by M. J. Kelley
“I cannot believe they had you tied up! The bellogans are going to pay a large price for this act of malice.” Mother grimaced when she saw Mal sprawled out in her own blood. “I am thankful to the Great Star that we were close by. We’re still looking for the boleeron device. I will have Stryoth executed. He obviously isn’t as skilled as I once thought.”
“Mother! It wasn’t his fault. I left to find . . .”
“The bellogan.”
“You never answered my question.”
“Your insect of a father I can accept, but my own flesh and blood? You are betraying everything we believe, everything we’ve worked so hard to build and maintain . . . betraying your legacy, your birthright . . . and me.” She paused. “Quinette, how could you? They are savages! You see what they are capable of! They kill their own kind with no remorse. They destroy their own planet without any regard for future generations. If it weren’t for us, they wouldn’t be here. They would be extinct! And what do we get in return for helping this ignorant species? War. Because that’s all they know—how to fight and die.”
“I don’t believe all humans are like that.”
“We are a great race, Quinette, created by the power of the Great Star. Your destiny is larger than the bellogans and your infatuation with them. Someday you will see the truth and embrace it, as we all have.”
“Excuse me, Madeer, I think we found something.” A soldier stepped out of the rubble, holding out the silver boleeron device in his hand. He stood at attention next to Quinette.
Mother took the box, picking it up carefully. “We have more important things to worry about now.”
“Is he still alive, Mother? Please . . .”
“Quinette . . . he’s gone. I couldn’t lose you too. You left me no choice.”
The future she had imagined dissipated from her body like steam from a boiling pot. Her heart broke open, spilling out hopes and dreams and her soul’s purpose. Gone. Falling to her knees, she cried out. Gone.
What was left for her? Pairing with Orkhor, bearing his offspring, raising them to please the Great Inlar, and eventually taking her place as Madeer? A destined life filled with the responsibility to lead her species back to the ways of her ancestors—a way of life she didn’t believe in anymore. And what about the boleeron? Would she have to fight them? More likely, she would live to see her species, and all life on Earth, die in agony.
She felt mother’s hand on her shoulder, a dead weight she refused to accept. She got to her feet and pushed her mother away.
“There is always a choice, Mother.”
Quinette turned to the soldier and, before he could stop her, she pulled the sword from his scabbard and plunged it deep into her own heart.
Madeer Valnia Alteiri’s mouth opened wide, but there was no sound.
Babylon’s Song
Woelf Dietrich
96 Years AFC
They came out of the mist. An inlari raid party—usually five berserkers led by an inlari officer. This morning was no different. Armed with cleavers and snapper guns, the berserkers appeared more like the trolls from old fairy tales, with their hulking bodies and yellowed tusks jutting from oversized jaws, and their small, almost dainty, noses. The much smaller inlari officer, covered from head-to-toe in an iridescent armored suit, offered a bold contrast to the massive contingent following him.
They came to kill and plunder and kidnap.
Dawn was a milky orange smear in the distance, and nine-year-old Samantha Babylon ambled along the steep path leading to a small forest behind her family’s homestead. Their farmhouse had been built against the southern foothills of the Barren Mountain in New South Wales. Two other families called the valley home, but they were lower and closer to the Bellinger River, about half a day’s hike away. The nearest settlement, Dorrigo, home to a couple of hundred people, lay twenty-two kilometers to the east.
Samantha’s dad had been a soldier once, in a special unit called the Queensland Devils, until an ionized metal ball from a berserker’s snapper gun tore his leg off. Fitted with a cybernetic limb, he retired, and with his pension, he bought their small farm here on the outskirts of the Dorrigo settlement, far away from Queensland politics, and far away from the alien invaders. After the war, people began to move away from cities, preferring to settle in the Outback and less populated areas of Australia, away from the danger another looming war would pose. Although Australia escaped the utter destruction of the Northern Hemisphere, it still paid a heavy price. Cities were decimated. Many millions of lives were lost. Whole families wiped out. The memory of this devastating chapter was still raw and inflamed in the collective minds of its survivors.
