by Justin Bell
With each step closer, he looks larger, and the bones on his head and shoulders seem to grow paler and become more rigid. Next I see the withered, puckered skin of the crack where the bone pushed through, and when he draws within a yard of me, the yellowed sneer of pointed teeth becomes my point of focus. His yellow eyes snap with audible clicks as he stares at me and doesn't look away.
"Luxen, leave us," he growls. Luxen bows his head and steps backwards, then turns and vanishes out of the room, leaving me feeling very, very alone.
He stands before me, looking down, his face a stone carved statue, impassive and unimpressed.
"So here we are," he says calmly.
"You say that as if this was some inevitable outcome."
"Oh, it was," he replies, his mouth splitting into a wide, tooth-filled smile. "It had to happen this way. It was destined."
I walk past him over towards the window, glaring out into the star field beyond, littered with wreckage and battle.
"Bragdons believe in destiny do they?"
"You don't?"
"I never said that."
I can hear his padded footfalls behind me as he walks across the plush, decorative carpet to join me in looking out the window. The further apart we are, the better I like it, but even in a large room such as this, I suspect he won't be letting me drift.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" he says as he approaches my left shoulder.
"It would be if not for the death and destruction." As I say this, an attack cruiser comes into view at our left and is speared by twin beams of light. In the slow motion vastness of space it splits in two, sprays shards of torn metal, then topples slowly and noiselessly apart.
"I was referring to the death and destruction. That's the beauty I see."
"Who are you and why did you bring me here?"
"I didn't bring you here. Fate brought you here. As it was foretold."
"Seriously? Are we just going to stand here and talk in riddles all night? Aren't you the leader of the Bragdon fleet? Don't you have better things to do?"
His smile doesn't falter. "Better things than to commiserate with the Child of the Stars? Surely you're mistaken."
"Don't tell me you believe in that garbage, too?"
He chuckles, a dry, branch-breaking sound completely devoid of actual emotion. "Does it matter what we believe? It only matters what they believe."
"You've been talking to Drewsk," I mutter under my breath.
"Mr. Graver?" he asks. "Indeed I have, young one. Is it that obvious?"
A thought occurs to me and I glance over my shoulder at him, my eyes fixating on the pale bone-colored horns bulging from his skull like a crown of death.
"Are you working with them?"
"With whom?"
"The resistance. The Yarda Resistance. You are, aren't you?"
"What makes you say that?"
"They were using your cloaking technology," I reply, finally putting some of the pieces together in my head. "In the skies above Adroxis."
He doesn't reply, he just smirks, his lipless flaps sealing shut over the rows of needle teeth.
"And those Bragdon scientists," I continue, "they were selling out. They designed the technology for Athelon, but now that the war is raging, they're coming back home? Right?"
"They came back home, my dear. Indeed."
My skin is hot, and not just from the red lights in the ceiling. It's hot from the inside out as I think of Drewsk, hiding away in secret, coordinating all of this with Braxis leadership. While we were risking our lives for the safety of Athelon over the past two months, he's been plotting behind the scenes with Braxis.
And I helped him finish his little plan.
"So you believe in destiny, but continue to sabotage Athelon in the name of your twisted little game of vengeance?"
I see it then, a brief flare in his eyes. A spark of rage that ignites, then is quickly snuffed out before it grows too hot.
"Does this seem like a game, Ms. Northstar?"
My eyes drift out the window again. No, this is certainly not a game.
"Before this war had even begun, do you know how many Bragdon lives were lost? How many of us were used as mere cannon fodder in the battles between Athelon and Reblox? Chum for the sharks?"
"I've heard the stories. And I feel for your people."
"Our people," he replies.
"What do you mean by that?"
He turns away from me, striding towards his ornate seat on top of the layered pedestal. I hesitate to call it a throne, this is hardly a throne room, but as he sits in the tall-back chair, looking over the semi-circle of monitors it's difficult not to see him as some sort of monarch surveying his kingdom. A leather skinned monarch with a crown of broken bones.
A single long stride carries him to the second level of his perch and he looks back over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes.
"Braxis believes that everything in this universe is interconnected. All species, all celestial bodies, every single entity in this known quadrant shares a common electromagnetic connection."
"You're serious."
"Oh, quite. How do you think the Bragdon Elders can do what they do? Live so long? Survive seemingly impossible situations? They've all devoted their entire lives to tapping into this connective energy, to learning how to use it, to manipulate it, and twist it to their advantage."
I step away from the window and walk towards the platform, looking up at Command.
"So what now? You strike a deal with the Resistance for what reason exactly?"
"The resistance and Braxis have a unique relationship."
"You're using them to sew discord in the quadrant, plain and simple. Why? So you can move in and conquer?"
