by S. W. Ahmed
“Nobody in the prayer room either,” one of the other rebels announced over the intercom.
More shots hit, a couple right in front of the cockpit. Dumyan tried firing back a few times, but there were just too many ships closing in on them.
“We can’t stay on board,” Dumyan finally said, getting up from his seat.
Sharjam agreed. “Everyone, abandon ship!” he shouted into the intercom. “I repeat, abandon ship!”
“What!” Zorina yelled back. “Are you nuts? We’ll all die!”
“As we will if we stay on board! Zorina, take refuge under Raiha’s robe.”
“What in the blue blazes are you talking about?”
“Just trust me! Get under her robe, and both of you get out of the ship through the nearest exit. Geershan, you and the others in the prayer room also get out. Remember to wrap your robes around your faces.”
Sharjam then walked over to Marc. “Marc, get in here, quick!”
Without waiting for Marc to react, the towering Aftaran lifted his robe and wrapped it around Marc’s face and body. Dumyan did the same with Sibular. Then Sharjam took out his boryal, aimed it at the cockpit window, and fired.
The sound of shattered glass filled the cockpit, and then Marc heard the air in the cockpit being sucked out of the broken window. He couldn’t see anything in between the layers of robe wrapped around him, but he could feel that he and Sharjam were being pulled out of the ship into space. None too soon either, for the very next thing he felt was the tremor and heat of a massive explosion nearby. Evidently their Boura-class ship had just been annihilated.
Marc was amazed to find that he could breathe just fine inside Sharjam’s robe. It was yet another of the many miracles these Aftarans seemed to have up their sleeves. He hoped to high heaven that everyone else had made it out of the ship in time. For the first time in his life, he closed his eyes and uttered a silent prayer asking for help. He wasn’t entirely sure who he was praying to, and perhaps it didn’t matter anyway.
Hot flashes of fire continued to ignite nearby. The Aftaran Gyra-class vessels were still trying to destroy the crew of the rebel ship, but the targets were now probably too small for their heavy weapons.
What happened next, Marc didn’t know. Maybe it was Sharjam using another enchantment to gather the others and propel everyone towards the open gate of the Mendoken ship. Or maybe his prayer really had been answered and divine intervention was somehow taking place.
Either way, all he knew for sure was that a minute or two after their exit from the ship, he and Sharjam crashed onto a surface. The impact caused both of them to roll over several times. He felt the jolts, but Sharjam’s robe somehow magically shielded him from any pain. Then the robe unwrapped by itself, tossing him out onto the floor and causing him to roll a few more times before he came to a full stop.
He sat up, and once the dizziness had subsided, looked around and realized he was in a hangar inside the Mendoken vessel. They had made it! The gate they had entered through was closing, and through the gap he could see the enemy Aftaran ships pulling away in the last second to avoid a diplomatic incident with the Mendoken. To his delight, everyone else had arrived as well, safe and sound – Dumyan with Sibular, Raiha with Zorina, and the three other Aftaran rebels by themselves.
To the other side, Marc could see the reception committee – a number of Mendoken standing in a straight line. In the middle was none other than Osalya Heyfass, top aide to the Imgoerin. Her dark skin color, white hat and gleaming metal armor covered with symbols were unmistakable.
With a tremendous feeling of exhilaration, he closed his eyes and uttered a silent whisper of thanks. He addressed it to the same one he had prayed to earlier, whoever that was.
Chapter 32
“We have never liked Lord Wazilban,” Osalya said, “especially not his oppressiveness towards his own people or his belligerence towards others. The Imgoerin, however, has had no choice but to deal with the elected leader of the Aftaran people. As you know, our policy is to never interfere in the internal affairs of other civilizations. The reason the Imgoerin has accepted Wazilban’s invitation to join forces is that our war with the Volona is spiraling out of control, and we are not faring well at all. While the Aftar are not that strong militarily, their wisdom, experience and political reach can benefit us.” She paused. “But now you bring me this surprising news about Wazilban, and you even tell me that the Volona are not behind the consar attacks on our worlds. Do either of you have any evidence to support your allegations?”