A mantle of fog drifted down the slopes, casting gray swaths across the small farm and neighboring valleys. Samantha loved the quiet calm of early morning. Once the sun’s might grew and the cicadas woke, their incessant natter would shatter the stillness. Her dad once told her these tree crickets sing because they were lonely, that their peculiar sound was a way of drawing prospective mates, but to Samantha they sounded more like thousands of tiny metal drums, vibrating endlessly, and were just that—noise.
Samantha’s jet-black hair, hastily braided, bounced between her shoulders as her booted feet found purchase on the winding trail that disappeared into a clump of trees.
Today she would show her father how good a hunter she’d become, that she could do more than feed chickens and milk goats. Her chores around their homestead felt mundane. She’d rather go hunting with her father than bake bread with her mom. Besides, her younger sister, Kimberley, could help their mother while Samantha explored the forests and creeks surrounding their little farm, maybe even venturing as far as the Dark Forest to the west. There, giant ferns grew taller than a man, and a carpet of moss and lichen made every footfall soft and silent, and the Styx River’s icy water disappeared deep into a rocky abyss as if to feed the Earth and mend its sickness. But she knew her dad would have none of that if he caught wind of her plans. The Dark Forest grew too far from their home and posed an unnecessary risk, given that it was not unheard of for an inlari raid party to attack inland. But here, in the shadow of the Barren Mountain, they were still safe and insulated, too deep inland for those aliens to cause any trouble.
Dressed in a loose, taupe-colored fleece jacket and faded jeans and carrying a bow made of ironbark, which she’d been practicing with dutifully for the last two years, Samantha disappeared into the thicket. She carried a small knife on her hip that her dad had forged from an old leaf spring for her birthday a couple of days before. She wore the knife proudly.
She planned to surprise her family with fresh rabbit meat for breakfast. Of course, her mom would make a fuss and chastise her for venturing out alone, as had happened many times before, for if her mom had her way she’d want the girls with her at the house, nice and safe and supervised.
But this new world demanded survival, which meant learning how to survive, and that was precisely what Samantha was doing. Samantha knew her mom’s overprotectiveness came as a direct result of her losing her own parents and brother to the aliens. Grandparents and an uncle Samantha and her little sister would never meet because of the murderous inlari. Losing them had had a profound impact on her mother. Samantha did not really understand the depth of her mom’s fear, and it felt like a drag when she chided Samantha for slipping out into the surrounding woods, which happened pretty regularly. To Samantha, it felt like her mom wanted to pretend their house was the whole world, a bubble of safety that reality could not penetrate. But then, play-acting was one way of surviving, her dad would say. It created hope, which provided sustenance. Samantha wasn’t sure she understood what he meant by that, but if it made her mom smile, then it wasn't a bad thing.
She arrived at a knoll beyond their little forest, a small clearing, which offered an expansive view of the densely treed hills above their property as they melted into the slopes of the Barren Mountain. Copses of red gum and crow ash populated the area, along with
pine and red cedar, creating a landscape rich and vibrant with aroma and color and life.
Across the clearing, near a belt of cedars, rabbits skittered into the underbrush, and Samantha traced their frightened hops to the warrens she’d discovered months ago. All she had to do was select a position downwind as close to the burrows as was practical, and then wait. Her patience would pay off if she’d chosen well and remained still and silent. She found a good spot next to a red cedar, near the edge of the forest’s boundary. She notched an arrow, squatted on her heels, and waited.
The sky remained hazy and dark, but the mist had broken in patches. Soon the sun would bear down mercilessly and turn the shaded refuge into a sweltering oven.
She waited, listening. Her ears pricked as the rooster announced the day. She’d left a note on the kitchen table so her absence wouldn’t worry her folks, not that that would deter her mom’s annoyance. But Samantha knew that the payoff would far outweigh her anger. Excitement thrummed deep in Samantha’s chest as she imagined their reaction when she brought home fresh meat for stew.
Her father had been teaching them how to survive in the Dividing Range’s wild, hostile environment. To Samantha, the huge mountain looming over them and the Nymboida River rising in the northern foothills made this the best place in the world to live. Not that much competition existed out there, now that more than half the world was a wasteland.
