Beyond Antares Dimensional Gates

by Edited by Brandon Rospond

  Tzar nodded in approval at Kraxis's handiwork. Kraxis knew the savage had doubted his ability to restore power. In truth, so had he; it was the kind of work that was usually beneath one of his standing.

  The Mhagris saw the discarded medical injectors. Kraxis followed his gaze. “I needed them,” he said. “My leg was giving way.”

  Tzar grunted, shaking his head. “The girl could have benefited from some meds.”

  Kraxis bristled at the insolence. “I am a prince! Maybe sole heir to the vardos. I need to make it back, or our people may be lost.”

  “Then why not just leave her outside to die, as I suggested?”

  “Because I am not a savage,” Kraxis glared at the Mhagris with added emphasis on the last word.

  Tzar shook his head and snorted as he placed the girl gently on one of the deceleration couches that were in the room. Kraxis glanced once from the console he was typing on as the Mhagris turned around. Tzar looked as if he was trying to understand what Kraxis was doing, but no doubt he hadn’t the slightest inkling.

  “Okay, the core’s leaking so we can’t stay here long - it’s going to overheat and blow up. The good news is that the ship’s transmat is showing as operational.”

  “I sense a ‘but’ coming on….” Tzar said, rubbing his beard in thought.

  “Well, the transmat’s near the aft end of the ship, and there are quite a few doors that will slow our progress. Trouble is, there’s a lot of damage in these areas,” he said, pointing to several sections on the fuzzy display.

  Tzar cracked his knuckles, no doubt relishing the idea of breaking open doors.

  “We won’t make it though,” Kraxis announced.

  “Why?”

  The Vardosi prince laughed bitterly. “Because, my savage friend, the core will detonate before we even get halfway there - it’s leaking coolant at an alarming rate. And if that doesn't kill us, long range scans show a horde of Ghar heading this way. They must have detected the core powering up again.” He said, pointing to another screen.

  “How many?” Tzar asked, unslinging his rifle and checking the ammo readout.

  “Erm…. all of them, it would seem.”

  * * * *

  Kraxis ran. He ran like an army was after him. Because it was. Behind him, carrying Lexi’s unconscious form slung over his shoulder, came Tzar charging down the corridor.

  “Where are we going?” Tzar yelled, for what felt like the hundredth time, but there was no time for Kraxis to explain. The simple fact was there were far too many doors between them and their objective. If they could get out on to the hull, then somehow back in, they may just make it before this thing detonated or the Ghar arrived.

  Eventually, breathing heavily, they reached the top deck. There were no weak spots here. The hull had to be naturally strong to withstand incoming ordinance, but Kraxis, having lived on such a ship his whole life, soon found an access point. He’d never personally used one; jobs such as routine maintenance on a vessel like this were beneath him. He hit a lever. The hatch groaned as it yawned open, then stuck halfway. He cursed under his breath, but it was easy enough, even with Lexi in Tzar’s arms, for the trio to slip through.

  The light was jarring as they appeared out on the hull, dazzling them as it shone off its metallic surface. It was like standing on some vast building with an uneven rooftop. The hull leaned toward them as the decks did below. Over the vast surface fell the shadow of the bridge that loomed several stories above them like a giant tower. Shading his eyes, Kraxis looked up, wondering if his brother had been on the bridge when the ship had gone down, as a captain should be. He would have liked to have retrieved his brother’s body, but there was no time. He guessed being incinerated was the next best thing.

  “What’s that?” Tzar barked, gesturing with a thrust of his chin.

  Kraxis couldn't at first answer; little black dots were moving all around on the horizon like angry insects, remarkably fast. Within a few heartbeats they had gained a lot of ground.

  “Flitters,” Lexi, having stirred for the first time, identified them. They were small robot-like devices used by the Ghar. A series of cameras, all housed in between insect-looking metal wings. Like an angry swarm, they gathered pace at an alarming rate. Before long, they buzzed around the trio, shifting position wildly.

