Firestorm: Galaxy On Fire, Book 3

by Craig Robertson

  Sentorip rushed into the room. She had her satchel of medical supplies. “Mastress,” she said breathlessly, “I heard you were taken to see that awful Adamant as soon as she could think straight. Where are you hurt?” She was forcing Mirri into a chair while inspecting her meticulously.

  “I’m fine, sweet Sentorip. Yes, she’s alive, but she’s very weak. Didn’t even have the strength to pull a hair from my head. “

  Sentorip smiled faintly. “So, it went well? How surprising.”

  “Hardly. She threatened us with the worst torture and torment any living soul has ever endured. She said she'll force us to mate so she can inflict even more suffering on our children.” Mirraya slipped unconsciously into Sentorip’s arms, and they hugged powerfully. “It was awful, Sentorip. I know she means it and can do it.

  “But what was I to do? I was presented with my one and only chance to strike at her. I had to. Curse me for my weakness. I shouldn’t have tried if I knew there was a chance of not finishing her.”

  “You would have, my friend, but for her guards. You couldn’t fight their plasma rifles and finish off Malraff. It was not your fault.”

  There was a sound coming from the hallway. A handful of footsteps approached. Sentorip focused on the open door, waiting to see who was coming. Doctor Pastersal entered the room, head down, reading a handheld. Three soldiers accompanied him.

  When the doctor was a couple meters away, Sentorip pushed off Mirraya’s chest and jumped backward with all her might. She crashed into a table, smashing it. She scampered to her feet and assumed a four-legged defensive posture. “How dare you insult the glorious emperor by insulting his gift of a Descore. I can handle your constant insults, but physically I’m no match for your blows.” She held up a bent wrist. “I think you broke it this time, bitch.” Sentorip cradled the injured appendage.

  “What’s going on here?” demanded the doctor.

  “She kicked me in my belly. She said I smelled as bad as the food I prepared for her and then she kicked me again.”

  “Is that what happened?” he said to Mirri.

  “I…I don’t know what happened. One moment we were talking and the next she’s airborne.”

  “You kicked me and you know it,” growled Sentorip. “You can't lie to an Adamant. They don’t care if you beat us to death. But they will not tolerate lying. Go ahead, tell him how you’ve been beating me viciously since the day we met.”

  “B … but Sentorip, you know that’s not true. You’re my friend.”

  Sentorip pointed to the doctor as a witness. “See how she mocks me too? Addressing me by my first name and making me the laughing stock by calling me her friend in public. It is more than I can bear.”

  “You hate this Descore so much that you would abuse her? She a gift from His Imperial Emperor. Are there words you can say to justify such reprehensible behavior?” challenged the doctor.

  “No. It’s all a miss understanding. I would never…”

  “Hold your tongue, alien, before you commit further crimes. I will deal with you later. First, I must attend to the injured wrist you have caused.” Turning to Sentorip, he said, “These males will escort you to sick bay. I will see you there momentarily.”

  Sentorip left with the guards. Looking over her shoulder at Mirraya, she winked.

  “There will be consequences, dirt-eating child,” growled Pastersal. “First you nearly kill the high seer, now you maim an innocent servant. You should be put down.” With that, he turned his back and stormed out of the room.

  Slapgren and Mirri stood alone on the cell. No one bothered to return Slapgren to his own cell, as was protocol.

  “Wow, that went weird,” said Slapgren. “Ah, why’d you hit your friend?”

  “I didn’t, you nitwit.”

  “Huh?”

  “Didn’t you see her wink at me?”

  “Wink at you? Are you crazy? I didn’t see it, but even if I did, what does that mean?”

  “A few weeks back she and I were talking, just idle chatter to pass the time. She asked me what I missed most about Uncle Jon. I told her I missed his winks.”

  “Uncle Jon winks?”

  In a huff, she shot back, “Yes, he most certainly does.”