She felt alive here. It was a beautiful and dangerous paradise, where the soft wheet-wheet call of the pardalote still echoed in the valleys, and the magpie warbled and caroled with melodious song in the treetops, and the chuckling of the laughing kookaburra sounded more like an agitated monkey than birdsong. And yet, it was the same place where dingoes hunted at night, and the fat-bodied death adder lay waiting under rotten leaves, and the dagger-clawed cassowary battered through the underbrush with its casqued head as it foraged in leaf litter.
Ahead, she heard a soft scratch. A moment later, a rabbit’s head peered through the opening of the burrow, ears cocked and snout flaring.
Samantha raised her bow and pulled the string taut slowly, sighting the arrow with its bullet-shaped point on the rabbit, waiting for the gray head to emerge just a little more. She felt the wood fibers quiver in her hand as the small bow strained.
She was about to release the arrow when her mother’s distant scream pierced the morning quiet, followed by an explosion that echoed up the mountain slopes and chased birds in a flurry of feathered panic from the treetops.
For a splinter of a second, Samantha did nothing, her weapon still aimed at the space where the rabbit had been. The clashing sounds were surreal and out of place. Another explosion erupted. This time, Samantha turned and ran. Her heart thrashed in her chest as she darted through the trees and underbrush. Branches grabbed at her arms and legs, tearing skin as she rushed down the precarious track, jumping over jutting roots and ducking under low-hanging limbs. Rotten leaves and pine needles muted her footfalls, but her breath wheezed in her chest. Her mind buzzing with panic, she tried to make sense of the screams and cracks below. An icy hand tightened within her abdomen, urging her forward as she sprinted towards home.
The aromatic smell of burning cedar, mixed with the repugnant odor of rotten eggs, filled Samantha’s nostrils before the cabin came into view. As she burst through the undergrowth that marked their property, carnage greeted her. Flames and smoke curled up through the cabin’s splintered roof and broken windows, spiraling into the sky like some fierce beast consuming their home.
Her mom’s limp body lay sprawled across the grassy patch between the burning cabin and the barn. Her four-year-old-sister wailed, frantically tugging at their mother’s lifeless body. Her tears streaked the soot coating her cheeks. A huge berserker lay a few feet from them, his face a bloody inverted mushroom, and her dad, using the body as a shield, snapped off shots at four more advancing berserkers. He wielded his old army assault rifle, each shot cracking through the air, as he forced the advancing troll-like creatures to take cover.
Her dad had told her stories about the berserkers, of how the inlari had conquered their planet many eons ago, and how they were enslaved as shock troops and cannon fodder. He also said berserkers knew no fear and acted like utter savages in battle, but nothing prepared her for the reality of their sheer brutality. Almost twice the size of a man, their huge muscles rippled under rough-hewn chest plates and greaves. Each carried a cleaver strapped to his back and a large snapper gun in his hands. The snapper guns reminded her of a blunderbuss, with their flared muzzles and bulky awkwardness.
Samantha froze, her bow tumbling from numbed fingers. Then she screamed.
Her father whirled around, and Samantha witnessed the anguish in his dark eyes. His lips moved, trying to shout something, but a blue light punched through his chest, and he fell forward, his right arm outstretched in front of him as if reaching for her. An inlari officer with shiny armor and a full-face helmet stepped from behind the barn.
“No! Daddy! Dad . . .” Rooted to the spot, despair and sorrow ripped through her, and she started shivering. Tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision as she tried to make sense of her family home’s utter devastation.
The berserkers advanced to where the still sobbing Kimberley crouched next to her mother’s body, scanning the yard with their snapper guns and grunting at each other. One of them turned in Samantha’s direction, nostrils flaring and beady eyes gleaming with bloodlust, and with a grunt he stomped towards her, kicking her dad’s lifeless body out of the way as if it weighed nothing.
