Karrin Warrior Child

by Sahara Foley

  It’s like the sweet child is afraid she’ll lose anyone she allows to become too close. Claudia sighed with understanding. Hopefully, she’ll learn to trust again.

  A shadow drifted across her table and stopped. Claudia glanced up to see a thin-bodied man standing at her side. “What ya need, Slick?”

  “MC, there be an Army General, out front, squawking about some missing tanks.”

  Claudia shook her head, sighed, and set down the peeler along with her potato. “And, you a knowing where these tanks are?”

  Slick grinned at her, revealing a mouth full of yellowed, broken teeth. “Yes, MC, and they be in my safe place in the sewers.”

  “I figured. I read an alert on my computer this morning about some stolen tanks.” She scowled at a face scarred from multiple fists and knife fights. “Well, we best be seeing what the General wants.”

  She heaved her bulk from the table and proceeded to the front door, Karrin tagging along behind her. Passing from kitchen to dining room, and then through the living room and foyer, Claudia grumbled to herself.

  A gaggle of children started flocking behind her, calling her by the numerous names she acquired over the year: Mamma Claudia, MC, or just Mamma. Each evening, more and more, homeless children showed up at her residence to spend the night and eat a decent meal.

  It warmed Claudia’s heart to know Matron and Warden’s ill-gotten gains were being used to help children, instead of killing them. She chuckled to herself. Matron would have a conniption fit if she knew how her money was being spent.

  Still, it didn’t happen overnight. The homeless kids had to trust her first. And, that wouldn’t have happened if Slick didn’t show up – out of the blue – knocking at her door, offering his services. No one knew where he came from, except for Claudia. She even knew Slick’s real name.

  Once she was settled in her new home, she set up an office in the attic with a computer networked into every government server the hacker she hired found. From her secret sources, Claudia learned that Slick used to be a gun-runner for some of the biggest gangs around. Now, he offered his expertise to her and the children.

  After setting up his room in the basement, Slick dug a tunnel to the sewer system below. There, he stashed all the stolen armament he and his staff of six older boys got their hands on.

  Claudia shivered. She didn’t fear Slick, but those six young men were ruthless, cold-blooded killers. When she looked into their eyes, she swore she was staring into Hell itself.

  Nonetheless, she had to admit, they kept the peace around her place. If anyone was stupid enough to start a fight in her home or did or said anything wrong about her, Karrin, or Tanya, they’d be found the next morning with their throats cut. Cruel and swift punishment to be sure, but it was the only way to keep order in this neck of what was left of London.

  Hell, even the coppers feared the south end of town. Shortly after Claudia set-up shop, she had a Pow-Wow with the police officers assigned to her area. Once she explained her purpose for being there, they came to an agreement. The coppers would leave her and the children alone. With the understanding all violence against the officers stopped, and they would pay for any stolen items which ended up in Claudia’s possession.

  The agreement was a win-win situation for both sides. Still, the coppers didn’t know what they bargained for. The orphaned children felt they needed to pay Claudia for her help, so a lot of stolen goods ended up in her house.

  Stepping out on the porch, Claudia stopped in shock at the sight before her. It looked like they were under attack as she stared open-mouthed at a hundred troopers deployed around her property, weapons in the low-ready position. She glanced nervously at Slick, who winked and gave her the "OK” sign with his thumb and forefinger.

  He turned and whispered to one of his gang members, who took off running, back into the house.

  Standing with legs spread, arms crossed under her ample bosom, she glared down at a scrawny little man pacing with stiff strides in front of the troops. In her younger years, she could've snapped him in two without any effort.

  “How can I be a helping you, er, General, is it?”

  He stood as tall as he could at only five-feet-four inches and stated pompously, "Ma'am, my name is General Dalton. You and your cohorts,” he stared meaningfully at Slick, “have stolen four of my tanks. I have come to procure their release.”

  "Well, General Dalton, I mean no disrespect, but how you a knowin' I have your tanks? After the collapse of the global economy and the Unified Global Government, it be a-free-for-all for criminals. Hell, as far as I know, there weren't no military bases still active around here. The coppers have a hard enough time just keeping their own doors open."

