by Caleb Fast
After an eternity in silence, Franz calls out, “Done! Let’s serve up our hungry customers!”
Clive helps the Frazian set out all the food they had prepared for the 'hungry customers.’ He went about the mess hall, ladening the table with piles of food and utensils. Once everything was in place, Franz hobbles over to the entrance of the kitchen, and hitting a button an announcement sounds notifying everyone that the food was ready. Moments later a hungry crowd files in from all directions. The uniforms of guards, feed inmates, and crewmembers are scattered throughout the mess hall, and the clatter of dishes was complemented by the din of many creatures from across the galaxy enjoying themselves.
Eight
Allur System
Trix stands in awe as she watches stars at play just outside of the viewport. They had just come out of lightspeed, and she wanted to see the stars of a whole new night sky. She had only been in the Secoran system her whole life, excluding her time on Galatia. She had done a lot of travelling between the Secoran System’s planets, but that was it. Her homeworld, Secora Four, was a rugged planet, just far enough from Secora Prime that it had been poor, forgotten, and had fallen largely into ruin. The only perk -she had learned- of a forgotten planet, is that the underworld can thrive there, it was the underworld that kept the planet together, despite the overwhelming poverty.
She was twelve when she won her first Secoran boxing match and earned several hundred dollars from the bets made on the fight. She had been approached by the fight’s ringleaders and The Overseers, that was her first peek into the wealth of the underworld. They took her in, a child who had—prior to their confrontation—run by her own set rules. She had kept herself alive by begging and stealing everything she wanted to call hers. They had shown her love, but also that they would not be crossed. They taught her much of what she knew. She idly plays with a small fruit she had taken from the mess hall, remembering the first Alite-Charge she made, which had been about the same size. Savoring the memory of when Anthro, her favorite caretaker had taught her about explosives and how he had used them in his years with the Secoran Resistance to keep the Coalition at bay.
They had been the parents she never had, and the Coalition took them from her too. When the Coalition decided it was time to end the underworld activities on her planet. They had bombed every building with ties to her caretakers, the crime-lords of the sector. Her caretakers, The Overseers, had connections which spanned across the better portion of the city. They were nearly defenseless because they had been promised free reign of the planet. They had grown careless, expecting the Coalition to keep their word. They couldn't defend against the hundreds of Coalition fighters and bombers that rained death upon the city that night. When the first bomb hit, Trix had been handing out food to the kids of the Lake Sector, the poorest part of the city. Her caretakers had told her that the best way to have a planet under your control, was to do the small things.
Ruling with a stone fist caused uprisings. Ruling through service was how they kept the planet in order, and it was how she was going to rule when she took over. Trix remembered looking to her caretaker’s penthouse once the attack began and recalled seeing only a shell of a building collapsing in on itself as smoke billowed out. Her home had been the Coalition's first target in the city. Moments later, the horizon was ablaze as the otherwise calm skyline was razed. Trix had acted fast and taken the Lake Sector kids beyond the city limits, into the surrounding woods. They ran, behind them they heard a never-ending rain of bombs, leveling the city.
She and the kids had waited for countless hours after the bombing stopped to return to the edge of the city. After all, it was all they knew, they all needed to get back to it. Trix feels tears streaming down her face as she recalls what she saw at the forest’s edge. Bodies were strewn about, evidently cut down as they too tried to escape to the forest. When she approached the nearest body, she had thrown up. She may have been a kid raised on the streets, but nothing could prepare her for the blood, the smells, or the sheer amount of carnage all around her. Beyond the bodies was what had been a bustling city of a million people. People who had done whatever it took to survive over the years, many them had been her friends. They were a family not of blood relation, but of circumstance, and that brought them closer than blood ever could. All of that was reduced to a series of bombed out buildings, rubble, fire, and very few survivors.
She had taken the kids to a small group of survivors that had put together a camp amidst an old shell of a warehouse. There she left them as she raced about the city, searching for any of her caretakers.
She walked to the park just outside of her old home, where just a day ago she had played with the neighborhood families. Now it was a crater, collapsed buildings, and bodies burned beyond recognition, surrounded the once serene and playful park. There she had watched several survivors fighting for something they had found, one overpowered and killed the other, and took off. Carelessly they ran into a building that had managed to stand through the bombing. Moments later it too collapsed into a pile of rubble, accompanied with the screams of those inside. She had fallen to her knees, crying, because she knew that some of those who had just died had likely been her friends.
She had continued like that for days before a Coalition Peace Corp battalion built its headquarters on top of her old home. They didn’t clear away anything, they didn’t remove the bodies from the park just out front. They were numb to the pain that had just taken place. Numb to the suffering they had just caused. Numb to the dead that they were sleeping on top of. They had taken control of the city, and no one could stop them. They looted the camps of survivors, executing any and all that opposed them. That was when Trix knew it was time for her to do what she had been taught to do. She raised an army from the ashes, and they overthrew the Coalition garrison. Then they fled the planet in the Coalition transports they had commandeered from the base. They escaped to Secora Prime, knowing it was safer than staying, and they knew they could hide amidst the masses there.
