by Greg Dragon
The Geralos bullet had struck his abdomen, boring its way through the armor, but according to Varnes—who spoke as he worked—it didn’t do much damage to his internal organs.
Helga felt guilty for Cruser’s death. It was a numbing, debilitating feeling. She couldn’t understand why he was gone and she was still here, alive.
The shooting of their two most important members was hard to accept as a coincidence. She wondered if they had been compromised—there had been rumors that the Geralos could take over minds—but how, and who could it be? Every one of them had fought like demons when Cage led them out from the Britz.
“He’ll need to stay here for a Vestalian day before he’s ready to move again,” Varnes said. Cilas was sedated and propped up on several rolls, but his face looked peaceful despite the bandages around his abdomen.
“Where did you learn to fly like that, Ate?” It was Lamia Brafa asking the question.
Helga started to give a sarcastic answer but remembered what Cilas said. “As a cadet, for as far back as I can remember,” she said, “I spent most of my free time running simulated combat. When I made second class, there was a huge demand for pilots and because of my reputation I was allowed to—is there something on my face?”
Lamia had chuckled and looked down at his sword, and she thought that he was making fun.
“Don’t mind me, I was just laughing at your enthusiasm. You stepped up when we needed you, and that’s a testament to your instincts. Training only gives you the know-how, Ate. What you do when it’s inconvenient, that’s what sets you apart. You didn’t cry for Cruser and you didn’t freeze up. You grabbed the flight stick and you saved our lives.”
“Adan was my friend. He taught me a lot,” she said, fighting back tears. “I’m not as good as he was, but I want to be. I was hoping to learn more from him when we completed this mission. Now I just want to get back to the Rendron so that we can send him off with a hero’s honor.”
“Focus on the now,” Cage Hem said, standing up. “Start to think too far ahead and you’ll miss the lizard right in front of you. At any minute those lizards could come back and we need to be ready to go.”
6
On Rendron, none of the spacers ever talked about the fighting and Helga never understood why. Sure there was the occasional big mouth who would brag about killing lizards, but most of the time it was only hot air – said badass hadn’t even seen a firefight.
The Geralos was the stuff of legends, something you knew existed but the men and women who survived encounters never talked about it. Helga thought about the fights she had been in since landing on the moon, and wondered if she’d be willing to talk about it when she returned.
Of course she would. She’d survived a giant worm, not to mention seeing one of the lizards up close. She had traded shots with them, and survived. What cadet wouldn’t want to hear about that?
But as she stood in the circle of men listening to their stories, she couldn’t help but notice that they avoided the subject. Varnes talked about his family, and Wyatt his multiple girlfriends. Cage—when he was chiming in—spoke of an exotic beer brewed on Traxis.
All of it was interesting to her, but she was itching to talk about their encounters. “Have you all ever been in a situation like this?” she finally said, the words spilling out before she could check them.
“What do you mean, Ate?” Varnes said, and she froze when they all turned to look at her.
“The crash, and all of this craziness,” she said. “You all have been through everything, it seems, so I want to know how bad this is.”
“It’s thyped up,” Wyatt offered, and they all grunted in approval. “It’s like this time back on Meluvia, when I was with that girl I told you about.” He started grinning and nodding like an idiot. “You ever had a Meluvian, Sol? Oh brother, you haven’t lived—”
Helga tried her best to tune the rest of it out, not missing the fact that he had changed the subject. They were all so relaxed; helmets off, some even had their weapons on the ground. Lamia Brafa stood apart. This was not surprising, but when she found his face she realized that he was still looking at her.
She knew the look, or thought she knew. It was the look of curiosity—one she was familiar with. It was the look that people would always give when trying to figure out her racial background.
“I’m Casanian and human,” she mouthed at him, smiling to herself when he looked away. But then he looked at her again and nodded slowly. Of course he can read my lips, she thought. The man can scale cliffs and make himself disappear.
