Matakeo: Echoes of the Future

by Daniel L. Newcomb

The port and starboard sides were littered with quad S/S guns. Two scout ships and four fighter craft were at bay inside a small hangar.

  Mecurial marveled at the sight. He tried to imagine being the enemy on the receiving end of one of these boats on steroids. What made him shudder at the thought was each dreadnought was escorted by two light cruisers. They are only half the size of the ship they help defend but are massive nonetheless. One hundred and fifty four quad ship to ship guns decorated its hull. Three hundred and sixty crewmen were aboard each one.

  Ten stately carriers hovered directly below them in the formation. Four hundred fighter craft and fifty bombers could be launched from each one within minutes. They only required one hundred and twenty two crew plus the pilots. A few quad weapons were mounted for extra fire support.

  Power, or at least the appearance of, had always enchanted Mecurial. His thoughts were interrupted when a member from his security detail peered through the slightly opened door of his private quarters.

  “One minute to dock.”

  With cluttered purpose, he acknowledged the guard with an affirmative nod.

  Minutes later, the shuttle moored. An officer greeted him as he stepped into the naval installation. The Lumi saluted him.

  Mecurial returned the gesture with a salute of his own. He did not care about protocol. His thoughts were still planet side.

  A short elevator ride took them up seven floors. The officer in charge of the ceremony setup was on the strategic command floor waiting his arrival. One gold insignia, in the form of a star ship, adorned his uniform atop the shoulders. This Lumi was abnormally tall and the fibers on his head were extremely long. He had the blue strands pulled back into a ponytail, a common practice for their species.

  Without hesitation, he saluted Mecurial. “Captain Tog-Zing, Sir.”

  “I should be saluting you,” Mecurial replied as he returned the gesture. He was fully aware of this officer’s accomplishments. Three years after Tog graduated from flight school, he found himself thrown into the middle of the Lumi-Ogg Conflict. As a fighter pilot, he confirmed eighty-three kills of enemy craft including the Ogg’s flagship. There was more to his stature than just a warrior. He was also a natural born diplomat. It was through his in-depth investment of time as a mediator that helped resolve the civil uprising on Skellion. He was respected by all in Gordian’s Knott and beyond.

  “Your reputation precedes you.” Mecurial truly admired him.

  Tog smiled as he dropped the arm to his side. “Everything is ahead of schedule here.”

  “So how much time do we have left before our guests arrive?” Mecurial asked.

  “None,” Tog answered.

  “What?” Mecurial thought the officer misunderstood him.

  “They came out of hyperspace just as you were docking, Sir. Twenty minutes and they should be inside the break.” He reached down to his desktop and picked up a cup. Lifting it to his lips, he took a sip of the stimulant. Then he continued. “I am looking forward to a tour of their warships.”

  “Me too,” Mecurial replied. The early arrival of the Earth group caught him off guard. He grasped at his throat. Earth was several hours ahead of schedule. This would shorten the time he needed to make sure everything was ready. Mecurial could only hope that the Lumi were as diligent at completing their current tasks as they had been in the past.

  Mecurial pretended he was not worried. “I assume that everything is ready?”

  “Sir, every individual has done three dry runs to make sure they have their assignments down. The preparations committee has completed the setup.”

  Mecurial breathed easier now. He was thankful the Lumi were proficient at anything they set out to do. The last thing he wanted was Malign jumping down his throat. He had never disappointed her and he was not about to start now.

  “Sir,” spoke one of the com-specialists from across the room.

  Tog-Zing turned to the staff member. “What is it, Blee-Tek?”

  “The Earth vessel is requesting permission to dock.”

  “Wow. That was quick,” Mecurial muttered.

  “Give them a heading and let them know we are ready for them.” Tog spun around to face his lord. “Sir,” he spoke. “Would you like some time to change into your proper attire?”

  Mecurial could not help but return the Captain’s stare with one of his own. He contoured his lips and out came the words. “Duh? You think?”

  “I am sorry, Sir. You did bring your high feathers?” At this point, the Captain realized his lord was upset.

  “Actually, the Banimpire thought it best I remain in the same change of clothing I donned yesterday,” he answered.

  Tog chuckled and smiled. Now he believed his head honcho was cutting up with him. “Good one, Sir!”

  Mecurial decided it best to not let the conversation linger. “I will greet them the way I am. Part of the overall plan, you know?” he said with sarcasm.

  The officer was confused by what he thought was the man’s poor attempt at humor. He never could understand the human psyche.

  Blee-Tek spoke again. “Sirs, the Banimpire is top side.”

  “What?” Mecurial did not think it possible. How could she get here that quick? Besides, she had no plans of coming to Omphalos. “I do not think she has been up here since the dedication of the new fleet?”

  Tog walked over to Blee’s station. He looked at the monitor. Once he viewed the arrival manifest, he confirmed the report. “Sir, she came aboard shortly after you did.”

  At that moment the door to the command room slid open. Banimpire Malign entered the room. All those seated in the room rose and snapped to attention; everyone but Mecurial, who was trying to pick his jaw up from the floor.

  “At ease,” she announced. All the military personnel relaxed and went about their duties.

