Hypernova Series: Worlds At war

by Paris Cavanah

  "Good game."

  My congratulations are cut short by her all-to-familiar pout.

  She pumps her fists in determination.

  "Let's go again!"

  Our second match fires up. Intensity lingers between the two of us. The game ends. My side claims me as the winner.

  "Aw...man."

  Naki’s shoulders droop in disappointment. She catches my astounded stare, perking back up instantly.

  "Er, I mean. Not a big deal. That was fun."

  "Don't tell me." I say behind a big-toothed smile.

  "Are you a sore-loser too?"

  We burst out into laughter, her head nodding up and down.

  "Sorry!" she shrugs. "On my planet, females have to fight harder than males to get ahead in life. I guess that made me ultra-competitive."

  Her smile slowly changes to a frown, as if the information was a slip of the tongue.

  “It’s not so different on Earth.” I assure her.

  Noises from nearby catch our attention.

  We spot Kisoi and Ron who have just started competing with each other at a nearby shooting “gallery”. Simulated guns strongly resembling our Plasma pistols are gripped tight in their hands. Intrigued, the losers’ club swarms around them. Taking my place behind Ron's shoulder, I attempt to psych him out with a playful jab.

  "I think you're holding the gun wrong."

  Ron misses a red circular target. Meanwhile, Kisoi nails multiple bullseyes. The timer goes off, my brother has been defeated and is clearly surprised.

  "What?! I'm a rank above you Kisoi! Since when are you a pro-marksman?"

  Kisoi's blue skin seems to flush.

  "I've had lots of practice."

  At that moment, the Arcade door swooshes open. A deafening voice shatters the moment.

  "What is going on here!?"

  The others spin. Aver Bronze, Woya, fills the doorway. He's a Kinquit. A giant lizard-like alien covered head to toe with armoured scales and sporting bulbous muscles. His snout scrunches, flashing us a set of sharp fangs behind a large red tongue. Woya's imposing presence is amplified by the fact he's matching height with Miv.

  "The six of you are violating curfew!"

  My mouth clamps shut, turning to stare at Ron for guidance. He's the same rank as Woya, surely his status will keep us out of trouble?

  The atmosphere in the room turns from warm and welcoming to tense. Woya storms towards us and I stumble into Miv, who similarly bumps into Naki and Kisoi.

  Ron shields us with his body, going nose-to-snout with the monstrous Kinquit.

  "I convinced them, Woya."

  Ron's upper lip curls.

  "Thought they deserved to have fun. Just leave them alone."

  Woya snarls in response.

  "Spare me, human. You and your brother are trouble-makers!" he says venomously.

  My back tenses. I step away from the group and go to Ron's side. Ignoring the menacing whispers, my shoulder brushes Ron’s, causing him to stare at me anxiously. Gravel rises in my throat.

  "We wanted to spend time together." I cross my arms. "What's wrong with that?!"

  This isn't the first time Woya has hassled me for being a human. It seems the aversion towards us is deeply rooted. Despite my determination, Woya's response silences me.

  "Do you have any idea who you are talking to, ignorant boy? I am an Aver Bronze First-Class!"

  Woya looks at Ron, his black eyes betraying his anger.

  "These are soldiers, they need discipline. You should be enforcing these ideals. You're an Aver as well, not an infant!"

  I pivot towards the losers’ club aiming for support, but they remain stiff and afraid.

  Why won't they fight back?

  I turn back to Woya. He puts weight on his hind legs, placing distance between us.

  "Enough!" Ron lashes out.

  Woya recoils in surprise. I've never heard Ron raise his voice; it's unnerving.

  "They'll return to their quarters."

  Ron's eyes slide in my direction as if I'm going to put up another fight. It's tempting.

  "Good." Woya snaps.

  But Ron isn’t finished.

  "Bring your issues up with Ulmu in the morning. For now, leave us alone. You've made your point."

  My brother turns his back on Woya to address us.

  "Alright cool-squad, off ya' go!"

