The Alorian Wars Box Set

by Drew Avera

  Crase

  Crase left the transport craft Lament and stalked into the compound. After a month of dealing with crisis after crisis for his employer, he now had to deal with one of his own. The stony walls of the corridor swallowed him as he stepped into the darkness. His eyes adjusted quickly after years of adapting to new surroundings. But his anger grew the deeper the more he saw of the compound. "I left this place under the control of idiots," he seethed, noticing how rundown and neglected the place looked.

  He turned a corner and bumped into a guard, half dressed in uniform and apparently sleeping. The man almost fell over as he came to, and that only made the bitterness Crase felt worse. "I'm sorry, sir," the guard said, terror in his eyes.

  "Were you sleeping?"

  The man's eyes looked everywhere but to Crase. "No," the man said, lying and lacking the gall to own up to his mistake.

  This is what's wrong with this generation, Crase thought. They respect nothing and have the audacity to complain. "Where are you supposed to be right now?"

  The guard looked around, disoriented, and shrugged. "I have perimeter watch," he answered.

  Crase looked down his nose at the man and balled his fists, wanting to plant one squarely in the

  hapless guard's face. "The perimeter is outside."

  "Yes, sir," the man replied with no indication of realizing how close to death he was for dereliction of duty.

  "If you don't carry your ass to your post right now, I'm going to have men carry you out in a body bag."

  Crase's response got a rise out of the guard as the man quickly stalked off. "Fucking

  dirt worshippers," he hissed, carrying on about his business.

  "Kawal," he said into his com as he rounded another corner leading deeper into the compound.

  "Yes, sir?"

  "Why am I finding guards sleeping when they should be securing the compound?"

  There was a beat of silence that made Crase grow angrier. The fuckery of the men under his employment seemed to be out of control. I leave for a few weeks and everything falls apart.

  "I'm not sure, sir. I will run another surveillance scan of the compound and take care of the situation, sir."

  "Who left you in charge?"

  Silence.

  "You did, sir," came the response soon after, though the lack of confidence in the man's voice made Crase realize he made an error in judgment putting control of the compound in such inept hands.

  "I'm on my way. I suggest you be there when I arrive."

  Another moment of silence preceded a meek reply. "Yes, sir."

  As Crase made his way down the corridor, an explosion rippled across the ground and cracked the flooring beneath his feet. He fell forward, catching himself with both hands before shoving forward in a sprint. He spoke into his com in a calm voice. "Kawal, is that seismic activity or an attack?"

  "That was bombardment from an unidentifiable vessel in orbit, sir."

  Unidentifiable my ass. "Tap into the satellite and pinpoint the ship's location. Zoom in on the hull for identifying marks and get back to me."

  "Yes, sir."

  It's either a raid by Greshian authorities who found me, or this world is fucked. His thoughts were interrupted by another massive quake spilling slivers of stone from the overhead as he continued to run. Maybe both.

  Within seconds the alarms sounded, piercing in their urgency. After years of smuggling, Crase knew how to tune out the harsh blaring and focus on what needed to happen. Right now, he needed to secure his hostages and get them off-world if he expected to turn a profit. The only question was how much time he had before everything went to shit.

  3

  Malikea

  Alarms blared, and lights flickered as the ground shook beneath them. Malikea took hold of Deis’s hand, stammering as he tried to speak, but no words passed his lips.

  "This way," Deis shouted over the commotion of frantic shrieking. He took off, limping as Malikea struggled to comprehend what was happening.

  "Where are we going?"

  Deis stopped at the doorway leading out of their cell and looked to see if it was clear. There was no way of knowing if the door opened because of the alarm or because the walls of the compound shifted, freeing them in the process, but it would be unwise to let an opportunity pass them by. "Now is our chance. If we stay we will surely die."

  The answer was enough for Malikea to nod in agreement, but still did not answer the burning question flittering through his mind. "Do you know where you're going?"

  Deis shook his head as he stepped around the corner. "I just have hope we'll get out of this.”

