The Joining: The Saga of the Shards Book One (The Cycle of the Shards 1)

by Chris Stephenson

  Tom flew up next to her, similarly disbelieving what he was seeing. Putting on a brave front for the girl, though, he tried to keep the shaking out of his voice. “It’s ok, he’ll be fine. He’s done this a ton of times before.”

  Shanna was not convinced. “What are you doing! Go after them!”

  “He told me to keep you safe, so I’m going to do that. He’ll…”

  She cut him off. “Safe from what? There’s only one ship! Help him!”

  Tom tried to think of a way to convince her, but she had a point. She was safe. He sighed. “Keep an eye open, meet us back at Cri…Kyl…His house!” He moved off, accelerating as he followed the craft, by now very small in the sky. Shanna stood alone for a moment, then moved towards her bike. She climbed aboard, and began riding, but not in the direction of Kyle’s home.

  Critock stole a glance below him, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Hundreds of feet below where he clung tightly to the sword, his body pushed diagonally by the speed of the pirate’s vessel, he saw the tops of buildings and trees far away, and people so small he couldn’t make out any identifying characteristics of them. He snapped his head back up, forcing himself to stare at the black hull. He glanced sideways carefully, assessing his situation. He didn’t know where the pirate was going now, but he knew that he wouldn’t be leaving Earth, which was fortunate. The ship wasn’t climbing any farther into the sky so Critock could still breathe, but that only meant that there was another target nearby. He felt the ship began to descend suddenly and grimaced as he recognized the surroundings. The pirate was going after the school.

  Critock knew that the school would be more or less deserted this time of the evening. A quick scan of what memories he could access revealed that if there was anyone at the school itself they wouldn’t be in the building proper, but instead at one of the many overly decorated sporting fields nearby. Regardless, he couldn’t just hold on forever. His adversary wouldn’t be satisfied with just destroying a building, he undoubtedly would continue to take aim at anything he could nearby, and that meant if there were any events going on, they would be the next targets. As well, if the school was damaged or destroyed, that would force an end to his plan, and probably the Earth itself.

  The vessel straightened itself out, and the velocity was low enough that Critock saw an opportunity. One of the thruster nacelle connectors was close enough to touch. Critock stretched out and grasped the edge of the long flat metal. He groaned as he stretched far enough out to wrap his arm around it, leaving his other arm still dangling, holding on to the sword. With three increasingly hard pulls, he extricated the sword from the vessel, and quickly brought it and his arm around to join in holding on, closing the sword as he did so. He let go with one hand to return the sword to where it had come from, tucked in his jeans, before grabbing on once again to the metal. He took a breath, looking over the metal and realizing that he could now see the school approaching, and yelled as he pulled himself up and onto the metal connector.

  Now laying flat upon it, Critock looked up at the thruster itself, a long skinny cylinder. He thought quickly about just using the sword to cut it in half, but he wasn’t prepared to sacrifice himself. Disabling the ship would either end up getting him thrown off, or crashing the ship altogether, and although that would rid him of his adversary, this would also rid him of his own life. Removing those options, he rose up to an unsteady kneeling position. He gingerly turned around, looking at the main fuselage of the craft. He focused on the primary goal, removing the threat to the school so the plan could proceed. Critock wasn’t one to plan several steps in advance, so he chose to do the only thing he could think of with the limited time he had; Hope the pirate’s hatred of him superseded his desire to see his mission completed. He reactivated the sword, and with a roar, leaped through the air, driving the blade of the sword straight through the fuselage as he landed flat along the top of the rounded vessel.

  A sudden crunching noise from slightly above and behind him diverted Oi’Ramal from his targeting of the pubescent education center. He quickly swung his large head around, almost detaching the breathing tube as he did so, just in time to see the tip of a sword retract from a newly created hole in the roof. He watched unbelieving as there was another crunch accompanied with the unmistakable Sword of Kon tearing another hole through his ship. Oi’Ramal cursed a long guttural Viviakian curse, (A language that had only survived millennia after their conquering due to the color of their cursing) and placed a hand on the weapon that sat in the co-pilot’s seat. Thinking better of it before his rage caused him to destroy the entire ceiling of his vessel, he turned back to his controls. Critock was here! Tearing holes in his ship! This was beyond just a simple bounty now, this was an insult that could not be ignored! Here and now, Critock would die! The pirate twisted his controls, and the ship began to twist.

