Sons of the Lion

by Jason Cordova

  “Colonel Luo, you have been found guilty for crimes against the Mercenary Guild,” the Flatar intoned, looking at Mulbah’s face dispassionately. It was obvious to him the Flatar found being this close to the Human distasteful, though the mercenary commander did not know why. “Have you anything to say?”

  “Fuck the guild,” Mulbah spat and winced as his collarbone rubbed against itself. It was definitely a compound fracture, he realized as bone grated against bone. That’s not going to heal in a hurry.

  “As expected,” the furry alien’s head nodded slowly. “You disappoint me. I had hoped for something better. Set him down and ready him for the slaughter.”

  The Besquith let him go and Mulbah collapsed to the hot concrete. The rough pavement scratched at his cheek. Groaning, he rolled onto his stomach and tried to pick himself up off the ground with his uninjured arm. His bare hands burned on the blacktop. It was hot, too hot for the time of the year. The temperature hadn’t really changed much, yet it felt like the weather had gotten hot and sticky since the attack first began.

  His haptic suit was in tatters. Between the Besquith who had ripped him from the cockpit and the breakdown of the CASPer, he was surprised he was still clothed. Not that he cared. Aliens staring at his naked body wasn’t nearly as bad as his ex-wife laughing at him the one time he had gone swimming in the Atlantic. It was the first and only time he had ever worn a Speedo.

  He peered around the concrete with his working eye. There was a bit of dirt pushing through part of the broken road. Fascinated, he reached out and took a bit of soil from his homeland into his fingers and squeezed. It was harsh, yet familiar. He brought it to his face and inhaled. The dirt smelled horrible, but it was still home. Wanting to laugh but afraid his ribs would hurt more, he simply let it fall from his hand in large clumps.

  Home? He had never really looked at Liberia as his home. He had lived there, had his company there, and created opportunity for many families there. Yet never did he ever think of the country as his home. Not until this moment, in his final breaths, did it even occur to him death would come for him in the land of his birth.

  Looking up, he could see the ruined stone statue of the massive lion which protected the Lion’s Gate. Stray shots from the Flatar had gouged deeply into the stone, but the lion’s face was still recognizable. The tattered flag of Liberia was still in its mouth, frayed but whole. He smiled thinly, the pain momentarily forgotten as the familiar red, white, and blue could be seen. It was good enough for the people to see, to continue their struggle, for hope to remain. Earth, and Liberia by extension, would be free one day. Not today, perhaps. But soon.

  The Flatar’s pistol blocked his view. Mulbah found himself staring down the long barrel of the gun. Beyond lay the cold, flinty eyes of the furry alien. The look flooded Mulbah’s heart with ice. It was not the first time a gun had been shoved into his face, but he knew without a doubt he was going to die.

  “Your race is soft and weak,” the Flatar said as its grip tightened on the handle of his gun. “This is why you will always lose. Without your suits, you are nothing.”

  “We haven’t lost yet,” Mulbah said. “We are still here. Here we shall remain.”

  The Flatar snarled at him. “For now, Human. For now.”

  There was a bright flash and Colonel Mulbah Luo, Commanding Officer of the Kakata Korps, died as abruptly as his Korps had lived.

  * * * * *

  Epilogue

  Sunshine stopped and turned her CASPer around to watch as the last of the alien assault shuttles lifted off and jetted away from the capitol. Everywhere near the city was obscured by black, oily clouds of smoke. The land of her birth was in ruins; its capitol destroyed. War had returned to Liberia with a vengeance, and she wept because of this. Not for the fighting itself, but because in every war there would be innocent casualties. Her sadness was for the fact she had been sent away from the fight. She would not be able to help her boss in the struggle against the aliens.

  Sunshine almost turned back again to rejoin the fight. It would mean she would disobey a direct order from her boss, but it would be worth it. She might not be able to save them, but knowing she would fight and die with men who looked at her as something other than a prostitute would have been worth it. Consequences be damned. The survivor inside her was tired of running, of being afraid. There was payback to be had.

  For the barest of moments, she hesitated. In a Mk 7 CASPer, it was highly unlikely she would be able to turn the tide of the battle. This, and her strict loyalty to both Zion and Colonel Luo, pushed her onwards. Her given oath drove her, and a primal instinct led the way.

  Sunshine knew she had to head northeast, into the Sahara. Within the barren wastelands the training caches should still be there, unless nomads had found and removed them. A possibility, sure, which would lead to her death if they were missing. While her death would definitely be bad, the knowledge of failing her mission would drive her insane.

  The suit would guide her to the caches of supplies she would need to complete the trip. She knew in her bones, though, that her persistence would take her to the end of the journey. She would find a transport off-world and get whatever information the colonel had put in the CASPer to whoever could stop the Mercenary Guild from killing all of Earth.

  A bright flash suddenly filled her Tri-V screen. The filters cut down the glare, but for a few minutes purple blobs clouded her vision. Sunshine blinked, trying to clear her vision. Her irritation changed to confusion as her eyes finally adjusted and the blots disappeared. Spinning her CASPer around, she turned to see what had caused the light.

  “Oh no,” she gasped.

