by Greg Dragon
He counted his blessings and pulled himself up and climbed onto the wing. His breathing was shallow and he could feel his body getting weaker, but he would be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy the sheer adrenaline of playing the hunted. He had managed to wound two of their best warriors, both using weapons that they didn’t seem comfortable with. The las-sword was a Geralos weapon, and he disliked the fact that the Phasers had adopted it. Cutting the woman the way he did was a cut that he wished he could deliver to them all.
The hunt was getting desperate and he heard more vehicles pulling up. The majority were tending to the wounded while the others paid little attention to the barracks. When they finally found his building they merely glanced at the whyte. None of them bothered to climb it to see if he was in the cockpit or on top of the wing. Maes laughed internally at their sloppy effort, and he wondered why they didn’t bother to put cameras inside of their barracks buildings.
Still, his heart thumped happily as he relished the hunt and after two hours passed without being discovered, the noises died down as they took the search towards the city. Counting down from one hundred in his mind, Maes scrambled to the cockpit, opened the panel beneath the seats, and used his teeth to split a wire that was connected to the security recognition interface.
He waited thirty seconds and then reconnected it before taking his seat. The ship began a new sequence of facial and body recognition in order to tie the controls to him. Had he taken the seat without hacking the interface, the whyte would have shut down temporarily until the true owner took the seat and unlocked it.
Just like Rafian had to learn a variety of alien ships in the Alliance Marine Corps, Maes was made to learn every Alliance fighter ship so that in situations like this he could make an escape. He powered on the thrusters and lifted the whyte off the ground, then he flew it forward until the automatic doors descended, allowing him to fly a few feet out of it. He hit the thrusters and shot out towards the mountains when—
Maes woke up amidst smoke and sirens as hot fire licked at his already throbbing leg and the damaged whyte did its best to try and repair itself. He pulled himself from out of the rubble and tried to limp his way to another building. He didn’t know what had happened; he had been on his way and now he was here. As he looked up at the sky he saw that the moon reflected off of the surface of the Phaser’s shield. He had crashed into that same field on his way out, which was as invisible to him as it was to anyone that would attempt an invasion of the Phaser stronghold.
He cursed his stupidity for not remembering and as he glanced back at the path he had made through the bushes, he saw the red droplets of blood he was leaving. Focusing on the blood had taken his attention off of the path and he didn’t see the big shadow sink into the bushes in front of him. He quickened his pace to gain the gates, and he hoped that the Phasers would avoid the brush just like they avoided it when he’d hid there earlier on.
The gate drew closer, and he quickened his pace, and then in the blink of an eye he was seeing the world upside down. He heard the bones of his spine crack as Vallen Tracker planted him at the end of a suplex. He scrambled to try and right himself but the metal sole of a marine-issued jackboot came crunching down on his face. He tried to grab his leg but the man was too powerful. The boot came down another time and he was unable to do anything.
The men that the world knew as Laern Cobo and Maes Van Senthyn were both sent home to their respective versions of the afterlife with that last stomp. For a Geralos like Maes, that final night of injuring and damaging the Phasers would have been enough to earn him the il ad ach tchi. For Laern, a Phaser, his life force would return to the beaches of Lauche before moving on to join the oceans of existence where he could return as part of someone else.
Two men, two beliefs, but for Vallen Tracker they were both gone, forever. He had liked Laern, and had watched the young man show true quality on the battlefield. For the Geralos that corrupted his friend, it was all about revenge. The lizard had wounded the love of his life and destroyed the cloner that would have saved his friend Laern.
He continued to stomp until there was nothing recognizable of the bloody body that had run from the wreckage. Phasers came around him, many crying for Marika’s fate, and others angry at the violation. Constance ITO ran over to her disabled ship and walked around it, looking helpless. But Vallen just kept on stomping, uttering the curses of several different nations.
* * *
It took two days in the healing tank and meticulous work to fix the gash in Marika’s stomach. It was a long, painful recovery for the Phaser and she didn’t want to speak to anyone. Despite Val’s multiple attempts to check on her, she denied him coming into the room—patients were allowed to control the room door—and only the androids knew how well she was doing.
Her mind was on Laern, and how he had gotten to her so easily. As an assassin she had been notorious, an unstoppable, invisible force with a track record that many of her competitors would give an arm to match. She had scars but there was no record of how she’d gotten them. Numerous marks, both powerful and weak, had fallen victim to her guns and knives.
She was not a woman anyone could hurt easily, yet a corrupted Laern had cut her in the abdomen. The gash would have caused a human to spill her intestines and die, but she was Casanian and her anatomy was slightly different. The cut was still near-lethal, and she had stopped moving in order to hold her insides in. Frank had fared better than she did, his wound being a torn ligament in his knee.
The Geralos impressed her; he had managed to put her out of commission and she lay there thinking about it.
After another day passed she decided that she needed Val, so when he came knocking she opened the door. She saw him in the entrance and noticed that there were many others behind him. Val crossed the room and she triggered the lock on the door. His face was lined with worry and his muscles seemed to bulge more than they normally did. “Let me look at you,” he whispered as he came up to the bed. He pulled up a chair and laid his head on her chest.
