Star Guild: Episodes 1, 2 & 3

by Brandon Ellis

  Seventeen seconds.

  She gunned it, putting as much force against the throttle as she could. If she wasn't about to use her Thunderbird as a weapon against the blue orbs of destruction, then the upper “G's” she had just put herself through would end her, rushing too much blood to her heart and causing a massive rupture.

  Eleven seconds.

  Two silver egg-shaped orbs, as big as her Thunderbird, appeared on each side of her. They were shining, as if they were the two most polished things in the universe. She knew she was hallucinating, a symptom of too much stress on her body.

  Six seconds until impact.

  She let go of the control stick, placing her hands on her heart and squeezing her eyes shut. Through her eyelids, all around her became more and more blue. The torpedoes would hit at any second and she welcomed it.

  ∞

  On the vid screen, surrounding Brigantia's bridge, they saw two unknown spacecraft blip into view. They had all been watching quietly, sadness consuming them, waiting for Eden to do her damage on the torpedoes, and in the process ending her own life, when two spacecrafts jumped in on each side of Eden's Thunderbird. Both objects were egg shaped and silver.

  A blue flash filled the bridge’s vid screen a moment later, immediately causing a stir within the crew. The torpedoes had detonated, surely saving Matrona and killing their most skilled pilot, the commander of all of Brigantia’s pilots. Eden was gone.

  Gasps, cries, and shouts rumbled throughout the crew on the bridge as the vid screen displayed an aura of blue moving outward, a wave heading toward Starbase Matrona. Eden's Thunderbird was gone, incinerated with no trace as if it had just disappeared. The two egg shaped ships were gone as well. It was either a strange suicide mission, or they had simply jumped in at the wrong place at the wrong time.

  The admiral dropped his gaze to the floor, grief overwhelming him and causing him to forget all about the silver egg-shaped craft. He stiffened, holding in a cry and doing his best to be strong for the crew. He cleared his throat, bellowing out a muffled order.

  When no one understood, he cleared his throat again, muttering, “Excuse me.” He fidgeted with his hands, then finally said, “Turn the Thunderbirds back around. Head them toward the remaining enemy craft. This isn't over yet.”

  “Admiral!” screamed Brigger, prompting both Admiral Byrd and Captain Stripe to turn and face him. “The enemy starfighters are retreating!”

  “Why?” asked Captain Stripe, crossing the room to look at Brigger's HDC, clearly thinking that Brigger was interpreting something incorrectly.

  Brigger pressed a couple buttons on his HDC, and then pointed to the vid screen encircling the bridge. “Look.”

  “What? How?” The admiral stared at the vid screen, rubbing his hands over his face and then folding his arms. The screen had zoomed in on the location of the enemy pyramids, showing debris spread out in all directions. The pyramids weren't gone by their own accord; they had been destroyed by something…or by someone.

  Captain Stripe put her hands up into the air in exasperation. “What the hell?! Did they just destroy themselves??”

  Brigger shook his head. “Something hit them from these coordinates. They—” he paused, smiling. “The attacking starfighters are now blipping out, sir.”

  “Show me,” replied the Admiral. A smile crept onto his face, too, when the vid screen changed from the killed pyramids to the attacking starfighters individually lighting up like stars, collapsing into themselves and jumping out of the system, probably heading to another starship they could dock on.

  Admiral Byrd walked over and stood next to Captain Stripe, arms crossed, speaking somewhat over his shoulder. “Eden saved us.”

  “Aye, Admiral. She lives forever among the stars now.”

  “She's the brightest star among them.” He placed his hand on Captain Stripes’ shoulder, squeezing it. “Take over and prepare us to dock on Matrona. I'll be in my quarters preparing for The Prime.”

  “Shouldn't we give Starship Taranis coordinates to Starbase Matrona so we can all jump and rendezvous with Admiral Jenkyns?”

  The admiral looked at the clock that had been counting down when Taranis would jump coordinates again. They had 4 hours left. “Yes, when we get to Matrona, we give the starbase the coordinates. We'll be docked inside of Matrona when she jumps, taking all of us with her. Understood?”

