Galactic Champion

by Dante King

  The people in the street began to dive for cover while nearby merchants pulled down awnings, ducked behind their stalls, or threw merchandise into the corrugated-metal cocoons they used as storefronts.

  I finished my rough count of the hostiles in front of me. There had to be at least 40 of them, maybe more. They were tiny things, but their numbers meant they could probably smother us.

  “Yes,” the alien said, “we.”

  I should have known there was a catch with Yaltu’s arrangement. She was a wanted person, and if the bug had its way, it would drag her kicking and screaming to whoever the High Lord was. I’d made an ally in Yaltu, so I couldn’t let them take her either. I didn’t know why they wanted her, but I had some ideas, and they all had to do with her non-support of slavery. I was beginning to have a problem with the local authority figures, but I would have to squash my frustrations for now.

  I looked down at the little winged alien standing defiantly in front of me. “Very well, then. Just be warned: killing insects is my speciality.”

  I kicked the creature hard, sending it crashing into another standing behind it. My aim stayed on course as the pair of insectoids crashed into two more standing behind them.

  Three hard impacts to my back told me three of the aliens had climbed on top of me. They barely weighed 40 pounds. I smashed some of them into paste against a nearby storage crate. I wasn’t sure what they thought they were going to do but—

  Another six or seven bugs latched on to me. I ignored them for the moment and punched another pair. My fist made a crunching sound when it connected, and they flew through the air before crashing into a stall. When I reached for Ebon, a bug tried to prevent me from drawing it by holding the sword and sheath together. A slight tug not only freed Ebon, but also sliced through a bug’s carapace. I was rewarded with two twitching, detached limbs, which I tossed aside.

  I started pulling the six attackers, one at a time, from my back, legs, and head. I ran each one through with my sword and discarded severed limbs. There were too many of them to take on at once, so I’d have to whittle down their numbers.

  The next four bugs trying to join the rest found themselves cut cleanly in half. When one tried to cover my eyes with an armored hand, I pulled the offending arm off and tossed it aside.

  “Help!”

  The voice was Yaltu’s. I turned and saw four of the aliens curling their barbed limbs around her arms and cloak, pinning her against a covered wagon. She was barely seven yards away, so I marched toward her, making the ground slick with gooey bug-custard. I cursed when the aliens holding her down snapped free and deployed translucent wings in preparation to launch.

  Two bugs caught me in the head. One latched onto my face and the other went for my throat. I tore off the first one, but there was another to take its place. I made a fist, jammed my hand through what would have been its chestplate if it had been human, and extended my fingers.

  Instant organic shield.

  My fingers were drenched in the bug’s cold insides as I used its corpse to fend off some of the incoming swarm and shield-bash others. I used what remained of the bug corpse to push toward Yaltu as I ripped bugs off my face. The creatures attached to her began to flap their wings and rise into the air.

  I slashed Ebon in a wide arc and carved through a mass of aliens. Their armored exteriors crumpled before my black blade and spurted guts over me. I broke through their ranks and surged toward Yaltu. Two more aliens tried to block my vision. I grabbed one from my shoulder and cracked it open against my knee. I hauled another off my thigh and used its body to bash several others. The sound of cracking carapaces and the twitching of broken limbs in the dirt filled my ears as I made my way to Yaltu.

  I started snatching bugs from her with my free hand and executed them with swift stabs. Soon, she fell to the ground and stood among a mound of alien corpses.

  Skrew stumbled past us with four bugs attached to him. I threw an insectoid corpse, and it crashed into one of his pursuers. The others fled but not before he caught one, stood on it with one foot and proceeded to rip its limbs off, cursing at the creature the whole time. He stopped when another six tackled him, but I was too busy tearing the little bastards off my back.

  Two of the winged aliens cornered Yaltu against a stall while I struggled. She’d grabbed ahold of one of my legs and was holding on while she tried to kick the bugs away. They stopped when I leaned back and separated their heads from their bodies.

