by G. P. Hudson
“Perhaps. If we remained allies. The Diakans are smart. They will allow us to gain power up to a point. If we gain too much, we become a threat. Do you think they will allow that to happen?”
“No,” said Jon.
His father slapped his back. “That’s right. Nobody tolerates threats. Not the Juttari, not the Diakans, not us. Enough talking now. We’re getting close to the rendezvous point. Remember, when we get there you watch and listen. Don’t say anything. Understood?”
“Yes, father.”
His father turned away and resumed his path through the brush, the plants and low hanging branches no match for his powerful frame. Jon heard coyotes yelping in the distance. He enjoyed listening to their banter, especially their howls. The sound comforted him. Coyotes were survivors, just like his family.
They hiked for a few more kilometers through the rugged, wooded terrain. The brush was thick but they remained in single file, walking in each other’s footsteps, careful not to leave too much evidence of their passage. The forest came alive around them. Jon listened to the birds singing overhead, and filled his lungs with the cold, clean mountain air.
There were times when he wondered if these woods were not the last truly free place left on Earth. Although there had been some feeble attempts by the government at rooting the resistance out, in the end they were nothing more than half-hearted failures. The resistance could defend these mountains for years if needed. The Governor didn’t have the guts to commit to that type of campaign. He was happy enough preying on the towns, where people lived in fear. That way he could meet his quota of children for the Chaanisar, without too much of a headache. But all that was changing. Where the resistance was once nothing more than a thorn in the Governor’s backside, now it was turning into a credible adversary. They were becoming an army, armed with powerful Diakan weapons. The Governor wouldn’t be able to ignore them for much longer. Especially not after their next mission. Jon breathed in another lungful of free mountain air. He would see the end of the Juttari occupation. Of that he was certain. What had been just a dream for his grandfather would become reality in Jon’s lifetime.
His father slowed, holding up a fist as he stopped. Up ahead Jon could make out a small clearing. He dropped into a crouch as he shouldered his weapon. The men behind him silently did the same. Whoever was in that clearing wouldn’t know they were there. In these woods they were ghosts. Jon’s father approached quietly, scanning the area. Jon’s heart beat faster, harder. He worried for a moment that it might be making too much noise. He watched his father intently, and trained his weapon on the clearing. His hand remained steady. If anyone was waiting in ambush for them, they would pay a heavy price for their foolishness. He would make sure that nobody left these woods alive.
His father soon signaled that it was safe to come out, and headed for the clearing. Jon followed him in, his weapon still shouldered and ready. Two aliens stood in the middle of the open area, with a small spaceship resting just behind them. Jon assumed they were Diakans. He had never seen a Diakan before. The sight fascinated him. They were odd looking creatures, a bizarre cross between a lizard and a fish. Green skin and scales covered disproportionately long arms and legs. Both wore military uniforms and were armed. Collin Pike approached. Jon followed, staying a couple steps behind, still gripping his weapon, but pointing the muzzle at the ground, rather than the Diakans.
One of the aliens locked eyes with Jon. He met the alien’s gaze without looking away. They didn’t scare him, although he knew they should. These creatures ruled large swathes of the galaxy. What was he to them? As insignificant as an ant under his feet. Still, he didn’t care. Whether they were friend or foe, he would not look away. They didn’t rule in these woods. The resistance did. The Diakan continued to stare, its face expressionless. Jon stared back, unable to decide whether it was curiosity, or a challenge. He knew he didn’t like it. He couldn’t put his finger on the reason, but he felt an arrogance emanating from the alien.
“The weapons are in the ship,” said Jon’s father, seizing Jon’s attention. During the staring contest his father had discussed matters with the other Diakan. Jon had been told to listen and pay attention, but he got caught up in his silent pissing match and missed what had been said. Did his father know he had been distracted? He stood for a moment, searching his father’s face for a clue. “Get moving,” his father snapped, jolting Jon into action.