His head snaps towards me, eyes flaring. "It has never been about conquest, Northstar, it's been about survival! For eons, Braxis has been caught between two super-powers, torn apart and used against ourselves. No longer."
I don't reply. In all my time spent with Kleethak and Luxen I've grown quite familiar with the mindset of a typical Bragdon. In my heart I believe Bragdons at large are a peaceful people. They want to live simply and live well, and neither Athelon nor Reblox has given them the chance to do that...not for a few centuries anyway.
The only sound in the room is the low hum of equipment, a gentle buzz of energy coursing through conduits, powering this impressive space vessel.
I glance out the window at the chaos. "How long can this ship stay cloaked?"
He turns his attention towards the screens ahead, extending a long, narrow hand and making a few gestures on his touchpad.
"It is about time," he says quietly.
"Time for what?"
"Time to return to Braglosh." He reaches over and makes some more movements on a second screen.
"We're going back to Braxis? Is that where you're taking me?"
He looks at me. "That's where we are all going, yes. You are not a prisoner, Brie Northstar. My hope is that you join us willingly."
"Willingly? Is that what you call getting stabbed and dragged into a prison cell?"
"To be fair," a voice echoes from the door way. I look over in time to see Cylek move through an opened door. "It was just a syringe. Not a knife. Quick. Painless."
"You were in on this?" I ask. "Was this all a ruse just to get me in front of him?"
Cylek shrugs. "Not necessarily. The main goal was to bring the long range sonar research to Braxis. Your involvement was a happy accident. We Bragdons are notoriously adaptive." She walks in, no longer clad in her white lab coat, but instead a dark blue tunic and gold-trimmed pants.
"So what now?" I ask. "Once we get to Braxis, what then?"
"Phase Two begins, my dear," Command replies without looking at me. "The Yarda Quadrant has been destabilized. Athelon and Reblox have over-extended their military forces. The time has come for us to take our place and bring peace."
Peace. I look at him, fixating on the crooked, broken bone ringing his scalp. Is his appearance t
hrowing me off? Do I immediately see violence and hatred in spite of what I know about most Bragdons I've met? Shouldn't I have learned by now?
"Peace? Is that truly what you're after?" I ask.
"Of course," he replies. "That's all we've ever wanted."
I draw in a breath, not sure about the words I'm about to say next. "Then I'm with you," I finally mutter, words that fall from my mouth as if tasting bitter.
"Good," he replies, as if acknowledging the fact that I never had any choice.
The real question is, will I ever have another choice again? Is this how the agreement with Drewsk started, too? How, and when, will it all end?
These are questions I'm not sure I even want the answers to.
CHAPTER FIVE
My first memories of this place were far from pleasant, though I have to say this time around it feels a little bit like home. This may not be the flowing tan meadows of Athelon, but the thick wetness of the Braxis swamp has its own familiar, unique appeal, and one that I'm getting more and more comfortable with.
It's routine now. I've been back on Braxis for a few weeks and I'm getting into a rhythm, a necessary rhythm, that keeps me moderately sane. I proceed cautiously through the ankle-deep muck, shifting the weight of my steps in such a way that the suckling noise of the mud is nearly inaudible. Turning as I walk, I brush aside a thick cluster of leaves, making no noise and barely moving the branch, then duck and push forward, weaving between two more overgrown bushes.
Moving silently through these conditions isn't just a skill, it's a talent, and a talent in which I am apparently well-versed, much to Luxen's dismay. While I was directing field operations on Athelon for much of the two months leading up to my return to Braxis, Luxen was training with Bragdon operatives, working long and hard to condition his body and mind.
That's a weird thought. Shortly after I met Luxen, his mother was killed by Bragdon security operatives, government agents who were hunting for me. Now he's working alongside some of those same agents, attempting to bring peace to the Yarda Quadrant. I'm not even sure that such a peace is sustainable.
The times I spend in the swamp are times of pensive introspection, focusing on aligning my body and my mind, keeping my entire being moving as a single entity, and slipping through foliage, over swampland and between outstretched branches. But while I find these sessions peaceful, I'm not sure how valuable they truly are.
Looking up through the tangled branches at the sky I can picture the pitched battle in space above where screaming fighters and lumbering battle cruisers fire plasma beams and energy torpedoes at each other. This land-based stealth training, operating in the Braxis swamps seems like sharpening a toothpick for a sword fight.
But if nothing else, I've got a routine. I've got a focus. And for the first time in a while, I feel like I'm starting to get an identity. Turning my palm over, I look at the gray, leathery skin of my four fingers as I flex them slowly. I'm in Bragdon form almost always now. The reptile scales are literally my second skin, and my compressed muscles and lightweight bones move gracefully and gently through the muddy water.