  The captain nodded her head and then saluted her admiral. “Aye, Admiral.” She turned, taking over the command chair as Admiral Byrd walked out of the bridge. “Ladies and gentlemen, prepare to dock with Matrona.”

  ∞

  Admiral Byrd sat in a large meeting room, leaning his back against a hard chair. A long table sat in the middle, with a gigantic bowl of fruit set in the middle of it. The room was surrounded with green plants hanging from the walls, vines climbing to the ceiling, flowers budding everywhere. A nice, bright and calming light came through the translucent ceiling, giving the room a certain glow, as much for the plants as it was for the personnel—who were about to join him.

  He rubbed his hands together. They were cold and damp. He hadn't felt this way since his final exams at the Star Guild Academy, which was a little over a hundred and twenty years ago. Here, in one of Matrona's meeting rooms, he was sitting in a room where the Prime Director delivered his speeches, which were filmed over the holovids and broadcast to everyone on Matrona and to what was once a large fleet. Those times, which may come again, were at this moment, abandoned. Only two starships remained, Taranis and Brigantia. Today this room was going to be what it was supposed to be, a meeting room.

  The admiral immediately stood to attention as several officials of the governance walked into the room. He counted them, knowing them each by name, and saw that all twelve of them were present. One gave him a nod, a man named Chase, the youngest official of the group. He was a political figure and he was the son of the admiral's deceased brother. Three armed soldiers from the Matrona Guard entered next, with phasers pointed directly at the admiral. They positioned themselves against the adjacent wall with phasers still aimed at him.

  Stunned by the sight of the armed military personnel, the admiral glared at the next person joining the group, and that was the Prime Director, all 7 feet, 7 inches of him. Something was up, something that shouldn’t be happening at a time like this—when hundreds of thousands were dead. Was he being relieved of his duty? If so, why with guns? For the first time in his career, he wished he had brought his phaser with him.

  Admiral Byrd gestured toward the military personnel. “What the hell is going on, Prime?”

  The Prime Director, Zim Nocki, also known just as “The Prime”, made Admiral Byrd's large 6 foot, 5 inch frame seem insignificant. Zim was a beast, as thick in muscle as he was tall. He was charismatic, with a voice to match, and his face was beautiful, chiseled where it needed to be, and always gleaming with a shine. He was perfect for his high position in governance, just above the Fleet Admiral in Star Guild. Zim had a tendency of saying the right things at the right time, and doing the right things at the right time. He had been elected over twenty years ago, maintaining his position by winning each political race held for the last two decades. He never aged a bit, which was baffling for an official, since it was one of the most high stress jobs in the population.

  Approaching the admiral, Zim's hand turned into a fist, and slammed against Admiral Byrd's stomach, crumpling him over. Zim held Admiral Byrd's curled body for a moment, then tossed him back into his chair like a whipped dog.

  Wheezing, Admiral Byrd leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the edge of the table. He gulped a couple of times and coughed several more, then tried to speak, but nothing came out.

  Zim casually grabbed an apple, and sat across from him. He leaned back in a chair, placing his feet on the table. Taking a bite and crunching it hard for everyone to hear, he spoke, “What the hell am I doing?” He laughed, his face reddening. “You left us high and dry, Admiral! The question sho
uld be, 'what the hell were you doing'! You left us to die, you son-of-a-bitch! I should have you removed from your position, immediately! If I had it my way, I would have you shot!” He shook his head. “You abandoned us.”

  The admiral, regaining back his breath, lifted his eyes above the edge of the table. “I had no choice, Zim. We had to leave. My fleet was getting destroyed.” He sat up in his seat, facing the Prime Director. “Lieutenant Brigger patched through the coordinates to the entire fleet, including Starbase Matrona.”

  Zim dropped his feet and leaned forward, slapping the table with his hand. “We received no such communication, Admiral! And, if we did, you should have waited until you saw Matrona jump! You risked millions of lives!” He waved his hand, motioning for the other officials of the governance to join them at the table. Admiral Byrd had almost forgotten about them. As they took their seats, one of them nodded to him. She was an old friend, Overseer Savanna Levens and he was glad for her presence. She was the overseer of Sphere 6 on Matrona and it contained the biosphere. No doubt the plants in the room were taken care of by her office in the governance.