He rushed over to the humming craft with the rest of the men. The alien’s eyes followed, as if continuing to quietly issue a challenge. Jon hated giving it the satisfaction of looking away, but he had work to do. He couldn’t have his father calling him a child again. As they approached the vessel its side slid open revealing several crates made of some type of polymer. He had seen the crates before, in previous weapon shipments. The men paired up, and pulled the crates out of the craft. Jon gripped his end of a crate and yanked it out of the ship. It was heavy, but nothing Jon couldn’t handle. Even at fourteen years, he already towered over most men. He didn’t yet have the thickness of frame his father had, but he was still strong. He had benefited from the endurance of youth. Growing up in the mountains had made him healthy and hardy.
When the crates had all been unloaded Jon’s father thanked the Diakans and walked out of the clearing, back the way they came. Jon and the rest followed in pairs, weighed down by the crates. The Diakans watched as they left. Jon looked back to find the Diakan’s eyes still on him. The eyes were expressionless, yet he still felt the unspoken provocation.
Head games, he thought. The Diakans are playing head games with me. He chuckled at the thought. Why would a Diakan waste his time with a human boy? His father was right, he did think like a child. The Diakan had said nothing to him, yet he let it get under his skin. He needed to control his emotions, or he would get people killed.
Chapter 6
The two small weighted metal balls whistled as they whipped through the air, nothing more than a blur to the naked eye. Anki tightened her grip on the thin rope as she rushed forward. She imagined Kemmar soldiers coming for her and could see the shock in their eyes as she charged them. With a snap of her tiny wrist the balls changed direction, flying downward. She imagined them connecting with the Kemmar, dropping the monsters one by one with each strike. The balls made a sharp clanging sound as they hit the metal floor. She felt the recoil and compensated, snapping her wrist again, the balls continuing in their circular trajectory. She broke into a run. More Kemmar approached and she fearlessly ran into them, swinging the rope in a figure eight pattern, each time hitting the floor in hard, rapid strikes. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. The echo bounced throughout the room. She imagined the sound their weapons made as she skillfully disarmed every one of them. She snapped her wrist again and the rope swung underneath her as she dove over it. Another flick and it whipped above her while she tumbled along the floor. She sprang to her feet, the heavy spheres continuously spinning around her, establishing a protective radius. The Kemmar retreated. She took in a deep breath and readied herself for another charge.
“Stop,” yelled Jonas, Anki’s grandfather.
She eased the muscles in her forearm, and the balls slowed in response. A few revolutions more and she had the pair of small spheres in her little hand. She brought an arm to her forehead and wiped the perspiration away as she turned to face her grandfather. He stood at the other end of the room, his body perfectly straight, his face hard, his eyes fierce. She held her breath, waiting for his response. Her heart jumped for joy when she noticed the corner of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. It was there only for an instant, but she knew she saw it. High praise from her grandfather.
“You need to make your circles smaller,” he said.
“Smaller?” said Anki, confused by her grandfather’s observation.
“Yes, smaller.”
“I don’t understand.”
Her grandfather walked across the room toward her. “Give me your lariat,” he said, extending out his
hand. Anki placed the weighted rope belt into his palm and he backed away.
“You rely on your forearm too much,” he said, as he walked into the middle of the room. He shot out the lariat and had it immediately spinning at phenomenal speed. His hand moved and the rope changed directions. “Do you see how my forearm moves?”
His forearm did move, albeit not much. “Yes,” said Anki.
He moved again and the weights changed direction. “Can you anticipate my strike through the movement of my arm?”
“Yes,” she said. “I think so.”
He nodded. “Can you see my forearm move now?”
The rope changed directions but she didn’t notice any movement in his arm. The trajectory changed again, still nothing. He whipped the weighted balls around, yet each time he changed tactics she could see nothing. If she had been fighting him she wouldn’t be able to guess which shape the next attack would take. If the enemy didn’t know which way the next attack would come, they couldn’t get out of the way. Her grandfather slowed the rope until it stopped. He walked back to Anki and handed her back the lariat.