  He winks but behind his sparkling gaze are pools of concern. The Losers’ Club begins filing past us into the hall, each glancing at us in turn while avoiding Woya's piercing glare. I remain stiff as a statue. My mind longs for a comeback.

  "You heard your brother," Woya growls. "Go back to your room, brat."

  It feels like Woya is a dog-owner disappointed with his misbehaving poodle. My head twists, eyes boring into his own. Adrenaline and confidence surge from my toes to my fingertips.

  "Don't call me that." I raise my arm to point accusingly. “You’d better-”

  "Ignore him, bro."

  I'm stopped by a familiar grip. Ron lowers my arm and circles in front of me, a dour smile on his lips.

  "He's not worth it."

  “I’m not having him insult us just because we are human. It’s plain ignorant!”

  Woya is clearly furious that anyone should stand up to him.

  “Be very careful Finn Bates. Your curiosity, as Ulmu puts it, may not benefit you in ways you expect.”

  We fall into a glaring contest. Neither of us is likely to give in but Ron breaks the impasse.

  “Finn.” His face is set in stone. “Go. Now.”

  I don’t appreciate him telling me what to do.

  But he is right. I need to let it go. No need getting into a fist-fight with a higher up.

  “Fine.”

  Making my way towards the front door, I cast a glance over my shoulder. Woya stands bathed in the neon-lights, more imposing than ever before. Dark shadows are cast beneath his eyes.

  What are you hiding? You big lug!

  A Visitor Tells Me Some Terrible News

  Needless to say, I can’t fall back asleep. I make use of the hours before dawn by studying homework and pressing out the wrinkles in my freshly washed Altair uniform. Occasionally the sound of an Aver patrolling the hall breaks the tranquil silence. Glancing at my Jericho Watch, I pull on my uniform and roll out my shoulders.

  Today is the day Kiwok won't get the better of me!

  Kiwok is Woya's confident son who recently became an Aver. He's a Kinquit with big muscles and an even more significant attitude. I open my door and step backwards into the hall as I begin to close my door.

  Bump!

  A dissatisfied grunt comes from the chest of whoever I just bumped into. I turn to find myself facing Godsonion Ulmu.

  "Sir, Ulmu?"

  I bound backwards, standing still as a statue. Ulmu tilts his insectoid head showing no signs of frustration.

  "Finn..."

  He begins, placing his hands behind his back in a dignified manner.

  "I wish to discuss a private matter. May I come in?"

  Ulmu’s sudden propriety sets my teeth on edge.

  "Yes, sir."

  I sidestep, allowing him room to glide past the still open door.

  Good thing I cleaned up…

  Ulmu halts by my window, letting the door swish and lock behind us.

  "Is anything wrong sir?” I ask nervously.

  He remains silent. Ulmu is the overseer of Altair’s internal operations, and the highest-ranking officer amongst us. To say his presence is godly would be an understatement.

  "Your recent mission to planet Creyenia."

  He turns to gaze at me with his two large black eyes, studying me carefully. I bite my tongue attempting to remain respectful but unassuming.

  "I have concerns about it."

  "How so, sir?"

  My voice wavers unintentionally. Darn! I'm no good at lying, especially to a superior officer!

  "We discovered that the Ghahlaouse people lied abo
ut their request for aid. The Citadel elected to levy a punishment but that was revoked after you both resolved the issue."

  A...punishment?

  My shoulders tense.

  Ron mentioned that the Citadel pays its soldiers with Galaxy Coin...but do we really punish those who can’t pay? I feel myself beginning to doubt who I work for.

  "I see…"

  I'm beginning to dread his upcoming comments.

  "You told us the god-tree, Gaqeet, went mad, only to be subdued by the two of you."

  His mandibles click together, something Ulmu does when contemplating.

  "The Citadel's High Council finds that...odd."

  Pulling out my best acting from limited experience, I counter with confidence.

  "Well, sir, neither the villagers or we know why it went insane. Our first priority was to save Gamirah, Girit, and the village of Girah."