Trix had eventually grown tired of the day to day evasion of Coalition troops and decided to kill a garrison commander. She snuck into the barracks on the one-year anniversary of destruction of her home, and she killed the man in charge of the local garrison. She escaped that time, but her taste for revenge wasn't satisfied, and that unquenchable thirst landed her on Galatia. Now she was back to escaping the Coalition’s grasp, once again with a group the Coalition wanted dead, and again defying their wishes.
“They are beautiful,” A voice she recognizes as Clive says behind her, startling her back to the present. Clive seems to have a knack for sneaking up on Tri when she’s admiring a view.
“I’ve never seen them from anywhere but my home system,” She says as strong as she can without looking at Clive, she didn't want him to know she had been crying.
Clive walks over to Trix’s left and says, “I used to imagine myself visiting every planet, doing what my dad did. I wanted to follow in the footsteps of the ‘great Martin Ranger’ be a hero. Saving lives, spreading peace to where there hadn't been for years. Then the Coalition, and some pirates took away that dream.”
Trix wipes her eyes, and asks, “How did they do that?”
“They killed him,” Clive says, his voice cracking as he fights off tears of his own, “Then they kicked us out of our house when they decided it was easier to take everything from an orphan and his caretaker than to care for them.”
“I’m sorry,” Trix apologizes, resting one hand on Clive's back, and the other on his hand. She had to admit that she was surprised that Clive’s father was in fact the ‘great Martin Ranger’ as Clive had just called him. That man truly was a hero, and a defender of people that the Coalition had swept under a rug. Trix eventually continues, “I remember my caretakers talking about your father and how he had helped them restore peace on my home planet. They held him in the highest regard.”
Clive looks over to her, noting that Trix had been crying, his tone of voice chan
ges to that of a caring friend. He asks, “What’s wrong, why were you crying?”
“I-I…” Trix stammers before she decides it was both useless to lie and that for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to lie to Clive, “I was looking at the stars, and I thought of my home. I was remembering how the Coalition took everything from me too.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Clive whispers before turning to look blankly into the stars, “So, what will you do when we get to Strehim?”
“I was thinking about finding a way to get back at the Coalition” Trix admits, then continuing with a forced laugh, “I have another chance to avenge my planet thanks to you. What are you going to do?”
“Nothing as noble. I was thinking about laying low on some obsolete world in the Alexandrian Republic. Set up some—"
“How could you just leave everyone after all of this?” She motions around the viewing room they were in, and continues, “Everyone here is willing to follow you. Die for you! Even the ones who don’t know you!”
“I am not hiding. I am laying low—"
“It’s the same thing.”
“No, it’s not, I—"
“You are running from a good cause.”
“I’m not running, they’ll be hunting me down!”
“They are going to be hunting all of us down! Besides, by laying low you give them a stationary target.”
Trix watches Clive, awaiting a facial queue to show her that she was getting through to him. She smiles to herself, realizing she may just kindle a revolutionary fire in Clive, provided she could get him to just listen to her. Clive was just the kind of person a rebellion needed as a poster boy. His family was well known because of his father's lasting legacy, and he had lost everything to the Coalition. He had also orchestrated the plan to escape the inescapable. Not to mention she the fact that she was falling for him, and by winning him over to her cause, she could be around him more.
“So, what can you do to help fight?” Clive asks, evidently giving up on the argument and walking to a Holo-Port. He sits down and quickly pulls up a series of files. He begins typing and looks at Trix expectantly.
“I can call in some assistance from some of my old contacts in the underworld,” Trix offers, following Clive to the Holo-Port, “Maybe some of my people from Secora can help.”
“Alright, I’ll call in some favors from a few of my people.”
Trix follows his stare, and intently watches as he types away. She takes a seat as he does what looks a lot like hacking when suddenly the Holo-Port is engulfed by a radiating a deep crimson. She stares as Clive apparently calls in several favors, and the port flashes with dozens of messages from Clive’s contacts. She tries to read any of his messages, but everything is encoded. It seems Clive was savvier than he initially let on. She nervously decides to ask, “What’s all this?”
“We call this ShadowLink. I put it together years back, after the Coalition began monitoring the normal communication channels. It’s got a lot of the Resistance leaders communicating, keeping each other up to date,” Clive reads over a few messages, then continues, “We’ve got a welcoming party on Allur, I set that up a while back. Shrapnel, the local leader is waiting for our arrival.”
“And you just happened to not mention all of this to me? Did you somehow forget you were involved in the Resistance?”
“You were interrupting me,” Clive protest with a smile, “Besides, it was amusing to see you argue.”
With a sigh, Trix stands and walks back to the window and watches as they approached Allur. She tries to peer through the almost golden cloud cover of the planet but couldn’t. What if it’s a trap? Trix thinks, imagining Coalition fighters ambushing them amidst the clouds. As soon as the thought crosses her mind, several ragtag starfighters pull alongside their freighter. She looks at the nearest one and sees the pilot in a yellow and black fighter lift the visor from his helmet and wave to her. Tentatively, she waves back, and then the fighter zooms away in a series of flips, the pilot showing off his skills.