“Make the circles smaller, until they are almost non-existent. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
“Good,” he said, turning and walking back across the room. “Now try again.”
Anki took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them the room was once again full of Kemmar soldiers. She scowled, lunged forward and shot out the weights at the closest one. She broke into a run, her weapon striking out at each of her enemies, careful not to telegraph her strikes with her arm. They came at her from all angles. She leaped and ducked and sidestepped out of the way of the attacks, all along countering with a precise strike of her own. They were overrun. The onslaught relentless. But she was a cyclone. A spinning, dancing fury. Some charged carelessly, deceived by her age and size. They required almost no effort. Others saw her prowess. They were more challenging, striking at her multiple times before she overcame them.
The door opened and distracted her from her mission. She looked to see what new danger approached, when she saw her mother enter instead. They exchanged smiles. Anki’s attention turned back to her battle, finishing off the remaining enemy. Returning the double weights to her hand, she ran to her mother, who now stood next to her grandfather.
“You’ve improved, child. Well done,” said Breeah.
Anki felt a surge of pride rise up inside her. She had never seen anyone more skilled with the lariat. Even her grandfather, who had trained her mother, said she had surpassed his ability.
“Now you just need to make your circles smaller,” said Breeah.
Anki frowned. “But I fixed that problem.”
“It will take more practice than that,” said Jonas. “Fear not, it will come. Now why don’t you go and get yourself a drink of water.”
Anki sighed and walked over to the fountain. She took a long drink, wondering how long it would take to be as skilled as her mother. When she walked back, her mother and grandfather were talking to each other.
“Do you know who we were in battle against today?” said Jonas.
“The Kemmar,” said Breeah. “They were fighting over an escape pod.”
“From Jon’s old ship?”
“Yes.”
“And where was Jon during the encounter?”
“He led a team down to the surface, to rescue any survivors. He should be back on board soon.”
“So his mission was successful?”
“Yes, although I’m told they fought a Kemmar force on the surface.”
Jonas nodded slowly. “This Jon is a warrior. Of that there is no doubt.”
“Thank you, Father,” said Breeah. Her expression hopeful.
“But he is no Reiver.”
Breeah’s eyes narrowed. “Must we go through this again, Father?”
“We must. Until you come to your senses.”
“For the first time in my life I have come to my senses, and I am not leaving Jon. Not for you, not for the Reivers, not for anybody.” Anki saw the anger on her mother’s face. She understood why her mother was mad. Jon was a good person, and he looked after them. Why couldn’t her grandfather understand?
Her mother turned to her, “Anki, we are leaving. Practice is over.” Her mother marched toward the door.
Anki looked up at her grandfather, “Good bye Grandfather. Thank you for the lesson.”
Her grandfather reached down and gently stroked her hair with his hard, powerful hand. “Good bye, little one.”
Chapter 7
Jon could feel the creature’s tension and hostility inside him. It didn’t like being on board the Chaanisar ship. Jon couldn’t blame it. He wondered what would happen now that it had awoken. The medication that Doctor Ellerbeck had given him obviously had its limits. It had quieted the creature for a time, but the effects now seemed to have worn off. Doctor Ellerbeck had told him that the medication eased the transition, so that he and the symbiont could eventually live in harmony. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but so long as the creature couldn’t inflict pain to control him, it could be tolerable. In the long run there was no escape from the symbiont. It would keep Jon alive until death took them both. The doctor had said that he may end up living for a thousand years. A thousand years. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the concept. He would watch both Breeah and Anki grow old and eventually die. He would watch Anki’s grandchildren grow old and die. How could any human endure something like that?
