by Greg Laurel
Universal Defender
Book 1
Today I Save Myself
By Greg Laurel
Blue Forge Press
Port Orchard * Washington
Universal Defender: Today I Save Myself (Book 1)
Copyright 2020, 2021
by Greg Laurel
First eBook Edition
March 2021
First Print Edition
March 2021
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever, except in the case of short excerpts for use in reviews of the book.
For information about film, reprint or other subsidiary rights, contact [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations, and all other story elements are the product of the authors' imaginations and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or other elements in real life, is purely coincidental.
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360-550-2071 ph.txt
My gift to you, Miles.
All the adventures and allies I'll never have.
Universal Defender
Book 1
Today I Save Myself
By Greg Laurel
Chapter the First
Miles Radien stood alone, but this was not a bad thing. While it was not good, it certainly was the standard, and he honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. Miles understood the nature of the world, in that a friend is merely an ally who has yet to prove themselves your enemy, and the trick is to drift apart or die of old age before such an opportunity for betrayal presents itself. Alone does not mean lonely.
But that is not what Miles despaired over. He despaired over where he stood, rather than how he stood. He stood on Earth. A world he despised, full of a species of inherent spite, and a deliberate love of evil. The spite rubbed off on him, sure, but he would do all in his minuscule power to ensure that the evil aspect of humanity did not. Understanding one’s own darkness, that it may be fought against, and subdued. At least, that was what he hoped he was doing.
Every day Miles went to the woods near his home, where only he lived. Like clockwork, around 6:00 PM, he’d sit in those woods, at the dried-up remnant of a creekbed, to sit there motionless, on his knees, and to close his eyes, blocking out the world around him. Hearing only the sound of silence, that slight ring of strangely relaxing harmonic, and even slowing his breathing to a crawl. He’d simply empty his mind of conscious thought, thinking only of the sound itself that was emptiness.
But something was different about today, when he went down to the woods. As he walked down the path, he couldn’t help but feel as though something else was there. An animal, maybe? But these woods were nearly desolate of life, with only the occasional coyote in the midnight hours. And no human came to these woods anymore, let alone his secret hide. He wasn’t about to be deterred, though. Once again, he sat at his spot. Once again, he closed his eyes and soon heard that serene humming that was the sound of silence.
A twig snapped.
Miles’s eyes shot open, and he scrambled to his feet. He may not have been the best of fighters, but he had training enough to know what he was doing. Before him was a person, but... not quite? Whoever they were, they seemed out of place here, as if a spirit came to this world with only a basic knowledge of how a person looks when they’re not suspicious.
Finally, Miles spoke. “I’d say ‘who dares,’ but that seems a little much. Even so, who are you?”
A moment passed before the figure spoke “You may call me Melaqros,” this being said in a masculine voice, albeit seemingly as if a lizard was trying to speak it. He removed his hood as a grey mist barely encompassed him, shifting a human form to that of what almost appeared to be a... Komodo Dragon? Some kind of reptilian for sure, but he stood upright upon two legs. “I got your message.”
“Message?” Miles inquired. “What are you on about? I don’t have the technology to send messages. At least, not the kind that can call the attention of people like you.”
Miles figured that this being was not of Earth, or any planet he knew. But whoever this was, he did not attack outright, so Miles was more than willing to hear him out.
Melaqros seemed confused. “Then what have been those fonts of pure cosmic power that have seethed from you every day for years? Do you... do you even know what emanates from you? A distress signal, to any who can listen!”
Miles stood stunned. What he was doing, that humming when all was silent, it was that? Cosmic power? Not even that, but he was capable of, let alone actively emitting it?
Melaqros looked around, seemingly nervous. “I haven’t much time. Even now, the forces of your world move against me, simply for my presence. My ship is not far. We must—”
In most infuriating timing if not for its tragic nature, a thip sound was heard, then the report of a rifle, and Melaqros fell to his knees. Miles shouted and came to him, catching this creature before he would have fallen to his back, and taking him behind a nearby tree, for whatever it may have been worth. These old, dead trees would make for lousy cover. “I... I don’t know where your people keep their internal organs, but I don’t know how to save you, or even if I can.”
“No time for me, I’ve run my course,” Melaqros said, reaching into the pocket of the brown jacket he wore, and placing something in Miles’s hand. “My ship isn’t far. Take it, put this in, it will bring you to Cynofrax, where you will find your answers upon The Mountain. There is so much about the universe you don’t yet know, but you will. Today, save yourself, so tomorrow you might save your world, and in time... all of creation.”
Melaqros went limp in Miles’s arms, and soon after fell apart to dust. Not quite dust, rather, but... sparks?
“Well, that solves the issue of leaving a body for the government to dissect,” Miles said. But the sentiment was short lived as he heard shouting, and looked in his hand to see a triangular sort of ‘key,’ glowing a deep blue. “Ok, you gotta help me here...”