  Malikea followed, holding onto his husband's hand with as tight a grip as he could manage. Exhausted and weak, he tried to lean against the stone wall for support, but Deis kept moving. The exertion took its toll on Malikea. "Can we slow down? I can barely stand, much less move at this pace."

  Deis stopped, canting his head around another corner before looking back at Malikea. "If we slow down, we will get caught. If we get caught, we die. I know it hurts—it hurts me too. But not as much as losing you would. Please, don't give up," he said solemnly.

  Malikea tightened his grip on Deis’s hand and clenched his jaw before nodding. "Never," he whispered.

  Up ahead, the sound of guards running caused Deis to pause. The clattering of their boot heels echoed down the long corridors like a cryptic symphony. The first of two men rounded the corner, colliding with Deis and toppling both men over as Malikea looked on in horror. "Deis," he said, fear oozing from his body with his perspiration.

  Deis fell to the ground, striking it hard enough to knock the wind out of him as the other two men turned the corner.

  "What are you two doing out of your cell?" One of the men asked as he grabbed Malikea's arm, wrenching it behind him and causing Malikea to cry out in pain.

  The guard on the ground next to Deis quickly sat up on his knees, but was thrown against the wall when Deis kicked hard with both feet, hitting the man squarely in the chest, knocking him out cold.

  "Deis?" Malikea said, struggling to look back at his husband as he lashed out like a caged animal after years of torment. His struggle was met with a punch to his ribs, causing him to buckle and fall to the ground, gasping for air.

  "Keep moving and I'll blow your head off," the guard behind him hissed, shoving Malikea's forehead into the cold, stony wall. "Meka, restrain him," the man ordered, keeping Malikea pinned to the wall.

  "Roger that, Sargent. You, roll over onto your stomach and spread your arms," the guard named Meka shouted, drawing his gun and pointing it at Deis. The man sounded considerably younger than the man he called Sargent, but for all Malikea knew, it could have been because of the masks they wore.

  Malikea canted his head enough to see what was happening out of the corner of his eye. Sharp pain as the rough stone dug into his forehead brought tears to his eyes, but he refused to look away. He watched as Deis scooted back on his hands before looking up and making eye contact with Malikea. The look in his eyes did not appear to be desperation as Malikea felt, but unbridled anger.

  "I said get on your stomach!" Meka shoved his weapon forward, mere inches from Deis’s face. "Now!"

  Malikea watched as Deis, jaw clenched, stared up at Meka. The next movement happened so fast that Malikea thought it was a nightmare happening before his eyes. Deis slapped the gun to the side as he leaped to a standing position, taking hold of the guard with both hands and charging towards him until they disappeared from view. Anxiety coursed through Malikea's body as his heart rate climbed and sweat drenched his body.

  "Hey!" The guard loosened his grip on Malikea as he turned his attention to the altercation. Malikea breathed in sharply, sucking in air and trying to maintain his resolve despite the dread he would be killed.

  We were going to die anyway, he thought as he lifted his hands, pressing them against the wall before shoving himself back into the guard, knocking the man off balance and causing him to dro
p his gun.

  The guard looked at Malikea with shock on his face as Malikea turned around, kicking the man with all his might between the legs. The guard’s eyes bulged and the exposed portions of his face reddened as his knees buckled and he dropped to the ground.

  Without thinking, Malikea grabbed the guard’s gun, pressed the barrel to the man's chest, and fired. The report of the gunfire felt like an explosion to Malikea as he realized what he had done. He dropped the weapon, the metallic stock clacking to the ground with a muffled clatter as Malikea's ears rang. Further down the passage, Deis fought the now unarmed guard and pinned Meka to the ground with his legs as he hammered the man with both fists slamming into his unmasked face. The sound emanating from his husband's throat gave Malikea pause. The frightening roar of an animalistic state sounded nothing like the man he loved. He sounded like something else entirely.

  “Kelah Wa!” he seethed, blood dripping from his balled fists as he panted, eyes closed in the dim lighting of the corridor.