  She narrowed her eyes as she took in the General's clean, tailored pants and trousers. "Where you getting the money for your fancy clothes and all your shiny toys?"

  "I own the base, and these men work for me," he said with a sneer.

  "Why you, little pipsqueak, you ain't nothin but a spoiled bully playing with your tin soldiers!" She spat on the sidewalk next to his shiny boots.

  He stepped back, a look of revulsion on his face.

  When a slight vibration started radiating from the ground, Claudia glanced down at her feet. The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile.

  Hands clenched at his sides, his face turned as red as the handkerchief folded neatly in his breast pocket. "I've heard of you and your gang of cutthroat thieves," he hissed. "You've stepped outside the law one too many times."

  "You ain't no law. You a make-believe General with make-believe soldiers."

  "Enough," Dalton yelled. "You and your hellions will pay for stealing from ME. Bring my tanks or be prepared to face the consequences." Smirking, he quickly raised and lowered his hand.

  The clanging of weapons being placed into the high-ready position filled the air.

  “General, don’t be getting hasty.” Claudia glowered down at the General. “We got young’uns here.”

  “None that will be missed, I assure you, Ma’am,” he retorted. “You have the dredges of society coming and going from your home.” He stood with hands on hips, a sneer on his thin lips as he surveyed the children flanked around Claudia.

  Claudia’s nostrils flared as she peered at the fake General. "You don't scare me, Dalton. For most of my life, I've lived around bullies. One thing I learned is bullies love to intimidate, especially if they think they have the upper hand." She snorted in derision.

  Dalton tore his beady eyes from hers as he peered down at the cracked pavement. Pebbles rolled from side-to-side. The growing vibrations made the grass sway.

  Claudia heard a faint rumbling in the distance that grew, louder and louder, until it stopped. With a laugh, she pointed over the heads of the soldiers toward the empty lots across the street. "Who’s got the upper hand, now, pipsqueak?"

  Frowning, Dalton turned around to see what Claudia was pointing at. Craning his neck, he couldn't see past the row of soldiers in front of him, so he shoved his way to the back and stopped, mouth hanging open.

  All along the street, as far as Claudia could see, stood people – young and old – holding weapons of various models, all aimed at the soldiers. In front of them sat four tanks, painted with frightening faces in bright colors of red, yellow, and orange.

  Dalton carefully backed up. His hands shook and his face was colorless.

  Claudia glanced down when someone brushed past her. It was Karrin, marching down the steps, a look of determination and anger in her odd-colored eyes. The woman reached to grab her, but her grasping fingers only met air.

  Karrin stopped when Dalton almost stumbled over her as he was backing away from the small army confronting him.

  With a scowl, he glared down at the little girl. "Out of my way," he shouted, and pushed her away.

  Karrin stepped up to the towering, red-faced man. The little girl crossed her arms; legs spread wide, chin held high in defiance.

  A smile crossed Cla
udia's face when she realized the child was trying to imitate her.

  "You are a mean man, Mister Dalton," Karrin said, her small voice surprisingly loud amid all the noise of people shuffling and muttering between themselves. "You didn't need to frighten Mama Claudia. If you want your tank back, just let her know which one yours is."

  Dalton's face became even redder as the sound of snickering filled the air. Muttering to himself about how uncouth and barbaric the lot of them were, he stomped off to his jeep, jumped in, and peeled off down the street. His troops looked at each other in confusion before they lowered their weapons and, one-by-one, walked to the transport trucks parked down the block. As the last truck turned the corner, a cheer rose from Claudia's little army.

  Claudia breathed a huge sigh of relief, then strode down the stairs and stopped next to Karrin. "You done good, girl." She patted her on the shoulder.

  If little Karrin hadn't stepped up the way she did, they would all be riddled with bullets by now. Her knees were still shaking from the thought of all the children mowed down in cold blood. That bastard had no right terrorizing them the way he did.