  “Never saw him wink, I don’t think.” He rubbed the side of his head. “What’s the big deal about him winking? Maybe he just has a nervous tick. My grandfather had one. Man was it annoying. He’d …” He trailed off when he noticed Mirri’s harsh stare and folded arms.

  “Uncle Jon winks to be cute. When he does something silly or infuriating, he winks.”

  “So Sentorip wanted to say she was being silly?”

  “No, child. She was doing it to reassure me, the same way Uncle Jon always does.”

  “I thought you said…”

  “You only hear my words, not my meaning. You’re such a boy.”

  “Huh? I…”

  “She’s up to something. I just wish I knew what so I could help her.”

  “Mirri, you know she’s the kindest, gentlest soul alive. But I don’t think she’s capable of formulating, let alone executing, a complex scheme.”

  “I think we’re going to find out if that’s true or not.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  “So, when did you figure out who I really was?” I asked Harhoff as he sipped his musto.

  “Only just recently. You’ve been big news on all Adamant channels for a while, but we knew little about you. Then you pulled that brave, stupid stunt on Excess of Nothing. Since then not only do we know what you look like, you’ve risen to be obsession number one of the Adamant leaders. The emperor asks for hourly updates on whether you’re dead yet. Your picture appears on all computer screens in the right upper corner. That’s where Bestiormax’s face used to be until he decided that catching you was more important than honoring his ego.”

  “Hmm,” I said, swirling my musto as I stared though it, “that would make anyone ratting me out pretty important. The rewards would be phenomenal.”

  “Indeed, they are. But you’re worth much more to me than promotions and money.”

  “I’m that cute?”

  “Hardly,” he giggled. “You’re not my type by sex and species both. Personally, I find you revolting.”

  I raised my glass. “Here’s to revolting.” I belted it back. “Let’s keep it that way.”

  He raised his glass to that and pounded it down. “Ehhh,” he said because of the burn, “that’s good stuff.”

  “So why, my new friend, am I so very valuable?”

  He set his glass down and leaned forward. “I’ll assume you don’t know much about our history.”

  “That would be a safe assumption. I just know a lot about your current propensities.”

  He rested back and looked thoughtful. “Our origins are obscure even to ourselves. Suffice it to say, we’ve been around a very long time. The historical records are excellent for at least a billion years. In that time, we’ve grown larger, smarter, and more aggressive.”

  “Not a sociable trend.”

  “Hardly. As we grew in those qualities, so did our appetite to control. We strove for greater control of ourselves, others, the physical world—everything. And we did so well. For hundreds of millions of years, we’ve conquered, subjugated, and organized. There are more canovir now than even we can count. We are more places that we know and are expanding exponentially. I think we now rule the local group of galaxies. That’s fifty or so entire mega systems.”

  “Don’t get too self-impressed. Most of those are dwarf galaxies.”

  “Make light of it, if you will. My point is this. Our incomprehensibly mammoth society is controlled by one individual, the emperor.” He held up one claw. “Imagine that. One person rules and runs it all. There’s been nothing like that in the history of the known universe.”

  “All very fascinating, I’m sure, but can we get back to what makes me so valuable amidst all this dog glory?”

  “In all that volume of contro
l, in all that span of time, you alone, Jon Ryan of Earth, have done more damage to us than any other foreign agent. You have resisted the irresistible, defeated the indomitable, and frustrated the unstoppable. That makes you more valuable than all the wealth the emperor hordes.”

  “That’s an eloquent speech, and my ego thanks you profusely, but just because I get a little lucky, how does that make me valuable beyond the dreams of avarice?”

  “I assure you luck has nothing to do with what you’ve accomplished. Someone must win all lotteries. If luck, random chance alone could lead to our losing one battle, some race somewhere must have done it before. No, your achievements are unique and are based on you.”

  “I’m still looking for why that’s valuable?’

  “Surely the great Jon Ryan can see the value in that ability?”

  “Of course, I can. What I asked was what makes them valuable to you, Group Captain Harhoff, pacifist.”

