by Justin Bell
This operation may have been over before it even began.
“Shields down!”
Six Reblons converged, firing their weapons, and Redax sent his ship into a tight, controlled barrel roll, tumbling just to the side of the onslaught, but already the enemy ships were reforming and preparing for a secondary assault.
The words settled in.
“Shields down?” he asked as he corrected the tumble of his ship and guided it to his right, trying to get some separation between himself and the group of Reblon Interceptors.
“Confirm! Long range sensors confirm! Shields are down!”
“Iridium Squadron, converge on me!” Redax shouted.
“We have communications from the surface,” one of his wingmen reported. “Bragdons looking for exfil! A group of four are on the East side of the research station!”
Redax narrowed his gaze as he pressed the throttle, sending his ship hurtling towards the satellite. On his left he saw two of his wingmen coming up next to him, plasma streaking after them, but wide left. On his right three more Iridium Squadron appeared, all moving in concert with each other. Six ships left. Not too bad, really, considering the resistance they’d run into.
“Permission to break away and move to the surface!” another voice echoed. “I can grab the Bragdons and we’ll be clear to launch!”
Plasma fire blasted into the rear of Redax’s ship, sending it lurching forward. He squeezed tight on the yoke and brought it back under control.
“Do we have time?” Redax asked.
“I’ll make the time!”
Their ships thrashed as they hit the upper atmosphere and Redax struggled to keep his star fighter under control. The slower Reblon Interceptors fell away behind them, though a stray bolt of energy seared past them and dissipated in the thick, artificial atmosphere.
“We need to make that call!” the voice repeated. “They risked their lives, chief!”
Redax knew they had. He knew that they had done exactly what they’d asked them to do.
But he also knew that they had privileged information. Classified intel about the current state of the Athelon/Reblox conflict. And even though these Bragdons had followed orders and done what they asked of them, the planet Braxis was not an ally. Sometimes in war, hard decisions must be made.
Too often, it was he who had to make them.
“There’s no time for exfiltration,” he replied. It was a simple statement that took less than a second to speak.
A simple condemnation of four Bragdon lives.
“As you wish,” the voice replied. Redax tried to tell himself there was relief in that voice...or was it resentment?
In five minutes it wouldn’t matter.
“Prep missile tubes,” he said.
They fired their rockets.
Down below on the satellite’s surface the research station sat motionless for a handful of seconds, seeming to sit there in stark resistance to their onslaught. Refusal to buckle under the barrage of their sub-space rockets. Even as Redax confirmed twenty direct hits, the building stood there, short, squat, but proud, defiant and unyielding.
Then it quite simply ceased to be. A bright and muffled blast of yellow and red, chased by dark smoke, taking the building and scattering it like some three dimensional jigsaw puzzle torn apart and discarded. As they drew near to the satellite’s surface they could see the flaming wreckage, a pile of broken shards consumed by dull, gray smoke.
Nothing left. No movement. No trace of life on scanners. Completely flattened.
“Mission accomplished, Iridium,” Redax said. “Break atmo, let’s head home.”
All in one motion the six ships shifted their angles up and surged forward ahead of jets of blue flame, smashing through the contained atmosphere of the spherical construct. Up ahead space began it’s jagged split, opening a hyperspace transport.
“Redax Northstar, this is Athelonian Command, do you copy?”
Redax looked down at his console. “Roger, Command, this is Northstar.”
“Just got the mission accomplished signal,” the radio reported. “Advise you head back home ASAP.”
“We need to stop for refuel, then we’re heading that way, command,” Redax replied. “What’s up?”
“News from the home front,” the radio dispatcher replied. “You’re officially a father.”
The news struck him like a fist. This was not how he envisioned finding out he had a child. In fact, this was very much unusual.
“What’s wrong, command?” Redax asked, accelerating towards the hyperspace entry.
“Just return,” command replied. “Quick as you can. Nothing serious, but... there were complications.”
Complications.
What an awful word that was.
Redax firmed his lips, clenching his jaw closed and narrowing his eyes. Had the baby been his idea? He didn’t think it had. It was something Jary had wanted. Or something that was expected of them.
And now there were complications.
The positiveness from a mission accomplished had almost entirely faded away. He pushed the nose of his ship towards hyperspace, trailing close behind his wingmen and wondered what would be waiting for him when he returned home.
Chapter Five
Jary’s apartment had not been her own. Not for the past 48 hours, at any rate. Physicians shuffled in and out, milled around, hovered over the incubation chamber, studying the contents within. Like she was a freak science experiment, not her daughter.
Her only daughter.
The only daughter she’d ever have. Jary knew that now. This wasn’t something she would go through again. The child had uttered its first cry, a wail, the shocked realization that she was now somewhat aware of the world around her and not simply hovering in some blissful state of non-existence.
It had happened in the middle of the night. Jary had heard something, she wasn’t sure what, but at first it sounded like a dull thud and some rapid footfalls, but she realized it was all part of an elaborate dream and she crawled out of it, her ears noticing the muffled howls of her child for the first time.