  Hmph! He isn't even a real General.

  The next morning, when Claudia strolled out on her porch to enjoy her morning tea before the ruckus of another day started, she stopped in surprise. Parked squarely in the middle of the yard sat a bright pink tank, wrapped in a white ribbon. On both sides, spelled out in black, bold letters was the name Karrin.

  Claudia snorted, then laughed. Her little girl was a hero.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The personal silver spacecraft streaked through space, hurtling toward a solar system containing eight planets orbiting a sun much smaller than the one in Ispepyein’s system. Contruda slowed their descent when the data banks alerted it that the bright, blue world was their destination. Earth.

  As it did a slow reconnaissance around the planet, Contruda ordered the fighter to the dark side of the moon, which circled this insignificant rock. They would hide here until the warrior awoke.

  Lurga opened his eyes as the sleeping pills wore off. Yawning, he stretched his tightened muscles. His eyes widened in surprise as he peered around the inside of his vessel. Everything had turned into a bright, lustrous silver.

  By the Old Gods, what happened? Why is everything silver?

  He hastily examined himself, afraid whatever infected his ship had also contaminated him. Holding his clawed hands in front of his face, he grunted in relief. His skin was still gray and his flight suit black. However, everything else was silver. Even his guns and food glowed with a shiny, metallic color.

  "Contruda, what happened to my ship and to you? Are you still functional?"

  "Yes, Warrior. My databanks are at optimum levels. I do not know what occurred. We started changing into this silver substance as we approached this solar system. Perhaps it is an aberration caused by an unknown radiation source, but my scanners are unable to detect any abnormalities."

  Lurga tapped his clawed fingers on the armrest. Can my A1 be trusted? He shrugged, not having a choice. He was already here, out in the middle of a system no civilized world had heard of. Might as well see if he could locate his latest contracted hit.

  He typed in some commands on his keypad and looked in shock at the data. "How long have we been hiding on this moon?"

  "Twenty-three sleep cycles, Warrior. It took only seventy-eight sleep cycles to reach our destination. When we left our solar system, we attained a speed never before achieved, and my databanks were unable to do an accurate calculation."

  "Are you positive we are at the right planet? Maybe we are at one much closer to the Ispepyein system."

  'No, Warrior. While you slept, I scanned my databanks numerous times looking for any anomalies. None could be found. Since we arrived earlier than anticipated, I tracked the path of the Calen ship that fired upon the vessel of the young girl. I have also plotted the course where she crawled out of the ocean and to the home of the Human who rescued her."

  As the ship made a slow approach to Earth's atmosphere, Lurga surveyed the myriad of satellites flanking the moon and small, blue planet. From what his scanners told him, some were weather units while some didn't seem to serve any purpose at all. However, the majority of them were of military origin.

  The military units all faced away from the planet toward space and equipped with archaic weaponry, mostly lasers. Still, a few packed nuclear warheads. Lurga smiled. Pep’s hadn’t run across these types of ancient weapons in more than two thousand life cycles. Kargan would be pleased.

  An image of the beach where the Human girl had washed up out of the sea appeared on his screen. Using his PSI powers, he guided his ship at half-light speed toward that spot, intending to land on the soft dirt. Abruptly, his scanners showed them twenty feet below the planet's surface.

  What the Old Gods happened? How did I lose control of my mental powers? His triple hearts pounded in excitement. Is there more to this mission than Kargan told me?

  Stomach rumbling, the hungry warrior threw a few pieces of silver ore in his mouth as he telepathically ordered his craft to the surface. Once he was safely above ground, he checked the readouts. The air was breathable as the Calens stated. Since they were fools, and thin-skinned at that, he didn’t trust them. According to Contruda, it was, but more oppressive than the air on his homeworld. The warrior double checked the data, worried that whatever changed the ship also affected the computer

  Deciding to err on the side of caution, he reached above into a small compartment and placed four silver Tadot pills in a pouch on his weapons belt. One capsule would let him breathe for six hours. Opening the hatch, he clambered out and stepped onto planet Earth. With tribulation, he took a deep breath.