  Ulmu remains calm and dignified. He takes a step forward and despite him being a mere foot taller than me, I shrink back.

  "Finn."

  His voice is fatherly.

  “The Council wishes to speak to you and your brother about these matters."

  My heart starts to hammer in my chest.

  "You need to decide who to trust."

  What does he mean by that?

  The confusion must show in my eyes because Ulmu raises his left arm and places a gentle touch on my shoulder.

  "Your brother cares a lot about making the Earth a known planet, and you want him home, but hiding things from me will only damage the reputation you two are working so hard to build. See, Ron is like a son to me and I would hate to see the two of you punished for something avoidable."

  My eyes narrow. I sidestep, and Ulmu's arm drops to his side.

  Ron's words echo in my mind.

  “Handing the crystal over to the Citadel is like burying it in the sand. It will never see the light of day again.”

  "I know that.”

  I turn my head opting to stare out the open window into the main lobby.

  “But we aren't hiding anything."

  It's easy to choose Ron over Ulmu and the Citadel’s High Council. Family always comes first.

  "I see! My pardon for doubting you."

  His apology is hollow. I swallow my nervous spit.

  “When does the High Council want to speak to us?”

  “Now.”

  Ulmu’s flowing rainbow garb brushes my arm as he drifts out of the door.

  “Collect your brother and meet me in my office.”

  With that, the door shuts, leaving me alone in an empty room.

  ∆∆∆

  Ron and I are outside Ulmu’s office. Sweat creases the arch of my glasses and my hands knit together. The door swooshes open.

  This is it! The moment I finally meet the Citadel’s High Council.

  “Finn.” Ron whispers while Ulmu’s back is turned to us. “Keep the crystal a secret.”

  My hesitant expression causes his eyes to thin. My eyes lower to his leg pouch where the evil object was previously kept. Where is it now?

  “Please trust me.”

  “Ok.”

  Throwing caution to the wind, I place all my chips on Ron. We step into the office. Ulmu’s holographic monitor illuminates the walls. The Godsonion spins, waves his hand and the image expands to five times its length. In bold white lettering, the A.I reads in a male voice.

  “Connecting to Citadel, High Council server.”

  I wipe my forehead with the backhand of my uniform. Ron clears his throat, raising his eyebrows.

  “Don’t be so nervous.”

  Ironically, his hands are trembling.

  “Connected.”

  Six figures, dressed in white cloaks trimmed with sparking-golden spirals, are projected from the shoulders up. Each individual is a different shape or size, but all have faces draped in shadow obscuring their features. When they speak their voices are distorted with a de-recognition program.

  “Finn, and Ron Bates.”

  One councilman begins with our names. We nod respectfully.

  “We’ve called this meeting to discuss stipulations over your previous mission to planet Creyenia.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Ron’s voice is steady and true. Behind the video-call, I spot Ulmu studying us carefully. He meets my quizzical gaze before glancing away.

  “You two were sent to Creyenia on a simple relay mission yet refused to return to HQ upon learning the request, filed by the individual Gamirah, was falsified.”

  Gamirah is a young Ghahlouse scholar we met in Girah. She knew her people could not afford the Galaxy Coins to hire high-ranking officials, so she lied on the request statement. My mind shifts to my left cheek where she had nervously planted a tender goodbye-kiss.

  “I would assume, such an act would be considered honorable.”

  Ron’s response has a tone of denial. My eyes widen.

  He does know we’re talking to the individuals who rule the Known Galaxies right?

  “It’s considered a violation.”

  My pulse quickens, blood rushing to my brain. Should I say something to defend us?

  “We at the Citadel’s High Council need to ensure all infant-planet prospects are behaving according to our protocols.”

  The room’s aura is noticeable tense.

  “So tell us, Ron Bates, did anything else occur on Planet Creyenia that we should be made aware of?”

  “No, sir. All the information in our mission statements is verifiable.”

  “Finn Bates.”