  Lexi pulled her pistol from a holster at her hip and started shooting at the little Flitters. The insect-like robots were incredibly agile, shifting at random, making them hard to target. Still, after five shots she sent one tumbling down. It hit the hull with a clang about a yan to the right of them and slid along its length. The others continued buzzing around them.

  “Ignore them!” Kraxis urged, beginning to jog as best as he could toward their destination.

  True, the Flitters were harmless, carrying no weaponry themselves, but they were scouts, beaming the images back to other Ghar in the area. There were a series of green flashes on the distant horizon and, slowly, shots arced from a vast distance away toward their position. They took a full ten seconds to reach them, showering down on the hull, tearing up pieces of metal around them. It was as they neared the shadow of the bridge that Tzar shouted out, tumbling to the ground. He dropped Lexi, who punctuated his deep cry with a higher pitched scream of her own as she hit the deck and rolled. Kraxis skidded to a halt, turning to see Tzar had been hit in the leg; nothing serious, but from that far away the Ghar had somehow managed a glancing shot. The Mhagris pointed up at the towering bridge, and just in time, Kraxis saw the diminutive figures scampering around up there.

  More shots rained down on the trio and caught Lexi in the leg. She howled in agony as it tore through the flesh. The rest of the shots spattered against the hull, blackening it in the places it hit. Tzar had freed his mag gun, despite his wounds, and was returning fire. Kraxis shouldered his own plasma gun, zoomed his targeter with several quick blinks, and picked off one of the snipers. Its small form tumbled slowly from the bridge window to make a loud thump as it crashed onto the hull surface.

  “Get us the hell out of here or we’re dead,” yelled Tzar, firing wildly to suppress the enemy.

  Kraxis frantically looked about himself. There was no door, but looking back from where they had come he could see a hole where the last barrage had smashed into the already weakened hull.

  “I’m sorry,” Kraxis said as he slung his rifle. He ran and grabbed both Lexi and then the heavier form of Tzar by the ragged remains of their cloaks, pulling them on their backs toward the hole. His leg screamed in agony, but he gritted his teeth against the pain.

  “Shoot girl!” Tzar ordered Lexi, who was cradling her stomach in agony as Kraxis yanked them along. Tears of pain streamed her face as her stomach wound was torn open by being pulled about, but she responded to her intense drilling and training and, as commanded, she too shot back up at the bridge. The next salvo of long range shots hit the deck just behind them. They made it to the hole and tumbled into the darkness.

  * * * *

  Lexi was the first to come to her senses, the jarring pain in her side making her more alert. Blood had spilled from her chin; she was bleeding internally and she began to make peace with the fact that she would die here. She had once been recognized not only as an excellent warrior but as a beauty with a great future ahead of her within the household guard. After only a handful of battles, here she lay - bloodied, battered, and broken. Such talent wasted. Looking about the dimness, there was only one light flickering overhead; the hole above them, through which they had fallen, let in a dusty shaft of light. Then something cast a shadow and she heard the whirring of a Flitter drone. Without thinking, she raised her pistol and fired. Boxed in by the tight constraints of the rent, it was unable to maneuver and crashed from the shot. This stirred the Mhagris..

  “Do you mind?” He grumbled, pushing the wrecked machinery off where he lay, rubbing his head.

  “We need to move,” Kraxis said, standing and staggering on his wounded leg.

  “I don’t
know if I can,” Lexi moaned.

  Tzar grunted. He stumbled as he stood, the wounded leg almost giving way. “You must or you die here alone.”

  Tzar turned and limped after the Vardosi prince. They all stumbled many times as they fought both pain and fatigue. More than once, Lexi stopped. She told herself there was no point; they wouldn't make it in time, all this pain was for nothing. It would be easier, less painful, to give up now. She also considered using her pistol on herself and escaping the pain altogether. Something inside her stopped her. She hated seeing this weakness in herself; gritting her teeth, holding her stomach wound, and balancing her free hand against the corridor walls, she followed the two men. Lexi’s hands were slick with her own blood, and she fought to keep upright and moving. They seemed to walk for ages. She was sure any moment it would all go white as the reactor went up, but it didn’t. She heard many more doors being forced, no doubt by Kraxis far ahead. She realized that she was more afraid of being left alone to face the end again, like she had been when staked outside the wreck, than any other fate.