  Critock was hoping that the pirate was going to start with just shooting at him, figuring that his luck would hold and the only result would be more damage to the ship itself. Instead, he felt the ship tilting and had only a moment to clench his hands on the sword hilt as it swung around quickly. The vessel did a quick barrel roll to the right, and Critock had the presence of mind to keep holding on after the first one as it began a second soon after. Fortunately for him, this particular model of ship was not designed to go long distances upside down, otherwise his grip would have been tested. Instead, after each roll there was a moment to reestablish his equilibrium and grip. After the third roll, back to the right again, the ship stabilized.

  Oi’Ramal ran a quick scan of the outside of the ship after shaking off the initial dizziness of the rolls and cursed again as he saw the x-ray image of Critock hanging on. He again had to restrain himself from grabbing his weapon and tearing his whole ship apart to rid himself of his prey who was getting more annoying by the second. He noted that he had bypassed his secondary target, but he no longer cared about destroying a simple building. Thanks to the holes in his ceiling, he could not simply fly beyond the atmosphere to suffocate this pest, lest he risk losing his own consciousness. He looked beyond the horizon now, and noted that there were a series of buildings, tall and metal, off to the distance. Trusting in his abilities and his instincts, he set his course for the main drive of the city. If he couldn’t shake him off, and couldn’t suffocate him, then he would just have to scrape him off!

  From a fair distance Shanna could see the ship that Kyle had grabbed onto dip towards the school, and then spin a few times, sending her heart into her throat until the spinning stopped and she could still see the small figure holding on to the top of the vessel. She had ran to the best vantage spot she could, a large hill near the school that rose above a field and a few surrounding trees. It was a spot that only she went to, as far as she knew, whenever she wanted to be alone. It overlooked a good portion of the surrounding area, including the school, and she could even see a fair amount of the city’s outline. At night she could make out stars very well, despite the light pollution coming from the city lights. She came here now though due to needing to see what happened next, even if she couldn’t help Kyle, or whatever it was that had taken him over. Helpless, she sat on the ground, watching as the ship moved towards the city steadily, and did not blink.

  It was not a large city, but outside of the suburbs it did house several multi-story buildings stretching into the sky. The buildings stretched for several streets providing an ample maze if anyone would be so inclined to race through it. It was designed for efficiency for the pedestrians and automobiles that frequented it and for the businesses those buildings contained, but not a thought was given to any flying transportation that may come through. The streets that separated the buildings were enough for four lanes and the cars that they contained, but provided tight turning spaces without much margin for error if, say, a flying vessel slightly wider than two automobiles side-by-side and as long back as half of a bus came flying through. Oi’Ramal was lost in his anger at his clutching stowaway and only at the l
ast minute did he input the needed commands to his control console to avoid immediate destruction by flying directly into the side of the aforementioned structures. Critock, clutching the sword from where it had last pierced the hull, could only hang on as the ship dove towards the black street and cars below.

  As the ship dove, he felt himself sliding down, and around before he found himself looking up at the sword and sky above him, instead of his previous state of looking down at the road rushing up at them. He found he did not prefer this view, as he would much rather see his end approaching rather than a sudden stop. He hated having to put his faith in the piloting skills of a pirate that was undoubtedly commanded to kill him, but what faith he did have was rewarded when he felt the craft leveling off and tilting to the right. That faith was almost lost completely when he felt the ship suddenly pitch completely right and ascend up. He saw the building that they almost crashed into soar past them, and then realized they were moving into the city proper, with its narrow passageways. Critock realized, not for the first time, that he could not stay where he was, and had to get inside the vessel before his adversary finally accomplished his goal, as he could not stay lucky forever. The ship leveled once again, and he took the chance to steady himself. As quickly as he dared, he moved towards the leftmost edge of the ship, withdrawing the sword from the most recent newly created hole as he did so. Keeping an eye on the upcoming buildings and hoping his senses did not fail him at guessing which way the pirate was likely to turn, he drove the blade into the side of the craft, and pulled as hard as he could.

