Galactic Satori Chronicles: Book 1 - Earth

by Nick Braker

  “Grenade!” Magnus yelled but the sound seemed to come out too slowly.

  Magnus was already in motion, firing down the hall where the grenade had been thrown. His momentum carried him across the hall and through the doorway but not before dropping another soldier. Grep and Warren were there with him but Brock was still on the stairs. A quick glance revealed another soldier was in the room with them but this one had a shotgun. The grenade detonated, throwing Magnus, Warren and Grep further into the room. The soldier with the shotgun went down too. Grep and Warren were moving but Brock, still on the stairwell, was slammed up against the wall, stunned. The guy with the shotgun was getting up. Magnus shot him but his gun locked into the open position again. He was completely out of ammo. Warren grabbed the shotgun the guard had dropped.

  “Oh yeah,” he exclaimed. “You mind if I keep this, Mag?”

  “No, I would rather have your pistol anyway.” Magnus told him.

  Warren tossed the pistol to Magnus then leveled the shotgun toward the doorway they just entered. Two soldiers were sneaking into position after the blast. Warren fired, cocked the shotgun, and fired again. The second soldier had fired but had missed. Brock moaned, crawling up the stairs and into the room before he stood up.

  “Damn, guys, that was close,” he said, looking shaken.

  “Father Brock,” Magnus told him. “I think we have others that need cleansing. You still with us?”

  Brock nodded.

  “Yeah, but I’m gonna need a sabbatical after this mission.”

  With blood dripping down the side of his face, he retrieved the cross, then limped over to the dead guy that had the shotgun and stabbed him through his stomach.

  “Your soul is cleansed, my son.” Brock said, his voice strained with exhaustion.

  Brock pulled the pole out of the soldier with a sickening wet sound. He followed up, stabbing the remaining two that Warren had killed. He nodded to all of them.

  “Cleansed,” he said.

  “Grenade!” Grep yelled.

  Brock turned, shifting the cross so that he was holding it like a baseball bat. He swung, sending the grenade back in the direction it came. It bounced only once and then detonated. Magnus and Warren both stared at him.

  “Shit, Brock,” Grep exclaimed. “I think that was a home run.”

  “That’s Father Brock to you, my son,” he said.

  He’s changing. There is no way he could have done that otherwise.

  Tom’s comments about his speed and agility didn’t begin to describe what Magnus just witnessed. Brock had just avoided death out of instinct and pure speed but was Brock’s recklessness key to bringing out his changes? Did he have to be foolhardy and having fun doing it? If so, eventually it would catch up to him.

  Grep and Warren started patting Brock on the back. Brock looked like he was still stunned as he just kept staring down the hallway. He shifted the cross like he was going to throw a spear and stepped forward with his left foot. Another soldier stepped out from a doorway further down, facing them. He had trails of blood running from both ears, his nose and one of his eyes. He was staggering, barely able to move.

  How is this guy still walking?

  The soldier pulled the pin out of another grenade.

  Shit, not again.

  Brock threw the cross. It went straight through the soldier, picking him up off of the ground and pinning him against the wall. Brock fell to his knees, exhaustion taking control.

  The soldier looked down at the pole in his abdomen. He grabbed the pole with his left hand, pulling himself along it. He opened his mouth gasping for air but instead began coughing blood. He started pulling himself with both hands but he dropped the now active grenade.

  “Grenade,” Magnus, Warren, and Grep yelled in unison.

  Everyone jumped for cover, Warren yanking Brock along with him. The grenade detonated taking the soldier’s legs from the knees down. The grenade also bent the pole, putting the cross in front of the man’s face, pinning his head back into the wall.

  “Domina nauster, Jesus Christ,” Brock mumbled, still out of breath.

  “That should be Dominus noster, Jesus Christus te absolvat,” Grep said, correcting him.

  “Now is the time that you just shut up and savor the moment,” Magnus told Grep.

  “Yeah,” Warren agreed, nodding.