As if it knew what he sought, a blue shimmer passed over the empty air and revealed a craft clearly far beyond Earth’s technology. The cockpit opened, awaiting its pilot. Or at least, his replacement. Miles ran to the ship, and heard someone yell “Stop him!” as he did so. A gunshot was heard and a bullet pinged off the plating of the craft, and another order barked. “No! We need the specimen intact!” Miles, with his cue to leave, hastily crawled into the cockpit of the ship, which closed automatically.
“Alright then, where does this thing go?” Miles said to himself, and soon saw a red-glowing slot in the console, perfectly shaped to the device he held in his hand. He placed the key into the slot, and the ship hummed to life.
“Coordinates accepted, preparing warp to Cynofrax,” an automated voice said, to Miles’s surprise. How did it know what to say to him in English? The ship blasted off, away from the now-insignificant suits below, and soon was beyond Earth orbit. A countdown started to warp, and Miles braced himself. The ship jumped forth into warp, but surprisingly, Miles felt no kickback. “The wonders of... whatever technology this is, I guess.”
It was only a matter of minutes before the ship exited warp, and Miles beheld a pla
net not unlike the kind he saw in movies in books. It seemed... too incredible to be real. The sheer splendor of it seemed as though it belonged in the realm of fiction, but there it was. Cynofrax. He hoped. The ship landed itself on an open plain, and the cockpit hissed open. To his surprise, Miles was able to breathe this air.
However, any admiration of where he stood was quickly cut short when an armored individual started running towards him, a rifle of some design in his hands. “Ike-Duul?” the creature yelled. “Thra-Duulen!”
With no clue what else to do, and also unsure of what he was expecting when he suddenly landed on a planet like this, Miles put his hands up. “I don’t know what you’re saying! This ship flew me here on its own!”
The armored being stopped, and waited for a moment, before responding. “Who are you, and why did you land here? Craft aren’t to land on the Plains of the Stars, not even in emergency!”
Now more confused than ever as to how this person suddenly spoke English, Miles figured just answering its questions would be better than asking his own. “My name is Miles Radien, and I wasn’t controlling the ship. It piloted itself here after someone gave me the key, telling me I needed to find my answers on Cynofrax, which I really hope this planet is!”
“Then where is the pilot now?”
“He was killed by natives on the planet, my kinsmen, who I hold no pride for. I can only assume he intended to take me here himself, but that became impossible. Do you recognize this craft, and know who the pilot is?”
The armored individual pressed a button on the neck plating of his suit, and the helmet retracted itself to reveal that this person was more akin to a fox standing on two legs, with some incredibly heightened intelligence. “I suppose you are owed some answers, as you’ve given them to me. My name is Arakai, and this is indeed Cynofrax, homeworld of the Vulpian people. The ship you arrived in, and admittedly parked illegally is known as The Aura Runner. Its pilot was never known, as the ship had only ever been... told stories of. A ship of myth, as it were. If you would allow me, I will place a device on it that will pilot it to a more legal landing platform.”
Miles stood aside and allowed Arakai to place a small circular piece of metal on The Aura Runner, and it took off towards one of the grand cities in the distance. “Don’t worry, I will ensure the ship is back in your hands when you leave. If what you say is true, and the pilot gave you its Chronokey willingly, it belongs to you now.”
A moment passed before Miles spoke. “But what now? That guy... the one who gave me the ship said he had come because I was giving off some kind of cosmic distress signal. I didn’t even know I could do that. Before he died, he said something about saving myself today, to save my world tomorrow, and eventually the whole of creation. Do you have any idea what he might’ve been on about?”
Arakai stopped for a moment. “I don’t know for sure, but I recommend you visit The Aura Prism on The Mountain. And before you ask, it’s the only mountain on Cynofrax, so it doesn’t need a name beyond The Mountain. If you need quick passage to it, this town we’re not far from should have someone willing to get you there, for a price. Usually work or favors.”
Miles felt like he was on a quest from a video game that presented itself as a paltry side-errand, but would suddenly open up into a storyline bigger than the one claiming to be the ‘main’ one. But that wasn’t a bad thing for him. It was something he’d dreamed about for so long. All his life, he was the loner, the one playing in the backyard on his own, waving a stick around at the air, and only getting to imagine what it all meant. Countless adventures across the worlds and the stars, defeating the most evil of foes, and sorting fair play across the cosmos, forging the strongest of alliances, and bringing light to the darkest corners of creation. All the worlds he imagined in his head, he just might get to see them finally. He’d get to live the dream that haunted him for his whole life. Miles even wondered if some of the things he imagined about would turn up in his own adventures. But that was for later. Now, he needed to get to this mountain. The Mountain, as it were.