  One hundred kilometers away from the direction of Monrovia, a giant mushroom cloud could be seen. Her Tri-V quickly showed that it was not a nuclear explosion, but the result of a kinetic strike. There was no radiation the suit could detect, although the mushroom cloud was reading high temperatures as it climbed steadily into the sky.

  Sunshine swallowed as the initial sonic wave washed over the area. It was fairly flat but it was far enough above sea level for her to see the effect the wave had on the local fauna. Her suit helpfully provided her with information, and she knew the concussive wave would follow in roughly five minutes. While she knew she should be okay, Sunshine was well aware that being further away would be even better. She pushed onward in the hopes of finding safety.

  The Peacemaker Guild were the only ones who could help Earth now. How, though, would she find them? From what Mulbah had said, and Zion later confirmed, the Peacemaker Guild had stayed silent during the entire time the planet had been under the Mercenary Guild’s rule. The so-called intergalactic police, in her eyes, were very similar to the corrupt officials of Liberia.

  Tears flooded her eyes. It was hopeless. She did not even know where to go other than the caches in the desert. She turned away from the dead, blasted city of Monrovia and looked into the dense foliage beyond. It was another two hundred kilometers of jungle overgrowth before the land would begin to dry out and become the Sahara. After that, it was almost 6,000 kilometers to the closest star port, which was on the Sinai Peninsula. Unless she could find a way across the Mediterranean or the Atlantic, Egypt was her destination.

  She sobbed now. There simply was no way for her CASPer to make it there without refueling points. She knew there were a few depots out in the Sahara, but as the Tri-V brought up the path she needed to take in order to survive the journey, it became readily apparent the journey would take almost three months. She would have to conserve her fuel, not bound using her jumpjets, in order to make it between three of the depots as well.

  “I am a merc,” she whispered as she shoved away the fear and anguish. Strength filled her as she remembered who she truly was. “I am strong. I am not afraid of death. I live to paint the sky for my ancestors. I can do this.”

  Ahead of her, a tawny-colored shape moved behind a small cluster of rubber trees. Sunshine instinctively brought up her laser rifle but hel
d her fire, curious. There was very little in the jungles of Liberia which could hurt a CASPer, even an older Mk 7. Another flash of golden-brown to her left caused her to swivel on point. Her eyes widened as the form began to take shape.

  It was a lion, and not just any lion. It was a female, large in size and sleek in build. Bright golden eyes matched the shiny fur coat perfectly. In that moment it dawned on the young woman, perhaps Oti’s stories about the lions of Liberia wasn’t so farfetched after all?

  Whatever the case may be, the lion did not seem displeased with Sunshine’s presence in its hunting grounds. The lion looked back at her, golden eyes staring at the CASPer before it began to pad slowly into the jungle, northward. She watched it until it had almost disappeared from view. The lioness paused and looked back over its shoulder at her, as if beckoning for the young girl to follow.

  “Well, you’re going the same way I am,” Sunshine murmured thoughtfully as she met the lionesses’ eyes. While she knew the creature could not see her face through the CASPer cockpit, the feeling the lioness was looking directly into her soul was a sensation Sunshine could not shake.

  She shoved the horrific memory of the mushroom cloud over Monrovia from her mind as best as she could. The dead were just that, living in her memory, now and forever. Fate could not be changed no matter how hard she wished otherwise.

  Days turned into a week, then two, and yet the lioness continued unerringly to guide her. It would disappear during the hot daytime hours, leaving Sunshine alone to rest and recover. Traveling at night conserved power and energy consumption, even though the desert was cold at night. At one point the lioness disappeared for three entire days. Just as Sunshine had given up hope, it had reappeared, well-fed and rested. Wherever it had run off to, the mercenary figured the lioness was doing well enough that Sunshine wouldn’t have to split her meager rations with the lioness.

  One month passed. Occasionally Sunshine would spot nomads wandering through the wide desert whenever she spotted an oasis, but for the most part she was alone, save for the lioness. She tried to be inconspicuous but it was difficult, since the nomads oftentimes had never seen a CASPer before. The majority of them would turn and head the other direction, believing her to be some sort of devil or another. A few just maintained a safe distance.

  Two months, and it was more of the same. She began to wonder why she even hurried during the night. It was highly doubtful anyone would be looking for her. Her radio had been virtually silent since the clouds over Monrovia. There was nobody out here, not in the vast and seemingly endless sea of sand dunes. To pass the time, Sunshine began to talk to herself. Cheerful at first, but the longer she stayed trapped within her own psyche, the more despondent she became. It wasn’t her fault, merely a lack of external mental stimulation, which caused her to lose herself within her own mind.

  As dawn broke for the final time, she cried out in despair as the suit ground to a halt atop a large rise. She had found the last cache almost a week before and had continued to tirelessly march across the Sahara. All external power of the CASPer died save for the Tri-V. It managed to inform her the town ahead was the failed city built around the Toshka Project before it, too, shut down. Struggling to manually open the cockpit’s hatch, she finally managed to shove it open. She fell to the ground with the grace of a bull in a china shop and landed solidly on a rocky surface. Sunshine felt the pain in her elbow but ignored it as she looked for her guide. A soft and helpless whimper escaped her lips.