  At least, Contruda was correct in this matter. The air was breathable. With a growl of relief, he depressed a button on his belt, activating the Tespada. His spacecraft shimmered and disappeared. Now it couldn't be found by any Humans. Lurga couldn't see it, either, but he would find it through his mental link with the ship.

  The warrior surveyed the area. The color of the trees, ground, water, and sky were different here, making his stomach queasy. He glanced up at the yellowish-white sun, which caused him to squint due to its intense brightness. He blinked several times, trying to adjust his vision.

  Lurga could stare all day long at the blue sun on Ispepeyien and never suffer this burning pain in his retinas. He rubbed his eyes. Maybe my fighter won’t be invisible to Humans. They might have a different spectrum of sight.

  Well, it wasn't the first time he'd been on a planet where the inhabitants saw his ship. Not that it mattered. The only person able to touch his fighter was another Pep. Otherwise, the cell-packs embedded in the hull fired any intruders into very crispy corpses.

  After being cooped up in the ship for so long, Lurga did some stretches as he wandered over to the side to relieve his overflowing bladder. Once he was done, he removed the picto of the girl from his breast pocket and concentrated on the image. His body began to glow, shimmer, and distort.

  When he was done transforming, in his place stood a chubby, short, bald male Human with gray sideburns. He rotated his arms and head, getting used to the soft body. It didn't feel uncomfortable, and the warmth of the yellow sun on his pale, thin skin was enjoyable.

  Turning away from the blue ocean, he spied the house in question. Contruda indicated it was the residence of the male Human who took the female he seeked. Striding through the soft, loose dirt, the warrior lumbered toward the two-storied building.

  Lurga found it difficult walking with a shorter stride than he was used to. Stopping in front of the steps leading into the house, he scratched his chin, pondering. He didn't understand the language or customs of this Earth.

  How do I lure the Human outside, so I can communicate with him?

  Tipping his head back, he gave out a tremendous roar that would put a lion to shame. The glass panes that surrounded the house rattled in their frames.
>
  A few minutes later, a tall, obese man appeared behind the battered screen door, aiming a double-barreled shotgun at Lurga. "What ya want, bloke?"

  Lurga cocked his head, listening, as Contruda assimilated the unknown language, then relayed it back to him. He stepped up on the front porch and held out the picto cube showing the female Earthling.

  The man leaned forward, pressing his pudgy nose against the torn, dirty screen, and squinted at the picture. His eyes widened in surprise before he glared at Lurga. "If'n that's the girl I rescued on the beach, she ain't here no more. If'n you be wanting her, you's got to go to the Home. I gave her to the State since she was a bloody retard."

  The man scratched the scruffy, gray whiskers on his chin. "Don't know if'n they'd still have her though. It's been over six months, so they probably Farmed out the bloody retard. You'll need to ask them."

  Contruda processed everything the man said into Lurga's mind. He cleared his throat, trying to make the stiff, unfamiliar neck muscles and vocal cords work correctly. "Thra Hrom?" he managed to gurgle out.

  The man looked at him sideways, frowning. "No, you idiot, the Girl's Home up on the hill." He pushed the screen door open with the barrel of his shotgun and stopped when both barrels pressed against Lurga's chest. "Get off my porch, you bloody retard, afore I blow you off it."

  With lightning speed for a short, pudgy man, Lurga's arm shot out and snatched the weapon out of the unsuspecting man's grasp. In a low-pitched growl, the warrior squeezed the barrels closed, dropped the gun on the ground, and turned away. He shambled away, muttering, "Tra Hrom" to himself.

  From behind Lurga came the slam of the screen door and Alfred Fenley exclaiming, "Son of a bitch."

  Matron slumped back in the chair, frustrated and mad. When she called the meeting with Warden and Master to discuss her sister, she didn’t expect Warden to commandeer her cushioned chair. She glowered at Warden, squirming in discomfort as the narrow seat pinched her bulbous rear-end.