War of Mortal Gods

by Kipjo K Ewers

  Nekhbet flicked the ear of the technician, causing him to jump forward. He quickly took the cue, pushing the gurney wheeling a wailing Shintobe away as she followed behind him.

  CHAPTER 17

  Messer Prime, located in Sector 0015, also known as the Mustavar system in the universe, the metallic artificial moon space station was the outpost for mercenaries, organized criminals, skin traders, pimps, narcotics traffickers, and every other being of ill-repute in the known universe.

  However, no one could do any type of business or set up permanent operations on the space station without first paying respects and scheduled financial restitution to the Mulcov Organization, headed by Enuc Mulcov.

  Enuc Mulcov from Tanger sat in a large deep black plush chair with gold metallic hardware held up by a gravitational propulsion system in his office that was the disturbing amalgamation of an old detective’s office from Earth meshed with alien tech.

  The dim sun yellow artificial light played off the sleek metallic walls and desk that looked like worn tan wood.

  Two slated grey chairs with withered brown upholstery similar to leather hovered in front of the desk via gravitational propulsion technology, while tan colored metal file cabinets with a beaten look gave the office the feel of a 1960’s Mod Squad meets Star Trek Next Generation.

  Enuc, like all Tangerians, were similar to humans, save for his sky-blue feline eyes, frosted glittery hairless pale white skin, and a thick black coat of quills similar to porcupines that he wore short on the top of his head.

  His attire, much like his office, gave him the appearance of a 1950’s Earth mobster decked out in a yellow linen shirt with rolled-up sleeves, brown suspenders with silver metallic fittings, and the texture of leather attached to dark brown slacks with a soft wet rubbery feel to it.

  On the desk sat a pyramid of stacked dense translucent golden crystalline bars, each with a faint glow as if sunshine were trapped in each of them. Enuc’s attention was focused on the holographic image of a male Nowarun with tan and white fur.

  His midnight blue eyes, devoid of irises, revealed his frustration as he wore a vibrant gold and blue robe similar to that of a Catholic Cardinal with markings from his homeworld showing a station of authority.

  “As I said again, Grand Marquise Borvador, Princess Eleaze’s compensation is not the issue,” Enuc sighed. “It is the risk. No one is going to risk the possible wrath of the Dominion Council by skin trading a well-known, especially from the planet Earth, which is currently on reported quarantine.”

  “But is this not the ideal time,” Grand Marquise Borvador protested. “Based on the Intel we are receiving, the humans may soon be extinct.”

  “It’s still too great of a risk. No one will abduct this …Chris Evans, especially after the Earhart deal's ramifications, almost shut this station down for good. However, if it does appear that the humans are on the outs as a species, I will take the contract, but for four times the original price.”

  “Would you be willing to throw in the human Rihanna for six times the original compensation?” Grand Marquise Borvador inquired with a narrowed, devious gaze.

  “Now you’re getting greedy,” Enuc smirked. “But it will be considered. Be well, Grand Marquise Borvador.”

  “Be well, Enuc.”

  Enuc waved off the holographic image transmission of Bishop Borvador in time to receive an incoming message.

  With another wave of his hand, an image of a male Tangerian with frost white skin and dirty blonde quills that reached the back of his neck with green feline eyes and an effeminate disposition stood before him dawned in a grey outfit that screamed mobster meets imperial officer.

  The long flowing dark leathery tan coat covering the two-piece grey suit with a mandarin collar that fit the onyx colored tie with the texture of shiny rubber that fits into the groove of the jacket like a puzzle piece along with the battered brown fedora hat was meant to give the young Tangerian male the look and feel of criminal intimidation.

  However, the exact opposite was displayed on the image before Enuc.

  “Namol, how goes the Jurtarian rebellion?”

  The visage on Namol’s face before he answered was disturbing horror.

  “It is over …he single-handily crushed the rebellion.”