  By the time Lexi caught up with the two men, they were in a wide white room, the transmat occupying the center of the rounded room.

  “Get on,” commanded Kraxis at a console on an elevated section behind the transmat.

  Lexi could see that Tzar was already sitting on the slightly raised circle. She staggered toward him.

  “There’s a ship in orbit showing as friendly. I’m sending us there.” Kraxis announced, hobbling over to join them. He only just made his way to the ‘mat himself before it activated.

  Lexi had only traveled by transmat a total of five times in her short life fighting for her vardos. She was considered relatively unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Although she had been recognized as possessing extraordinary potential, she was less than a quarter century old, so she had few reasons to leave her ship where she served. She had spent most of her life on board Temptress. So it was, as it had been the first time she had traveled in this way, unnerving for her. She felt as if she was slipping, tumbling, backward through the floor whilst at the same time moving upward. It was as if all her senses rebelled against this very form of travel. She felt disconnected from her own body but aware of her speeding heart rate. She saw nothing, an absence of anything, until they appeared at their destination.

  * * * *

  As the Vardosi vanished, The Temptress’s hull rippled, before it began to glow from every seam. This light expanded in a flash that disintegrated everything, as a chain of explosions tore her apart. As these pieces were flung from her they were caught up by the wave of the reactor’s containment field exploding and were vaporized. All the Ghar rushing toward her were staggered by the sudden intensity of the blast. The explosion burned all the air within reach, causing a sudden strong pull toward her as the vacuum was filled, before the explosion then blasted out from the epicenter once more. Any nearby Ghar were instantly vaporized. Even those a few miles out were left burnt and wounded. The sand in the surrounding area was heated to such an extreme temperature, it turned to molten glass. Only the bridge survived slightly intact - it was blown sky-high, detaching from the rest of the hulk. It, too, was caught in the second explosion as gravity reasserted itself and pulled it back down to the planet’s surface, to be buffeted horizontally away from the main explosion as if it weighed nothing, rather than hundreds of tons. Charred black remains were all that was left of Temptress, coming to rest on top of several Ghar, as if the ship itself defiantly fought back in its final death throes.

  * * * *

  Armed guards circled the trio, who all materialized in pathetic heaps on the floor.

  “Survivors from Temptress,” someone announced. “Inform the commander and get medical teams in here now.”

  Kraxis could feel someone sit him upright. The room, as it began to come into focus, was much like the one they had just left. Unlike the wreck, this ship’s walls were richly decorated in fine white silks with the walls painted with the emblem of their vardos; the Kreeto Trading guild in bold upon an image of an open hand with a form of antiquated currency within it, and another with a knife in black, all against a red circle. The pristine white walls behind it seemed so bright to his eyes.

  “T-The prince!” The guard gaped upon realizing who Kraxis was.

  He nodded, confirming the guard’s suspicions. “Yes, help me stand.”

  The guard did as he was commanded and helped steady him; Kraxis glanced at Lexi, who was unconscious. A team of personnel were attending to her. “Will she live?”

  One of the men looked up and responded in the affirmative. Kraxis turned his attention to Tzar, who was all but growling at the medi-drone trying to tend to his wounded leg. Kraxis realized he needn't ask about Tzar. He was shocked to find he was glad the savage had made it; he had been useful and showed great survival instincts. He was an asset to the vardos.

  “Sir, can I get you anything?” Asked the trooper who supported him.

  “You can actually. Get me something strong to drink,” he said, laughing.