  Then things got serious. A winged alien had found the Medusa-humanoid who’d bought the ax and had apparently mugged him for it. I barely had time to rotate my hips and place one of its own kind between myself and the ax. When the weapon hit, the blade got stuck inside the bug’s chest. Both bugs fought for control of the weapon. I stopped the fight with a swift slash that cut both enemies and the ax in half.

  Like a nest of yellowjackets, the more bugs I killed, the more that seemed to arrive. The sky was so thick with them, day became night. I slashed, bashed, and punched. I used them as flails, cannonballs, and shields. When I ripped the wing-cover off one, I must have forced them to take me seriously, because they started biting. Each bite wasn’t much, but the combined attacks were distracting. It was when one of them made a beeline for my crotch that I went on autopilot.

  My hands felt like they moved on their own accord. I held Ebon with both hands, closed my eyes, and allowed my instincts and my ears to guide me. I imagined myself as a whirlwind of death. No movement was wasted. Every stroke of my sword made impact, and although the handle was growing slick with bug guts, I knew I could hold it tighter without breaking it.

  Soon, the entire street was covered in a mess of limbs, wings, and carapace armor. A crowd had gathered to watch the fight, and none of them moved. I scanned the area for Yaltu and found her, knife in hand. I hadn’t seen her kill anything with her weapon, but she looked unharmed.

  Skrew jumped up and down. “Jacob made bug soup! Want to eat?” he asked the crowd.

  There was a humming sound, barely audible. It seemed to be coming from further down the street. I wondered whether it was more of the winged aliens coming for Yaltu. Skrew continued yelling at the crowd, recounting the battle they’d all just watched. But the crowd wasn’t interested. They started pushing past each other to hide behind stalls.

  Shit. It must be more of those winged creatures. And from the volume of the humming noise, it was a veritable army.

  “It’s the High Lord,” Yaltu said, her words quavering with fear. “It’s Skald. He’s here. We cannot escape him.”

  So, it wasn’t more of the bugs I’d just killed.

  I scanned the streets for some way to get out of here, but it was a dead-end. The only way out was toward the humming noise. Now that it was getting louder, I realized it sounded like some kind of vehicle. Probably another one of those hovercrafts I saw the toads driving. I couldn’t escape, but if the this Skald only wanted Yaltu, then he might leave if he thought she wasn’t here anymore. There were dozens of witnesses who’d seen her here, though, so it might be impossible to convince Skald that Yaltu had left.

  There were dozens of problems with any plan I thought up. And I was running out of time.

  “Come on,” I said as the ground began to rumble harder. I started kicking bug bodies out of the way so that Yaltu wouldn’t have to step on or over them. She held my hand to keep her balance.

  The streets were a mess of scattered corpses, thorned insect limbs, and thick gore that had splattered itself over the boarded-up stalls, storage crates, and the dirt of the main road.

  I pointed to an open, abandoned stall. “You two, go hide in there. I’ll deal with this Skald, whoever he is. Then we’ll get back on the road.”

  Yaltu only shrugged. She looked exhausted. It struck me that she wasn’t much of a fighter, but there was an inner strength about her.

  “Skrew, take her to that stall and lock yourselves in,” I ordered. “Don’t open it for anyone but me. No matter what you
hear, keep it closed. Do you understand?”

  Skrew glanced at the ground. The vibration was growing stronger. “Skrew understands. Take ugly lady to stall. Hide. No come out except for Jacob. No open. No listen. Hide.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “Now, go!”

  Skrew caught hold of Yaltu’s arms with two of his hands and marched her into the stall. Then he reached out with one long, skinny arm, and pulled the rod holding the side of the place open, sealing them both inside. Strangely, the crowded street was now completely empty. I noticed a few heads poke above stalls or look out through windows, but no one was standing in the street except me.

  I could have hidden away along with the rest, but I figured facing this Skald would mean dealing with him earlier rather than later.

  I turned to the sound and waited. A cloud of dust had begun to develop in the distance. I raised Ebon, expecting to find it slathered in bug-juice, but it was completely clean. I couldn’t say the same for my leather clothing, though.