Recoiling in horror, Samantha stepped back and tripped over a small knob of earth, landing on her backside. The impact broke her from the shock-induced trance. She jumped up as instinct drove her back towards the forest, her legs pumping like pistons as she ran from the berserker. Her foot caught a protruding root and she skidded on her arms and knees across leaf mold and tree litter. Branches cracked and snapped as the berserker charged after her. Panic crawling up her windpipe, she vaulted onto her feet and continued her mad dash towards the mountain. Despite her knowledge of obscure paths, the berserker gained easily, crashing through obstacles as if they were twigs.
Samantha flew over thick roots and beneath low-hanging branches and shoots, trying to put some distance between herself and the alien. Her heart thundered in her chest. But as the ground rose steadily and her desperate flight to safety took her higher, her legs began to ache from the exertion. The berserker’s huge feet sounded like anvils dropping in rapid succession, and Samantha felt the earth shudder beneath her.
Desperation spurred her on, but no matter how much fear boosted her strength, she had no real chance of escaping an adult, never mind a charging berserker.
The beast’s ragged breathing huffed behind her, and Samantha glanced back. In that one brief moment of looking back, her foot caught the edge of a dingo hole, throwing her off balance, and she crashed to the ground.
By some miracle, she didn’t break her legs, but the fall winded her. Her eyes wet with tears, Samantha couldn’t even muster enough breath to cry out. Her diaphragm felt stuck, and a stabbing pain shot through her chest as she gasped for air.
The berserker tore passed her, missing her by a finger’s breadth. Tripping over his feet as he wheeled his massive body around, the creature tumbled backwards into a huge cedar trunk, grunted from the impact, and careened into the underbrush, unable to stop his momentum. The alien thrashed as he tried to free himself from the tangle of broken twigs and torn-out stems. Enraged, he barked at Samantha—a muffled, guttural sound that sent a spike of ice down her back.
Panting, Samantha wriggled backwards into the narrow dingo hole, pulling her knife from the sheath. Bushes snapped and crackled as her pursuer struggled towards her. Her heart jumped in her throat, fear rolling over her in waves and twisting her body into spasms of terror. She wanted her dad. She wanted to get back to him. He’s not really dead, she told herself. He’ll protect me. I just need to get back to him.
Kimberley!
Kimberley was still at the cabin. Samantha’s body shook as grief and fear brought fresh tears.
A heavy boot crunched over strewn twigs, followed by laborious breathing. A shadow fell over the small entrance to the hole.
Dropping to his knees with a harsh laugh, the berserker shoved a muscular arm into the hole, clawing dirt and stone in the process. Long, chipped nails grabbed at her, with fingers almost as thick as her wrists. Samantha slashed at the ugly hand, the honed blade biting into the vulnerable webbing between the fingers. The berserker yelped and jerked back, shaking loose clumps of the interior wall. Dirt rained down on Samantha as the hole caved in; dust stung her eyes and blinded her. A string of unintelligible barking followed, and then the rasp of metal on leather as the alien unsheathed his cleaver.
Samantha sat on a narrow metal bunk with her back against the wall of a small windowless cabin. Her dad used to call these submersible vehicles ASVs when he’d told stories about how the aliens would come ashore to kidnap humans. Afterwards, he’d assured her their cabin was too far inland—that they had nothing to worry about. To Samantha, the ASV resembled more a giant manta ray than the traditional oblong submarine humans used to use.
The only source of light came from an LED strip above the cabin’s narrow door. Kimberley lay asleep on her lap, her dark hair tangled and wild across her face. Emotional trauma and hours of wailing had taken their toll. Depleted, she’d dozed off.
The Thompson sisters—three teenage girls from a neighboring farm—huddled on the opposite bunk. Their older brother wasn’t with them, which Samantha took as an ominous sign. Haggard and dirty, the girls’ clothing hung in bloody strips. In the gloomy light, their eyes shone vacantly, like they’d stopped noticing the outside world. Their parents must have been murdered too, she realized. And they hadn’t been the only group. Another inlari raid party had been waiting onboard the ASV when they reached the river. Samantha had heard whimpering emanating from two other cabins just before she and her sister were shoved into theirs.