  Mecurial did his best to get as close to her as possible. He desired to speak with her in private.

  “I thought you were going to wait planet side?”

  “I am sorry, darling. A new turn of events has taken place.” She cleared her throat. “I need for you to do me a favor. I want you to retrieve something for me. When I heard that our friends had arrived, I knew someone needed to greet them.”

  “Retrieve what?”

  “I need for you to go back to Puritania and pick up a package,” she spoke softly.

  Mecurial’s spirit deflated like a punctured balloon. “I just came from there!”

  “I am aware,” she reassured him. “You know you are the only one I can trust in these matters.”

  “I know.” Mecurial looked down to the floor.

  “I promise. I will make it up to you when you get back.”

  He sighed, “Would you like for me to leave before or after tonight’s festivities?”

  “Before would be nice, my dear. There will be two Legion to help escort them back.”

  “That’s just great!” Mecurial knew this would keep him from the banquet. There was no questioning her will. He turned to leave the room and made his way to a luxury liner Malign had waiting for him.

  11

  The dark of night was absorbing the remnants of day on Puritania. Families were finishing their evening meals. Fathers sat in their recliners and watched the evening news on the holograph. Children brushed their teeth and did homework. Diggers were on their way home as a third shift came in to continue the mining of puritanium.

  The tint over the city’s dome had retracted to reveal the heroes of mythology in the night sky. One by one, thousands of stars became visible to anyone who might look up to view them. Most of the citizens were too buried in everyday affairs to spare a moment for such a beautiful sight. However, there was one who was enjoying it.

  Crouched and waiting, this individual was hiding behind a stack of crates on the outer edge of a landing platform. Periodically, she would gaze into the night sky.

  Observing and listening, Teron anticipated the rush of anxiety that would overcome her body when she would
spring into action. Peeking out from between the metal cubes of cover, she viewed a temporary detention cell just inside the hangar on the other end of the platform. The cage measured ten square feet in diameter. Titanium bars shined in their vertical positions. Two people were confined within.

  The witness stood at the door. Both of his arms were sticking out between the bars. His hands were clasped together as if he were praying. Darius sat with his head slumped over into the palms of his hands.

  She was on the verge of entering the building to break the two free, when she heard strange voices in the distance. The approximation of their alien tongue was from behind her position of the crates. Then the creatures came around the corner into full view.

  Legions!

  One thing she knew for sure. Legion should not be on Puritania. The Giefan High Council had banned them years ago after one was found guilty of murder. From her studies at academy, she learned it had happened in a system outside the spin of the Milky Way. A Giefan trader was killed by a Legion as it attempted to hijack the man’s freighter. Before the alien could make for hyperspace, the authorities had taken it into custody. Other than that, not much is known about them.

  This had to be a record. These two made four in one day. As far as she was concerned, that was four too many. She was convinced this pair would meet the same fate as the first two; this time by her hands. She would have to take them out before any attempt could be made to free the captives.

  A quick glance at their waists and she realized they were not equipped with cloaking devices. This reminded her of the one she sported on her own waist. She activated the device.

  As they neared her location, she stepped out from behind the crates and made a wide path around the creatures. She came up behind them. As a wild animal hunts food for its young, so she stalked them. Chill bumps appeared on her nape as she drew her weapon from its sheath. The weapon came alive as a finger depressed the power button on the hilt. A low-level vibration crackled in the air. Years of training and experience came crashing down upon the two Legion.

  The alien to her right turned as it heard the strange hum from behind. The creature never saw it coming. From right to left, a lethal blade of sound ripped through its chest, decapitating that portion of his body from the rest.

  One down.

  The strategy was simple. One stroke, two kills. Another one of those tactics learned over the course of a lifetime. However, as the blade exited through the first creature, a surge of static electricity ran along the edges of the weapon's containment field. The crackling sounds alerted the second Legion. Instinctively, he dropped to the ground. His tall frame provoked an easy kill for the attacker. Before it cleared the weapon’s path, its head was severed from the body. The detached noggin bounced a couple of times and rolled eight feet before coming to rest against an exhaust vent. Smoldering about the shoulders, the body crumpled to the deck.

  Step two in her plan was to sneak over to the cage. Unfortunately, far on the other side of her objective, a group of people had appeared through a door. There was no mistaking the entourage of Matakeo and the overweight man they were escorting.

  Abdominous!

  The opportunity to liberate the incarcerated men became a no go. In stealth, she scurried over to another pallet of shipping crates. It never occurred to her there was no need to hide behind anything since she was cloaked. She did so out of habit. From her new locale she could audibly here every word spoken.

  ***

  The Matakeo stopped and faced the cell while the priest waited behind them. One of the men stepped forward and checked the door lock on the cell. He gave an affirmative nod to Abdominous and then dropped back into formation. The high priest came near the portable prison. Rubbing at his chin he observed the occupants.

  “So tell me Darius. How did the flogging feel?” The priest chuckled.

  Darius did not reply. His face was still resting within his palms. This angered the priest.

  “I demand you answer me.” Abdominous’ face turned three shades of red. All six of the men under his charge immediately snapped to attention at the rise of his voice.