“For Ahmad,” said Cage, and they all grew quiet. He made a sign in the air, and they all did the same. Helga imitated it, not knowing what it meant, and the Master Chief caught her attempt and repeated it slowly so that she could see. “It’s a Vestalian ritual, Ate. We honor our fallen. Everyone has their methods, but this is ours,” he said.
The rest of the men grunted their approval, and Helga repeated the movements exactly the way that Cage showed it. She held her right hand above her head, tucked in her thumb, then brought it down in a vertical chop. Stopping when her arm was straight in front of her, she turned her palm down.
“Perfect,” said Varnes. “I think that Ahmad would approve.”
“Master Chief,” Helga started, regretting her words before she spoke them. She felt closer to the group now than she’d felt since joining and her mouth took on a life of its own. Shut up, stupid girl, she thought, but the words were already out.
“Yes, Ate,” he said, sounding like a parent whose patience was wearing thin.
“How long have you been fighting the Geralos?”
Cage looked over at her, as if trying to read her face, and the rest of the men grew quiet. “I would say a little over twenty years, Ate. I’ve been fighting them all my life, even before I joined the military.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered, and finally found the strength to shut her mouth.
“Speak your mind, Ate. Get it out of your system,” Wyatt said. “You’ve been obsessing over the lizards since we landed on this rock. All of us have been up close and personal with the lizards, so what do you want to know? Schtill, just spit the question out.”
“Okay,” she said, “here it is. Do you think we will ever win Vestalia back?”
Cage flashed her a glance that made her flinch, then caught himself and took his gaze across the rest of the men. When he finally spoke, he did so mechanically. It was almost as if he’d rehearsed this speech to give it to anyone that asked.
“The Alliance has been fighting lizards for over 100 years, Ate. Much of that fighting has been in open space, on allied planets … on our own ships.” This last bit made him pause, and he reached down and picked up some of the loose rocks. “I can’t even tell you what Vestalia looks like from the ground, and there are very few people in this galaxy who can. That being said, we cannot give up on fighting for what is ours. In the old wars of Vestalia that our ancestors were in, they fought each other over territories, countries … their homes.
“Now we are out here in the great void of space, fighting for our stolen planet. It’s hard to see a happy ending, especially stuck in here, hiding. But you need to focus on the now, Ate, or you’ll drive yourself crazy. Even if we manage to run the lizards away from our world, there will still be wars to fight. This reality of ours is war after war, and with Vestalia won you better believe that there will be more.”
“Hold,” said Casein Varnes suddenly. “We’ve got movement outside.” He was staring down at the computer on his wrist and poking at the interface with his other hand. “Lids on, we got incoming,” he said before pulling on his mask.
Helga jumped up and smoothed back her hair. Here we go, she thought. After emerging from cryo it had grown significantly, and she had to pin it back before donning her helmet. Once it was on and sealed securely, she reached down and picked up her auto rifle.
If the lizards were coming she wanted to be effective, not fumblin
g around like a rookie. Wyatt—who had been her biggest critic—had given her a shot with the dredge. That had been her chance to prove to him that she wasn’t a “liability,” but she’d missed the shot and a chance at proving him wrong.
Casein Varnes touched the base of the generator, and the lights of the dome went out. He collected the parts, placed them into his pack and then hoisted it onto his back. Cage was at the entrance of the cave talking to a hunched over Lamia. She saw him give a quick salute and then slip out through the cracks.
Cilas was up, looking around, and Sol was helping him into his armor. “Stay off comms,” Cage said. “Use hand signals only. They can pick up our chatter and track our location. Brafa’s on recon. He’s going to give us a signal. When it happens, get ready to fight.”
They stood in the darkness, silently waiting, but Helga could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She wanted to be ready, but her throat was dry, and all she could think about was her brother, Rolph. They hadn’t spoken in ages but they were twins, and deep down she knew that he was okay.
