Canaan

by David Salvi

  Chris looked back down at Canaanite City after Lavik brushed the conversation aside. A few workers on the outskirts of the city doing whatever they were forced to do. Arch Canaanites in the tower presiding over their laborers, which were more like slaves. It was an existence. Like water, it was planets away, yet the same.

  Lined along a ridge in the hills were the companies of Motus, armed and ready for battle. They murmured to one another as motivation. Some of it worked. Some of it was artificial, like courage. In the middle of their congregation and at the ready was Riley, snarling and full of bloodlust. Chris and Lavik’s company was to her right. She separated a sect of her company into a special forces group that would carry out the sabotage on the Canaanite military base. The other company was brute force. They brought the pain at the end in order to drive Canaanite forces into submission. No real strategy to their force, just beat the hell out of the opposition when they come our way. No mercy.

  Chris often thought the attitude among the companies of soldiers was bizarre. For an intellectual, liberating group of seemingly patriots for Canaan’s true self, the Motus fighters were ready for war. Avenging something or saving someone. It did not matter. They wanted to engage in hand-to-hand combat like a deep primitive desire had erupted within them. Now was no different. They seethed for more in fact. Two hundred and fifty years after interstellar travel, the most innovative human act, and thousands of years of evolution prior to that travel, human beings were where they always were—in the middle of feuds and looking for someone to fight. And how was he different?

  Canaanite City rested peacefully, but Chris knew the guardians of his former city were not going to stop fighting until their lives were taken from them. They did not give willingly, like most things with Canaanite City.

  Chris took a sighing breath.

  And that’s when Riley made the call. Her force advanced into the forest at the base of Herod Hills, right before the gardens and groves. They moved swiftly, swifter than Chris realized.

  Chris then turned to see Lavik mouthing seconds, counting in his head. After he hit the right mark, their group would follow Riley’s smaller covert force.

  Then, the remainder or Riley’s army passed through the trees.

  Lavik made the call. Beside him was Chris. Behind him was a host of Motus fighters ready. He winked at Chris and drew his weapon, a launcher that hurled fist-sized bullets like a cannon. It was electric and quiet.

  Chris was ready. He followed with anticipation.

  Their company passed through the gardens. Their boots made crunch noises atop crops. That bothered Chris, but he shrugged off the annoyance by keeping his head up. Most of the garden workers were knocked out. Some chemical formation Brody had concocted to keep any innocent civilians out of harm’s way. They’d inhale the toxin and pass out for a matter of hours. Brody said the only side effect was the victim’s bladder, which dispensed shortly after inhalation. And there was a musty smell after passing gardeners and pickers. Cost of war for them.

  After several minutes of stealthy marching, Lavik’s company reached the end of the gardens. Here was when they were supposed to wait for a signal. Riley told Lavik the signal would be loud. And big.

  Crouching down by the garden’s fencing, the company waited and chit chatted about the vegetation they encountered on their stroll. Some they hadn’t seen before.

  Then the explosion happened. A hot, large flame spit wood and stone everywhere in a wide radius around the military base, not far from where Lavik and Chris stood. And another and another.

  A shockwave of energy went through all of the soldiers. Chris felt it too. It was fear.

  Chris looked back at the company to see shocked faces. He looked at Lavik and said, “Time to go?”

  “Time to go,” Lavik said to Chris. He propped up from his crouch and shouted at the top of his lungs to move forward.

  Their directive was the tower, which was straight ahead in its shining glory with dark black smoke. The plumes of smoke, however, did not reach the uppermost spire. The wind had pushed it into the city, clouding the town and harassing people’s lungs.

  Onward, the company went in a fit of rampage and energy. They yelled for Motus. They yelled for freedom. They yelled for the true words of Oscar Marian to be spoken, even quoting the brilliant founder of Canaan, though no one listened. Glory was within their grasp, and they felt that each passing step gave them more energy as Canaanite City’s structures came closer and closer into reach and view.