  Oi’Ramal grimaced as he heard the sound of the sword piercing the hull, tearing another hole into his ship, but dared not turn to see what was happening, even as the sound changed from just another quick crunch to a more sustained rip. Seeing another building advancing upon him, he quickly angled the ship around a corner, trying to tilt the ship as much as he could to force his adversary off.

  Having already experienced almost being tossed off by the pirate’s wild piloting, Critock was more prepared this time when he found himself swinging over the side of the ship, keeping a desperate grip on the sword hilt. This, however, was exactly what he wanted to happen. As he fell over the side, he grasped the hilt with both hands, and when the ship righted, the weight of his body and the incredible slicing ability of the Sword of Kon forced the blade down. The ship tilted rightward to slide down a sharp alley, forcing the top of the ship very close to the building’s walls, but Critock had been hoping for this, as the new position of the ship left him able to sit up, rather than dangle helplessly. As quickly as he could, noting that another turn was coming up that would send him either back to holding on desperately or even off the vessel completely, Critock finished cutting an imperfect square into the hull. He slammed a foot down upon the wall of the ship, and it flexed, but held firm. The building was upon them and he desperately jumped upon the vessel itself, knowing that if the cut wall did not give way, there was little chance that he would recover in time to save himself.

  Oi’Ramal was growling lowly. With his maneuvering, there was no way the ingrate could still be maintaining his grip and his stability on the ship! But the tearing continued as he made a quick turn, getting closer and closer to the sides of the structures around him. As frustrated as he was, he was very close to throwing caution to the wind and just slamming the sides of his ship against the buildings, anything in order to force his enemy to the ground and finish his primary goal! Repairs to his ship could come later, damn it! But what brief amounts of sanity the pirate had kept him from doing anything more than keeping a few meters of air between his craft and the building next to him. Perhaps it would be enough to scrape the troublesome insect off! The alley was ending, and he made a quick decision to spin around again, hopefully causing Critock to lose his balance.

  Instead of that occurrence, there was a sudden loud crash that, despite the risk to navigation, forced Oi’Ramal to turn around. He almost couldn’t fathom what he was seeing as there was now a large hole in the side of his ship, and in the middle of the rear bay was a child, barely past the rages of puberty, slowly breathing, and attempting to move. His ship had been breached by…this? No! This would end the way it always should have, face to face, not the impersonal battling of ships and lasers. Whether this was truly Critock or some incredibly lucky pubescent Earther did not matter to the pirate as he tapped the controls, steadying his ship out and setting it to automatic, flying it on a gradual slope skyward. Whoever this was would die all the same.

  Critock allowed himself a moment to shake off the sudden shock of slamming flat on his back on the deck, his body slammed to the ground along with the newly torn metal slab thanks to the artificial dampeners and gravity that kept the internals steady even if the outside was out of control. Knowing that the pirate would be slowed by having to maintain his piloting, he rose up, his right hand still clutching the Sword of Kon, itself sparking with orange electricity. The pirate turned towards him, incredulous, knowing that this could be no one but Critock, as he clutched the sword of legends tightly.

  “A child?!” Oi’Ramal spat in basic Marconian, half still unbelieving and half as an insult.

  Critock sighed. “Look, I’ve been having a bad day, all right?” The pleasantries completed, Critock ran at the pirate, the sword rising with the intent of ending this fight quickly.