  “Really now?” Enuc asked, leaning back with impressed delight. “That was fast, barely a full day’s work; what is the death toll?”

  “The probe is still counting,” Namol swallowed. “But we’re currently over twenty-five hundred.”

  “Let us hope we hit that four zero mark,” Enuc smirked, “Emperor Qlibrud will have to cough up that bonus.”

  Enuc’s face changed to semi-concern at Namol’s distressed demeanor.

  “Namol, what troubles you? Did you eat something with Chuka berries again? You know what they do to your digestive system. I keep stressing to you to read the labels.”

  “Enuc …he’s doing it again,” Namol answered with a rattled whisper.

  “What’s he doing again?”

  Namol, close to tears, leaned into the visual commlink, praying not to be heard.

  “He’s eating people …again. He is eating the mortally wounded, desecrating the dead, and he has a stack of bodies he wants to take back with him. Enuc, this is madness; I cannot continue to do this.”

  Enuc leaned back in his chair, letting out a calmed sigh as he stared back at Namol with a blunt businessman stare.

  “Namol, as you very well know, people within my organization feel that the salary I pay you is quite unfair based on your subpar productivity. They feel that I am playing favoritism because you are my brother-in-law, which I am because I adore my baby sister and want the best for her even though I felt being coupled with you was the worst decision she ever made.”

  Namol dropped his head, wearing a distressed look as Enuc continued.

  “You should be ecstatic to have this workload. Considering that he has killed three of the previous handlers I assigned to him, no one is disputing the income I pay you. Not to mention, he clearly likes you. This should be the easiest job ever. You see to his needs, take him to his assignments, and you get paid. What is the problem?”

  “You know why he likes me, Enuc,” Namol choked on his words.

  “Again, failing to see the downside of your situation,” Enuc shrugged his shoulders. “Would you prefer him wanting to eat you like he’s done to his previous handlers?”

  “He says the vilest things to me …makes these horrific gestures,” Namol whimpered. “Things that haunt me when I sleep.”

  Enuc drew out a deep sigh and raised a hand to calm his brother-in-law down.

  “Let us not get ahead of ourselves; he has not acted on his impulses toward you, yet. But, when and if the time comes that he does, I will assure you that Vluri will never, ever get wind of it.”

  Namol gasped, almost collapsing at what was just said to him.

  “Enuc!”

  “Namol, let me just be blunt right now,” Enuc said with a stern ice-cold tone. “If it comes down to the cannibalistic human wrecking machine that has been making me a fortune. Whose only requirements are to feed, scrag, and kill for compensation against your worthless hide, I will be picking him over you every single time. And if it takes your sweet tight little orifice to keep him happy, I will joyously serve you on a platter to him myself. Now, please reframe from contacting me on trivial things such as this, finish up the job, and do make sure Emperor Qlibrud transfers the remaining funds, additional fees, and bonuses we picked up before the end of the business day, or our tremendously powerful, and sadistic friend will be visiting him to do what the resistance failed to do.”

  Enuc swiped away the face of a mortified Namol, shutting off his communicator. His eyes fluttered in disgust as sound from another incoming call emitted, with a holographic portrait of his secretary outside.

  With a wave of his hand, he answered the call to a live image of a female Norkarian. Like others from her species, she had a
humanoid pig's appearance showing mostly within the nose and ears. Her skin was a shiny lime green color with a brown mud pattern mostly revealed on her head, neck, shoulders, and possibly other parts of her body.

  Her red and blonde streak hair was pulled back into a bun, while her outfit consisted of a red blouse and pencil skirt similar to what women wore on Earth during the 1950s, only with a gleaming sheer material.

  Enuc’s brows furrowed with concern as she looked at him with a visage of fear mostly detected within her sea-green eyes.