Marc said nothing, choosing instead to stare out the window at the neighboring tall buildings. Like the very first Mendoken vessel he had traveled on, this Aima-11 transport liner had an entire modern city built inside its hull. The view of this high-tech metropolis was a marked contrast from the craters, caverns and ancient buildings of Meenjaza, as well as the ruins of the Volonan planet Nopelio. Yes, it felt good to be back inside a Mendoken ship again. The Mendoken were without a doubt a people he felt comfortable with and knew he could rely on.
“We have no physical evidence, Osalya,” Sibular said. “But I offer you my word that everything Marc has just told you is true. It is imperative that the Imgoerin not sign the agreement with Lord Wazilban.”
Osalya stood silent for a moment. She, Sibular and Marc were the only ones in the room. “And you assure me that neither the Aftaran rebels nor Zorina are in any way forcing you or blackmailing you to present this story?”
“Once again, I offer you my word,” Sibular said.
“Then that is all I need, Sibular,” Osalya said, her face totally expressionless.
Marc was astonished. Although Sibular had already explained that no Mendoken would ever doubt the words of another Mendoken, he had never expected convincing Osalya to be this easy.
“I will contact the Imgoerin,” Osalya said, “even though he specifically requested for no interruptions during his meeting with Wazilban.”
“How much time do we have?” Marc asked.
“Very little, Mr. Zemin. He is due to sign the covenant in front of the public and the media in 29 minutes.”
Osalya waved one of her front limbs in the air, and a large 3D screen instantly appeared in front of her. She tried several times to execute commands on the screen, but no image appeared.
“What’s going on?” Marc asked.
“This is most peculiar,” Osalya said. “I cannot reach the Imgoerin, even on his private channel. This never happens.”
She then contacted a communications engineer on board the ship, who ran some tests and verified that nothing was wrong with the communications equipment. The link to the Imgoerin had evidently been manually cut off.
Marc didn’t need any extra moment to figure out what was going on. “Wazilban must have had the link cut to prevent us from getting through. Who else is there with the Imgoerin?”
“His seven bodyguards,” Osalya said, “and three aides.”
“Any other Mendoken?”
“A contingent of media representatives from across the Republic.”
Marc was not impressed. “We’ve got to get to the resort, now!”
Minutes later, a group of shuttles took off from one of the hangars on the Aima-11 ship. On board one of the shuttles were Marc, Sibular, Osalya, Dumyan, Sharjam and a number of heavily armed and shielded Mendoken special troopers. The other shuttles were carrying more troopers. Zorina, Raiha and the three other Aftaran rebels stayed behind. Zorina and Raiha had both been hurt during the crash landing in the hangar, and needed medical attention. There was also universal agreement that having a Volonan show up at a well publicized meeting where the heads of the Mendoken and Aftaran civilizations were about to declare a joint war on the Volona probably wasn’t the brightest of ideas, as it wasn’t to have too many Aftaran rebels show up in front of all that media fanfare.
The Mendoken troopers on board Marc’s shuttle offered spare guns to everyone else. Dumyan and Sharjam politely declined, opting
to stick to their boryals instead. Marc had no choice but to accept, since he had no weapon of his own. He had never held a gun in his life before, much less used one.
One of the troopers showed him how to use the gun. It was called a ganvex, a weapon that blasted the target with an invisible shock ray, instantly rendering the target unconscious and immobile for hours. While purposely not as deadly as the Aftaran boryal, the ganvex’s rays could travel through walls, floors, ceilings, pretty much any barrier made of any material, until they found the specific target they were meant to hit. The ganvex could also hit multiple targets at the same time. It was an extremely accurate weapon, and came with a virtual visor that allowed its user to see through walls to locate targets.
“Remember, Mr. Zemin,” the trooper said, “if you see an Aftaran soldier about to fire his or her boryal at you, you must target the soldier and fire first. Do not hesitate. Otherwise the blast from the boryal will propel your body asunder into stray molecules.”