  "Deis, we must go," Malikea urged, fearing what his husband did and the repercussions of the heinous act. If caught, he knew they would be killed on the spot. "Deis, did you hear me?"

  "Yes."

  "Let's go." Malikea stepped closer to his husband, holding the heavy gun with both hands, trembling.

  "I..."

  "We don't have to talk about it. Let's just get out of here," Malikea pleaded.

  Slowly, Deis rose from the battered man. Whether he was dead or not was unknown to either of them, but the paling of his face did little to give hope that Deis did not take his life. "This way," Deis said, limping as he walked deeper into the corridors. Malikea followed, careful to not place his finger near the trigger of the rifle.

  The deeper they walked, the quieter their surroundings. Soon they found the wing where they endured countless hours of torture. Each time before, when he entered one of the rooms and was strapped to the chair, Malikea knew his life was over. Surviving became a sick joke as he lay bloodied and broken on the stone floor at night, trying not to think of the next day's ritual before finally drifting off to restless sleep. He shuddered thinking about it now, his stomach in knots as they crept past the hollow, carved-out torture chambers.

  Up ahead, Malikea heard a high-pitched tone coming from one of the rooms. "Do you hear that?"

  Deis paused, reaching a shaky hand to the wall for support before responding. "It sounds like a heart rate monitor," he said. "Whoever is attached to it has expired." His voice was flat and uncaring. The coldness of his words sent chills down Malikea's spine.

  "Do you think any of the guards are there, or Crase?"

  Deis narrowed his eyes and reached back to Malikea. "Give me the weapon."

  Malikea turned it over to his husband and watched as Deis readied it to fire. "I'm guessing you think there is someone there?"

  "I'm just thinking I don't want to bump into anyone unprepared," he said. "Let's go."

  Malikea followed Deis, three to four steps behind as they stayed close to the wall to stay in the shadows. They could hear an attack taking place outside the compound. The report of foreign gunships reverberated through the walls. Who was attacking was anyone's guess, but Lechushe’ was a peaceful world. Why would anyone attack us? He answered his own question as he reflected on the horrors done to him and others within these very walls by foreigners.

  Deis stopped before the doorway leading into the chamber where the noise came from. Malikea pressed his body closer to the wall and held his breath, hoping to the gods no one would discover them as he watched Deis peek around the corner. What he saw seemed to catch him off guard as his face paled and his jaw went slack.

  "What is it?" Malikea asked, concern in his voice.

  "Neular," Deis replied. "He's gone."

  "What?" Malikea stepped around his husband and looked at the lifeless, bloodied body of their cell mate. The blood was dried on his pale gray skin and his yellow eyes were held open, looking absently towards the heavens. "No. We have to save him."

  The ground shook and dust rained over them as an explosion outside brought them both to their knees.

  "We're running out of time," Deis warned.

  "We can't leave him here."

  "We don't have a choice."

  "But?"

  "We have to go or we'll be buried here too," Deis said, taking Malikea's hand and dragging him away from Neular's lifeless body and the constant droning sound of the machine attached to him.

  Malikea followed, emotionally distraught, but void of expression as he walked in step with his husband, not knowing where he was being led and not caring. What he witnessed was enough to destroy his faith and burn his hope to ash.

  An explosion tore a hole through the thick, stone walls, sending Deis hurtling head over heels into the far wall of the corridor. Malikea screamed as he watched his lover collide with the immovable barrier, his body crashing to the ground with a soft splattering of blood pooling beneath him. The overhead crumbled, dissimilar sized stones falling into a heap over Deis’s unconscious body as Malikea watched in horror. Outside, the screams of Lechuns and the shouted orders of foreign military men filled the port, but Malikea ignored the terror outside for his own form of hell before him.

  “Deis!” He shouted, running to his husband and sliding to a stop, skinning his knees as he collapsed next to Deis, tugging the debris from his body in hopes of saving the man he wed. “Please, Deis, be all right.”

  Beneath the rubble, Deis groaned. “Mal? What happened?” His voice was hoarse and muted by the sounds of the battle outside, but he was alive and for that Malikea sighed with relief.