  He lowered his head a second. “You know better than anyone what becomes of all dominant species.”

  “They falter, fade, and are forgotten. Sure.”

  “And so it must be eventually with us.”

  “And?”

  “And once the inevitable happens, what will follow?”

  “Chaos, deprivation, mass extinctions, and no reliable Wi-Fi service.”

  “I would wish that not to be our legacy. I would wish for a kinder, gentler passing into a better future.”

  “Okay, so you’re in line to receive a bunch of humanitarian awards. Where do I fit in?”

  “As the sole agent, the only individual to successfully resist our tidal wave, you are a rallying point. You…”

  “Oh no,” I cut him off sharply. “I can see where that locomotive is heading, and the answer is no. My second answer, after long reflection and soul-searching, is hell no. My final answer, after being locked away in solitude for a century, is no fucking way.”

  “You did not hear me out.”

  “And I won’t be. What I’ll be doing is thanking you for the booze, polishing off the last of said booze, and then retreating to my cushy position as Fuffefer’s Descore.” I stood, knocked back the contents of my glass, and turned to the door.

  Over my shoulder I heard, “The great Jon Ryan doesn’t need a cushy job wiping some asshole’s butt. No, the great Jon Ryan is wiping said asshole’s butt for a higher reason. I’m certain a laudable reason.”

  I keyed the door open.

  “Only the formidable spy must not be able to achieve his lofty goal as it currently stands. But if he had help, say the help of a highly placed officer with an unimpeachable record of service, he might be able to achieve his aim.”

  I keyed the door shut.

  “It seems the great Jon Ryan is able to listen to reason. None of us, my new friend, are islands.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  “Does this hurt?” asked Doctor Pastersal as he pressed on Sentorip’s joint.

  She winced. “Just a little. Your holding it helps,” she said, bashfully looking away.

  Pastersal released her leg like it was hot. “It appears to be just a sprain, but I’ll get an image just to be certain.”

  “That is so kind of you, Doctor. You are a good person to extend your wisdom to a Descore.”

  He fidgeted nervously. “Nonsense. My role is to care for all canovir regardless of race. Come, set your arm over here.”

  She rested her arm on a metal plate for a split second.

  Pastersal went to a screen and tapped some keys. “Ah, no problem. Your arm is fine. Please, you may return to your seat over there.” He pointed to the exam table. “My assistant will be in shortly to splint the arm, and then you’re free to go.” He turned to leave.

  “Doctor Pastersal, might this lowly Descore ask a favor of someone so mighty?”

  He stepped back to her, but remained a bit farther away than before. “Yes, you may.”

  “Well, I actually have a medical question, and I wish to be so bold as to ask for your assistance in a personal matter.”

  He shifted nervously. “I’ll see what I can do. Ask your question.”

  “Since I’ve been in the service of the vile alien bitch, I have stopped cycling. You know, I haven’t gone into heat. I used to be more regular than clockwork. Normally it would be no great matter, but I was told I would be allowed to have a litter with my next cycle. I so looked forward to it, but I am now so disappointed.”

  “I…”

  “Not that it matters much anyway. As a Descore, I would likely only be able to attract another of my race, or possibly a Warrior if I were lucky.” She blinked. “I’d never attract an Adamant such as yourself.” She shot her elbow in front of her muzzle. “I can’t believe I just said that. Please forgive me. Do not think poorly of me for such silly words.” She turned her covered face away.

  “Ah, no … no need to apologize. I’m … it’s only natural, I’m told. Anyway, you are not cycling because of a device we’re using to stop the aliens from shapeshifting. You can understand. Witness the unprovoked vicious attack your Mastress inflicted on the high seer when that devise was disabled.”

  “Is the effect harmful?” she asked with a gasp. “I won’t be permanently affected, will I?”

  “I doubt it. Frankly we’ve not much experience with the device. It affects us all, so we try to avoid contact where possible.”

  “And if you turn it off, I can cycle and have my litter?”