What would Rolph feel if I was to die here in this cave, on a moon orbiting a planet light years away from the Rendron? she thought. Would he feel anything? Would he even know?
Motes of light floated through the entrance, surfing on a beam of starlight. Without the Geralos threat she would have considered this peaceful, the only sound being Cage, breathing hard on their comms.
There was a disruption in the light and a silhouette appeared, large and looming. Someone had walked up and was looking inside. Another shadow merged with it, and the first shadow shuddered, then black blood spattered across the rocks.
Lamia Brafa pulled the hot blade out of the Geralos’s back and motioned for them to come outside. Cage led the charge, then Wyatt, and Varnes. Helga fell in after Brise, carrying the lieutenant. In a single line they poured out of the cave, staying off comms as instructed by Cage Hem.
In the front Lamia was gesturing wildly to Cage, who glanced back at the party and pointed up. Suddenly he jumped, his rockets guiding him up and out of the ravine. Lamia followed closely, then Wyatt and Varnes.
Brise, still clutching the lieutenant, squatted down hard and then jumped, pulling Cilas up into the air with him. Helga followed suit, squatting then jumping up, trusting her rockets to activate. They did not disappoint.
When they were out on the moon’s face, they started running towards some rocks. Lamia Brafa led them with Cage Hem in tow. Helga used her rockets to pulse quickly after them, scanning the black horizon for movement. As they neared the rocks Lamia forced them to the left, and it wasn’t long before Helga saw why. A thopter was behind them, firing off a cannon strong enough to make small craters in the surface.
“Find some cover!” Cage shouted, as they dove for the safety of a hill. Helga pulled out her auto rifle and fired on the thopter. It responded with a shot that exploded in front of them, throwing her back into a small depression.
Cage Hem was on a slope of rocks, wedged up behind a natural barrier. He locked in his stargun as Wyatt threw up a shield.
“Rifles on the lizard, I’ve marked your radars on their locale,” Lamia said, but Helga couldn’t hear him over the ringing in her ears. She was covered in rubble, and she felt dazed and confused. She could see the pilot and he was all that mattered. She needed to shoot him to bring down the ship.
“Wyatt, keep your head, idiot, do you not see that they have a heavy cannon on that thopter?” Cage shouted through comms. “Ate, get your rear over here! What part of stick next to me are you thyping misunderstanding?”
Helga barely heard him as she began again to fire up at the thopter. “On my way,” she managed, as she slipped down behind a rock and checked her weapon’s heat-gauge. “Thype me, it’s on orange,” she mumbled, then scampered over to where Cage was positioned.
“You had one directive, thyping follow it,” Cage barked as he gripped her by her rucksack and shifted her to his right. Too confused to feel humiliated, Helga got back on her gun, but Cage grabbed her arm and pointed in front of them. “Stargun on the thopter. Rifles on the lizards,” he said. “What are you doing? Get your head out of your rear. Keep the thyping lizards off us!”
He went back on his stargun and the thopter began to buckle, evidence that he had finally managed to rattle the pilot. Helga poked her head around one of the rocks to see where the foot soldiers were located. A bullet smashed into her helmet, sending her sprawling backwards.
“Ate,” she heard Cage scream, and she quickly signaled that she was good. But Varnes was next to her, pulling her up to another set of rocks on her left. Helga tried to ignore the red text running all across her HUD. She couldn’t shake the fact that she had been shot, and Varnes had somehow saved her life.
Lying on the rocks staring up at the stars, she finally focused on her readouts. Everyone’s status was in the green, except for Cilas’s which was on yellow. Hers on the other hand was bright red, as the computer tried desperately to repair her shields.
“You don’t move from there until you see yellow, Ate,” Cage said, but Helga was over feeling worthless.
She rolled to her stomach, then crawled forward and peered through the cracks at the Geralos thopter. It had strong shields and was sealed on all sides, unlike the one they had destroyed near the Britz. Its only attack came from a mounted cannon that sat below the front rotor.