  “What is it, Zela? Do not tell me you are expecting again, because you will be on your own with this one. As I told you, my mate will only allow me to support the first one you had for me, no more. And don’t expect a salary increase …”

  “The High General of the Thracian Regime is here, you vulking idiot!” She whispered, her irritation cutting him off. “She wants an audience with you now.”

  Enuc’s reaction became the exact opposite of what she expected as his face lit up with anticipation.

  “The Princess is here?” he grinned. “Well, bring her in, woman, bring her in.”

  Enuc shot up to his feet, sending his chair floating away. As it slowly drifted back, lining up behind him and the desk, he quickly smoothed out his attire and ran his hands through his quills. Before the door slid open, Enuc quickly did the breath check, huffing into his palm and taking a quick whiff.

  Zela walked in first, balancing on red stiletto shoes with daggers for heels. Although she evicted the irritation she had for Enuc, fear had remained a resident on her face as Attea followed close behind her entering his office.

  The Thracian High General bore a look as if she smelled something foul as her eyes moved about in her head, examining Enuc’s office, which she had been to only once before accompanying her brother. She gave him a dismissive glance catching his salivating smile and eyes that refused to stop undressing her.

  “Introducing the High Thracian Gen …”

  “The Princess and I are very well acquainted, Zela,” Enuc cut off her introduction. “You may return to your desk. Hold all of my communications and ensure that we are not interrupted, please.”

  A sinister smile finally replaced the fear on Zela’s face as she quickly approached his desk with defiance.

  “Let it be recorded that I’d soon kill myself before I let you touch me again,” she whispered. “Much less bare another one of your seeds, especially with your subpar breeding methods.”

  Her insult molded Enuc’s face to one of irritation as she let out a snort similar to an Earth pig before spinning on her heels and sashaying out of the office, closing the door behind her. Enuc, with a headshake, remembered to discuss with her later about her disrespectful comment in front of a guest. The smile returned to his lips as his eyes fell once again on Attea, who glared back at him with a dull disgusted gaze underneath her war helm.

  “Princess Attea,” Enuc subtly licked his lips. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?”

  Attea removed her helm, setting it down on a nearby table before dryly addressing him.

  “You gave my brother information on the whereabouts of a female human within a sink vortex in the Ominaro quadrant.”

  “Which I assume has proven quite useful to him,” he smiled.

  “I want the source of this information now.”

  Unbeknownst to Enuc, Attea caught the fear that slipped onto his face, which he covered with a poker smile.

  “Now, Princess Attea, you more than anyone should know it is the kiss of death for me to reveal one of my sources without their consent.”

  “Then get their consent,” she ordered, finally looking up at him.

  “I don’t think that is possible,” Enuc nervously swallowed. “This source has expressed to me to ensure their anonymity at all costs.”

  Attea turned to him with a blank innocent stare as she deactivated the magnetic scabbard housing her sword, which was attached to the metallic part of her dress. Enuc’s eyes slightly widened as she placed it on the table next to her helm.

  “Apologies, “ she said, “It appears as if I am giving off the impression that I either care about the damage to your reputation or that I am prepared to accept and walk away with any answer you give me other than what I want.”

  A jittery Enuc washed with sweat leaned back in his seat, knowing full well what the Thracian General was capable of as Attea sauntered over to him. She sat, crossing her legs on his desk.

  “Tangerians …I loathe your species more than humans,” she sighed while looking at her claws for nails.

  Her remark slapped an off-putting expression on Enuc’s face.

  “The only thing that fascinates me about your putrid species is your remarkable healing capabilities. You are feeble in every other way but extremely hard to kill. The only way to dispatch one of you is to destroy both your major and minor brains along with your heart. Am I correct?”

  “More or less,” he gulped.

  “Which means if I shatter every bone in your body with my bare hands, I just have to sit here and wait for a couple of minutes while you regenerate to do it all over again.”

  Attea’s underline threat caused Enuc to shift in his seat.

  “I shall ask my question one final time. Know that I shall not ask it again. During that time, you need to decide whether you will answer my question with a quivering voice or blood-curdling screams and squeals.”

