The Genesis Sequence Books 6-10

by Mackenzie Morris

  "Why do you have peanut butter by your bed?" Isaac asked with curiosity in his eyes.

  "Uh . . . that's a very good question. Sometimes when adults drink too much happy juice, they do strange things that they can't explain. Then they pass out and wake up to find grape jelly in their pants and a jar of half-eaten peanut butter on their bedside table."

  Isaac giggled and took the jar. "You're silly. You don't look like the other aliens."

  "Like the warbringers? The big ones with the horns? That's because I'm a rejected."

  "Is that bad?"

  "What do you think?" Slayven asked.

  "You're nicer than the other ones. They hurt me. They did this." Isaac pulled his orange t-shirt up to show the intersecting scars from a horrific whipping crossing his back and shoulders. "I was a bad boy."

  "No, no, no. You're a good boy. I've only just met you, but I can guarantee you've always been a good boy. Those warbringers who hurt you were evil. They're meanies. You didn't deserve any of that. Do you understand?"

  Isaac nodded his head as two tears slid down his cheeks to land in the peanut butter. He sniffled then grabbed onto Slayven's arm and began sobbing, quickly soaking through the Azimandian's cotton shirt. "Daddy said I'm a good boy. I want to be a good boy!"

  Slayven pulled the boy into his lap. "Oh, you don't have to worry about that. It's all right. Shh. Don't cry."

  Someone knocked on the door before it slid open. A pink-haired female Azimandian in a tight black bodysuit came inside with a purple file in her hands. Her pink horns glistened in the lights on the ceiling. "Hey, Slayven, I need you to take a look at these documents Cunningham sent us."

  "Hey, Jezzien. I'm kind of busy right now. Take the documents to Kalimis. He's the one who decided to pose as Ben and accept Cunningham's deal."

  "Kalimis is the brawn, but you're the brains of this operation without Ben here. I tried asking Sawyer and Sandra, but they're bickering in Spanish. Leah has locked herself in the computer room, and Visht and Lucas are with the Biromians doing space-knows-what."

  "I'm surprised you trust me enough to even be alone in the same room as I am."

  "I don't hate you for what you've done." Jezzi tossed the folder on the bed then came up to Slayven and gently touched the side of his slender face. "It's not your fault, what happened between me and Kalimis. You had no control over any of it. Stop being so hard on yourself."

  "That's harder than you know. So, do we have any word on where Vance took Ben?" Slayven covered Isaac's ears with his hands then whispered. "Is Ben even still alive?"

  "We have no way of knowing for sure, but if something did happen to him, word would definitely get around. The entire Ilik'Ori galaxy absolutely adores Ben because he's from AX-97. You saw all those posters and the people cheering for him when we stopped there to recharge our fuel cores. If anything at all happened to Ben, we would know about it."

  "Good. Keep me updated. He's my friend, you know?"

  "I'm aware. Speaking of your friends, is there anything you want me to pass on to Kalimis? I couldn't help but notice that you two aren't as close as you used to be." Jezzien held up her fists and chuckled. "Want me to go beat him up for you?"

  "Nah. He's still recovering from the torture Tirlmayn's goons put him through. There is actually something I would like for you to tell your brother. Tell Visht that he needs to lie low, especially if we ever come in contact with any Azimandian ships. He's Krisharn's son, so he automatically has a target on his back. We may have to find a way to disguise him."

  "I'll let him know. Funny how no one cares about me being Krisharn's kid because I'm a female. Little does he know that I'm much scarier than Visht ever thought about being. He'd better watch his back. I'll be the one to put a knife in it."

  "When do you think you'll be able to do something like that?" Slayven asked.

  "Soon, I hope. With Cunningham's help, we should be able to gather enough of a force to at least launch an assault against Star-World Zero Alpha and send in an elite force to assassinate Krisharn. With Vance missing, the throne will be up for grabs in less than a week. If the warlord doesn't return when he said he would return, there is nothing stopping Krisharn from staging a coup and overtaking control of the empire. As bad as he was, I would rather have Vance as my warlord than Krisharn."

  "Vance is dangerous."