“Storm!” Clive yells.
Trix jumps, startled by the outburst behind her. She turns and looks at Clive, who is talking into the comm-unit the Captain had given to him. She looks back at the circus of fighters outside, evidently this was the welcoming party.
“Long time no see my friend. How’s the family…” Clive continues behind her, “Great, great… Oh? Atta boy Storm! Well, I gotta go, see you on the surface. Ranger out.”
“Who was that?” Trix asks.
“That was Storm, he and I ran a smuggling ring in the Carlotta System a while back. His flying saved our skins more times than I can count.” Clive joins her at the viewport, he points out the yellow and black fighter, “That’s him. Don’t let him show off for you too much, he’s married.”
Trix remains silent, continuing to watch the show before her. In many ways, the fighters looked like they were in the middle of a dogfight, as they darted around, chasing one another. Smiling, Trix asks, “Is this the normal greeting party?”
“It is for me,” Clive nods with a smile. He continues with a laugh, “They love me here!”
“Why’s that?” Trix inquires, cocking her head. It seemed like Clive had a lot more to tell her about his involvement with the Resistance.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Clive replies mysteriously. Turning to face Trix, he asks, “So, where did you get that outfit?”
“Its from my homeworld,” Trix replies simply. If Clive wasn’t going to give her complete answers, she wouldn’t either.
“Was it in that box I gave you?” Clive asks.
“Yes,” Trix nods, “I never got to thank you for that,”
“No need,” Clive smiles warmly as he takes in Trix’s outfit once again. He is about to continue but stops suddenly as he raises his hand to his ear.
“What is it?” Trix inquires once Clive lowers his hand with a frown.
“They need me back on the bridge,” Clive answers.
“Go on then,” Trix instructs, “We can catch up later,”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Clive laughs before briskly leaving the room.
As suddenly as the fighters showed up, they vanish. And there’s that. Trix thinks as the Accolade begins its descent into the clouds. In a moment, her endless view of the galaxy is reduced to nothing but the cloud of gold, occasionally marred with a hint of red. Silently, she observes the striking colors.
After several minutes in the clouds, Trix gawks at the landscape below. She had expected lush rolling hills, majestic mountain, and a romantic landscape to complement the beautiful clouds, but what she was looking at was black, occasionally broken up with a streak of red. She saw pillars of smoke scattered across the horizon, like scars against the shining gold canopy. She watches the barren landscape race by beneath her. They pass over lakes of fire, factories, and the occasional wreckage of ships and other abandoned structures.
Discouraged, Trix considered about returning to her cabin when she suddenly sees on the horizon a blue dot, a blemish between the black and the gold. She rises to her tiptoes and studies the growing spot they are approaching. She watches as several towers pass by below, their massive guns trained on the freighter, following its every move. More and more detail comes into view and Trix sees that this dot was actually a megacity, encased in a startling blue dome. As she watches the glass bubble, she sees small ports open and close, allowing a whole manner of transports and starships out into the bleak landscape. The Accolade slows to a stop and begin its vertical descent to a landing platform below.
Nine
Antrix, Allur
Richardson hobbles along the passageways of the Accolade to its underbelly and ramp, excited to see a new planet. He had been on countless planets already, but the novelty of setting foot on a new planet still hadn’t run its course. Richardson staggers along past the commons, the kitchen, and every other room, his heart set on being the first one off the ship. His ears pound, and he feels his wounds
burn against their bandages, but his high threshold for pain allows him to race ahead. After his taxing trek to the communal area, he sits on a bench near the ramp, awaiting for it to open.
Seconds later, the freighter touches down onto the city's exterior landing pad. How do these people land this hulking hunk of metal so gracefully? He wonders, in awe of the skill of the pilots. Moments later the ramp opens and descends, the overwhelmingly dry heat of the planet hits him, and he stumbles as he makes for the ramp. He carefully works his way down the incline and there he sees the dome in all its splendor. A solid, startling blue, unblemished, despite the extreme weather it endures. He lowers his eyes to the landing platform and sees several armed guards and three important looking people, awaiting the passengers to disembark.
“You must be Major Richardson,” The one on the right says, acknowledging him with a salute, “I’m the one called Gambitt. A pleasure.”
Richardson gives a slight wave, after a dry wheeze that was his attempt at saying “Thank you,” The heat had dried his throat to the point that he couldn’t speak.
“Here you go, sir,” A guard says, quickly approaching. Handing him a canteen of water, he continues, “Trust me, it’s cooler inside.”
Richardson nods his thanks before downing the water, he is then escorted to the entrance of Antrix. Shortly after, he is in a cool airlock between the city and the scorching outside, he is joined by his fifteen guards. Once together, the man named Gambitt joins them.
This is just one of our landing pad entrances,” He starts as he taps on a keypad next to the door leading to the city, the door promptly slides open, and he continues, “Welcome to Antrix.”