  * * * *

  Kraxis felt he had slept like the dead. After shedding his armor and getting clean, he’d then eaten and hadn't remembered falling asleep. He awoke, the silk sheets wrapping his naked body. It felt pleasant, but alien to him after the time spent on the desert world sleeping only in his sand filled gear. He saw that an attendant had entered whilst he slept and left out fresh clothes and cloak; the vardanari quickly rose and dressed himself. He stood in front of the mirror wall to admire his new armor, fashioned to the highest of standards. His room was plushly decorated with the finest furnishings, but it was surprisingly sparse. It had none of the personal affects he had lost on his own downed vessel. He’d miss some of the trophies he had collected through his numerous victories. Some were antiques and irreplaceable. There was a chime at the door which stirred him from his reverie.

  “Come,” he ordered.

  A smart attendant, one of the many household guards, entered. She bowed before speaking.

  “My prince, the Vard has asked to see you now, if you are rested.”

  “Lead the way,” he instructed, following her out of the door. He knew the way. He had been on his Vard’s flagship, The Hard Barter, before.

  Eventually they reached the doors to what other species would call a throne room. The Vard was responsible for the path of everyone; they decided on trade and the general direction of their people. They were a grand commander in charge of its military and a chief executive of trade.

  The attendant stepped to one side, smiling warmly as he passed. Worth future pursuit, that one, Kraxis noted as the doors opened to admit him.

  Inside the chamber was a high ceiling, which helped dissipate some of the noise and commotion as many of the Vardosi present spoke. No doubt discussing the war with the Ghar in this sector, trade in general, or other petty disputes among themselves. At the far end, opposite the doors, was a dais on which sat a figure on her throne, wearing ornate crimson armor. In between was a sea of the people of the Kreeto Trading Guild. All were similarly attired, but none to such an exquisite standard. All with different designs based on personal wealth, influence, and standing; but all uniform in color designating their allegiance to their leader. Over their heads a few drones hovered as a security measure. Not that it was needed. There were enough weapons in this small room to equip an army. As his presence was noted, the conversation died down to a babble, then to hushed whispers, and the crowd split in two without order to create a path toward the dais for him.

  Kraxis looked up to see the head of his vardos had stood and was flanked by two vardanari bodyguards. She beckoned to him with a wave of her arm, her ornate helmeted head tilted to regard him. Kraxis knew it mirrored her face beneath. She was still beautiful despite her advancing years and, like her helmet, she too barely showed any outward expression, staying passive. But he also knew under that stoic exterior she was a fiery and driven woman.

  Kraxis walked
toward his leader, feeling all eyes upon him as he did so. When he reached the bottom of the dais, he knelt in respect. Without hesitating, she waved him to stand, obviously not wishing him to debase himself in front of her.

  “Another of our own who was cowardly attacked by the Ghar has returned to us - we should rejoice!” Kreeto’s voice seemed calm, young, and vibrant, and carried to all in the room. “Kraxis, I take it you have heard that your older brother is thought lost to us?”

  He nodded sadly; he was aware that he was on public display, but he did not want to show weakness. He had, after all, found half of his brother’s ship, so the likelihood of recovering the bodily remains was close to impossible and not a priority. At least the filthy Ghar would not be able to desecrate it further.

  “His loss will be felt most keenly. That’s why I promote you to doma of another battleship in his name. The replacement vessel will be arriving in our system any time now.”

  Kraxis was shocked. He thought, if anything, he would get a dressing down for having blown up the remains of Temptress. She could have had some of her worth salvaged once the Ghar were pushed back. But, in retrospect, as sole heir, he realized his mother would not wish to weaken his position.

  “Th-Thank you,” he managed to stutter out.

  There was some polite clapping from those around him; no doubt others were envious of the favor she had just shown him.

  “Leave us,” she commanded all in the chamber. Kraxis went to turn for the exit, wanting to escape her stare and let the news sink in. Being given his own command was a rare honor. One that his favored brother had received his whole life. Kraxis too had enjoyed privilege, but had served on a much smaller vessel, and only as second-in-command, under someone more experienced.