  Chris ran the fastest and reached the inner edge of Canaanite City to find screaming Canaanites. They coughed and struggled to stay on their feet. Many were huddled in corners trying to find a bit of decent air to breathe.

  Then Chris saw something as he and the company stretched farther into the city. It was bad. Really bad.

  The military base was near, but the explosions weren’t coming from the base as Riley had planned. Smoke and fire came from the base of the tower.

  That’s when Chris noticed the bodies on the ground. Dozens of dead bodies. And they were not just Canaanites. Motus warriors, slain and dead.

  So much for freedom.

  Chris wondered, where was Riley?

  CHAPTER 16

  LAVIK MADE HIS WAY TO CHRIS, only to find his young friend mortified by the scene before him. Men and women they were with only an hour ago were laying dead on the ground with blood spilled around their bodies. Witnessing a death scene was never easy, no matter the number of those deceased.

  The rest of the company caught up and found the same horrific scene. Death and defeat all around them. Motus and Canaanites alike, dead or near dead.

  Against a wood panel wall of a demolished building was Wallock. Blood oozed out of his belly. He winced trying to repair his unrepairable wound. Yet he was determined. Chris ran over to him.

  “Wallock!”

  Wallock’s eyes bobbed up with his head. Upon seeing Chris he smiled, but then immediately drew a face of worry. His speech struggled coming out, but he said, “Sir Christopher. They…knew we were coming. It was an ambush. Explosions all around. Gas bombs and smoke everywhere.”

  Chris knelt down beside Wallock and held his one free hand. The other helped Wallock with the unstoppable wound of blood. A river of blood spewed and cascaded down Chris’s hand. He didn’t care. He looked into Wallock’s eyes.

  “They’ve been watching us this whole time,” Wallock said. Each word was a struggle.

  “What happened to Riley?” Chris said. Sweat, as it always did because of the humidity on Canaan, streaked down his face. A few drops touched his lips and he tasted a shot of saltiness in his mouth.

  “She ran.” Wallock barely could speak any more. He wanted to, but his body’s energy was focused on dying with dignity and grace. In the field of battle like the old Greek stories.

  “Ran where? Where’d she go?” Chris was calm in his questions, but squeezed Wallock’s hand tighter as if tell him how earnest he was.

  “I wish I did more for you…to protect you…please, finish what you started…” A few more weak breaths.

  “Wallock!”

  “Sir Chris,” he said. One last smile, albeit a weak smile. What was a firm squeeze on Chris’s hand had ceased to be. It had become lifeless and flaccid. Then his eyes spun backward, and his head dip forward into Chris’s shoulder. Chris tilted his sideways to embrace his compatriot.

  Tears streaked down Chris’s face along with the sweat. These were tears of anger, conceived in sadness and nurtured by his own determination. A flood of thoughts filled his head. His mother. His mission. Riley. Olivia. Escape. No, mission. He must go now, or all else will fail.

  Finish what I started. Does he know? Chris thought.

  Around him, the war had officially started. And they were losing.

  ***

  Chris placed Wallock’s hand softly on his lap. He got up and saw the rest of his company at the ready for battle, but disheartened so early in the fight. Ash, fire, and smoke b
illowed all around them. More explosions at every side. The company jumped, but Chris was hardened. Another death of a friend. How many more could he take?

  Lavik approached from the middle of the group and said, “I’m sorry, my friend.” He placed his shoulder on Chris, who was paralyzed by Wallock’s departure from this world.

  A thrush of boots crunched the graveled ground of Canaanite City. First from the front, then from behind the company. On either side were walls of fire gaining heat and intensity. Through the waves of smoke, Military Force officers marched through like hounds from hell, fully armored, more than Chris had ever seen, like heavy suits of Medieval armor he saw in history books in the Library. They had stunners, but also guns, which were black oxide with long snouts. Surely they fired black metallic projectiles like the ones on bi-copters.

  From behind, the scene was the same. More Military Force officers with stunners and guns. All of their boots stopped in unison, yards away from their prey. Hundreds of men, large and dominant breeds of human, staunchly built like walls.