  "So is Krisharn. At least Vance can be overpowered if we dislike some of his actions. But that's not the point right now. We have to end this war before we are able to make decisions like who should be ruling what. I guess I just wanted to see how you felt about things."

  "Since when do you care about me?" Slayven asked, sliding his hand under his shirt to trace over the star brands that trailed up his ribs. "I thought you hated me because Kalimis chose to be with me instead of you."

  "You didn't have a choice. He had claimed you. Oh, your horns are in the cargo hold."

  "I know."

  "So? Why aren't you trying to get them attached again? We could have probably found someone back there on AX-97 who could have helped you out."

  Slayven hissed. "I'm not sure if I even want them yet."

  "You're joking, right? You could be strong and powerful again. You would be the warbringer you were born to be before Tirlmayn stole that from you."

  "The thing is . . . I don't know if I want all that."

  "Why not?" Jezzien asked, her hands perched on her hips.

  "Because if I change, I won't be the person I am today. I've gone through so much abuse and pain because I don't have my horns, but I've grown stronger than I believe I ever would have been with them. If I change, I won't be myself."

  "That's ridiculous."

  "It doesn't matter what you think. It's not your body. It's mine." Slayven paused as the realization swept over him. "Whoa."

  "What?"

  "That's the first time I've ever said that and actually had full ownership over myself. Kalimis doesn't own me anymore."

  "How does that feel, Slayven?" Jezzien asked with a smile. "To be a free man now?"

  "It feels . . . terrifying. All of my life, I have had people making all the decisions for me. What to wear, what to eat, when to sleep, how to talk, how to act, what to believe, who to love . . ." Slayven rubbed the thin scars by his hairline where his horns had been removed when he was three days old. "The truth is, I don't know who I really am. I'm having to rediscover myself. It's hard."

  "If you need someone to talk to, I'm here. Right now, I have to get back in there with Lucas and Visht. We're running tests on Lucas's exosuit and equipping it with more weapons. We will definitely be using him in battle once this plan gets that far. For a young soldier with an awful childhood and PTSD, he is quite brave. I'll talk to you later, Slayven. Bye, little human youngling."

  "Bye, bye."

  Slayven patted Isaac's head and turned the cartoons back up, but he had to immediately mute them again as the door opened once more.

  The tall blue-skinned Biromian with the four golden eyes and shaved black hair under his red cowboy hat peaked around the doorway. "Hey, Slayven, we're making traditional Biromian cocktails in the kitchen. You wanna come try one?"

  "Uh . . . not right now. I'm kind of babysitting, Dallis."

  Dallis smiled and knelt down beside the bed to mess up Isaac's blond hair. "Oh. Hey, little guy."

  Isaac timidly waved his tiny hand.

  "Have you ever seen a Biromian up close before?"

  The boy shook his head, his pale green eyes wide with a mixture of fear and wonder.

  "Can you entertain Isaac for a few minutes while I look over these documents?" Slayven asked, picking up the folder Jezzien had brought to him.

  "Sure thing. You don't have to worry. You know how I am with kids. I had over fifty at one point . . ."

  "I'm so sorry about your children, Dallis."

  "It's getting easier each day, but I can't stop thinking about each and every one of them." Dallis picked Isaac up and held him above the bed to look
in his eyes. "You're just the cutest little human I've ever seen."

  Slayven focused his attention on the purple folder. He opened it to see the multiple signed documents, Flight Force rebel list, and plans for invading Star-World Zero Alpha. He organized the pages into stacks and was about to start reading over them when his communicator vibrated in the pocket of his leather pants.

  He took the silver communicator out and answered the call. "Hello? This is Slayven."

  A distorted deep voice growled at him from the other side of the call. "This is Quasar Luminous."

  "Who are you? You're not Rav. I know Rav's voice."

  "Oh, so that's whose call sign this is. Thank you for your cooperation."

  Slayven stared at the screen of his communicator as the call abruptly ended. He instantly began tracing the call, but nothing showed up.

  "Who was that?" Dallis asked.

  "I'm not sure. I tried tracing the call, but I didn't find anything. It's like it never happened. It was someone calling me using Rav's call sign, Quasar Luminous, but it wasn't Rav's voice. I think we have someone attempting to be an impostor."

  "What do you want to do about it?"

