The Alorian Wars Box Set

by Drew Avera

  “Then you were one of the men who stole my ship and left me to die on that rotten planet. I remember it like it was yesterday. Neular and I narrowly escaping before the Greshian ships set it ablaze. I carried him halfway across the dock before we found a flyable ship. Of course, my ship had been docked closer, but by that time it was gone, because of you. We made it out with our lives, which is more than I can say for the millions left behind. If not for luck, we would have been scorched as well.”

  Neular canted his head towards Malikea, silent rage flaring behind his yellow eyes. The movement drew Crase’s attention and the two looked at each other for a long moment.

  “Did you know those monsters cut his tongue out? They left him there, bleeding out as they escaped in pods like the cowards they were. I caught up to them eventually and cut them down one by one. It took a while, almost a year, Lechushe’ time, but it was done. Eventually, Neular joined me in the endeavor. My proudest moment was when he adopted the blade for his own uses and exacted his revenge on those who left him to die. You and the other who escaped with you might not have tortured Neular, but you left him to die too.”

  Crase watched as Malikea’s eyes widened and tears streamed down his paling face. Manipulating people into guilt was easy, all you need is enough truth to spin it in whatever direction you want it to go, he thought. Right now he needed a willing sacrifice, so he appealed to the man’s sympathies. It didn’t matter if it was a lie. Lechuns were typically gullible. It’s what made trafficking them a lucrative business before Greshia blew their world to bits. Trust can be the sharpest knife in the back sometimes, he thought, fighting the wicked smile threatening to curl his lips.

  “Don’t worry, Tesera made us swear to not kill you here, but don’t get too comfortable. Your time is coming,” Crase said as he reached into Malikea’s robe and retrieved the com-unit in his pocket. A light on it blinked every few seconds, which meant it was linked to the ship. That was exactly what Crase was hoping for. He meant to open a connection to the Replicade, but instead the call was sent to another com-unit it was synced to. The voice on the other end was Lechun.

  “My name is Crase Tuin and I have your friend. If you want to see him alive again, then you will meet me on board the Replicade at dusk. You will be unarmed and alone. If you deviate from my order, your friend will be executed before your eyes and I will kill you.” Without waiting for a response, Crase closed the connection and dropped the com-unit to the floor, stomping it with his heavy boot.

  “Like I said, don’t get too comfortable.”

  22

  Brendle

  The Replicade hummed in the background as Brendle paced through the passageways, searching for something to occupy his time. He used to relish the idea of being alone when he was on the Telran, wondering what it would be like to bask in silence and not be bothered. His current situation made him realize that the isolation could drive him crazy if he was forced to endure prolonged isolation. Maybe I’m too used to being around people, he thought as he wrapped another wire bundle in the overhead. The stiff cords jutted out in several directions, feeding power to different compartments within the ship. The larger wires seemed to have the most abrasion damage, probably from a rushed overhaul, Brendle thought. Unfortunately, the bigger the wires the bigger the juice flowing in them. The wires he wrapped now were from the main bus, more than four-thousand volts humming past at the speed of light. He would have been nervous if he hadn’t done this fifty other times leading up to this one.

  “Potential fire hazard averted,” he said to no one as he finished the job. The wire bundle stared back, harmlessly wrapped in fire-retardant tape. It stood out mockingly because he knew a Greshian ship would never be repaired in such a fashion, but it was better than leaving the wires exposed and having a fire out in the dark.

  Brendle scrunched his brow as he looked out over the rest of the repair jobs he’d made. Shining his light into the dark corners of the overhead revealed more items in need of his attention, and not all of them would be an easy wrap job. The neglected maintenance on the Replicade was frustrating. He knew at one point this was a high-tech warship. Some other world, most likely destroyed by Greshia, had used this ship to fight for survival. The fact the ship survived was testament to the quality and love put behind its service. The neglect that followed was a travesty, though.