  Chris, Lavik, and their company were surrounded. They drew their guns in defense, but everyone’s arms shook in fear.

  The Lioness came into view through the fog.

  “The famous Christopher Menas. You’ve been one bad boy.” She eyed Chris through the haze with savage eyes. “And look, you now have a few friends. That’s a first.”

  Chris held his snarl back. “Yeah, well, you’re a bitch.” The only quick insult that came to mind. Lavik actually laughed amidst the present danger.

  The Lioness marched forward and grabbed Chris by the collar. She tugged him closely and spoke through gritted teeth, “This bitch would have your entrails hanging on display for all eternity, you scum.”

  “I’ll take it from here, Commander,” shouted a voice from behind the brutes.

  A familiar face squeezed through the middle of the pack like a little brother jostling for a spot on the team.

  Jack.

  He was decorated like a military hero with medals and a military insignia on his shoulder. One particular symbol, a black falcon with outstretched talons, was on his right chest. It meant one thing in Canaanite City, and it made people fear you.

  “Sold your soul, eh, Chris?” Jack shouted. He had a cocky smile to go along with his snide comment.

  “I could say the same. From carpenter to Arch Canaanite. Quite the rise for a coward on a mountaintop,” Chris said back.

  “Watch your mouth, my old buddy. You’re lucky you aren’t dead yet.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  “The drive. Where is it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t play stupid with me, Chris. You were always the smart one, remember that. The drive. Your mom stole the plans and erased the files on the mainframe. We need that information back.”

  “What? You didn’t make copies?”

  “We don’t have access.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “I’ll kill her, Chris. Don’t test me.”

  “What do you want the drive for?”

  Jack said, “Let’s just say we’re going to make your dream a reality.”

  “It’s impossible.”

  Jack continued, “No, it’s not, buddy. It’s very possible.”

  “What do the Canaanites care?”

  Jack erected his body in this proud moment of explanation. “It was my idea really. Interstellar travel. Planet by planet control and domination. It would be the inception of planetary imperialism. Would we get there tomorrow? Or even in decades? No, but this is what the worlds will talk about for ages. Our dominion over solar systems and the galaxy. There are bound to be more Earths and Canaans waiting to be harvested and colonized. When I suggested it to the Arch Canaanites, they made me in charge of hunting down what was necessary. That’s when I got my Arch Canaanite status. You should have seen the ceremony, my friend…” Jack’s face and mind wandered off to that day he was tagged as an Arch Canaanite in front of the city. With all appointments, they are given unfiltered access to the tower, special privileges over citizens, and control over their own departments or assignments. Jack’s was the Canaan Imperialization Project, or CIP.

  “You only care about your own ambitions. At any cost. Or anyone else’s,” Chris said.

  “Is it any different than Oscar Marian? A man with wild conviction is better than a man with sheepish intelligence.”

  Lavik spoke up, “Never speak about Oscar Marian that way. You are nothing like him.”

  “This doesn’t concern you, private,” Jack said.

  “Lieutenant,” Lavik shot back in a deep voice, annunciating each syllable.

  “Whatever,” Jack said. He then turned to Chris. “Now, are you going to play nice? Or do I have to resort to Plan B?”

  “What’s Plan B?” Chris asked with wide eyes.

  Jack snapped his fingers and the Lioness yanked something from behind the line of Canaanite infantry, dragging a captive into view. In her one hand, bound by cold, black oxide shackles, was Riley. In the other was a knife that then pressed against Riley’s throat. Smudges of dirt and ash littered her body. Sweat dampened her clothes. Her red hair was messed and frazzled, parts of it frayed and crisped from the blasts.

  “You bastard.” Chris said while looking into Riley’s eyes. Tears streamed down her face.

  “Don’t be uncivil. Simple trade. The drive for her.”

  “You’ll kill us no matter what.”

  “Do I look that ruthless?” Jack said with a cocked eyebrow.

  Yes, you do, Chris thought. You’re a douchebag.