  She spoke up, “Prime, the admiral would never knowingly do any harm to you or the starbase. What you are doing here is absolutely insane.”

  “I agree!” shouted Chase, grim faced.

  Zim cocked his head to the side, staring at Chase, then at Savanna. “He left us. He knowingly left us.” He shook his head, lowering his eyes to the table, his jaw set.

  “I left the coordinates with the entire fleet, Zim. You know me just as well as Savanna does. I would never knowingly do any harm to you, or anybody else in Star Guild.”

  Zim stiffened. “We're not Star Guild, James, you are Star Guild. We are the governance of Star Guild and Matrona, and every speck of dust out in space. You had no authority over my position, including military. You went over my head by taking over the fleet, jeopardizing millions of lives. Millions!”

  “We had no time to discuss options, Zim. We had to defend ourselves, and—”

  “Defend?” Zim's eyes hardened. “You call that defending? You left! Plain and simple. You left us to fend for ourselves, even though we have no defenses. If we had coordinates, then we would have met you there. The only explanation we have is a coup d'etat.”

  Admiral Byrd shot out of his chair. “What?! By who?” He pointed to his chest. “By me?” He put his hands out, demanding an explanation and baffled by such a remark. “A coup…a take-over?!” He felt like laughing. They had remarkably survived an invasion, and now, in this moment, he was witnessing something even more unbelievable than the attack. He shook away the thought, changing to a more logical approach. “If you didn't have coordinates, then how did you find us? You jumped Matrona to our exact coordinates, did you not?”

  “We found you because of a distress signal coming from your ship. Who were you calling, James? The enemy?”

  Savanna stood up. “I've had enough, Zim. This meeting is over. What you’re saying is absolutely crazy.”

  Chase stood up. “I second that. You’re walking on ground you may not want to tread, Zim.”

  Zim ignored them, not taking his eyes off of the admiral. “Who were you calling?”

  Admiral Byrd sat down. “The distress call was for the Knights Templar.”

  Zim stiffened, a twitch crossing his lower cheek. He smiled, although the muscles around his eyes didn't contract.

  Admiral Byrd knew a real smile from a fake one, and this one was definitely fake. He was bluffing about something, or holding something back.

  Zim looked around the room, his smile disappearing. He leaned back against his chair. His eyes became cold. “A myth, James. It's a tale only children believe. Magical knights swooping in on majestic space crafts are for action vids, not for real life. Why did you really send it? Did you really think you'd be able to contact the famous Grand Master of the Knights, Thomas Berard?” Zim’s question roused a chuckle around the room. “He is as fictitious as your lie. Who were you really calling, James?”

  The admiral knew he was being set up, and this was just the beginning stage, the grand opening to the main attraction of finger pointing. Everyone in the room knew he wouldn't pull such a stunt. They knew he had no interest in seizing control over the governance. Politicians were insane. This was insane.

  The admiral cupped his hands on the table, leaning closer to Zim. “I didn't have any intention of taking over the governance. You take me on my word, Zim, or shoot me now.” He pointed at the military guards. “I have no patience for being dragged along a lengthy political affair, or whatever it is you're trying to do.” He threw his arms into the air. “We just got attacked by unknown forces, and you want to play me into your political agenda?”

  Zim raised one brow. “Unknown enemy?” He let out a phony laugh. “Oh, I think you know them well. I even think you planned this attack, and until I can prove it, we have nothing more to discuss.”

  Zim stood up, nodded to his military guard, and exited the room with all but a few of the officials following him like whipped pups after their master. The pressures and panic of sudden war, and the resulting chaotic mayhem had either rendered them so afraid that they would do anything for Zim, or they were cowards. Nonetheless, this was a perfect opportunity for Zim to pull off any political agenda of his choosing. It was the perfect situation to pull the wool over everyone's eyes.