  He whistled a tune he learned in training as he made his way to the next section of passageway and climbed his ladder again, his upper body disappearing into a tangled nest of unkempt wiring. At one time all of the bundles were contained in a uniform series of trunks with smaller branches jutting off every meter or so. Most of the problems he noticed were that the ties for the wiring had been removed and the wire bundles just hung, sagging under their own weight. That strain could cause stress fracturing and abrasions as the wire ground against the frame of the bulkhead it passed through. He grabbed some ties from his pocket and clamped the larger bundles together, forming a single trunk running fore and aft, as he inspected the insulation for breaks. By time he was finished with the section, the bundle ran seamlessly from the forward part of the compartment to the aft section in a uniform and clean manner, no longer hanging over the lighting and falling towards the deck. Brendle stepped down from his makeshift ladder and shined his light at the completed job. “That’s a professional repair job, if I do say so myself.” He beamed by at how much better the ship looked just being taken care of. “I should have done this months ago,” he said.

  “Are you talking to me, Captain?” Pilot asked, breaking the silence in a way that startled Brendle.

  He exhaled; embarrassed he had been so easily frightened. “No, I was talking to myself.” He inspected the rest of the compartment for needed repairs.

  “Are you suffering from a mental breakdown?”

  “What? No, Pilot. I’m just trying to hear something other than the sound of air recyclers humming around me,” Brendle said, irritation hanging from his words. “Why would you even ask me that?”

  “Anki suggested I ask you that, if you said more than twenty sentences aloud without acknowledging the presence of anyone on board.”

  Brendle scoffed, thinking Pilot was joking. “Anki said that?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Pilot obviously didn’t see the humor of the situation, Brendle thought. “Of course she did.” Brendle smiled at the fact she found a way to use Pilot to take a jab at him. He was sure Pilot would give Anki all the details of how her joke played out. Of course, he would do so without embellishment or even realizing it was a joke. Still, Brendle found it hard to believe he would speak aloud that much. “Did I really speak twenty times out loud?”

  “Twenty-two, but I excused two instances from when you fell and cursed the pallet you were using as a ladder. I assumed ‘you stupid fucking ladder’ was a form of address despite the fact it was towards an inanimate object.”

  Brendle chuckled under his breath. “Well, that was one instance, what was the other?”

  “You said something under your breath when you were relieving yourself in the head, Captain. I would have to increase the levels of the exchange and reassess the recording in order to quote you precisely. Do you want me to do that?”

  “No, that won’t be necessary, Pilot. Thank you.” Brendle shook his head. Never in a lifetime would he have thought he’d have a conversation like this with an AI. I guess I really am lonely. He grabbed his makeshift ladder and tools and headed aft for the next job awaiting him. He’d covered sixty-percent of this deck so far and the rest of the crew had been gone only five or six hours. He looked at the time and was pleased with how much he was able to accomplish on his own.

  Of course, these repairs were mostly cosmetic, but the electrical issues were enough to potentially cripple the ship if he’d let them go any longer. I wonder why the last overhaul on this ship was done in such a shoddy way? I doubt any of these wire abrasions would have happened if they kept everything tied tight and mounted correctl
y, he thought. He did notice some of the wiring looked newer than the rest, but it was hard to tell what any of it went to. Most of the wire identification markers were missing, which would make troubleshooting an electrical issue a real bitch. He shook his head as he found his next task, a lighting fixture being held up with only one mount and the wire harness. I don’t get paid enough for this, he mused.

  His thought was interrupted by an incoming call. “Captain, Deis is requesting a connection,” Pilot announced.

  “Patch him through,” Brendle ordered.

  “Captain, it’s Deis. I just received a call from Malikea’s com-unit, but it was not Malikea on the other end.”

  “Who was it?”

  “It was a man who calls himself Crase Tuin. He said he has Malikea and if I wanted to see him alive again, I will meet him onboard the ship at dusk. He said I have to be alone and unarmed or he will kill Malikea.” The panic in Deis’ voice caused Brendle’s heart to beat faster. He knew Farax was dangerous, but all his worry had been for Anki, not Malikea and Deis.

  “How long has Malikea been missing?”