Following Arakai into the town called Kaldres-Viane, he took the Vulpian’s recommendation and entered what looked to be the local bar, but it had a more tavern sort of atmosphere than anything else. Travelers from across the stars instead of just one world, swapping stories and having just a damn good time of their lives. Miles looked around, and approached the bar counter itself. While having the atmosphere of a tavern, it was clear that there was some very clever technology at work here. Soon, the Vulpian barkeep was ready to hear what he had to say.
“I don’t know if any language I speak works here,” Miles said, to which the barkeep held his hand up as if to say ‘Just a moment,’ before telling him in plain English that he was ready. “Right,” Miles continued. “I’ve been told I need to get to The Mountain, and that someone might be able to help me with passage there. I can pay in manual labor or protection, I have some training in combat, enough to protect myself. It might be enough, but I don’t know for sure.”
Miles wasn’t lying. He did have experience in Martial Arts, particularly Eskrima and Savate Kickboxing, as well as dabbling in Historical European Martial Arts.
“I don’t know about manual labor, let alone protection. But if you have experience playing an instrument of some kind, you’ll be the most popular guy in town. This place and its regulars have been starved of a good musician. Usually we keep getting uppity types who talk more about their cosmic inspiration for a given song than they actually play it for...” The barkeep’s ears flattened at making that point, clearly he had remembered a few painfully boring people like that.
“Well, I can play an instrument, but I’m not sure anyone here’s heard of it. Only because I’m so very much not from around here. Hell, the bastards I call my kinsmen can barely get to the next planet over, and that’s not counting just how much of scum they are as beings.”
“There’s a Replicator over there,” the barkeep said as he pointed at what looked more like a space-age photo booth. “It will be able to use your memories of playing the instrument to construct one for you. As for how colorfully you describe your own species, that’s an interesting stance to take to one’s own kind.”
“If you knew them, you’d say worse than I do,” Miles said as he headed towards the Replicator. He placed his hand on a small circular panel, and soon, a guitar of the same make and model as his personal one had materialized itself in front of him, and even an amp to spare with the associated cables. “Well, that’s quite clever, then. I suppose whatever passes as an outlet will be adaptable too?”
Sure enough, when Miles needed to plug the amp itself into a wall socket, a different circular panel (silver rather than blue) morphed itself around the prongs of the plug. He then checked the tuning of the guitar. Standard tuning, like his usual. After turning the amp on and setting it to a heavy distortion, the kind for hard rock and metal, he turned around and saw that all eyes were on him, eagerly awaiting whatever he was about to do.
“I feel like I’m about to be praised or killed, and the next few moments will decide which,” Miles said, which incited some laughter among the crowd. Now knowing his audience and that they could understand him, Miles played a few practice notes, before jumping into a set of covers from classic rock and metal artists he always enjoyed, and the tavern goers certainly enjoyed them too. Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It” in particular was a hit. After that, he decided it was a good time to show one of his originals. One he called “Song of the Defender”. It had no lyrics, so its notes did the talking. And it was a rousing success, to say the least. Clearly, he was a welcome break from whatever was passing for a musician around here for the past while.
After the set, Miles put the guitar into the replicator, and it, along with the amp and the cables dissolved, likely to be re-assembled into something new another time. Many were already offering to buy him drinks, and he was willing to oblige, so long as they didn’t dissolve his stomach. Surp
risingly, the range of brews and libations were quite similar to what he found on Earth, just under different names. It seemed the best way to find what he was looking for was to simply say its base ingredient along with ‘brew’ or ‘distillate’. It’s what got him a glass of something called ‘Gelvetori Doomrye,’ and it certainly was. A single glass had the effect of maybe three of regular Earth whisky. But Miles wasn’t a lightweight, and was only just buzzed after it.
A Vulpian approached him as he washed the Doomrye down with some water and a plate of something called Kynvalt, a dish not from Cynofrax, but a planet called Varenthiil, described as “Fried Fleischberries”. It tasted like fried bear meat; akin to beef, but more gamey. “Your playstyle is a welcome break from the types we tend to get around here,” she complimented.
“So I’ve figured,” Miles replied. “I’ve dealt with the types you seem to describe, and they are insufferable.”
“Gods, I know!” she said, almost excited that Miles could relate. “They take up more time just talking than actually playing! ‘Oh, this song was inspired by the something fields of some ridiculous planet that I was on vacation on with an overblown budget, and spent the whole time sipping only the finest drink, and the most choice of foods...” She paused for a moment. “Even with that much sarcasm, that physically hurt to say.”
Miles snorted upon her saying ‘finest’ in such an exaggerated tone, nearly spitting his water out. “I have never in my life related to someone more than now, I think.”
The two laughed, and the Vulpian sat down at the bar, pondering what drink to down in seconds, just to make up for a painfully spot-on impression of someone who represents what’s wrong with the universe. Miles pondered for a second before speaking up.