  Whoever this Skald was, I’d find a way to make him leave Yaltu alone. I’d adapt and overcome. It was how I was trained, and it was how I trained others.

  I’d been made into a superhuman with the help of the Lakunae. Nothing I’d faced on this planet so far had even put a dent in me. Sure, they’d tried, but they hadn’t come close.

  This new enemy had no idea what he was in for.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A huge hovertank appeared at the end of the road. The vibration it produced wasn’t from tracks, legs, or treads beating against the ground. It was from the vehicle’s antigrav thrusters. The only machines I’d seen with that kind of thruster had all been military. By pulsing the thrust and increasing the number of individual thrusters, the loss of up to half of them could be compensated for, and the machine moving toward me had a lot of thrusters.

  The hovertank was over 30 yards wide and at least another 20 long. It plowed through stalls and merchant storage boxes without any care for the people or goods inside them. Though the vehicle wasn’t from the Federation, I recognized the design, style, and low profile of a main battle tank.

  Yaltu must have been in very high demand to warrant a battle-tank appearing.

  On the top of the machine sat its turret. The dome had a three-part rod extending from it, each section smaller than the last. A barrel on the end looked suspiciously like a particle cannon. The odds weren’t looking good.

  My sword and the Lakunae’s gifts vs. a small armada of machines with enough firepower to obliterate a small city.

  Then the reinforcements appeared.

  From the path the tank had made, two smaller hovercraft ground support fighters took flanking positions in the rear. Another pair of hovercrafts hung back another 40 yards or so. All five bore a blue stripe as wide as my hand that ran down the middle and ended at a grinning skull with big fangs jutting from the bottom jaw. They had to be the smaller units on cleanup duty. The tactics were obvious enough. The main tank would punch through the biggest obstacles while the smaller vehicles chopped down any stragglers.

  I recognized the high-pitched whine of the approaching vehicles long before they screamed overhead. The hovercrafts were moving far too fast to deliver accurate fire against ground targets, so I figured it was just an intimidation tactic.

  I wasn’t intimidated.

  My opponents probably thought I was another weak, frightened sentient, and all they had to do was make some noise, and I’d run off. If this Skald creature was looking for an easy fight, then he was in for a surprise. If I was reading this situation right, the vehicles were an effective scare tactic.

  The High Lord had no reason to destroy a busy trading hub like this. But it did beg the question of why he’d decided to show up in person.

  The vibration lessened a few moments later as the hovertank slowed to a halt in a cloud of thick dust. A concealed hatch at the painted skull popped open, and a furry alien lifted his head out and sniffed the air before climbing halfway out. He placed his little fists on his weasel-like hips and surveyed the scene through a pair of dark goggles.

  “Where is Yaltu?” he demanded as he looked over the coagulating lakes of bug custard lining both sides of the street. “Who killed my bounty hunters?”

  I guessed this weasel was Skald. He’d come here too soon, so I figured some of the insect aliens had gotten away and carried a message over to Skald. He’d come here expecting the scaled woman tied up and ready to be handed over. Instead, all he had was an abandoned street and a single human who wasn’t scurrying for cover. He must have seen the yellow blood caking my clothes, but maybe he couldn’t comprehend the fact that I’d been the one to kill all his bounty hunters.

  “Me,” I answered as I stepped forward. “I was attacked and defended myself. The one you call Yaltu is no longer here.”

  Skald slowly turned his head toward me and squinted through his goggles as if he was trying to examine an annoying gnat rather than a human twice as tall as himself. The weasel inspected me from the tips of my leather shoes now hardening due to being soaked in bug guts and stopped when he noticed my sword.

  “That!” he shrieked. “Where did you get that? Bring it here! Give it to me!”

  “The sword is mine,” I said.

  “You killed my soldiers. For reparations, I demand the sword. Bring it to me now!” Skald was drooling as he stared at Ebon, and he seemed to grow more maniacal by the moment.