  “Only a few hours. I went to make the arms exchange and left him as a lookout. When I returned, he was gone. I thought he might have gone to find supplies, but I couldn’t find him and he wasn’t answering his com-unit. I’m terrified. What do we do?”

  Brendle thought for a moment. “Return to the ship. We’ll figure out a plan to save him,” Brendle said, hoping his confidence would lift Deis’ spirits.

  “I have to be alone,” he pleaded.

  “We will figure that out when you return. For now, just get back as soon as you can.”

  “I’m on my way.” Deis sounded like he was in tears when the connection ended. What started as a lighthearted exchange between Brendle and Pilot had quickly become an emergency of dire consequences.

  “Pilot, what kind of internal defenses do we have?”

  “None, Captain. This ship was not designed for internal conflict.”

  “What can we do to prevent someone other than the current crew from taking control of the ship if they are onboard?”

  “You can evoke a security protocol that allows the interface to be controlled only by the current crew, though anyone with significant skill can find a way to bypass said protocol.”

  Frustrated, Brendle spat, “Evoke it. I’m going to the armory to load up. I think we will have an uninvited guest soon.” Brendle began his descent into the cargo bay and towards the armory. “Establish a com-link with Anki.”

  “Com-link connected, Captain.”

  “Anki, where are you?” A moment of silence preceded a response. He realized he probably sounded more panicked than he intended.

  “I’m leaving a local market. I already scheduled a repair crew to come to the ship tomorrow. Why, is there something wrong?”

  Brendle gritted his teeth as he strained to open a partially corroded ammunition case. “We have a problem. Malikea was abducted and is being held ransom. I suspect the person holding him wants to use him as a way to take control of the ship. He demanded Deis meet him in the cargo bay alone and unarmed. It sounds like a ruse to me.”

  “I agree. What do you need me to do?”

  “Get back to the ship and arm up. We can give the illusion Deis is alone, but if things turn, I want to blast this asshole off the ship and get the hell out of here,” he said as he loaded a tactical assault rifle. It used kinetic energy similar to the rifle Anki had when they first encountered one another, but this model didn’t rely on electrical power. Unfortunately, the amount of ammunition was limited and required an obnoxious number of magazines in order to be effective. Let’s hope there aren’t too many of them, he thought as he strapped an ammunition belt around his waist.

  “I’m on my way,” Anki said, closing the connection and leaving Brendle in relative silence.

  “Pilot, I want you to establish a perimeter scan. Once you recognize Malikea, I want you to scan his captors and run a report on them. I need to know who we are dealing with.”

  “I already ran a report on the name Crase Tuin, Captain.”

  “And what did you find?”

  “I think it’s best if you come to the bridge to see for yourself.”

  Well, shit.

  23

  Malikea

  Shaky legs and Neular’s support brought Malikea back to the tarmac where the Replicade stood stoically. From outside, the ship looked like the war-torn vessel she was, but inside was home, and Malikea longed to find the comfort of it without the threat of imminent death awaiting him. That longing was shrouded by the terror of what might happen once these terrorists made their way onto the ship. Malikea knew the full crew might outnumber Neular and Crase, but numbers meant nothing against the wickedness he experienced in their presence. He chanced a glance towards Neular, the man he had known previously but could not recognize now. The change went deeper and darker than Malikea could fathom, and he felt that chasm of change as Neular’s grip tightened on his arm, sending pain through his body. Malikea knew better than to cry out again. The swelling of his left eye was testament to what happened when he uttered a sound and drew attention to them. He merely winced and took the punishment. Suffering was nothing compared to what he feared awaited Deis and the rest of the crew. If the weapons strapped on Crase and Neular was any indication, then the death would messy.

  “There she is,” Crase said, his hand pointed towards the Replicade and a sideways smile etched across his face. “This is the ship that will move me from trafficking personnel to delivering destruction to the Greshian fleet. You can take solace in the fact your sacrifice will deliver justice to those who destroyed your world. Of course, it was a useless planet anyway.”