  Across the room, Chase gave a thumbs up to his uncle, letting him know that he had his back. He also gave nod as he exited the room, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Savanna stood next to her chair. “I'm sorry, James. I don't know what got into him. I've never seen him like this.”

  The admiral stood up, eying the top of his chair and placing his hand on it. He wiggled the chair back and forth slightly as he said, “It's okay, Savanna.” He glanced up at her, seeing the green vines hang down the wall behind her, strangely outlining her face and seeming to make her glow. She looked beautiful, and if things were different...he sniffed, bringing himself to the present. “Everyone's alarmed by what just happened. They need to point fingers at someone, and who better than me, the fleet admiral? Anything to clear Zim's name from this near genocide is going to be in Zim's best interest.”

  Savanna walked over to him, placing her hand on his chest and staring into his eyes. “What happened?” She shook her head, her mouth starting to quiver, tears welling up. “A third of us, a third of the human race is dead, James. Who were these criminals? Where did they come from?”

  The admiral placed his hand on hers. “I'll do everything I can to find out.” He tilted his head, seeing there was more in her brown eyes than she was telling him. “What happened to you, Savanna?”

  She looked down and cupped her face with both hands. She started to sob. He pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head, smelling the aroma of her black hair. She smelled like roses, something he knew she loved. A flash of her children came into his mind, then a flash of her son.

  He let go, shocked. His eyes went from steel to soft. Grabbing her shoulders, he lowered himself to meet her sobbing face. “Samuel?”

  She nodded her head and slid into his arms again, needing to be held, to be warmed by another human's touch, and by someone who knew her son, her Samuel. “He was picking up his children at school when the first blast came.” Her dark hands started to shake and the sobs became stronger. Her hands then became fists. “No, no,” she mumbled, punching his chest. “He was killed, saving his kids, my grand babies!”

  The admiral wanted to ask how it had happened, where exactly he was, at what school, but those questions were of no concern to Savanna. They wouldn't help the grief overtaking her. She knew what had happened, and reliving it in her head, imagining the explosion, or recalling what others told had her about Samuel's death, were probably occurring over and over in her mind. A moment of calm would be more appropriate.

  After several minutes of their embrace, she stepped back and patted his chest. She gave a smile,
though a very droopy one. She wiped her tears. “I'm sorry.”

  “Don't apologize, Savanna.”

  “Do me a favor?” she asked, her chin quivering.

  He nodded. “Anything for you.”

  “Find those who murdered my son.”

  He gave another nod. “I will and I'll bring them to justice, for you and Samuel.”

  She shook her head and backed toward the door. “Justice isn't what I'm looking for. I want to find a way to forgive them.”

  He gave a slight head shake. How could she forgive them? Why would she? And, what did she want him to do, capture the enemy and present them to her? He let those questions slip away, knowing that in this moment they weren't necessary. Savanna wasn't thinking straight, but how could he blame her? He wouldn't be thinking straight if he were in her position. For once, he thanked his lucky stars that he didn't have kids.

  Savannah turned and walked away, down the hall and disappeared around a corner. Admiral Byrd spoke aloud to himself, “Somehow, Savanna, I'll bring those attacking bastards to your door stop, dead or alive.”

  Episode 3

  Forever Mountain

  Admiral James Byrd was stretched out on his green couch in his office. Other than a small desk, a large bed and file cabinets lining the wall, his office was rather empty. No pictures and no paintings. The only thing that gave it any real beauty were the two thickly lined clear-ebb windows, usually displaying the universe before him—stars, the seldom seen comet that flew by, the clouds of a nebula, and of course, the red planet Lumus.

  He looked through one of the windows, feeling rather fortunate that they hadn’t been blasted during the invasion, but he couldn't see out into space anymore. Instead, had a somewhat utilitarian view of the support columns of Starbase Matrona's inner docking station where his baby, Starship Brigantia, had been dry docked for repairs.

  He glanced at his desk, feeling the sudden urge to place Eden's picture on it. She had been his favorite pilot, and probably his favorite person. Thinking good thoughts about her, though, wrenched and twisted his stomach into knots. He thought better of it, choosing to think about regrets, instead. How strange, he thought, how at the moment regret feels better than happiness.