  “It’s not mine to say. The security of the crew is the most important factor.”

  “That leads me to the favor I might ask. In fact, it strengthens my desire for your aid. I will always do what I am told to do, know that. However, I wish to not suffer under that horrid alien’s pernicious temper and foul disposition any longer. I also know the poor high seer has sustained grievous injuries and has barely escaped death. I would ask to be transferred into her service.”

  “Again, it is not mine to…”

  “Oh, but it is. You see this would be a great medical benefit to the high seer. I could assist you in bringing her back to her former excellent condition. The things a trained Descore can bring to the bowl are formidable, I assure you.”

  “You raise a valid point. She’s extremely headstrong. I can ask her…”

  “But she’s not the physician, and she’s not even currently mentally balanced. Surely you can insist. If it were your wise decision, surely she’d accept my humble aid.” She looked to the floor. “Plus, if I am away from that wretched device and cycle, you would be close at paw to provide input. This being my first attempt at breeding, at being with a male in that way, the input of a skilled physician would be invaluable.”

  He stared at her open mouthed for a few seconds. “Your thoughts are valid. I’ll see what I can do.” He turned to leave, then whipped back to her. “No. I will not see. I will order it. Consider it done. You will work with the ailing high seer and I will be here to, er, help you should you … when you come into heat.”

  “Thank you so much, good doctor. I could only dream of whelping a litter of pups as noble and wise as you. A girl can dream, can’t she?”

  He raised a paw to speak but dropped it to his side. He left without further comment.

  TWENTY-THREE

  “I’m sitting back down and listening to your proposals, Harhoff. I have three conditions. One, I want to know exactly what you can do to help me rescue the Deft kids. They are who I was trying to free on Excess of Nothing. Two, if I’m going to be the iconic rallying point that you desire more than wealth or power, I want to know precisely what you expect of me. Three,” I held up the empty bottle of musto, “you’ll need to produce about three more of these before we begin.”

  Harhoff angled his head and gave a throaty whine. “That third one may be the hardest. I’m afraid musto is hard to come by. My betters consider intoxicants unacceptable. They dull the mind and one’s ability to serve the empire.”

  I made a show of folding my arms and looking resolute.


  He left the room and returned with one bottle. “This is honestly all I have. I was saving it for a special occasion—one that involves a bitch, not another male.” He bit the cork and spat it to the floor. Gazing at the bottle, he said, “Alas, my native wit and charm will have to suffice when the opportunity presents itself.” He poured two full glasses.

  “I’ll give you lessons, and you’ll be fine.”

  “I doubt your techniques and insights would work with Adamant females.”

  “My style works on all the ladies,” I scoffed back. I took a big swig of musto.

  “As to your first condition, I don’t know really.”

  “How very unencouraging and non-inspirational. You really should avoid careers in politics or door-to-door sales, my friend.”

  “I’m not saying I can’t be very helpful, only that I don’t know how specifically. We need to discuss at length what you know and what costs you are willing to pay.”

  “Do you have allies—like-minded Adamant—who can help?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Again, less than reassuring. Do you guys have life coaches you can consult?”

  “I mean to say I know a few and they know a few. Our points of view are most lethal if exposed.”

  “So, you have small cells. The cell members only know each other. Only one of you need know someone higher up in the chain, to prevent the total collapse of the subversives if anyone is captured.”

  “Basically. You are familiar with such a structure?”

  “Yeah. Pretty basic clandestine operating procedure. So, all in all, how many freethinkers like you are there?”

  “Obviously, I don’t know. I’d estimate maybe half a percent of the Adamant. So, there are a lot, but we are massively outnumbered.”

  “Hmm. Interesting. Are there pacifists in the highest ranks? How about the emperor’s inner circle?”

  “That I do not know. I’m only a mid-level individual. High ranking subversives, sure, there must be some. As to the emperor’s court, it would be less likely. His contacts are closely vetted and monitored.”