Marc didn’t like the way that sounded, but now was not the time to lose courage. “I’ll try to remember,” he said with a thin smile.
He held the black weapon in his hand, and was surprised at how light it felt. It didn’t look anything like a pistol or a rifle, or even like any of the fancy laser guns he had seen in sci-fi movies. Instead, it had the simple shape and size of a small horseshoe magnet. It was important to hold the ganvex right in the middle, he was told, as the lethal ray emanated simultaneously from both ends when the weapon was fired. The virtual visor also appeared automatically in front of his eyes as he held the ganvex, giving a clear view of possible targets all around.
The shuttles landed on the asteroid, and docked with entry ports outside Bara Dilshai’s main reception building. Since the asteroid had no atmosphere and very low gravity of its own, such ports were necessary to provide direct access to the resort. Through the window, Marc could see a few Mendoken shuttles and many Aftaran Shoyra-class vessels already parked at other ports.
Once the port’s docking doors had opened, the Mendoken troopers exited the shuttles and floated onto passageways that led to the building lobby. Marc and the others followed along the passageway leading from their shuttle, but they were all abruptly stopped by a horde of Aftaran soldiers blocking the way into the lobby. Civilians in the lobby began hurrying away through other passages, evidently realizing that a confrontation was about to take place.
“Please return to your shuttle and to your ship,” the commander of the Aftaran forces said in a harsh, unfriendly tone, addressing the Mendoken contingent.
Marc was not surprised to see that the commander was an alien like Wazilban. There were also a few more of the aliens among the soldiers. By now he knew only too well, however, that he was the only one who could see through their disguises.
“Under what order, Commander?” Osalya demanded, floating to the front in between the Mendoken troopers. “We are here to see the Imgoerin. We have every right to see him.”
“The Imgoerin specifically requested for no interruptions during his meeting with Lord Wazilban. You must go back to your ship and await his return.”
Osalya seemed perfectly calm and level-headed, in true Mendoken style. “I am the Imgoerin’s top aide. Such requests always contain the caveat that I may contact him if the situation so requires.”
“The situation does not so require at the current time,” the alien commander replied with a sneer. “Everything is progressing smoothly as planned.”
“Smoothly for you maybe, but not for us. You will now let us pass. Failure to do so will put you in direct violation of the diplomatic charter between our two civilizations. I trust you know what that will mean for you and your career.”
The commander didn’t seem the slightest bit intimidated, and also appeared to notice Dumyan and Sharjam for the first time. “Your party includes rebels who are wanted criminals in the Dominion!” he said angrily, raising his voice. Then he pointed at Marc. “And a foreign terrorist who conspired to overthrow Lord Wazilban! That puts you in direct violation of the diplomatic charter as well. You will hand the three of them over to me, and then you will return to your ship. You have no other business here.”
Osalya remained firm. “Those three individuals have sought asylum with us. They are now under the protection and legal jurisdiction of the MendokenRepublic. This, as I suspect you know, is fully supported by the diplomatic charter. You now have as much a right to arrest them without our consent as you do to bar me from contacting my leader. You shall make way for us. This is your last warning.”
“And this yours!” The alien commander signaled to his Aftaran soldiers to brandish their boryals. “By the will of the Creator, leave or be forced to leave!”
For several seconds, the two sides stared at each other, weapons at the ready, nobody moving or making a sound. Marc knew the inevitable was about to begin, and tried to prepare himself mentally as much as he could. His hand clutched tightly onto his ganvex, with the visor over his eyes allowing him to zoom in on the Aftaran soldiers. As he had been told to do, he firmly blinked his eyes once for every target he could identify. This step registered the targets with the ganvex, and when he pressed the trigger, shock rays would be fired at all of the registered targets at the same time.
The sound of the first shot rang across the lobby. It was a boryal, making a sound like a wheezing firecracker, followed by a clasp of thunder. And unfortunately it was not a warning shot. It hit one of the Mendoken troopers in the front, and although her protective shield deflected much of the blast, her left front limb was blown away. The impact of the explosion caused her to lose her balance and fall to the ground with a thud. Immediately two of her comrades moved in front of her to protect her, as others pulled her away to the side.