  What could he do? If the call was untraceable, then whoever made the call did not want to be found. "There's nothing I can do. I'll alert Sandra and have her monitor any incoming calls. Maybe it's just a prank."

  "Do you believe that?"

  "Not in the slightest."

  "Well, I'm not going to worry this little guy. We will figure it out." Dallis placed the boy on his shoulders and spread out his arms as he spun in circles, making Isaac giggle and pump his little fists in the air.

  * * *

  Rav took Nemo off of his shoulders and set him down on the tarmac. He took his son's hand then led him across the open field that was shrouded in darkness. Only the orange and dirty yellow runway lights illuminated the silhouettes of the Galaxy Gliders and fighter planes lined up where their pilots had left them for the night. He shifted the large canvas bag on his shoulders, careful to not jostle the explosives too much. He did not want to take any chances of them detonating prematurely, even if Cunningham assured him multiple times that it was stable and could only go off once activated by the detonator.

  Crickets chirped in the tall grass around the buildings where the thick clouds blocked out any moonlight that would have normally been shining down to give away his position. It was the perfect night for something like this. Dressed in all black with a face mask to hide his identity, Rav dashed towards the first plane, moving as quickly as Nemo's weak legs would let him. At least he was not having to carry him everywhere anymore.

  Rav slid to a stop next to the landing gear and immediately got to work. He threw the bag down then pulled out one of the prepared squares of C-4. He crawled on his elbows and knees underneath the large Vitalanum engines to lie down on his back. With a quivering hand, he reached up to adhere it to the underbelly of the sleek silver Star-Streaker.

  "Dad!"

  Rav rolled out from under the plane to see the black-haired man in a pale blue pilot's jumpsuit standing a couple of feet away. A flashlight had been dropped onto the tarmac and shone across the crying boy being held by the man with a laser pistol pressed against the side of his head. Rav's breath left him. He held up his hands then removed his face mask. "Hey! What are you doing? Let my son go!"

  The pilot turned the laser pistol on, filling the calm night air with the growing buzz of the heating laser cartridge. "What are you doing to my ship?"

  Rav kept his hands raised as he stood to his feet. "This is your Star-Streaker, pilot?"

  "Yes, it's my ship! What are you doing to it?"

  He stared at Nemo's wide eyes that were filled with tears. The young boy's lips quivered as he was held there by the pilot's hand around the back of his neck. "Do you know who I am, pilot? I am Commander of Flight Tillman."

  "I know who you are. You didn't answer my question. What are you doing to my ship?"

  Rav's desperation grew to new heights. "For space's sake, get that gun away from my child's head! Please!"

  "You sound pretty desperate. Just tell me what you're doing to my ship."

  He had no choice. "Okay, okay. We got a call about a security breach and that some of the ships out here may have been tampered with. I was only checking everything out, nothing more. Your plane is fine. You are not supposed to be out here. Go back to the barracks."

  "I don't think so."

  "Are you directly defying my orders?" Rav asked, his brow furrowing in anger. "How dare you? Do you know that I have the authority here? You obey my orders. Now, take that gun away from my son's head, or I will be forced to gun you down."

  "You don't want to talk like that right now."

  Nemo yelped when the pilot's fingers tightened, digging into his delicate skin. He was shoved to his hands and knees on the tarmac as the man knelt down behind him and wrapped his arm around his waist to hold him steady. Nemo looked up at Rav, making tiny whimpering noises as he cried.

  "Do you know what I could do to your son right now?" The pilot held the laser pistol against Nemo's temple. "The spawn of a traitor doesn't deserve to live."

  "Traitor? I'm no traitor. What are you talking about?"

  "Who sent you out here to check on these ships?"

  Rav's hands clenched in fists as he heard his son's cries, being held down by the pilot's body. He could not tell him. Letting that kind of information out would jeopardize the entire operation. It would have the possibility of preventing the end of the war. It would land both him and Cunningham in front of a firing squad.

  Nemo's thin arms shook as he tried to hold himself up. He gasped when the pilot punched him in the stomach. With a pained groan, he vomited onto the ground. Before he had a chance to recover, the pilot's gun hit him in the head and he went limp.

