by C. C. Ekeke
Two Ghebrekh in the center of the group stood out: one tall, muscular, and bald, with a myriad of multicolored tattoos covering his body. By his blood-red eyes, the first Ghebrekh was clearly once Narii before his conversion. The other Ghebrekh he stood beside, also scorched clean of hair, bore a unique cobalt-blue complexion. Wearing only a taupe loincloth, this Farooqua’s series of angular, ivory-white tattoos spanned the length of his sinewy body—unique in ornamentation among the Ghebrekh. His eyes were unnaturally purple, less bulbous than other Farooqua’s, and they knifed through Taorr like blades of ice. The Ghebrekh sat cross-legged, floating at least a full metrid off the ground.
Taorr had never seen this Ghebrekh before, but the unspoken power rolling off him made his identity clear.
The Ttaunz’s fear as his captors hauled him up to his feet surpassed what he felt when captured at the N’noa settlement. The Narii flanking the Ghebrekh continued staring, many jabbing fingers of recognition at him.
Taorr? Zojje’s voice was a gentle respite.
The Ttaunz could only consider one question. That’s him, isn’t it?
Yes, Zojje answered immediately. Ghuj’aega.
Ghuj’aega continued glaring at Taorr, making no sound or movement. The Ttaunz anxiously shifted his gaze to the tall Farooqua next to Ghuj’aega who had begun gesturing with the less severe motions of Narii kineticabulary. Taorr, having studied several Farooqua languages, got the gist.
“[Yes, this is…spawn of… leader Ttaunz,]” the Farooqua emissary acknowledged, jabbing an accusing finger at Taorr. “[Spawn of…race evil…seeks to usurp…lands and… race extinguished.]”
Taorr felt a warm current flow into his mind; Zojje was connecting telepathically. Given his longer time with the Farooqua, Zojje understood every kineticabulary. Suddenly the Narii dialect grew undeniably clear.
“[…we plucked him from his guardians, just after his ilk slaughtered the Head Clan of the N’noa,]” the Farooqua gestured with bristling venom. “[I, Purg’iasha, am Narii, like you. I am also Ghebrekh, a tribe of many made one.]
“[Isn’t that why we worship the Zenith Point, for its uniting the elements of our world?]” he added, beginning to pace. “[Farooqua must unite under the Ghebrekh, under Ghuj’aega!]” Purg’iasha expressed the name so intensely it looked as if he threw out both shoulders gesticulating it.
Taorr watched the Narii’s reaction; some were captivated, many muttered and fidgeted in hesitance. A small number glared warily at the floating Farooqua and his speechifying emissary.
One rather strapping Narii with long dark braids strode forward, bulbous eyes glittering. “[IDIOT!]” he signed and clicked angrily, much to everyone’s surprise. “[Do you realize what you have done by kidnapping these two? The Ttaunz will find them and slaughter us all!]”
Ghuj’aega’s face was unreadable as he continued floating. Taorr tensed up for what might happen next. A petite female Farooqua from the crowd grasped at the outspoken male, trying to pull him back. “[Kai’asha!]” she warned with trembling gestures. Her fearful eyes swept over the Ghebrekh among them.
Kai’asha shrugged her off roughly. “[These Ghebrekh and their reckless actions are more danger to us than the Ttaunz. They spit on the Zenith Point with their actions. It ends.]” Kai’asha advanced threateningly on Ghuj’aega. The Ghebrekh practically glided forward to form a wall between the Narii Farooqua, stopping Kai’asha in his tracks. The affront snapped every Narii into action, including his anxious mate. They whipped out bladed weapons, ready to defend their own.
Panic consumed Taorr. His gaze darted back and forth between both sides. Then Ghuj’aega, stiller than a statue since the Ttaunz’s arrival, waved an allowing hand. This parted the barrier of his followers before Kai’asha. Both Ghebrekh and Narii sheathed weapons.
Taorr felt a growing pit in his stomach not relating to his growing hunger. Zojje, can you read…
I’m trying, youngling, the Kudoban replied. Ghuj’aega’s thoughts are like quicksilver. It barely resembles a Farooqua mind.
Purg’iasha stood face to face with Kai’asha, who shook his head in disgust. “[This is the Narii Head Clan, but you are not its Primary. Where is the Narii with authority over loudmouths like you?]”
“[Hunting,]” Kai’asha snapped back with a grin. “[As her Secondary, I lead in her stead. You were once a Farooqua of fine standing, the future of this tribe,]” Kai’asha signed, his sinewy body quivering with fury. “[Now you are messenger for this…unquenchable butcher? How again does this benefit your tribe?]”