Then the battle began. Shots flew in both directions, and everyone ran or floated for cover behind the lobby’s many pillars. Hiding behind a pillar himself, Marc pointed his ganvex right through the pillar at the nearest Aftaran soldier he could see with the help of the visor, and pulled the trigger. There was absolutely no sound or vibration, but almost immediately he saw the soldier fall unconscious to the ground. And, just like magic, all the other soldiers he had earlier picked as targets by blinking his eyes also fell to the ground at the same time.
Emboldened by his success, he picked new targets with the visor and pulled the trigger again. Again a number of Aftarans fell. But then several boryal shots whizzed past his ears, causing him to pull back in fright.
He took a brief moment to look around and take stock of the situation. Dumyan was standing behind one of the adjacent pillars, firing his boryal repeatedly at the Aftaran soldiers.
Marc noticed how the boryal was never aimed directly at the target. The boryal’s ray shot in the direction the weapon was pointed at first, but then curved in a slightly different direction. He supposed the reason for this curved trajectory was to give the target a false sense of security until the ray actually hit.
He also noticed Sharjam and Sibular nearby, firing away at the enemy. At one point, he saw one of the aliens posing as an Aftaran soldier fire multiple times at Sharjam. Without hesitation, he targeted the alien soldier with his visor, and fired the ganvex. The alien fell right away, and Sharjam immediately gave him a nod of thanks. Shortly thereafter, another one of the aliens began shooting at him. But Sibular quickly took care of that individual with his ganvex.
The enemy soldiers in the lobby outnumbered the Mendoken landing party at least 5 to 1. But the sheer technical superiority of the ganvex in being able to target multiple individuals at once, as well as the better protective shielding the Mendoken troopers were wearing, allowed the Mendoken to keep edging forward to the far side of the lobby. The Mendoken lost several of their troopers to deadly boryal rays, but the number of Aftarans who fell was much higher, most of them unconscious but some of them dead thanks to the boryals of Dumyan and Sharjam.
As Marc hopped forward from pillar to pillar, he saw the Afta
ran forces draw back further, until the alien commander signaled a formal retreat and they all fled through multiple corridors on the far side of the lobby. He felt relieved, but he also knew they would be back soon, and in greater numbers. There wasn’t a moment to lose.
Osalya, who had been here earlier to inspect the resort before the Imgoerin’s arrival, pointed the Mendoken troopers towards one of the corridors the Aftaran forces had retreated through. “This way to the grand hall,” she said.
A number of Mendoken troopers entered the corridor first, securing the way for everyone else. As Osalya, Marc and the others followed, another huge horde of Aftaran soldiers came into the lobby from the other side. They began firing their boryals at the Mendoken contingent, just as the last batch of Mendoken troopers was entering the corridor.
Marc looked back at the lobby with alarm. “They’re going to cut us off from both sides in this corridor!” he yelled.
“We have no choice but to press on through the corridor,” Osalya said. “The grand hall is not far now.”
Indeed, the grand hall wasn’t far, but its entry was closed by a heavy metal door and blocked by more Aftaran soldiers. The fighting continued, with the Mendoken contingent now stretched thin fighting Aftarans on both sides. Marc and Sibular focused on the Aftarans blocking the door to the grand hall, while Dumyan and Sharjam aimed their boryals at the rear. There were no pillars to hide behind in the corridor, which left everyone more vulnerable to getting hit.
More Mendoken troopers fell, as did many Aftaran soldiers. Then Marc heard a loud bang to his left.
“Sibular!” he cried, watching his friend fall to the ground. He jumped over to catch Sibular before he toppled over, but didn’t get there in time. Sibular’s whole body crashed to the floor with a thud, and then lay still. A bluish liquid began seeping out from what was left of the lower section of his armor casing, directly hit by a boryal ray.