  My head shoots to each holographic head in turn, unable to distinguish which higher-up is speaking.

  “Is what your brother says, true?”

  Ron’s breath catches in his throat. Remember who to trust.

  “It’s true.”

  All at once, the knots unfurl and I suddenly feel calm.

  “Ron fought admirably on the battlefield against Gaqeet, risking his life to save Girah and its citizens. You should be congratulating him.”

  Now it’s Ron and Ulmu’s turn to look amazed.

  “Well, you certainly speak your mind; when given the opportunity.”

  I take it as a compliment.

  “Moving on.”

  They promptly raise the next topic.

  “As for your progress, in demonstrating that Earth can evolve into a known planet.”

  Ron’s head snaps up. Maybe after five years he’ll finally hear the good news.

  “We lack the resources and time to aid Earth in its conversion. Until the imminent threats to all Citadel Outposts are eradicated, we cannot confirm our support.”

  My brother’s shoulders slouch, and his eyes droop.

  “We understand.”

  His tone is bitter.

  “Raiders, Spawn and this mysterious enemy, Odium, relentlessly attack our planets at increasingly alarming rates. Continue to work such missions as are assigned to you and we will study your progress. That is all.”

  The call ends. No dismissals. No goodbyes.

  “So.” I break the silence. “They give off ‘bad-guy’ vibes, huh?”

  “Yepper’s’”

  His disappointment is clear as day. He turns, ushering me to follow with a head nod. Initially, I hesitate as we have not been dismissed by Ulmu, but the Godsonion sits in his chair, bowing in acknowledgment.

  I think I’m beginning to understand why Ron is so desperate to keep our discovery a secret…

  Socrates Teaches Me A Valuable Lesson

  It’s back to classes the next day. First up? Dealing with Socrates and his mind-numbing lectures.

  Aver Socrates is a Scarrin, an alien race most recognizable by their four eyes, four arms, mandibles and face horns. His assistant is Whelcome. He told me his race is called the Bobbolo’s. He’s a Phender class alien with fish like features and a bulbous belly.

  Despite Socrates being my teacher, I’d much rather have Whelcome as my mentor, but he’s always in his office, fumb
ling around towers of paperwork.

  Over the last year Socrates has taught us how to handle our Plasma Pistols and Photo Blasters properly. We start the class with target practice. Panels flip out from the walls revealing circular targets. I take up a position alongside my other students and fire when Socrates orders.

  To my dismay, I miss many of my shots. Adjusting my glasses, I spot Kiwok glaring in my direction.

  Oh, back off you big lug! Maybe today will finally be the day I kick your butt in Combat Basics.

  We’re finished with target practice. Now I’m standing at the end of a line-up. Naki is in front of me adjusting her D.P.E. She shoots a glance over her shoulder and I smile ear to ear.

  “Morning.”

  She giggles.

  “Yes. Good morning, Finn.”

  I force myself to look away or else she’ll see the blush trickling up my face.

  The line-up moves. In this class we’ve graduated from wall climbing to traversing complicated obstacle courses. Today's particular set-up is fitted with large vine-like ropes, floating circular-plates for balancing, and neon beams that move in a vertical fashion.

  The current student leaping from the climbing wall to the hanging ropes slips and falls onto the mat below.

  Pap! The student hits their rear end hard on the thick cushion. Aver Gold Socrates snaps at them.

  “I want you to climb the wall and traverse the rest of the obstacle course. Is that too much to ask?! You lot are no better at controlling your D.P.E than the first day I met you!”

  The ashamed student reels in their chord and scurries to the back of the line. I glare at Socrates.

  As if! I couldn’t even manage to land my hook on day one. Now, I can easily climb up the training walls and jump down in record time.

  Socrates just likes to get us riled up. Gotta’ wean out the weak I guess.

  “Finn,” Socrates points at me from across the gymnasium. “What are you zoning out for? Get your head in the game! I want you to complete the course in two minutes. If you do not, you will run five laps around the gym.”

  “What?”

  I throw my arms in the air.