  The pilot grinned as he dropped the unconscious boy to the tarmac. He stood and spun his laser pistol in his fingers. He drew a 9 mm pistol from the holster on his waist to spin as well. "Commander of Flight Rav Avery Tillman. Tell me who sent you out here . . . or I have my buddies come tie your boy up so we can play some games with him. Children love games, don't they?" When he whistled, four gunners emerged from the shadows with baseball bats in their hands and coils of rope on their shoulders. "Your call, Tillman."

  "Don't do this. You won't kill an innocent boy."

  "No one said anything about killing him. We just want to have some fun. Gunners, tie him up."

  Rav backed away with a sinking feeling growing in his stomach. He was powerless to do anything as he watched the gunners bind his son's wrists and ankles with rope. When they took out knives and began slicing through the boy's clothes, Rav closed his eyes. "Cunningham! Cunningham sent me out here. I have permission to be out here tonight. I told you what you wanted to know, so let my son go. Haven't you harmed him enough?"

  "Cunningham, you say?" The pilot chuckled darkly as he dragged the razor tip of his knife down Nemo's now bare chest to his waist. "Look at this boy. Do you think he would feel me cut him if he's unconscious? Maybe we should wake him up first."

  "Don't you dare! You leave him alone. If you want to hurt someone, you hurt me. Hurt me! Not him. He's seven! You can't do this." He watched the pilot's teeth glinting in the light as he grinned and brought the knife down lower, past Nemo's bony hips. Rav knew they wanted more information, so he picked up the canvas duffel bag and tossed it at them. "There. Look inside. That's what I'm really doing out here. It's C-4."

  "What did you just say?" The pilot asked, looking up from the deathly silent boy.

  "It's C-4. I was told to come out here and blow up these ships. That's all I know."

  "Did you know that General of Flight Cunningham was arrested for treason less than an hour ago? The military police came and dragged him out of the commissary. If you're planning to do what he told you, then you're no better. You're a traitor. We'll take justice into our own hands and do the firing squad's job for them."
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  Rav backed up until his shoulder blades hit against the side of the Star-Streaker. He swallowed hard as the gunners surrounded him. Even facing his own impending beating and execution, he looked past the men with the baseball bats to see Nemo being turned over on his stomach and his legs being spread by the pilot. "Don't. Please. Please don't hurt him. He's not a part of this! He's just a boy. He's just a-"

  The gunshot rang out through the cool midnight air.

  Rav dropped to his knees on the tarmac as the world seemed to freeze around him. He could not hear anything as he reached out to his son where the dark blood pooled around his emaciated body. Steam rose from the gore that glistened in the runway lights. "Nemo!"

  Chapter 5

  A second gunshot shattered the silent night, sending one of the gunners to the tarmac alongside the pilot. There were two clicks as the tiny green derringer was reloaded before the other two stunned attackers turned around just to be shot in the foreheads by two extremely accurate shots.

  Rav's mouth fell open as he saw the bodies drop and their weapons roll away. He watched in horror as the derringer pistol slipped from Nemo's blood-stained fingers and the boy collapsed, lost in unconsciousness once again. Catching his breath, Rav crawled across the tarmac to his son. He picked up the derringer and the scraps of Nemo's clothes and tried to dress him, but they were ripped to shreds. As he went to scoop the boy up in his arms, the hot sticky mess caught his attention. Rav's fingers moved across Nemo's abdomen until they found the jagged stab wound on his left hip bone.

  New and unexplored levels of panic jolted through him like electricity as he took off running across the tarmac where the brown sand and splotches of dead grass met his boots. He left the bag and the explosives, all the evidence linking him to the scene, behind. There was no hiding it. Rav would be found guilty of treason or murder or whatever else the government decided to pin on him, but he had to get his son to safety. He had to save Nemo's life.

  Heart pounding, legs burning, mind racing, Rav carried his bleeding boy down the dirt path that ran behind the rows of barracks to the edge of the Flight Force base. Blaring sirens echoed on the winds that picked up, carried from the capital city. Shouting filled the base as lights turned on in the darkness and pilots and gunners began racing around and calling for the police. Sticking to the shadows and avoiding the streetlights, Rav sneaked around to the door of his brick and wooden cabin.