  Crase looked down at Malikea, a sneer stretching his lips. Malikea assumed it was because the man was thinking about the fortune he would make with the Replicade. Or perhaps he is just thinking about all the ways he could prolong my death before finally letting me die. Malikea understood this man in a way he could not put into words, and to know he had dragged Deis into this wicked world was all the more frightening.

  “Let’s go,” Crase ordered. The three of them stepped out onto the tarmac as the sunlight waned. The kicking of dust and grit was already stirring as the torrential winds picked up, pelting them in the face. Malikea closed his stinging eyes and allowed himself to be led up the cargo bay door and into the belly of his ship where Deis awaited. Malikea’s mouth fell open, knowing the horror about to befall his love as Crase drew his weapon and leveled it towards Deis.

  “Malikea?” Deis said as they entered the cargo bay.

  Neular dropped Malikea’s dead-weight to the deck and drew his weapon, pressing it against Malikea’s skull.

  Malikea wanted nothing more than to say something, to tell Deis to run before Neular put a bullet in his brain, but his throat was raw from the tube being ripped from his body. He could barely manage a whine, much less utter words, Nevertheless, he tried to warn Deis and anyone else on the ship, but, before he could get the first word out, Crase’s boot silenced him with a swift kick to the ribcage.

  “I’m unarmed,” Deis said, the terror in his voice making Malikea’s heart sink. Malikea could tell Deis knew their time was up, that each breath was a gift. Malikea watched Deis tremble while Neular moved behind him, making the skin on the back of his neck crawl. If only I had the strength to do something, he thought. He knew how quickly his life would end if he even moved, but knowing that did not still his desire. Only knowing that Deis would die next made Malikea pause when he thought about standing up to Neular. He was ashamed at his own cowardice. He felt selfish for prolonging the inevitable. And then movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention, but he did not budge.

  Crase stepped out into the middle of the cargo bay and inhaled deeply. “You know, you two are the only people to ever steal one of my ships and live to tell about it.” Malikea looked up and watched as Crase approached his husband. Their eyes met br
iefly before Crase began speaking again. “I don’t want to make a habit of allowing that kind of thing to happen again, so why don’t you tell me where the female is so I can drop your little crew safely on Farax and be on my way?”

  “She’s not here. She went to find a repair crew for the ship and hasn’t returned yet,” Deis answered.

  Crase smiled a wicked grin. “Do you really expect me to believe that?” With a swift movement, Crase backhanded Deis across the face, knocking him to the deck. “Show yourself,” he screamed, his voice echoing off the steel bulkhead, but his demand went unanswered. He turned around, looking and listening for a response that never came and after several uneventful moments he turned to Neular and spoke, “Maybe she isn’t here after all.”

  Malikea eyed him warily, knowing in his heart that something sinister was stirring in the evil man’s mind. Whatever it was, he knew it would eventually lead to torture and death. He’d at least gathered that much from his time in Crase’s presence. His stomach churned as he thought about it.

  “If you want your revenge, then take it now. I want to leave before the winds pick up,” Crase said. His tone was terse with a tinge of disappointment and Malikea had the sinking feeling that he knew why.

  Malikea’s suspicion was validated as Neular’s weapon pressed against his temple, the cold steel sending a shiver down his spine. He winced, the cold, hard steel a moment’s breath from taking his life and splattering his brains all over the deck. He did not want to die, but he wanted this to be over, the dueling desires making him feel hollow inside.

  “Neular?” Deis said, distracting the other man. The pressure of the weapon left Malikea’s temple, but the barrel still glared in his direction at point-blank range.

  Malikea looked at his husband, silent terror in his eyes as he knew he was trying to draw the fire from Neular’s weapon first in order to preserve Malikea’s life. Those last few moments wouldn’t matter in the long run, but he knew it was love that drove Deis to act. Deis was always the protector, the strong one, the one who did what needed to be done. It was something Malikea always admired about him. His heart leapt in his chest. He wanted to run to his love, to embrace him one last time before their lives were shattered by their impending deaths.