  Enuc, fighting to control the independent muscle spasms Attea’s ultimatum brought on, forced the bulging lump stuck in his throat before he carefully spoke.

  “Unfortunately, my princess …there is no fear in your arsenal that can surpass the terror my source …has instilled in me.”

  For a split second, Enuc’s words stunned Attea. What followed was a subtle smirk on her lips that read, “Challenge accepted.”

  “Really? Then let us put that to the test.”

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  Minutes later, in Enuc’s waiting room, Zela shuddered to the jolting sound of breaking furniture and her boss screaming and pleading inside his office.

  Two of Attea’s guards waiting outside positioned themselves in front of Enuc’s office door to ensure the High General would not be disturbed.

  As their eyes glanced at Zela’s way, she timidly sunk in her seat, fixating her eyes onto her translucent screen, pretending to do office and billing work.

  Zela also quickly placed earbuds lying on her desk into her big floppy ears.

  “Maximum volume,” she whispered.

  Her verbal command turned up the music drowning out the horrendous sounds coming from within the office.

  CHAPTER 18

  Regulator Base, the Ranch,

  After Sister Sledge’s return from Sanctuary Island and her debriefing on what occurred there, the base remained on high alert.

  Rogers, in full gear along with Lady Tech, stood in front of several monitors conversing with the Joint Chief of Staff for the second time in days after the alien attack on Earth.

  “We’ve taken your report under serious advisement Sergeant Rogers,” General Joseph Francis Dunford Jr. said with a gruff voice, “And began coordination with all of our allied forces and their superhuman units to begin the process of a unified defensive response should the alien invaders return. However, any discussion of coordinating with the Russians, North Korea, or Iran will have to be put on hold. The political climate we’re in right now is too hostile to begin those talks.”

  “Respectfully general, we might not have a political climate if and when these extraterrestrial hostiles choose to return,” Rogers responded with a professional steel tone. “Two of our most powerful assets are no longer on the planet. I advise again that we must get all hands-on deck, and I mean people we currently have bad blood with. This is now bigger than a rigged election, or who’s making nukes behind our backs.”

  “With all due respect S
ergeant Rogers, neither Ms. Dennison nor her daughter fought or stood for the interests of the United States, or its allies,” General Mark A. Milley reminded him.

  “No, sir, she fought for the world,” Rogers retorted. “The only side she took was for what was good against what was evil. Now we can debate her allegiance all day, but we all know that’s nonproductive. Ms. Dennison was a universal deterrent for the planet, and with her not here, we are at a major disadvantage. The entire planet needs to fight as a unified front, and that means everyone, sir. Powered and non-powered humans, together.”

  “The Eye of Ra is here,” Lady Tech sent a mental whisper to Rogers’s mind.

  “Where?” Rogers thought back.

  “He’s standing in the main hanger. Waiting.”

  “So, you don’t believe this threat to the planet is over, Sergeant Rogers?” General Robert B. Neller grimly inquired.

  “Sir, you wouldn’t be speaking to me if you thought this was over.”

  Each member of the Joint Chief of Staff made bleak eye contact with one another as both Rogers and Lady Tech read the room, understanding that Rogers’s words held a weight of validity to each of them.

  “Sergeant Rogers, we will take your report and your words into serious consideration,” General Joseph Francis Dunford Jr. gave his final answer.

  “Sir,” Rogers nodded.

  “Ms. Champion,” General Dunford Jr. acknowledged her.

  “General.”

  As the transmission came to an end, Lady Tech turned to Rogers.

  “We better get down there. Your girlfriend just got wind, and she’s making a beeline to him to tear his head off.”

  Rogers muttered a curse under his breath while breaking into a stride to get to the hanger with Lady Tech trotting behind following him.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  Rogers entered the hanger filled with verbal threats, profanity, and growing chaos.