, “Why?”

  “He is a Bushi who had not completed his training, which made his actions unsanctioned. Apparently, Bralu and his buddies were in possession of illegal weapons. They thought we were under attack from the Shogunate.”

  Kyle almost stopped breathing when he was reminded of his most recent battle. After regaining his breath, Kyle demanded, “I need to speak to the governor! The Shogunate defeated us outside of the star system! They have a fleet-killing weapon! We have to prepare for battle! They’re coming!”

  “Take it easy, Son. You’ve been through a lot, and your health is fragile. Don’t push yourself too hard,” Mikal urged.

  “Did you not hear me? The Shogunate is going to invade any day now! We have to prepare everyone for battle!” Kyle urged feverishly.

  “I agree with you, Captain Pramar!” said a booming voice.

  The Pramars turned their attention to the source of the voice and were surprised to see Spatha Miller, governor of the Spica System. He was escorted by two police officers in segmented armor. Spatha was an obese Offshoot, with orange skin, white eyelids, and feathery blond hair. He looked like a chunk of rotten butter.

  “Governor Spatha! What an honor to be in your presence! What brings you here?” Marthun asked, still teary-eyed.

  Adopting a more stern demeanor, the normally jovial governor answered, “I have come in the name of this star system’s security. My officials have debriefed your surviving personnel, Captain Pramar. The picture they painted was grim beyond belief. Also, all long-range communications and na
vigational computers have been shut down across the entire system. The Consulate’s Ruling Council’s worst fear is about to happen. The Shogunate is going to conquer the Spica System! With no long-range communications, we cannot alert the Consulate to our situation. With the navigational computers offline, no one can leave the system. We’re trapped, and our choices are to either fight or die.

  “Out of the three thousand personnel on the Benfold, just over a third survived the crash. Each of your personnel have some degree of combat training. I know they have been through a traumatic experience, but the circumstances require their military talents if this system is to survive. My police force is assembling whatever soldiers and weapons they can. However, the equipment they have gathered is meant for law enforcement, not war. Worse, they are too few in number to defend Spica Prime and we have no known fleet other than the fighters and bombers that survived the Benfold’s crash. Your younger brother’s jet racer friends have contacts with Devan’s militia, smugglers, and merchants. If anyone can give us the soldiers, weapons, and ships we need for the coming battle, it is them.

  “Your younger brother is a Bushi cadet and is in a dojo with a Sensei and other students. In case there are Ronin in the coming Shogunate fleet, we will need whatever Bushi are available, regardless of how few they are.”

  Outraged, Marthun demanded, “Now, see here, sir! You can’t conscript my younger son like that! My older boy is dying, and I don’t want to lose my other boy!”

  “If he didn’t want to be conscripted, he should not have been taken into the Bushi dojo. He has combat training–psychic combat training. That will make him more valuable than a hundred normal soldiers. In a situation as desperate as ours, we need every fighter available to fend off the Shogunate. The choice of whether your younger son will fight is not yours to make. This is the government’s choice!”