This will go on forever, she thought, realizing that their weapons would overheat before the thopter’s shields would go out. With attacks on all sides, from both foot soldiers and the thopter, it was only a matter of time before they were overrun.
Does Cage realize that this is futile? she wondered, but knew better than to ask. We’re thyped, she thought and glanced over at Cilas. He was wedged between two rocks, with his arms by his side as if he was merely reclining.
She could hear his voice reminding her that she was a “five-percenter,” and it gave her strength amidst the chaos. Her shield gauge was orange, and fading towards yellow, but she saw that Wyatt’s gauge had suddenly gone red.
“Schtill, where is that coming from?” Cage shouted into the comms. “Wyatt, don’t be a hero. Get down so your shields can recharge.”
Wyatt did as he was instructed and Cage slid behind the rocks, sitting so that the heavy gunfire would have no chance of hitting him. “Anytime now Brafa,” he growled with desperation, and Helga glanced back to where Brise and Varnes were.
A white line appeared, thin and mysterious, slicing through one Geralos and then another. Suddenly their firing slowed, as they struggled to figure out what was killing them.
“Now,” Cage screamed, and Helga hopped up to her feet, slammed the auto rifle on top of a nearby rock, and fired on a Geralos that was trying to run. Two shots found his back and he toppled over, motionless. It was a surreal moment, and she couldn’t believe what she had done. “T-target down,” she whispered, confirming her first Geralos kill.
Cage was back on the stargun, lighting up the thopter—who had made the mistake of trying to aim at Lamia. The spy was cloaked, invisible to the naked eye, but the angry pilot kept on firing on the area where he’d first appeared.
“Thyping Lamia Brafa,” Varnes said, laughing. “I bet the last thing the lizards expected was a, Jumper.”
“They never do,” Brise Sol offered up cheerfully. “Now let’s drop this bird before it escapes.”
“Clear the comms. What did I tell you?” Cage said, his massive gun spitting out row upon row of bullets into the shields.
The rest of the company joined in with his stargun as the thopter tried in vain to escape. But the shields gave out and their bullets struck glass. The vessel tipped and careened off to the right.
“Stop!” Helga shouted. “The pilot is dead. That thing may be our only chance to get to the settlement.” The thopter drifted down, crushing its landing gear, but from what she could see, it was still whole.
“All contacts are nullified,” she heard Lamia Brafa say be
fore uncloaking within their midst.
He led them over to the thopter, where they pulled out the dead pilot, so that Brise could examine the state of the vessel. Helga, who should have been with him, found herself walking towards the Geralos she’d shot.
“Ate, what the thype do you think you’re doing?” Cage said.
“Sorry, Master Chief, it was my first kill,” she said. “I just wanted to make sure he was dead.”
7
“So, do you think you can fly it?” Brise said as Helga walked up to the front of the thopter’s cockpit to look at the controls.
“I don’t know,” she said as she glanced over the panel that was splattered with a combination of Geralos brains, glass fragments, and a thin layer of black dust. “We’d have to repair this glass before anything else. Is that even possible? Wait … we may be alright if we fly slow and stay low enough so we can bail if we get attacked. I know the shields are fried so we won’t be able to fight from it.”
She glanced down at the dead pilot, who was still strapped in. She unclipped his belt and pushed him to the floor. Brise had done what he could with looking under the hood, but decided that it was too alien and had promptly given up.
Helga, feeling obligated—since it was she who had suggested they use it to fly—looked over the panel to see if she would be able to figure it out.
The thopter’s controls were minimal, but this too proved to be intimidating. Unlike the Britz, which had a button for everything, the console had a round screen with strange glyphs on its face. Each of these symbols danced around, taking on different shapes and sizes.
“What does that do?” Brise said, as he sat down in the co-pilot’s seat. He reached out with one of his hands and put a finger on the glass.