The touch of her lover relaxed Marika, and for the first time she allowed herself to feel loved. He sat up and kissed her forehead, then kissed her lips as she reached up to hug him tightly. “Where’s that cruta?” she whispered into his ear, and he pulled back to make a breaking gesture with his hands. “Who did him? Was it you? Tell me that you did it, Val. It’s the only thing that I can accept.”
“Of course it was me. He hurt my girl,” Val said, but the standard bravado was absent from his voice. This let Marika know that he was suffering, and she reached up to touch the outline of his jaw.
“You beautiful human,” she whispered to him. “I don’t know what you see in me but I’m grateful.” Val made to object but she shook her head and then looked past him towards the door. “I’m vulnerable, can you believe it? It’s been so long since I’ve felt this way. The lizard’s las-sword made me realize that I’m starting to slip.” She tried to laugh but it was painful, so she exhaled slowly and glanced at Val. “Any news from Raf?”
“Nothing yet. Tayden seems to think that he’s the only one who can power on the cloners.”
“This is us at our worst, Val. I hope you don’t think that we’re as weak and worthless as we’re looking.”
“You recruited Yuth Varience. He wouldn’t stay with a weak and worthless unit. Don’t worry about my impressions, Red. I’m staying with you, Phaser or not. Now, how long do you have to lay here before I can take you home?”
“Miss me?” she teased, and he responded by brushing his lips gently against her cheek.
“I would let you into this bed if I wasn’t in pain. I just want you to know that, Val.”
“What if I go slowly?” he asked.
She made to laugh but stopped herself, which made the pain even worse. “No jokes. Don’t make me laugh – this schtill hurts like hell.”
16 | Meeting of The Minds
IT WASN’T EASY to impress a man like Ari Groatrath, but those who manag
ed to impress him were placed in the company of Ky Ortas—Geral’s first warlord—and Symion Tyge, an uncle who’d lost his hand deflecting a commanding officer’s las-sword before biting him in the face and taking his station.
Most Geralos were disappointments in Ari’s eyes, and the lesser races were just food. Well, that wasn’t completely true. Ari did find himself impressed by one of the lesser races, the man who was called Rafian VCA. He knew that Rafian was a mere human, but this was one human who had somehow managed to outwit the Geralos at every turn.
He looked around at his comrades and they regarded him with a look that went past respect and admiration. They feared him, and for good reason. The mere suggestion of having second thoughts or objections to Ari’s orders would get a person’s head removed. Ari believed that chain of command required soldiers to listen and obey with little to no thought. Questioning orders led to hesitation, and hesitation was the reason why there were humans living on Vestalia, the planet that was supposed to be theirs.
Ari paced the room as the ninety Geralos warriors awaited his commands. Near his location stood the yellow costumes that they would wear as uniforms, but a slender woman was pouring fuel on them with more concentration than the exercise required.
“Two hours ago I received word that our Gamma team of shock troopers had been eradicated,” he said, his voice commanding and deep, as if he held the souls of a hundred baritone opera singers deep inside his throat. “Geralos ELITE troopers. Eradicated!” he whispered, then stood silently to gauge their responses.
“All the monkeys in our temples that are tapping into their heads and plotting feasts on human brains. They could not save us from what is happening right now. The galaxy has united against us, and now we stand, one tiny wall against a multitude of steel wrecking balls.”
The Geralos stood at attention. None of them dared to move, but Ari saw a few eyelids dip in shock at what he was saying, and a few flitted left and right, nervously. It wasn’t often that someone referred to a high priest as a monkey, let alone the entire order.
“We are a race of greedy, privileged zealots. This is why we are in this situation. We have allowed the humans to hide and plot against us. Can you believe that one of them has developed powers which makes it possible for him to break into our own minds?”
A few murmurs of disbelief came up from the rear of the crowd where he couldn’t see but Ari did not bother to remind them of their place. “Some of them are now able to travel without ships, and Rafian, the leader of these mysterious humans, has killed our brother, Maes Van Senthyn.”
This last bit caused the rancor to rise all the way to the soldiers in front of him. Maes was one of the best, and the Geralos government had lied that he died as a martyr on Meluvia. Now they were hearing that Maes was undone by one man. A human man, at that. Surely Lord Ari was joking, many thought, but Ari Groatrath had no time for jokes, and they could see this as he stood seething on the raised platform.
“I think that you all heard me, and your reaction does not disappoint. It is time to be quiet now, Crak-Ti. It is time to listen and to learn about our new enemy. Our best has been bested, and now we are under threat of losing Vestalia, Meluvia, and”—he stopped to laugh for a bit—“and now they are here on Geral. Louine, a coward’s planet that has always stayed out of our affairs, they are on our planet. Meluvia’s strike was thwarted, Vestalia is in trouble, and our space naval fleet is spread thin throughout Anstractor.”
He stopped at attention and looked over at his wife, who was standing by the mountain of uniforms waiting for his command. When she saw him look at her, she flicked her eyes in a way that made it hard for him to stay cold. They were still in love, despite twenty hard years of war, separation due to duty, and service. The flawless olive green of her skin aroused him, and he looked away before it got the better of him.