  “But I-- I was just trying to help him out,” Grep explained.

  “Grep,” Magnus ordered. “Make sure the hallway is clear. Warren, check the room that way. We will be right behind you.”

  Magnus helped Brock back to his feet.

  “You alright?” Magnus asked.

  “Yeah,” Brock said. “Just taking a minute to catch my breath.” He gave Magnus a smile. “I’m good now.”

  Blood covered his face and shoulders but it wasn’t his. In fact, they were all covered with blood and grime.

  “I’m adding a hot bath along with the drink later,” Magnus told them.

  “Awkward,” Grep said.

  “You know what I mean,” Magnus said, and they both managed an uneasy laugh.

  “Hallway is clear,” Grep said, changing the subject.

  “Magnus, we have people in the next room,” Warren said through his EP.

  Magnus checked his pistol.

  “More soldiers?” he asked.

  “No, looks like civilians and they are tied up to numerous pews.”

  They joined Warren who was looking into the room.

  “All looks clear except for the ones tied up,” he told them.

  Magnus motioned them in and they returned their acknowledgment signals. They moved in formation, their training taking over their actions. Tired, dirty and covered in blood, his team was still doing their jobs exactly as Fisk and Tom had shown them - crouched low, guns up and tactically moving through the room checking everything. Magnus couldn’t be prouder. He went to one of the captives, removing his gag.

  “Ask him if he is friend or foe,” Magnus asked Grep in hushed tones.

  “I can speak English,” the captive whispered. He had a heavy French accent. “And I would say friend if you’re the ones killing these bastards.”

  Magnus just needed an answer. He could read the man’s intent better if he had both words and somatic queues.

  “Are there others we need to know about?” Magnus asked him, cutting the man’s bonds.

  “There are more in the last room, that way,” the man pointed. “Be careful. There is one called The General. There’s something very wrong with him. I’m telling you, as crazy as this sounds, he’s not human.”

  “We got this,” Brock told the man, trying to reassure him.

  “Alright, guys, cut these civilians loose. Warren, cover our flank. Brock, Grep, push a bunch of these pews over into that corner.” Magnus pointed. “I want them to have some cover. Make sure they get behind them. Grep, tell them to be quiet.”

  “Yes, sir,” they all said in unison.

  Grep didn’t like taking orders from him and it seemed to be getting worse.

  At least he’s still following them.

  Magnus checked the door the captive had pointed to. It was open. He stood there, waiting for his crew to finish.

  He’s not human? Could we finally capture one of the aliens?

  Whatever alien species this one was, it was coming with him this time. The door led into a small antechamber which then lead to a door at the other end. The rest of the guys finished barricading the captives and joined him. Magnus motioned them to move forward and they all quietly entered the next room, making their way to the door on the far end.

  “Let’s finish this,” Magnus told them.

  Chapter 24

  ALARA

  Magnus entered the room first with Warren behind him. His body was close to exhaustion and his legs shook slightly from fatigue. This was the last room. They called him The General. This one would be different. He would be tough and they had to be ready. Warren bumped into Magnus.


  “Sorry,” Warren whispered.

  Warren was exhausted too but they couldn’t stop to take a break now. Magnus nodded at Warren and then motioned Brock and Grep to the left. They knelt down inside the doorway, staying low. The back of two large sofas sat several feet from the wall to the left and right of the door. They were red with tassels hanging from the armrests and along the entire backside. It reminded him of something made in India. Incense burned in the air which only made the visibility worse. Its smell burned his nose with scents of flowers and herbs. He ignored it and focused on listening.

  Nothing. Absolute quiet.

  Warren moved in next to Magnus who knelt at the far end of the sofa to the right. He peered above the edge of the sofa, his eyes unable to make out any details on the other side of the room.

  There’s not enough light in here. We’re sitting ducks.

  “Mag,” Warren whispered again. “This isn’t good. I can’t see shit.”

  Warren checked the ammo in his shotgun. Magnus nodded at him. He motioned to move forward but froze as he heard a female voice.