She was early. Nearly a month early by all calculations. Not unheard of these days, but certainly not normal.
Jary rushed to the chamber, desperate to lay her eyes on her child for the first time, anxious for the warm soak of love and devotion that mothers had for their babies.
Her first emotion wasn’t love, it was horror.
Athelonian citizens live their lives as laborers, their entire existence devoted to the art of hard work, and one physical aspect that aids them in this work is two sets of arms. It was something that differentiated them from the Bragdons and Reblons... well something other than the leather-tough reptile skin and the cascades of silver and black fur, anyway.
Athelonian’s double-jointed shoulders and two sets of arms on each side was a genetic fact written in their science journals going back for generations. It was as much a part of them as their lungs, their heart and their very skin.
When Jary Northstar looked down upon her first child, she looked back up at her through squinted eyes and waved her hands in desperation.
Her two hands. Not four. Two.
Jary had gasped and drawn back. It wasn’t even that her other two arms appeared disfigured, they just simply were not there.
As her daughter wailed, Jary went to the comm system and immediately dialed emergency, getting medical attention to her apartment.
Here she stood, two days later and still she hadn’t lifted her daughter. She hadn’t picked her up, hugged her or shown any of the typical motherly attention. She told herself it was because there had been too many doctors around, too many physicians stepping in the way and getting between her and her child.
The truth was, she was frightened. Something about the child chilled her to the bone.
“What is going on?” his voice boomed throughout the room, an abrupt announcement that things were about to change.
“Redax!�
�� Jary shouted, turning away from the incubation chamber and nearly running towards the entrance to the apartment. He stood there in the front foyer, long black coat hanging from one hand, still dressed in green coveralls. He took her in one fierce embrace, all four arms engulfing her, swarming her up and drawing her in.
“It’s all right, my dear,” he whispered to her as she buried herself in his shoulders. After a few moments, he pulled her away and looked her in the eye.
“What is the meaning of this, Jary? I was told there were complications?”
Jary nodded, taking his hand and leading him towards the incubation chamber.
“The doctors say it’s a genetic abnormality,” she said as they crossed the living room. “Something they’ve never seen before.”
Redax followed her, unsure of what he expected to find once he arrived.
They stepped to the chamber together and looked down inside, the closest Jary had come to her own child since she was born. The young Athelonian girl wore a pale white baby gown with four arm holes though only two of them were filled.
“How is this possible?” Redax asked, his voice a low, hushed whisper. He turned towards the nearest doctor, his voice raising. “How does this happen?”
“We do not know, Mr. Northstar,” replied Dr. Hyrandi, coming nearer to the couple. “There does not appear to be a logical explanation.”
“Have you run tests?” Redax asked. He dropped his wife’s hand.
“Many tests, sir. As many tests as we dare. They all come back normal.”
“Obviously they are wrong. Or you are.”
“There’s no reason to be hostile, Mr. Northstar,” the doctor said, her voice even.
“We all have our jobs to do, doctor,” Redax retorted. “It’s the foundation of what makes Athelon what it is. Your job was to ensure the safe delivery of my first child and you obviously failed.”
Dr. Hyrandi’s mouth twitched, her lips closing into a narrow line. Her two lower arms bent at the elbow, hands clamping on each hip. Upper arms crossed defensively over her narrow chest.
“We’re all on the same side, sir.”
“Let me know when you have answers. Until then, get out of my home.”
“Redax,” Jary pleaded, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s all right,” Dr. Hyrandi replied. “We have nothing more we can do here.” She turned towards the handful of other physicians in the apartment. “Return to the hospital. We will continue to evaluate the test results.”
Voices murmured throughout the apartment for a moment, but the physicians shuffled out, then dispersed out into the hallway, leaving Dr. Hyrandi alone with the Northstars.
“Jary,” she said, turning her attention to her. “Continue to care for her. She is happy, healthy, and strong. Treat her as if she’s a normal Athelonian girl.”
Jary opened her mouth to reply, but the doctor turned her back and swept from their sight, easing out of the front door and vanishing down the hallway.
“Was that really necessary?” Jary asked Redax, turning towards him. “They are as bothered by it as we are.”
Redax’s lips parted into a sneer and he began to form a reply.
“Northstar, I came as soon as I heard.”
His lips pressed back closed, Redax turned towards the voice, his fists clenched.
“Captain Vyleria,” Redax replied, his glare softening and his fingers loosening. “What brings you here?”
The Captain of Iridium Squadron eased his way past Redax and clasped his hands around Jary’s.
“You have my sympathies, Jary. And my apologies.”
She forced a timid smile and bowed her head. “Thank you.”
“Please, can I have a few words with your husband?”
Jary nodded and as Captain Vyleria released her hands, she pulled away and exited, walking towards her bedroom.
Captain Vyleria turned to Redax. “Northstar, are you holding up all right?”
Redax nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“I bring word from Athelon command.”
“Out with it, if you please, Captain.”
“They strongly recommend that you take a leave of absence to work through your family struggles.”