  Instead of answering, Chris diverted, “I don’t have it on me. It’s in a safe place. Release her and I’ll take you there.”

  Riley said, “Chris, no! Don’t worry about me. Get the men out of here.” Her captor tightened her grip and brought her closer. The fine edge of the blade nearly pierced her neck. She shut her eyes and expected to feel warm blood stream down her neck and chest. But it didn’t happen.

  “I’m the only one who knows where it is. Release her, and take me instead.” Chris held out his arms in surrender. “Do what you want with me after. Just let my soldiers out of here. You get your glory.”

  Jack puckered at the sentiment. He said, “Aw, look at that. Chris, my old friend, you’re a fool. Make the call.”

  The Lioness shouted to take aim.

  Collectively the Military Forces’ guns raised and cocked, ready for fire.

  Every soldier in Lavik’s company closed their eyes and held each other closer as means to feel a bit more secure before their ultimate demise.

  A few seconds passed. They waited for the Lioness call, but she hesitated. Some disturbance in the distance.

  Then a cacophony of shouting voices reverberated amidst the crackling inferno, growing louder with each second. Stampeding forward was Timothy, the commander of the third company, and his band of rebels. Gas bombs hissed through the air, and clouds surrounded the masses of people. Most of the Motus soldiers ducked for cover as the Military Forces fired aimlessly into the crowd.

  Clouds of gas teared people’s eyes and debilitated their senses. Chris, however, ripped a piece of his shirt and covered his mouth. He sprinted at Jack.

  Riley, free from the Lioness, knelt to the graveled floor. Bits of rock and pebbles stuck to her knee and shin as she twisted to find her bearings. Only feet away she saw Chris tackle Jack. Behind her, she saw Lavik wrestle with the one who had held her at knife point, the Lioness.

  At the rear, Timothy’s company had trampled the Military Forces, freeing Motus’s escape.

  “You’re coming with me, buddy,” Chris said as he pinned Jack to the gravel. Jack shouted expletives in the air that Chris ignored.

  Lavik found the key for Riley’s shackles on the Lioness’s utility belt, and freed her from the temporary restraint. Riley rubbed her wrists and hands in relief.

  “You get into all kinds of trouble
when you come here, huh?” Lavik said. He embraced her. They locked eyes and smiled, happy to be safe for the moment.

  “Causing trouble is my forte,” Riley said. She winked at Lavik and headed over to Chris, who had kept Jack pinned.

  Lavik followed and placed the shackles on Jack’s wrists. He then pulled Jack’s radio from his black belt and turned up the chatter. A host of Military Forces were en route to their position. Every last one.

  Timothy’s company had scoured the rest of their small area, eliminating any immediate threat with his overwhelming force. He approached the trio of Motus heroes.

  “Captain. Lavik. Menas. Pleasure.”

  “All ours. You saved our butts, Timmy,” Lavik said. He walked over and shook Timothy’s hand. “But right now, everything they got is coming here.”

  Riley said, “Right. Call the retreat.”

  Lavik spun in confusion, “What?!”

  “We won’t have another chance at this, Captain,” Timothy said.

  “He’s right. It’s now or never,” Chris remarked. He glanced over to see a towering white monolith.

  “Exactly,” Timothy said.

  Chris’s head spun back to Timothy with surprise, but he appreciated the vote of confidence and showed by nodding in his direction. Timothy nodded back.

  Riley looked south toward the tower, then back north to the gardens. She paced back and forth, more than the others may have wished given their time. They leaned in as she readied her decision.

  “Call the retreat. Timothy, lead every last soldier out of here and to Herod Hills. Follow the retreat route as we planned. All that matters is our soldiers. Keep moving. Hold them off when necessary. Don’t worry about us,” Riley commanded.

  Timothy’s face lifted in surprise, but nodded to acknowledge the order. He relayed the message to the troops in the area. Time to go. Many marched with hesitation. They looked back at Captain Riley and waited for her to change her mind.

  Lavik said to Riley, “You don’t want to go with them?”

  Riley said, “No, because we got to get Chris into that tower.”