Walking down the long, dimly lit Chaanisar corridor, he studied the Juttari religious markings surrounding him. Their scriptures stated that they were destined to rule the universe. So they conquered. The Diakans were calculating and efficient. So they expanded. The Kemmar were aggressive and vicious. So they attacked. Where did that leave humanity? Where did that leave him? He was taught to be a survivor. So he survived. Now the creature would demand survival, ensuring he outlived everything he loved. It seemed like a cruel joke.
He felt the creature’s reaction as a Chaanisar walked past. He felt its hostility towards the soldier. It saw the soldier as a threat. It urged Jon to kill the man. But it couldn’t compel him to do it. It could no longer force Jon to act on its behalf. It could no longer make him kill. Not anymore. Maybe the good doctor was right. Maybe the symbiont had lost its power over him. Maybe the medication worked. He didn’t think he could live harmoniously with the creature, like the doctor had said, but if it lacked power over him they might come to some form of truce.
Another Chaanisar soldier approached and the creature urged another attack. Enough of that, he thought, trying to communicate with the symbiont. I don’t like the Chaanisar either, but they’re not a threat right now.
The creature calmed down. It cooperated. Interesting. He always knew it could hear his thoughts, but it never complied before. If he refused to do what the symbiont wanted, it forced him anyway. Now it seemed to understand the situation. Would they be able to work together after all?
Don’t get your hopes up you little bastard. Jon waited. No retaliation. No pain. Jon chuckled. Payback’s been a long time coming, you little shit. I’m calling the shots now, so you better get used to the new order.
Jon continued down the corridor until he came to one of the conference rooms. He entered and found Colonel Bast, Lieutenant Jarvi, and Kevin already there, waiting for him. The creature reacted, perceiving Bast and Jarvi as threats, but the reaction was slightly more subdued this time. It seemed to be learning and adapting to the situation. Jon said his hellos, pulled up a chair and sat down.
“I understand you encountered some resistance on the planet, Captain,” said Colonel Bast.
“We did. The Kemmar had greater numbers, but it was nothing we couldn’t handle,” said Jon.
“If a team of Chaanisar had gone down to the surface with you the Kemmar attack could have been intercepted,” said Jarvi.
“Didn’t I just say we that we handled it?” said Jon,
feeling anger beginning to take hold. He felt the creature fuel the emotion. It wanted him to get angry. Was the emotion its doing?
“Of course, Captain,” said Bast. “Lieutenant Jarvi didn’t say otherwise. It is only that we would prefer a return to joint Space Force - Chaanisar missions. We are stronger united.”
Jon breathed, taking control of his emotions. “As I said before, we are rescuing members of the Hermes crew, which makes the job ours alone.”
“As you wish, Captain. We are only trying to help,” said Bast. “I understand you retrieved a member of Doctor Ellerbeck’s team.”
“Yes, Ensign Zakarian,” said Jon, happy to change the topic.
“Is Ensign Zakarian a doctor as well?”
“No. She would be more of an assistant,” said Jon. He saw what Bast was thinking. If Zakarian was a doctor then Ellerbeck might have taught her enough to perform the procedure. The thought was amusing at best. They were talking about brain surgery, and alien technology. Even the great Doctor Ellerbeck might have difficulty successfully performing the procedure. Ensign Zakarian wouldn’t have a chance.
“I’m sure her presence will be invaluable when we find the doctor.”
“I heard you had your hands full against the Kemmar warship,” said Jon.
Bast frowned in a rare display of emotion. “The Kemmar are adapting to the jump system,” said Bast. “They used mines to limit our maneuverability.”
“Smart,” said Kevin, leaning his huge frame back into the chair.
“Yes. It was a clever tactic,” said Bast.
“Not clever enough,” said Kevin, sporting a broad grin.
“Then they used a drone swarm to try and overwhelm us.”
“How did you defeat them?” said Jon.
Bast smiled. More emotion. Was he practicing? “We used one of your tactics, Captain,” said Bast.
“My tactics?”
“Yes. We jumped and took the swarm with us, just as you did with the Kemmar ship that tried to board the Hermes.”