  “You can come out. I won’t hurt you,” she said.

  Warren shook his head slowly at Magnus.

  “Magnus, I say we jump up and open fire,” Warren told him.

  “Could be a trap,” Magnus said.

  “After all the shit we just went through? Hell yeah, it’s a trap,” Warren told him.

  Brock and Grep waited for his signal from the other corner of the room. He could see them well enough which meant they could see his signal.

  “No need for violence, Magnus. I’m unarmed and harmless,” the female voice said. “In fact, I’ll turn the lights up some so you can see me clearly. My hands are bound but my arms are free.”

  She had a human voice, seductive and clear. She must be young from the sound of her voice. Electric lights in the room came on.

  “Magnus? Are you going to come out shooting or would you talk with me first? Give me a chance to explain. We don’t have much time,” she told him.

  Warren’s eyes told Magnus it was time to take the bitch down. Warren was not trigger happy but recent events and all the gruesome deaths fueled him and all Warren wanted to do was kill anyone responsible. Magnus motioned with his hand.

  Three... two...

  Magnus went on two instead. He stood, taking a bead on her. In the breadth of a heartbeat, he made the decision not to fire. The woman was stunning. She sat on a large marble bench across the room, her hands in her lap. Her wrists and ankles were bound. Straps ran across her legs and abdomen, securing her to the bench. He could see her eyes looking up at him with her head pointing slightly down as if she were intentionally trying to be submissive. Seductive came to mind again. Her eyes were dark brown, bordering on black surrounded by bright ivory. There was an immense intelligence behind them, something he hadn’t seen since Jules.

  Augmented? Human only?

  Her long, black hair was straight and would have reached past her shoulders but it was arrayed in waves with red ribbons keeping it up in a bun. The dress she wore and her cinnamon colored skin indicated an East Indian culture. Her top barely covered her ample breasts. It was solid red with borders of gold lace. The front halves were connected with a shiny gold medallion placed between her breasts, leaving her midriff completely exposed. Her lower half was covered with a similar colored material. It wrapped around her like a scarf but it covered the woman from her waist to her knees.

  Warren jumped up and drew on her but Magnus pushed his gun to the side.

  “Hold your fire,” he yelled.

  Warren protested and moved the gun back into position. Magnus grabbed the barrel, still warm from earlier, and pulled it down and away from the woman.

  “Hold... your... fire...” he ordered.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Warren asked.

  “Nothing. She’s not a threat. Something is wrong here. Let me talk to her first.”

  “Do you remember what Angelina from the Carlyle restaurant did to me?”

  “You’re letting your other brain do the talking, Magnus,” Grep said from across the room.

  Her lips, dark red, parted.

  “He will be here soon,” she said. “I’m a prisoner and you need to come to that realization quickly.”

  He moved between Grep’s and Brock’s line of fire. Warren wanted to shoot her now but he would wait. Grep on the other hand might make the decision on his own to shoot anyway. The room split into two areas. The front half near the door was separated by the two sofas, both u-shaped. They faced each other leaving a walkway between them and they sat low to the floor, covered with large throw pillows. The back half of the room had a canopy bed, end tables, and a bench. Tidy but crowded. He stood somewhat in front of her at the end of the canopy bed.

  “You already know who I am. Who are you?” Magnus asked.

  “My name is Alara. I am a prisoner here. I work for a race of beings you refer to as the Alpha aliens.”

  “Are you being controlled?” Magnus asked.

  “No, I am pure human. Please believe that,” she said.

  She was flawless and breathtakingly beautiful.

  “How do you know who we are?” he asked.

  “More importantly right now, you must release me and prepare yourself and your friends. He is at the stairs as we speak. You missed the basement of the church. He knows you are here and is planning to kill all of you.”

  Her sensuous voice put him at ease and Magnus felt something tug inside. The effect was gentle and even welcome.

  “Who?”

  “You know him as the General,” she said.