  The lioness had disappeared sometime before dawn. The CASPer was out of fuel and there were no more caches that she knew of. She had reached the end of the journey, one way or the other. Ahead of her, Sunshine could see a small town resting on the banks of a narrow canal, not far from her dune. Here was where the lioness had meant for her to be, apparently. Dropping to her knees, she covered her face and tried not to cry. It was over 400 kilometers to the space port on the Sinai Peninsula. She had merely reached one of the many reservoirs which fed into the Nile River. There was no way she could do it.

  She had failed. “I’m sorry, bass.”

  Sunshine looked out at the small village. There were some children wandering around, but most appeared to be clustered around an unusual looking object at the western edge of the town. It seemed to be a safe place to try and build up enough credits to refuel her CASPer. If they had any sort of refueling capabilities, she could eventually continue on her journey and follow the final orders given to her. How long would it be before she could continue, however, was a mystery. She shook as she struggled to get her breathing under control.

  “I’m sorry I failed you all.”

  The barest hint of noise behind her caused her muscles to stiffen in anticipation. Something was there with her, watching. It wasn’t the lion, she was certain. It felt too small to be the feline. But then, what, exactly? She was almost afraid to look. What—or more importantly, who—could sneak up on anyone in the middle of the desert?

  “Little kita,” a light voice said from her left. It was humorous and yet, held a slight rebuke in its tone. “Brave and strong, yet fearful and alone. I am impressed by your strength and determination. My friend told me you were coming. I greet you.”

  “What?” Sunshine asked, turning slightly. There was nothing to be seen but sand and a few small, scraggly bushes. Her mind was playing tricks on her. There could be no other explanation. She was going to die, alone, with madness clouding her mind.

  Suddenly she saw the creature who was talking to her. It was perched atop her CASPer’s shoulder, looking down at her. It was vaguely familiar, but Sunshine could not say why. Is that…a cat?

  “Who are you? What are you?”

  “I am Tsan, and I am here to help. Welcome to our negotiation.”

  # # # # #

  About the Author

  A 2015 John W. Campbell Award finalist, Jason Cordova has traveled extensively throughout the U.S. and the world. He has multiple novels and short stories currently in print. He also coaches high school varsity basketball and loves the outdoors.

  He currently resides in Virginia.

  Catch up with Jason at https://jasoncordova.com/.

  * * * * *

  Titles by Jason Cordova

  Wraithkin

  Darkling

  Deathlords

  Corruptor

  Devastator

  Homeguard

  * * * * *

  The following is an

  Excerpt from Book One of the Salvage Title Trilogy:

  Salvage Title

  ___________________

  Kevin Steverson

  Now Available from Theogony Books

  eBook, Paperback, and Audio

  Excerpt from “Salvage Title:”

  A steady beeping brought Harmon back to the present. Clip’s program had succeeded in unlocking the container. “Right on!” Clip exclaimed. He was always using expressions hundreds or more years out of style. “Let’s see what we have; I hope this one isn’t empty, too.” Last month they’d come across a smaller vault, but it had been empty.

  Harmon stepped up and wedged his hands into the small opening the door had made when it disengaged the locks. There wasn’t enough power in the small cells Clip used to open it any further. He put his weight into it, and the door opened enough for them to get inside. Before they went in, Harmon placed a piece of pipe in the doorway so it couldn’t close and lock on them, baking them alive before anyone realized they were missing.

  Daylight shone in through the doorway, and they both froze in place; the weapons vault was full. In it were two racks of rifles, stacked on top of each other. One held twenty magnetic kinetic rifles, and the other held some type of laser rifle. There was a rack of pistols of various types. There were three cases of flechette grenades and one of thermite. There were cases of ammunition and power clips for the rifles and pistols, and all the weapons looked to be in good shape, even if they were of a strange design and clearly not made in this system. Harmon couldn’t tel
l what system they had been made in, but he could tell what they were.

  There were three upright containers on one side and three more against the back wall that looked like lockers. Five of the containers were not locked, so Clip opened them. The first three each held two sets of light battle armor that looked like it was designed for a humanoid race with four arms. The helmets looked like the ones Harmon had worn at the academy, but they were a little long in the face. The next container held a heavy battle suit—one that could be sealed against vacuum. It was also designed for a being with four arms. All the armor showed signs of wear, with scuffed helmets. The fifth container held shelves with three sizes of power cells on them. The largest power cells—four of them—were big enough to run a mech.

  Harmon tried to force the handle open on the last container, thinking it may have gotten stuck over time, but it was locked and all he did was hurt his hand. The vault seemed like it had been closed for years.

  Clip laughed and said, “That won’t work. It’s not age or metal fatigue keeping the door closed. Look at this stuff. It may be old, but it has been sealed in for years. It’s all in great shape.”

  “Well, work some of your tech magic then, ‘Puter Boy,” Harmon said, shaking out his hand.

  Clip pulled out a small laser pen and went to work on the container. It took another ten minutes, but finally he was through to the locking mechanism. It didn’t take long after that to get it open.