“[Ghuj’aega has been touched directly by the Zenith Point, molded and remade into a weapon to liberate the Farooqua Tribes…and enlighten their true path. He has shown me what our entire race can become. Only by removing the obstacle of the Ttaunz and their Union allies can we reach that pinnacle. Join him, and the safety of the entire Narii…the tribe that birthed me…will be assured.]”
The statement of taking on both the Ttaunz and the Union actually elicited laughter, both vocal and physical, from nearly every Narii. The Ghebrekh among them stood like statues of obsidian. Purg’iasha, however, looked the opposite of humored by their disrespect.
Taorr, watching the exchange, almost jumped when Ghuj’aega walked forward noiselessly to stand between the two enemies. The Ghebrekh leader had been so mute this entire time, Taorr didn’t even see him stand upright. He wasn’t tall, standing about half a head shorter than both his Secondary Purg’iasha and Kai’asha. Regardless, Kai’asha still backed away from the powerful being.
Ghuj’aega took in the gathering with a purposeful glance, spreading his thin arms wide and clapping once. Taorr gaped. Zojje’s already large eyes widened. The Ghebrekh leader’s hands began glowing white-hot with energy, the light nearly blinding. The Narii also stood in awe, murmuring and signing to each other. Ghuj’aega lowered to his hands and knees on the dry, cracked earth.
The ground reacted immediately, a sizeable circle in front of the Ghebrekh rippling like a disturbed pool of water. Within the swelling circle Taorr saw vivid images of the many Farooqua tribes, each picture appearing ephemerally before shifting into another scene, lasting long enough for the Ttaunz to grasp the sickening point. The collage of Farooqua beaten down, imprisoned, or slaughtered by the Ttaunz Defense Force continued without surcease, finally forcing Taorr to turn away.
Zojje, he thought, what is Ghuj’aega doing?
These events haven’t taken place, Zojje answered. They are visions of the future.
“What?” Taorr murmured aloud, unable to mask his complete disbelief. Once Ghuj’aega lifted his hands up, the ground returned to its former barren state. He rose slowly as the large crowd looked on in tense silence.
Ghuj’aega then spoke. “[Enslavement. Suffering. Extinction. These will be the Narii’s fate without the Ghebrekh should you continue cowering to the whims of that.]” Ghuj’aega regarded Taorr with a brief glower. “[By way of the Zenith Point I have foreseen this…and I offer an escape.]” Taorr noted how his body movements married many Farooqua dialects, no doubt signifying the Ghebrekh tribe’s distinct language.
A lanky female nearing adulthood approached. “[How are you sure? I hear you provoke them, killing the Ttaunz in their cities with impact bombs.”] Her words drew an angry commotion among the Narii.
Purg’iasha stepped forward again. “[He only attacks because they try stealing Farooqua lands that have been ours since Faroor’s dawn.]”
Purg’iasha’s hand gestures grew sharper, angrier, his whole body quaking. “[The Ttaunz’s extinction should have happened centuries ago. But the Union handed Faroor off as if it were theirs to give!]”
Many Narii grew visibly angry at this. Taorr, stunned, glanced at Zojje. How do the Ghebrekh know that?
Not all the Farooqua are uneducated, Taorr, Zojje scolded.
“[You think that the Ttaunz will tolerate our race for much longer?]” Purg’iasha continued with renewed fervor. “[As Ghuj’aega has foreseen, if we do not u
nite, they will wipe us out.]”
“He’s lying!” Taorr blurted out, despite Zojje’s psychic warning. “I want peace! As do many of my race!” If not for his bound hands, he would have attempted any form of kineticabulary to defend himself. “Kidnapping me and Zojje only perpetuates this conflict. That’s what Ghuj’aega want—AAARRRH!” From behind, a stiff kick swung into his right side. Taorr’s bruised ribs screamed, stealing his breath. He crumpled onto the earth.
Taorr! Zojje called out telepathically, which was the only thing that kept Taorr conscious.
Kai’asha watched Taorr fall. “[I know not what that Ttaunz was bleating, but I doubt it was insults.]”
Purg’iasha was quick to gesture out a retort. “[Whatever that animal attempted to say—]”
“[I speak to Ghuj’aega,]” Kai’asha cut him off, his eyes never leaving Ghuj’aega. Purg’iasha tensed up in fury, but a calm hand wave from Ghuj’aega made Purg’iasha obediently step aside.