As I duck under another tangle of branches, the light from the morning sun is dimmed by a crosshatch of shadow. I halt for a moment, listening. My yellow eyes click opened and closed, adjusting to the lower light, and the pinhole ears at the sides of my head search for a sign of ambient noise. For a brief moment I hear the slip of movement in water. The reverse splash of something pulling out of a pool of liquid is followed by the briefest shift of branch movement.
I move right to press my back against the rough wood of the tree trunk and smile in spite of myself as I glance at my skin as it mottles into a shade of darkened brown.
As another light splash comes from just ahead, I lower myself into a crouch. I wait a handful of seconds.
Launching myself forward, I charge through the trees towards the noise. I go airborne in a triumphant leap of conquest, smashing through the branches and sending leaves scattering out into the air.
The creature rears back displaying snarling fangs. I recognize it immediately as one of the hairless Horaks, a four-legged denizen of these Braxis swampland. Each one has massive jaws and ragged claws, and is capable of killing a full grown Bragdon in a manner of seconds.
I had a narrow escape upon my last meeting with a Horak, and now I am dropping from the trees right towards the waiting jaws of another. I twist at the last moment, bring my legs back rigidly to gain momentum, and contort my body into a tight spin. I shift into a back flip and soar just past the creature, who is already turning to follow my progress with its hungry eyes.
Even as I land bent-legged in the green swamp water, the creature lunges towards me, snapping its jaws in a fearsome yapping snarl. I shift right, narrowly avoiding the first strike, but it compensates quickly and barrels towards me, slamming a muscular shoulder into my legs and knocking me down.
I roll with the impact, somersaulting backwards and slipping just out of its path as it charges again with bared fangs reaching for me. As it turns to clamp down on me, I instinctively shoot my hands forward trying to keep the pronged teeth from digging into my flesh and embedding into my bone, but my arms quickly strain with the effort.
This is a big one, one of the biggest I've seen. As the fibers in my muscles scream and burn I wonder if this is where my journey ends. I travel throughout light years of space and dance through blankets of plasma in the most intense intergalactic battle this quadrant has ever known, only to stumble upon a Horak and get eaten in the swamps on Braxis.
Fangs pull closer togther as the creature presses upon me, pinning me down in the water and mud. I can feel the thick mud creeping up around my legs and waist, suctioning onto me and holding me there. My legs can't pull free and my shoulders are locked in place. I'll either drown or have barbed teeth embedded in my neck. I can't see many other alternatives at this point.
Closing my eyes, I try to draw on some last reserve of strength, some final, desperate, adrenaline fueled boost, but nothing comes. My shoulders ache, my arms throb, and my hands are cramping. A sharp prick signals the slice of fang through my right palm, and hot, wet blood pools at my wrist.
Brie Northstar, Child of the Stars...Horak chow.
The creature screams as its mouth springs apart for one final chomp. It pulls away from my hands as its head rears back in preparation for the death strike. It freezes there with eyes wide, teeth bared, and drool flying from black lips.
It holds, then stumbles. Both front legs give out, and it slams chin-first into the deep muck to my left, then rolls over on its side and lies still.
"Nice one, Brie."
My head whips around as Luxen eases himself between two narrow trees, that all-too-familiar cocky smirk stretching his face. I don't answer as he walks past me, then bends over the fallen creature and pulls a knife from the base of its skull where he'd thrown it.
"Bet you thought you were stalking me, didn't you?"
"Well...yeah. Kinda."
He chuckles. "Well, good effort, anyway," he says, bending over and extending a hand. I wrap my fingers around his muscular arm and he pulls me up out of the mud. My skin shifts back to the familiar gray, the greenish-brown hue fading away under the shadows of the trees above.
"Impressive," Luxen says. "You've adapted your shape shifting to a form of camouflage?"
I turn over my arm and look at my own skin, then look back at him. "All Bragdons don't do that?" I ask.
He shakes his head. I shrug in return.
"You're already surpassing me in quite a few ways, Brie," he says. I can tell he's trying to be complimentary, but I detect just a hint of envy in those words.
"I don't know. It just comes naturally."
"I'm glad you're on our side."
"Indeed," echoes another voice, and I turn to see Kleethak pushing his way through some trees.
"Careful, Kleethak," I reply, breaking away from Luxen and helping the Elder over a ragged stump. "This is no plac
e for an elder."
"I beg your pardon," he replies. "The Bragdon Elder Clans were born in places like this. These swamps are rich with energy. We feed off of it."
I stand there for a moment, easing my eyes closed, and just for a second, I can feel it, too. The invisible rippling energy, is like floating on my back in a calming wave pool, just letting the water carry me wherever it wants to go. For that brief moment it feels like the energy could do that, just swarm around me, pick me up, and pull me with it up into the ether.
