by Justin Bell
"Where are the other Scaleback hide outs?" I ask, my own breath harsh and rough.
He glances up at me from his down turned face. "There are no others, Brie. We were it, all that was left."
"And now it's just us."
He stands upright and extends his hand, placing it on my shoulder. "We will rebuild."
There's a warm and calm in spite of the chaos. In spite of the fact that nearly every Scaleback I'd grown to know over the past few weeks was now dead. Rorjak's eye peered out from the metal plate that was part of his face and made me feel at ease, as if this part of my life, at least, was still intact. I trusted him to lead us through this.
I never heard the shot.
His eyes opened wider and his head lilted somewhat as if he was ready to ask me a question. Some strange thought just occurred to him, an answer to an unfunny riddle. His mouth opened slightly, a question poised on the leathery skin where lips should be.
Then he was gone. He dropped to the ground without a sound. ...No final good-bye. ...No wish for safe travels. ...No reassurance that everything was going to be fine.
I could smell the burnt flesh, and I saw the spiraling plume of light smoke curling around his chest as he slumped down to the grass with his eyes wide and glaring at the clear nothingness in the sky. Still, his lips worked, trying to form words that he could never speak.
My limbs hang loose and slack as the strength flows from them. Every urge to resist, to fight, or to go on is suddenly gone. There's just me, a bag of genetic material wrapped in gray, leathery Bragdon skin.
I look down once more at the motionless body of Rorjak at my feet, then drop to my knees. Vaguely I see commandos approaching from all directions, and it looks as if one of them is carrying some kind of long range rifle. But the darkness is creeping into my vision, and blackness consumes me.
I barely feel myself toppling forward to crash onto the grass where the bony knees of a man I respected and admired dig into my stomach.
That's the last thing I feel for a good, long while. But, hey, at least I got some sleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Why did you do it, Brie?"
The voice is vague and feint as if in a dream. My eyes feel warm and sticky, as if they are glued together by some unseen force and are unwilling to pry themselves open to view whatever world I'm in now. It's a world that already feels familiar. There is cold stone at my back and dank darkness beyond my limited vision. It's a world I've seen before, and not so long ago.
Not nearly as long ago as I would have preferred.
"Brie, wake up."
I don't want to wake up. Every time I wake up, every time I meet someone and get close to them, every time I just try to live my life, people around me die. Seriously, what hope do I possibly have to change the course of this war? I can't even go for a month without everyone I know getting killed.
"Brie, it's Luxen. Please, wake up."
I'm swimming through the rushing, dark waters of unconsciousness, climbing towards the surface, towards the wet, rippling murmur of a familiar voice. A hand clasps my shoulder and softly jostles me, a movement that is both soothing and infuriating. The physical touch is a gentle reminder of my continued existence, though I'd rather remain blind and ignorant to the world around me than to be shaken awake to face what I know is coming.
"Was it a dream?" I ask as I continue my dull struggle towards consciousness. The room is starting to swim into view with layers of darkened walls, bolted metal plates, and blurred shadows.
"It was no dream," Luxen says as his figure shifts from shadow into clarity. "The Scalebacks kidnapped you. Braxis forces rescued you and brought you back here."
"Rescued me?" I mumble, blinking my eyes. "Rescued me from what?"
"The Scalebacks. Those nasty pirates we ran across near the refueling station. They ambushed the convoy and captured you."
I push myself up to a seated position, rubbing my head, trying to think.
"That's not what happened," I reply. "That's not even close to what happened."
"What do you mean?"
"You were there," I snap back, a bit harsher than intended. "Command was sending me to a prison camp. The Scalebacks rescued me, not the other way around."
"Brie, the resistance needs you, now more than ever."
"The resistance is working with Braxis now. Even worse, you're working for Command who is actively undermining our whole effort. I don't understand why."
"In the time you were gone, both on the surface of Athelon and down on Braxis, things have gotten very bad for the resistance. Any victories we had on Athelon have been completely wiped out by lost ground elsewhere. We've been spinning our wheels."
"Where is Drewsk?" I ask. "I haven't seen him in months."
"He's been stationed on Braglosh, working directly with Braxis political leadership. Making deals to acquire Braxis resources for our resistance efforts."
"Meanwhile Command has been using Braxis forces to pit Athelon and Reblox against each other, increasing tensions, and making this war a thousand times worse than it could be!"
"That isn't what's happening," Luxen replies, taking a step backwards. He almost looks personally offended.
I stand up and reflexively place my finger to my collar, touching my mother's necklace. My rapidly beating heart evens out somewhat upon touching the cool surface. My nerves ease. It's almost as if a piece of her rests inside, still able to settle me down when I get a little ramped up.
"Luxen, please. Don't fight me on this. I'm going to need your help."
He looks at me with wide eyes and an uncertain scowl. For the first time ever I get the impression that he doesn't entirely trust me. If I've lost Luxen, who do I possibly have left?
The door bangs as it swings open, revealing a figure draped in long robes, his focused eyes peering out from underneath a peaked hood.
"Kleethak," I say, my face lightening. He glides into the room and embraces me, his touch warm and soothing.