Kai’asha towered over Ghuj’aega in height and size, but Ghuj’aega’s venomous violet stare and the authority he exuded made up for any physical shortcomings.
“[You may be Farooqua like me. Who knows, you may have even been Narii at one point. But there is no kinship between my tribe and yours. You are diseased, spouting blasphemies through a pawn about being an avatar for the Zenith Point to spread its vast reach. You know nothing of the Zenith Point.]” Kai’asha punctuated every gesture by jabbing the Ghebrekh leader hard in his chest. The Ghebrekh tensed up just in case Kai’asha’s pokes became something deadlier. Taorr, despite his pain, grew more panicked. Ghuj’aega said and did nothing to counter Kai’asha’s insults.
But the Ttaunz had a sinking feeling that would change shortly.
“[Go on. Continue that fruitless vendetta against the Ttaunz, false prophet. You will lead no more of my tribe toward death.]” Kai’asha gestured dismissively with his back to Ghuj’aega, walking away. Taorr cringed, knowing how grave an insult that was. “[Leave these lands and never return. Or—]” Kai’asha froze, actually shouting in surprise.
Taorr pulled a double take, as did every Narii at the gathering. Suddenly, Ghuj’aega was standing in front of Kai’asha, appearing out of nowhere. As if he transmatted from one point to another.
“[Or what?]” the Ghebrekh leader gestured threateningly. His right hand snaked out and dug fingers into the Narii Secondary’s broad chest. At first, Kai’asha looked confused and irate—until Ghuj’aega’s hand began to shimmer harshly. The Narii Secondary’s blunt features contorted with pain.
An instant later, Kai’asha visibly shrank, like the hyper-sped-up growth of a plant in reverse. Ghuj’aega’s glowing hand then stopped. The Narii were too engrossed in the Ghebrekh leader’s display to react. In Kai’asha’s place lay a tiny, pudgy Farooqua infant of several months. It sat on its butt screaming to the heavens, wigwagging its stubby arms in displeasure. The red, bulbous eyes now took up half the size of his head, with only a minuscule clump of dark brown hair on top.
Taorr was speechless. A glance at Zojje showed the Kudoban’s three mouths hanging open.
And all the Narii’s battle-hardened confidence evaporated.
The baby’s cries were overridden by horrified shrieks. Kai’asha’s mate ran up and reached for him. But out of disbelief, disgust, or both, her trembling hands never touched the baby.
Ghuj’aega’s curt hand signs said, “[No one calls me a false prophet.]”
Kai’asha’s mate slowly turned, eyes seeping with tears, and glared at the Ghebrekh leader. Sorrow quickly twisted into single-minded hatred, heaving sobs becoming growls.
Ghuj’aega simply met her glare emotionlessly. “[You’d be wise not to follow his lead,]” he signed.
Suddenly, Taorr heard a rush of air, followed by gasps from the stunned Narii. Enraged, the female launched herself at Ghuj’aega, who didn’t even flinch in surprise. No Ghebrekh, not even Purg’iasha, moved to defend their prophetic leader. A horrified Taorr wanted to shout out to stop her, even if she wouldn’t understand his plea. Her fingers hooked into claws, ready to rend Ghuj’aega to pieces.
She never got the chance. Ghuj’aega caught her by the throat with startling speed, hauling the Narii off her feet. Ghuj’aega’s stringy muscles flexed as his angular tattoos radiated white-hot, his hand gripping the Narii female’s throat glittering as well.
Suddenly her war cries turned to shrieks again, echoing across the landscape of stone fangs. Like Kai’asha, her body began to shrink under the glow surrounding her. Not as rapid as her mate’s, but she seemed to wither. “No,” Taorr whispered. “That’s…impossible…”
As the glowing and the female’s screams escalated, several Narii Farooqua hooted again. Still, none dared to make a move to stop Ghuj’aega or the Ghebrekh. Ghuj’aega released his chokehold and the Farooqua female slid to the earth in a shriveled heap, with Taorr seeing the impossible right in front of him.
Next to that wailing infant lay the curled-up frame of an elderly Farooqua. Her once svelte and supple body appeared wizened, grey and painfully bent from age—clearly over a hundred years—every limb trembling from the onset of rheumatism. Her hair, formerly lush, long, and gingery, was now only sparse and scraggly shoots atop her head. All other body fur had fallen out. The female opened her mouth, but all that trickled out was a crotchety groan and dribbles of drool. She weakly lifted her head to stare up at Ghuj’aega with milky, cataract-filled eyes.