  “Answer me now, dammit!”

  Darius was not moved. Slowly, he turned his head. His face was visible for all to see. A scour of revenge and hatred overshadowed his handsome features.

  “That is alright,” the priest went on. “You will learn what obedience is under the Banimpire’s rule. In case you were wondering, that is where I am sending you.” Reaching into his robe, the priest retrieved the weapon that belonged to Darius. Holding the sword up like a prize possession, he continued. “I want to thank you for the souvenir.” The overweight man roared with laughter. “I will cherish it.”

  Telly opened his eyes for the first time since these men had come in. Then he spoke.

  “Mister Priest?”

  With a mocking smile the obese man answered. “Yes?”

  “My god wants me to tell you that you will die. Your belly will be split open to reveal its contents.”

  “Imagine that.” The priest roared as he turned to his men, as if seeking their approval for his humor. “The mentally challenged are now prophesying.” He returned his attention back to Telly once the guards were laughing. In his most dynamic and reverent voice, he uttered these words. “You are forgiven, my son.” The red-clad men laughed even harder now.

  Telly’s countenance did not change.

  ***

  The would-be rescuer had heard enough. She quickly made her way back to the dead legions. As quietly as possible, she pulled open the cover to the exhaust vent where the severed head had come to rest. She picked the inanimate object up from off the deck. The look of surprise the alien had on its face when it died was still present. She tossed it into the shaft. Then she doubled back to get the torsos. Several k-wumphs echoed, as the head bounced off the shaft walls on its way down. The remaining body parts were heavy. At first she struggled with them. With some effort she managed to dump them through the opening. Thankfully, the clamor made by the descending portions did not alert any of the men in the hangar. Conservatively, she lowered the grate back in place.

  She was fortunate to have acted so quickly. A space craft appeared on the approach side of the deck and was preparing to land. This was a strange looking craft to her. The make and classification were unfamiliar.

  The pilot maneuvered the tail of the ship to get the proper angle for the approach. The private barge slowed. For a moment, it hovered above the landing slip. Thrusters fired in synchronization, allowing the massive beauty to slowly settle upon the deck. Like dragonfly legs, the landing gear clanked to a rest upon the concrete deck. Air being pushed from the hydraulic shocks could be heard as the ship settled.

  A door opened on the starboard side of the ship. As it retreated into the hull, a swooshing sound emitted as the cabin of the craft decompressed. A ramp extended from the ship marking the pilot’s appearance.

  With his hood pulled up on his head, Mecurial appeared in the entryway. He peered out onto the platform to make sure everything looked safe and secure. Once he was convinced, he traversed the ramp. He stopped at the bottom and made no attempt to move any further away from his craft.

  The priest came forward and extended his right hand. There was some hesitation on the part of the guest. This reaction caused the priest to blush. Only after a noticeable response did the stranger accept the informal greeting.

  “I am Abdominous.”

  “I am Mecurial. The Banimpire has told me a lot about you.”

  “Do you have the required code to validate the transfer of prisoners?”

  Mecurial retrieved a pocket cipher from within his robe. A string of alien symbols flashed on its screen. A green light appeared on the priest’s hand-held device.

  “My Lady assured me there would be no delays. She was correct, right?”

  “By all means.” With a simple nod, Abdominous motioned for the detail to bring the prisoners.

  “Where are t
he two Legion the Banimpire said would be here to help me escort them?”

  “I have not seen them.”

  Mecurial was skeptical. They remained by the space craft. From this position they observed the Matakeo as they performed their task. The squad escorted the prisoners from the detention cell to the landing platform.

  Mecurial gave them instructions as they neared the ship. “Toward the stern there is a detainment room. Put them in there.”

  Darius stared the priest down as he approached him. The exhibit upon his face spoke a million words.

  Wiggling his fingers, Abdominous waved goodbye. He topped it off with a cheesy grin. Deep down in the core of his being, he feared Darius. Knowing the Banimpire would never let him leave her home world gave him a false sense of security.

  Buker had the lead. His chin was high, as he was obviously proud to serve the priest. The prisoners followed directly behind him. Four of the other Matakeo brought up the rear.

  Tase, the real cocky one of the bunch, pushed Telly in the back. After the third time, Telly glared back and gave the man a look of disgust.

  “Does that make you feel like a man?”

  Tase laughed at him.

  Fritter had post next to the entryway. Standing at attention with blaster rifle at arms, he strained his eyes to get a peek at the hooded visitor. His peripheral vision was good but not well enough to focus on the lack of detail hidden within the shadow of the hood. He was fascinated by the man's demeanor.

  As Darius passed by Fritter he gave him a warning.

  “Watch out,” he sneered. “I will come back.”

  “Don’t count on it, pal.”

  ***

  Teron knew it was now or never. She had to act. Taking all of the men on, even cloaked, was out of the question. Then there was the Offworlder, whom she knew nothing of. In conclusion, she realized the only solution to this dilemma was to board the craft and go for the ride. Hopefully, an opportunity would present itself to help the two men later. So she carefully made her way on tiptoes toward the ship. The closer she came to her objective the more nervous she became.