  If he wanted a fight, I was more than willing to oblige. Then I’d get to test just how powerful I was since the Lakunae had given me the powers of the Void.

  I drew Ebon from my sheath and inspected the blade for a moment as if I was considering the creature’s request. The shining black metal held no trace of the many enemies it had slewn. There were no gouges, chips, or scratches anywhere. There were no blemishes or flaws.

  There was also no way I’d ever surrender it to another while I could still draw breath.

  “You are Skald, aren’t you?” I asked.

  “You know who I am, yet you dare refuse my request? I am the High Lord of Marvale. Madomar is merely one town under my dominion. And you are trespassing!”

  “And these… bugs... they were your soldiers?” I used Ebon to gesture at the piles of corpses.

  The creature made a noise of dismissal and waved an uncaring hand at the surrounding chaos. “They do not matter. They breed like teloc and are stupid.” He paused and studied me for a moment. “You are the brute who killed my Enforcers. One of them transmitted your description before you murdered him.”

  “Like the bugs I killed today, your Enforcers attacked me first.”

  “I need no more consideration. I have seen the evidence. I have made my decision. I find you guilty! Guilty! Bring me the sword!”

  “You want Ebon?” I asked.

  “Yes!” Skald hissed.

  I pretended to consider the weasel’s request. He seemed like the type who was used to getting his way, so delaying my answer was sure to anger him.

  I looked him in the eye. “Come and take it, furball.”

  For a moment nothing happened. It was as if the universe was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

  “Very well,” Skald growled. “I shall take whatever is left from your body.” A moment later, he vanished into his tank, slammed the lid, and brought the tank’s turret around toward me.

  The vehicle’s cannon settled on the center of my chest. The weapon was only capable of delivering a bolt a few inches wide. If I timed it correctly, I knew I could block the beam with Ebon.

  Plasma had almost no effect on the blade, only warming it a few degrees, as the Enforcer’s shield had proven. My best guess said particle weapons would have even less of an effect. I raised the sword and waited. I didn’t have to wait long.

  A loud crack broke the silence and announced the discharge of the weapon. The bolt was barely visible no more than an orange glow against the background. Surprisingly, the more I focused, the s
lower it seemed to travel. I wasn’t slowing down time, but it just felt that way because my reaction time had gotten so much faster. I still wasn’t used to whatever the Lakunae had done to me, but I liked it.

  I made one tiny adjustment to my blade’s angle across my chest. If Ebon somehow reflected the energy rather than absorbing it, I wanted to send it back at the cannon itself. If I got lucky, I might destroy the entire turret.

  When the bolt hit my sword, nothing happened. There was no recoil from the impact. There was no detectable heat. It was as if the blade was thirsty for energy, like a vampire for blood. I decided to feed it whatever it wanted, starting with the hovertank.

  “Ha!” Skrew blurted out into the silent street from his hiding place. “What does the weasel shoot? Noodles? Looks like noodles to Skrew! What is next, sauce? Skrew likes sauce. Don’t make too spicy. Skrew’s tongue so delicate. Skrew send back and make Skald cook again, empty-head. Now Jacob going to kill Skald good!”

  Skrew scampered out of his covered stall and followed up his insults and taunts with a rude gesture involving several hip-thrusts and a waggle of a foot. I wasn’t sure what it meant, exactly, but Skald’s reaction made it clear how bad it was.

  I threw myself in front of the vrak and caught the weasel’s answer against my blade, the plasma dissipating on Ebon’s black metal. Skrew just stood there as if he was having trouble accepting the fact that someone had just tried to shoot him with a weapon designed to destroy other tanks.

  Skrew wilted under my glare and dived for cover as I leaped toward the hovertank. The vehicle’s cannon tracked me, but I was already out of the way before the bolt hit the dirt, temporarily turning the impact into a small pool of lava. I continued to leap, roll, and dodge as I closed the distance, until I heard the tank’s barrel slam against its housing. It couldn't depress any further; I was too close to shoot.