  Brock and Warren moved back to the doorway taking defensive positions to each side. Grep moved to stand next to Magnus.

  “You can’t trust anything she says,” Grep told him.

  “We don’t know that we can’t. So we’ll prepare for an attack through that door since it’s the only way in here.”

  Grep nodded at him.

  Hell. That must have been his assessment, as well. It’s the only reason he didn’t respond.

  “We’re still very low on ammunition,” he said, reminding Magnus of the obvious.

  Magnus nodded. He examined her bindings, finding several spots to cut. He released her.

  “Thank you, Magnus. We have about one minute. He and his team are working through the rooms, examining the destruction you four left in your wake,” she said, smirking at him.

  She stood gracefully, nearly meeting him eye to eye.

  She likes me. It’s clearly written all over her. How? Why?

  “Are you armed?” he asked.

  “No, but I can take care of myself. Do not concern yourself with my safety. Let me turn the lights back down while you order Warren and Brock to move back to the corners behind the sofa edges and wait for the stun grenade. If they remain where they are now, you will lose both of them. Grep and you should take positions at the back of the sofa on both sides back here. Tell them to keep their mouths open and eyes closed when the bomb is tossed. Grep and you will recover first, so hold the line until they do. Quickly, incoming.”

  Magnus turned to his crew.

  “Do it,” he said, hissing the order at them. “No questions.”

  Brock moved to his side and took cover as ordered but Warren didn’t move. Grep and Magnus took their positions as instructed.

  “She’s going to get us--” Warren said.

  A small metallic object rolled into the room. Warren dropped his shotgun and dove away as it detonated. He disappeared behind the sofa near the left side of the door when the world around him went black.

  Warren!

  The room shifted smoothly into slow motion. A fog poured over Magnus, trying to pull him into its depths. It was so quiet. That didn’t last long as a high-pitched squeal somewhere all around him grew in volume. In only a few seconds, it seemed all hell broke loose when several more humans rushed in, guns firing. The image became two as the four soldier
s entering now became eight and then back to four. He fired his gun in their direction and they took cover. One of them dropped, blood splattering back into the hallway.

  Wait, was it two? Did I do that?

  He shook his head trying to clear it. The sound piercing through his head was more than painful, it was worse than a migraine. His left shoulder hurt. Blood welled up and flowed down his arm.

  Interesting red color. Is that mine? Why am I bleeding? Red. I hate red.

  He shook his head again.

  Pull yourself together.

  The world’s chaos rushed back around him and time resumed. The three soldiers had taken cover behind the sofas, two on his side and one on Warren’s and Grep’s side.

  One shell left.

  The two on his side were keeping Brock suppressed. He fired at the soldier’s head, the one closest to Brock. The blast knocked the soldier into the wall. The other one turned his gun on Magnus. The sofa shredded under the soldier’s spray of fire. Magnus went prone, crawling toward Grep. He wouldn’t be able to cross the opening between the sofas but anywhere else was better than the death trap behind him. Grep popped his head up, raising his gun to fire. The young woman, Alara, struck Grep from behind. He dropped, completely unconscious. She grabbed his gun and disappeared behind the sofa on the far wall.

  No, that bitch!

  Magnus had no ammo. Grep was down and there were now three enemies, two of the soldiers and that bitch. She was going after Warren.

  “Damn it, Brock. Wake--”

  He heard Brock’s weapon fire, his last shot, and the spray of fire on him ended. Magnus jumped up and cut across the room at a run. She stood, her gun pointing down at where Warren had landed. She aimed and fired.

  “No,” he screamed, as he dove into her.

  She stepped back without looking and grabbed his left hand. She leaned hard away from him and yanked. His left arm lit up in pain. She had stopped his momentum, keeping him from slamming into the wall.

  Dumb move, bitch.

  He twisted around getting his right hand on her throat. Magnus had her pressed over the back of the couch. She would pay.

  “Mag, I’m good,” Warren said, rolling the soldier off of himself. “She killed the guy on me.”