"Brie. You have returned to us." He steps back, his eyes roaming around the small room I'm in. "A shame it has to be under these conditions."
"Can you tell me what's going on, Kleethak? You were there when I spoke with Command last. You heard him sentence me to a prison camp on Braglosh. Why am I the bad guy all of a sudden?"
Kleethak drops his gaze for a moment, then looks back up at me. "I was there. It was difficult to see and hear. Things have gone very sideways young one, and we are in dire straits. Desperate times require some desperate measures."
"And sending me to a Braglosh prison camp is going to solve that?"
"Of course not. But perhaps convincing you to support Braxis in their attempts to resolve this war will?"
I run my hand over my smooth, leathery scalp. "Supporting Braxis means leading them behind enemy lines on Athelon and letting them destroy it from within? Because that's what Command was suggesting. That's what he wants me to do. Directly influence the brutality against my home planet."
Kleethak places a gentle hand on my shoulder. "I think you're misjudging Command's intentions. Come with me, child. Let's go talk to Drewsk. He's been asking about you."
"He's here?" my heart beats rapidly upon hearing this news.
"Of course. He wanted to oversee your recovery personally."
"This isn't right, Kleethak. None of this is right."
He gestures towards me, leading me from my small room out into a dark hallway. This place seems similar to the battle cruiser but there are some subtle differences. For one thing, we're not moving through space.
In spite of my hesitation I venture out into the hallway to fall into place behind Kleethak. We walk around a corner, down a length of hallway, then another, to finally reach a wide, double-door exit out into the expanse beyond this building. I glance around, wondering why there are no guards or patrols when I have been such a risk in the past. Something does not feel right.
The twin doors open and he leads me out with Luxen close behind, wal
king down a short row of stairs leading to a wide, metal walkway below. I can see the capital building from here. That familiar pyramid shape stretches up past all other surrounding buildings which are short, stocky squares of ragged concrete.
In the distance, three Bragdon jump ships drop from the clouds, arc right, and ignite thrusters, heading towards the launch station at the east end of the city.
"Isn't it beautiful?" Kleethak asks as I approach him, walking side by side. Braglosh is an impressive city that is a bizarre mixture of old school ancient temples, natural swamp lands, and modern, utilitarian military landscape. It seems clear to me as we walk that at least some of what Rorjak explained to me was true. Braxis of the past was mostly a natural habitat, a place of peace, and unification with nature, but in recent years, the military has aggressively taken over, stamping out organic growth and replacing it with hard-edged, armored, military toughness.
I see myself in the city profile. I see a young, brash girl who knew who she was and accepted her rebellious nature until she was suddenly overcome by hard-edged military rebels, desperate to hammer her into some kind of lethal weapon. Yet in spite of the heat of the forge and the force of the hammer, somehow, my natural form still shows through. The end result is the blunt, abrasive armor of a military facade, barely concealing the wild, untamed rashness within.
Like me, it's almost more dangerous this way, because the orderly nature the surface betrays the truth. Instead of being overtly uncontrollable, smooth walls reflect what one expects to see. Observers only see just how untamed it really is when the layers are peeled back.
Will Braxis see the real me? Or will Command execute me before it gets that far?
We cross past two short buildings set back from the road and draped in shadow, then Kleethak extends a long finger towards a third building, another pyramid shape, though significantly smaller in stature than the capital in the distance.
"We're in there. That's where we're staying."
A Braxis jumpship is parked on a small landing pad outside. I feel nervous as I approach, almost as if heading towards my first big job interview. This is just the way I felt when I was applying to secondary school and hoping to get that treasured spot on the second moon.
Treasured spot... I often wonder how different my life would be if I hadn't been accepted and therefore had never been on that shuttle. I'm sure the Bragdons would have tracked me down somewhere and somehow to ensure that the final lines of code were properly embedded in my computer chip brain. But still, maybe enough would have changed to have put me on a different course.
Could that course would have been worse?
Standing at the front door of the small building, Kleethak raps a series of swift, patterned knocks. I hear some shuffling around inside and glance up into the indigo sky. Evening has settled around Braglosh and I can feel the faint patter of rain falling to trickle along my skin. I close my eyes, thinking back to three days previous and my breath hitches slightly. Behind my closed eyes I see Rorjak slumping to the grass, his hand reaching up for me, and smoke billowing from the rifle wound in his chest. I also remember first meeting him when he attacked our jump ship, very nearly killing the entire crew. I considered Drewsk one of my closest allies at the time.
Months later Rorjak, my ally, lies dead and rotting in the swamps, and I'm being led towards Drewsk, who I'm not sure I can even trust.
Is this what life is like? Is this being an adult? If so, stop this train; I want to get off.
The door eases open and I immediately recognize Shrag on the other side. He smirks towards me warmly, more warmly than even Kleethak did, and gestures us all inside. I follow Luxen and Kleethak as they dip into the darkened entry, and smile at Shrag as he places a calm hand on my shoulder, urging me forward. He hangs back by the front door, either guarding it from someone coming in, or stopping me from going out?
I probably don't want to think about that too hard.