  “It was an explosion. A bomb went off,” Malikea answered. “We have to escape before it’s too late.” The irony of their shift in priorities was not lost on Malikea. Seeing the urgency of their situation, his fear gave way to his survival instinct. The only way to live was to push through by any means necessary.

  Deis pushed himself upon his forearms, breathing heavily as blood poured from his nose and mouth. “At least the explosion gave us a way out,” he said, his voice nasally.

  “Do you think it’s a good idea to go out into that?”

  “What choice do we have? It’s an opening and every door up until now has been locked.”

  Malikea sighed, contemplating every scenario that saw them killed in a fiery assault. “If we must, then let’s make it quick.”

  Deis nodded, rising to his feet and steadying himself on the crumbled wall. Smoke filtered into the corridor from outside, drifting into the ventilation, causing the fans to kick on and producing a putrid smell that reminded Malikea of the death they evaded during their stay in this hellish prison. “Look up there,” Deis pointed, drawing Malikea’s attention back to the present.

  “Who are they?”

  “I don’t know, but with a ship that big they will surely destroy us all.”

  As if he muttered the kill order, a bright beam shot from the bow of the monolithic vessel hovering in orbit above the planet. With the light of three suns, the beam scorched the terrain north of their location. The heat emanating from the beam immediately increased the temperature around them while sending chunks of rock and dirt into a massive pillar of destruction cascading down like a demented wave. Malikea stared, unblinking as his heart raced, the heavy thud threatening to crack the bones in his chest.

  “Run!” Deis shouted, pulling Malikea’s attention to him. Malikea watched as his husband fled, carrying the heavy but useless weapon as he high-stepped over debris scattering the field from the bombardment. Horror anchored Malikea in place. He knew he should run, but the shadow cast over him by the orbiting death machine made him feel it was a wasted effort. Death came for them and it was not going away dissatisfied. “Hurry,” Deis called back, barely looking behind him as he ran.

  Almost as if pushed, Malikea fell from his position inside the gaping hole of the wall and staggered in the direction Deis was heading. He focused his attention on placing on
e foot in front of the other until he gained on his injured husband. “Keep going!” Malikea shouted over the sound of weapons firing when Deis looked back at him. The ship ported on the far end of the dock felt like a world away as his tired, burning legs stumbled over loose rock and potholes. “Don’t wait for me.”

  His selfless plea for Deis to save himself no matter what happened to him fell from his lips as a mortar blast detonated nearby sending both men hurtling through the air. Malikea, barely cognizant of what was happening, watched with wide eyes as he drifted above the ground, watching it spin, until his body slammed to the dirt below, where the light faded, and he lost himself in darkness.

  4

  Crase

  “What’s the situation?” Crase asked, stepping into a carved-out room acting as headquarters for his operation on Lechushe’. The dim lighting flickered on and off as the cascading sound of blasts droned in the background. Being underground was supposed to be safe, but with dust from the ceiling littered the floor, he began second guessing his decision to work here.

  “It’s the Greshians, sir,” Kawal said as he pointed to the image on his monitor. Zooming in, the pixels showed the recognizable seal of the Greshian Empire.

  “The jig’s up and we have to leave. If Greshia is here, then we have little time to escape. Grab the remaining prisoners and load them onto the Replicade. Anyone not on board in ten minutes is left behind.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kawal said, swallowing hard as his eyes widened at the likelihood of imminent death.

  Crase turned and stepped out of the room, not wasting time carrying out his own orders. He took the north corridor and headed for the escape hatch at the end, knowing it would release him closest to his refurbished ship. These damned Greshians are bad for business, he thought as he stepped over debris from his crumbling prison. Years of work destined to be destroyed before daybreak.

  He walked for several minutes before stopping and looking into a dimly lit space where a heart rate monitor chirped. His eyes adjusted to the relative darkness as the piercing wail of the alarm made him clench his jaw tighter, straining to fight back the urge to cover his ears, not wanting to look weak in front of the hired hands. “Kawal,” he said into his com.