Saya Cauar saw everything in one glance, and she wondered if he would be up for a romp. She rubbed the area of her neck where she could still feel his teeth marks from their last lovemaking session. She squeezed the trigger on her pistol. The shot sounded like a wine cork violently escaping the mouth of an aged, well-sealed vintage, and the incendiary round did its job. The clothes were lit and she holstered her weapon, walked to the edge of the stage, and stared out at the soldiers, smiling.
“Thank you, Saya,” Ari said. “As you can see from that flame, my Crak-Ti, I am burning our past and making preparations for our future. As of right now we are no longer members of the formal Geralos military. We are now ‘sons and daughters of Geral.’ What this means is that you answer to me and me alone, not to the politics of those fools that sit in their temple, praying to a Maker that doesn’t acknowledge them. If any of you have a problem with this, I invite you to step out now so that you can be dismissed.”
None of them dared move, but Ari waited for a while. If there were to be any Crak-Ti that would be doubtful or questioning of his command, he would rather murder them now than have them muck things up for later. But no-one moved and he began pacing anew.
“The Louine will defeat our people quickly, and this country will be theirs within the next three months. We will travel to the Gariland beach. The Alliance will miss it as a target; it is too small for them to notice. There I will begin our new training, to combat the humans with their strange power. Once we are ready, we will fly out to Vestalia and spread the training to the brothers and sisters stationed on that rock.”
The soldiers began chanting and he let them finish before dismissing them to carry out their duties. Ari walked back to the podium where the medallion that was connected to Maes’s life energy lay black and lifeless. He clutched it angrily and thought of all the memories he had made with his old lover and friend. Maes had given him the medallion back when they were younger spies, and when the lies had come out that Rafian had killed him, the medallion had kept him aware of the truth.
Now his old friend had managed to get himself killed and all hopes of him making it back to Geral to join their coup was scattered to the wind. It was a sobering thought, defending Geral without Maes, but if there was anyone who could match the Phasers, he knew that it was him.
* * *
Stacked in rows were whyte X311 fighters; sleek and black with the Rendron's insignia on their wings. Rafian watched as a large lift droid that slid along the magnetic floor picked up one of these vessels and brought it down, placing it neatly in an empty launch station. Next, a humanoid android walked a fuel line over to the port side of the whyte while another began a routine checkup of its munitions.
“Welcome to the Aqnaqak, Commander,” a young boy announced, and Rafian VCA glanced down with surprise, noticing him for the first time. He had the cadet stripes of a colonel yet he seemed to be no older than twelve years old. A potential hero of tomorrow, Rafian thought, and he walked forward and winked at the boy before returning his salute.
“Cadet Colonel, huh? Are you of the first grade?”
“Yes sir! I did my drop on the moon of Meruda, the same moon that you and Colonel Rend—”
“Yeah, I know, son. Congratulations on everything you’ve done. You have a bright future ahead of you. What is your name?”
“Jaden MAR, sir, thank you.” He bowed deeply to Rafian, who touched him on the shoulder to let him know that the gesture was unnecessary. Starships always brought back the most painful memories, and seeing young Jaden was like looking into a mirror that reflected a time when all he knew was pain and confusion.
He looked up to notice that a crowd of people had been standing behind a row of soldiers. From their clothing Rafian could tell that they were media, come to film and record the elusive Phaser. Mixed in with them were a handful of children, cadets that had snuck out of duty to see Rafian VCA in the flesh. The thought brought a smile to his face and he waved, then he turned to face the door and wait for Tim, Vessica, and Jinay to emerge.
“Your friends have been detained in order to remove a Traxian parasite, Commander,” the soldier next
to the door whispered to him. Rafian frowned. Detainment was never less than 24 hours, Vestalian time, so he would have to spend a day on the ship just to say goodbye to them.
He walked forward and the crowd began to fire off questions as soon as he was within earshot. “What was your mission on Traxis?” “Is the Traxian woman a Phaser?” “Will Traxis be joining the Alliance to fight the Geralos?” “How many Geralos have you killed, Commander?”
This last question made him pause, annoyed, and he turned to face the person who asked it. “Not enough,” he said flatly and resumed his stroll out of the dock area.
The young cadet colonel ran to get ahead of him and then began to walk backwards as he spoke. “Excuse me, Commander, but I was ordered to escort you to the captain’s quarters. I hope you don’t mind, but the captain would really like to speak to you.”
“Of course, young man, but just a moment. I don’t want to be rude to these patient people. I will answer five questions,” Rafian announced, and then turned to face the reporters.
“Rafian, do you know the situation on Geral? Is the Alliance winning, and when do you foresee us moving to retake Vestalia?” a pretty Meluvian woman asked.
“Interesting that you ask about Vestalia. The lizards are everywhere in Anstractor. We removed their Crak-Ti from a major Meluvian city, but they have satellites stationed above Casan. So please don’t assume that this push into their planet will be enough to stop them. We’ve been pushing on Vestalia for years now, but it is a small effort when compared to everything else. Don’t put a timeline on this. I know that hope can be intoxicating, but the lizards are dug in extremely deep.”