  Oi’Ramal had a similar goal, but he was fueled by the rage at the not easily fixable damage to his ship throughout what had become a very long and trying day. Critock had heart and desire, but it was still the body of a teenager, as the pirate sidestepped the initial swing of the sword, and batted him away. Critock fell towards the cockpit, and turned quickly. He knew he couldn’t reason with the pirate, his type was motivated by money and revenge, and he was sure there was plenty of both involved right now. He didn’t bother with words as he slowly steadied his feet, planning his next attack.

  Oi’Ramal was not interested in a drawn out engagement with the child, far too much time had been wasted on this endeavor already. Instead he slowly backed up, staring and rattling off a string of ancient curses at the boy. Critock stared back, even as the ship ascended, the air from the pressure making it difficult to breathe and also keep his balance, a problem that the pirate did not share. Oi’Ramal placed a palm on a standalone cabinet, which automatically opened and revealed a weapon. Critock’s eyes widened as he recognized the haphazard shape of the rifle as the pirate pulled it loose.

  “A disintegrator? You know those have been outlawed longer than I’ve been alive, right?” Critock tried to distract the pirate, but it was to no avail as Oi’Ramal leveled the weapon at him.

  No longer caring about anything but the utter destruction of his prey, Oi’Ramal used the weapon. A black laser streaked out of the barrel of the weapon, just as Critock dove out of the way. Instead of flesh, the laser hit the right side of the cockpit, and in a dark flash the front part of the console simply disappeared. Instantly the gelatinous connections began to spark and flame out, and both Critock and Oi’Ramal were driven to the floor as the vessel’s autopilot flamed out, which forced the ship to stop its constant leveling, sending it listing Earthward.

  “ARE YOU INSANE?” Critock screamed in guttural Marconian, causing instant pain to his human body’s throat. He could not risk another shot from the dangerous weapon, which up until now he had only seen in military training holos. As the pirate recovered from the tremendous pushback from the shot, Critock rushed at him, striking the larger alien directly in his midsection. With the combination of the shot forcing him off balance and the child’s body hitting him, Oi’Ramal fell backwards on the floor, directly in front of the makeshift hole in the fuselage, where Critock could see the tallest buildings rapidly approaching. He knew he had only one chance to take advantage of the pirate’s lack of balance, since he could not rely on superior strength, and there was no time at all to effort a change of form, even if he could afford to expend the energy after already moving between wis
p and basic Marconian body forms in the last few hours. With a quick lunge, he drove the Sword of Kon into the ceiling at an angle, moved away slightly, and as the pirate rose to his feet facing away from the hole, again leveling the disintegrator upon the Marconian-in-boy’s-body, Critock ran forward, jumping and grabbing the hilt with both hands, trusting that with the degree at it was thrust it would not simply fall out immediately. His body swung forward, and before the pirate could react Critock struck him in his facial breathing tubes feet first. Even with the lack of strength that the human body afforded him, Critock still poured enough force into the strike that it sent Oi’Ramal reeling backwards. Before the pirate could react in his defense he was forced out of the hole and off the ship, screaming an unintelligible string of low curses and still clutching the disintegrator. They were low enough to the city that Oi’Ramal did not fall for long, as his body crashed through a high-floor window, tumbling end over end past a series of desks before finally lifelessly slightly embedding into a reinforced wall.

  Critock took a breath, glad to again have rid himself of probably the most annoying pirate that he had ever encountered. But before he could relax, he was suddenly reminded that the battle was not yet ended in his favor when a sharp ‘bang’ emitted from the front control console. He sighed heavily, forcing his weary body towards the vessel’s controls, settling himself in and assessing the situation. First and foremost, the ship was lazily gliding down to the street below, and Critock knew that not only would he probably die from the crash, even if he didn’t the sudden unexpected appearance of an alien spaceship onto the early-evening streets of the city would make the rest of the plan a lot harder. The controls on the main pilot’s side of the console appeared unharmed, but of course as everything ran in conjunction with everything else on this model of vessel he didn’t know if the ship would even have the ability to fly again. He noticed the main displays flickering on and off, and began to run a quick diagnostic while ordering the ship to resume normal flight if that was at all possible.