“Sir? There are no struggles. The child is fine. She—”
“The child is not fine. The child is deformed and will be unable to maximize her opportunities at labor.”
“Doctors are running their tests.”
“Tests will not cure her. She and her mother will need your support.”
“Captain Vyleria, please, this is not necessary.”
“It is necessary. We cannot afford to have a pilot who is distracted by matters at home. This is not a request.”
Redax’s fingers tightened again, balling into fists.
“We will find a place for you on the Athelon Senate. A place where you can assist us in the political arena. You will provide just as much value there as you do behind a flight stick.”
“Once again, Captain, I implore you. Please reconsider.”
“The decision is final. Thank you for your service. Good day.”
And just like that, it was over. The career Redax Northstar had worked towards his entire adult life. One of the few aspects of existence that provided him with joy, thrill, and true happiness.
Just like that it was gone.
Because of her.
He glanced back at the incubation chamber with a warm rush of emotion. Not love or nurturing, but resentment. A seething anger for that small creature laying in the incubation chamber not three yards away. This creature that suddenly appeared in their life and swiftly proceeded to tear it apart.
With a deep, steady breath, he walked towards the chamber, three long strides, his hands opening and closing. He stood over the child, looking down at her, his breath bursting from flared nostrils, the pale skin on his face blushing crimson.
The child opened her eyes, wide and blue and glared up at him. For one scant moment, Redax thought he saw a sense of understanding in those eyes. A sense of resentment returned right back at him, an infinite knowledge impossible for one so small and so young.
Then it was gone. The child cooed and smiled, lifting her arms towards him, and the wall of resentment buried inside of him weakened. She cooed again and giggled, and it was a sledgehammer blasting him in the chest, smashing the framework of that wall, sending it crumbling. The warmth of anger mixed with a new fresh flush, a feeling Redax wasn’t quite sure he understood.
“Pick her up,” Jary whispered, coming up on his left. “Take her. That’s what she wants.”
Redax looked over at his wife, a smile creasing his lips. “You can tell that already?”
“I’m her mother,” Jary replied, looking down over the edge. Like her husband standing there alone with their new child, she couldn’t help but feel differently than she had. With all the doctors milling around it felt clinical and cold, a sterile hospital room, and not the warmth of a true home. Now the doctors had left, and there was nothing clinical about this. The little person laying the chamber wasn’t an experiment, she wasn’t a test subject, she was their daughter.
They both decided then and there, in their own unique way that they would treat her as normal as they could, care for her as much as they were capable, and raise her to be a true daughter of Athelon.
Epilogue
The entire world was aflame.
Gragson pushed himself from the wreckage of the research station, a shattered and crumbled pile of smoldering debris, and crawled up onto one of the many busted stones.
His eyes narrowing in the dim light, he glanced over the smashed remnants of the building where flames licked up towards the stars, tangled with billowing smoke in a twisted embrace. Nothing else moved.
“They tried to kill us,” Gragson hissed, though he didn’t believe anyone alive could hear him. “We called for rescue and they fired on us, anyway.”
Gragson’s mouth sneered as he turned away from th
e darkened sky and leaped from the rock, landing gracefully, his legs coiling with the impact of the ground seven meters below. Besides the crackle of fire and hiss of broken machinery, the world around him was silent. The wound on his side was a dull, throbbing burn, but he barely noticed.
He walked with a mild limp, but felt amazingly unharmed given the state of the surrounding building. Gragson wasn't sure how he had survived the missile strike, he wondered if where he had been within the generator room had provided him some measure of protection from the explosion. He didn’t know why he survived, the important thing was that he had.
He had survived. He’d survived even though Athelon had tried to kill him. Not just Athelon, but Redax Northstar himself.
The Bragdon pilot would not soon forget.
Up ahead he noticed the familiar shape of the Bragdon drop ship, and as he walked towards it, his foot caught on a root and he stumbled, only just managing to catch his balance before he fell. He looked down at the root and saw it was not a root at all, it was the outstretched arm of one of his fellow Bragdon commandos. Nurtog, by the looks of it. His four-fingered hand sat splayed open, a broken radio cast aside like a forgotten toy. Two pale, yellow eyes were open, glaring up towards the stars as if accusing them of some grave travesty of justice.
Someone was responsible, that much was certain. Someone would have to pay.
Perhaps, someone would already pay. A recollection formed in Gragson’s mind, a memory of a meeting he’d had with Braxis high command. Part of the reason they’d agreed to come on this commando mission in the first place.
They wanted to keep an eye on Redax Northstar. Make sure he was far away from home.
Braxis high command had plans for him. Not just him, but his family. It was a long game, but a game that Braxis would win, of this he was certain. Braxis high command was certain as well.
He pulled his eyes away from the fallen corpse of Nurtog and continued walking towards the drop ship. Designed for atmospheric entry, he wasn’t sure it would handle getting them off this dead and blasted fake rock.
But he was a pilot and a mechanic, one of the best in the Braxis military. If anyone could get this bird flight worthy again, it would be him. He’d return to Braxis a hero. He’d probably get a promotion.