The darkened hallway slowly brightens to pale illumination as we walk further in, until it opens up into a rounded room formed out of rough concrete. At the center of the room is a round table with chairs scattered around, but no one is sitting in them. At the far side of the circular meeting area I see two figures, both Athelonian, with their backs to me, looking at a screen mounted to one of the hard, unfinished walls.
"Drewsk," Shrag says quietly.
One of the figures turns, and I gasp.
Drewsk looks at me through one good eye. His other eye is nothing more than a hole in his ravaged, scarred flesh. The entire left side of his face looks as if it has been melted, then frozen in a state of perpetual drift. His upper left arm is missing at the shoulder, but the other three arms are intact and crossed over his wide chest. He tries to smile at me when he sees me, but the injuries to his face make it look more like a discontented sneer.
Beside him Loren does smile, wide and warm, and her face is unravaged by the spoils of war. She still has all four arms as well, but when she approaches me, arms outstretched, she walks with a stumbling gait, as if one of her legs was taken off and put back on not quite right.
We embrace and she runs a motherly hand through my hair, a motion that takes me aback, as she had never expressed any kind of emotional connection to me previously.
"Brie, so good to see you," Drewsk says through twisted lips.
I approach and place my hands on his shoulders, smiling as calmly as I am able. "I'm so sorry we were separated," I say, then move in and hug him. He returns the movement, patting my back with his one good upper arm.
"I hear things have been rough," I say as if those words can possibly express the obvious anguish from the scene before me.
"Indeed," Drewsk replies. "Very rough."
I glance at the monitor screen between them, trying to decipher the celestial map shown there.
"How can I help?" I ask. "What's our next play?"
Drewsk turns and looks at the screen with me. I clench my locket between my fingers and rub it softly, feeling the cool metal between my fingertips.
"I think you know the next play, Brie," he says.
I lower my head.
"Don't make me do this."
"We are desperate," Loren says.
"Everyone is desperate," I reply.
"Do you have another option?" Drewsk asks.
"Another option besides sabotaging Athelon? Besides walking Command and his death dealers right in my home planet's back door?"
Drewsk looks at me and I realize then that I'm in Bragdon form. I have been since I awoke in that room, and hadn't even considered changing it.
"Your home planet? Are you certain about that?"
"Whatever my race may be, Drewsk, Athelon was where I was born and raised. It's where you were born and raised, too. How can you cast that aside so easily?"
"Yes, I lived my whole life on Athelon. I saw first hand how they treat their enemies, and how they treat their friends. I wouldn't hesitate to lead Braxis down their throats if I thought I could."
"I guess that's where we differ."
"Brie, don't be like this," Loren says next. "We can end this thing. Right now. Tomorrow if we have to."
I stand there in silence, looking at the monitor, still trying to discern its meeting.
Then it hits me. The vague bulbous shape in the lower left corner is Athelon, with two of the moons closer to the center screen. Several arced lines spiral out from the planet, around the moon, then up into space. It's a map of the range of Athelon's surface defenses. A detailed topographical representation of the surface of the planet and various military installations and their launch ranges.
The Braxis long range sensor array is active. And they're using it.
"So when did it happen?" I ask, still looking at the monitor screen.
"What do you mean?" asks Drewsk.
"When did the Yarda Resistance change from unification to destruction?"
"How dare you?!" Loren mutters.
I flash my eyes towards her
as my mouth twists into a fang-filled scowl. "How dare I? You preached unification to me, brought me on board, and now all you talk of is destruction! Of annihilating Athelon! Crushing them and working with Braxis to take over the quadrant. This isn't about unification, not any more. This is about some petty vengeance."
"Brie—" Drewsk starts.
"When did it happen?"
Nobody responds.
"Was it before my parents deaths?"
"You were dispatched for a month after that to defend Athelonian installations!" Drewsk answers.
"Right. A small team led by me, while you and Loren were off doing who knows what."
"You're being ridiculous."
I don't answer immediately, as the realization of what must have happened soaks into me, wrapping itself around my body and embracing me with an icy chill of recognition.
"You told them, didn't you?" I ask.
"Told who?" Drewsk asks.
"The Bragdons. About my parents' trip."
"The Reblons killed your parents."
I stifle a laugh. "Who do you think you're fooling?"
I feel dizzy. My head is spinning with all of this new information. Everything that's been floating around the peripheral now starts to come into orbit. Dozens of different thoughts and scores of worries, theories, and assumptions. Everything is starting to make sense, and I feel more alone than I have in a very, very long time.
A hand presses against my back, radiating a soft, soaking heat. I turn and look at Kleethak.
"I understand your concerns, my child. Let us go. Let us talk to Command. Trust me when I say he was moved by your previous conversation and is more willing to discuss options."
My eyes dart from Kleethak to Drewsk, to Loren, then back to Kleethak.
"Don't talk to me like I have a choice, Kleethak. I'm a prisoner here, and you all know it. If you want me to go see Command, take me to him, but don't stand there and pretend like I have a choice."
The words are thin, sharp, and harsh, and I can see a brief flash of pain in Kleethak's movements. But in the end he nods knowingly and extends his hand.