The leader of the Ghebrekh looked up at his terrified audience, a gaunt and terrifying figure among his fellow Farooqua. He gestured again, and Taorr needed no help understanding.
“[Join me…or join them. You have till sunrise.]” Without another glance at his victims, Ghuj’aega turned to the hills. The Narii watched Ghuj’aega, understandably petrified by what they’d just witnessed. As Taorr’s captors started dragging him after Ghuj’aega, he felt as if someone had slapped all his senses away.
Taorr? Taorr, answer me, please! Zojje’s telepathic cry barely registered.
Seeing this small demonstration of Ghuj’aega’s abilities, Taorr had no idea what sort of monster they faced. Simmering heat rose up from the dusty earth, but Taorr knew it had nothing to do with the merciless sun above.
The Ghebrekh—hairless, chiseled, and tattooed, followed him as one through the rocky teeth of the Suthron Wastelands. Ghuj’aega stopped, spread his hands wide again and clapped. The world before Taorr washed over in vivid blue once more, and that familiar tugging on his sternum returned as he and the rest of the Ghebrekh tribe vanished.
Chapter 11
“Whoooa,” Samantha sighed. They’d just finished again, covering any positions they missed the first two times. She lay on top of Habraum in a naked, blissed-out heap. The Cerc felt weary yet satisfied from their lovemaking. A film of sweat glistened on his tall, strapping frame. “Where did you come from?” Sam exhaled.
“A big ball of red rock,” Habraum deadpanned. She answered with a playful punch to his ribs. “Ooph! Well, you asked!” The Cerc winced as he chuckled. One hand was cradled behind his head, the other tracing slow circles on Sam’s back. “Rogguts, I could do that all day.”
She lifted herself from Habraum’s chest, tempting him through tangled curtains of blonde hair. “Good to know. Cause if I were you, I’d ride me a little harder next time.”
You rode me wildly enough for both of us, Habraum mused, laughing from deep in his chest. “So coarse!”
“Comes with the package, flyboy.” Sam arched an eyebrow.
“Not complaining,” the Cerc murmured. She pulled in closer with a soft kiss, her flesh piping hot to the touch, as if she ran a constantly high fever. But her body received no complaints from Habraum, every slope and ample curve a marvel to behold. For the past two orvs they had feasted on each other, locked in their secret little world. Habraum found it easy to forget the rest of the universe like this.
As far as most in Star Brigade knew, Habraum and Sam were scheduled for a co
nfidential holoconference with UComm Joint Spec Ops Group’s higher-ups. No one would question that.
The pair had spun similar stories these past four months in order to spend time together, like when they vacationed together with their respective wards on Cantalese and Cercidale for two weeks.
The story everyone else believed was only Habraum and his son had gone to Cantalese, while Sam and Tharydane traveled to Fortuna. Sam didn’t love being saddled with what she called “the tacky-ass casino planet,” but did as asked—even forging her flight records to Fortuna.
Habraum wanted to keep whatever this relationship was with Sam secret for more reasons than he had fingers, chief among them that he wasn’t ready. A relationship out in the open with someone besides his late wife, Jeremy’s mother, engulfed him with a disquiet he couldn’t shake. Especially with someone like Samantha D’Urso, he thought, feeling skeptical and guilty all at once.
Sam’s throaty voice pulled him back to the present. “I should get going.” She rolled off him.
A puzzled Habraum propped himself up with an elbow. “Why?” As Sam slid off the bed to her feet, he glimpsed at two familiar tattoos on her back. One was a little Xibetan symbol on her left shoulder, the other a larger diamond-shaped Voton symbol right at the small of her back.
“We got half an orv before the kids get back,” she reminded him. Sam’s butter-blonde hair was in shambles, her chocolate-brown eyes alight as she searched for her clothing. “Need to prep for Tharyn and my FSG binge watch, and do a little task for Ari.” It still amazed Habraum how Sam was on a first-name basis with former Chouncilor Ari Bogosian. Since the Battle of Terra Sollus, she somehow found time between Star Brigade and raising Tharydane to assist Bogosian and help Korvenite refugees integrate into the Galactic Union.
But that workload had costs. A few times this last month, Habraum had peeled an exhausted Sam from the couch after back-to-back all-nighters and tucked her into bed. Superwoman or not, Habraum didn’t want today to end yet. Just gazing at her caused another stirring in the loins. “Fifteen more macroms. That leaves fifteen for errands.”
