THRAX (Dragons Of The Universe Book 1)

by Bonnie Burrows

  She did not need him to tell her that something must be terribly wrong. That howling sound and the fire of urgency in his stride made that clear. For days on end, she had seen him naked and ready for sex. Now, she was seeing him naked and ready for anything.

  In Thrax’s bedroom, his armor skin hung on one wall, and beside it, the hilt of his weapon. Or his other weapon, as the case may be. Not even bothering to dress, he simply removed his badge from his armor and at once, a holographic image leaped from the metal object into the air. At the same time, the sound of the alarm was muted, at least here in the suite. It was still audible, though muffled, coming from outside. Agena found herself standing on the opposite side of a hologram of Thrax’s Mentor that floated between her and her suitor. She thought at first to step all the way around it, but instead, she stepped off to one side, letting Thrax address his Mentor alone.

  “Sir Thrax,” the Mentor said, “we are in a state of planetary emergency. You are to resume duty at once.”

  “Yes, Mentor,” replied Thrax. “What’s happening?”

  “Lacerta is under attack,” the Mentor announced grimly. “Alien craft of unrecognized configuration have entered the system and are nearing orbit. They are penetrating our defense perimeter. All Knights and Corps members are on highest alert. Stand by for visual.”

  The hologram dissolved, refocused, and expanded into a satellite transmission. Thrax watched grimly, and Agena watched nervously, as the image panned from a hemisphere of Lacerta out into space. Ships moved against the face of the planet and out past its orbit to meet larger shapes. Shocking flashes of light appeared all around. The larger shapes were ruddy-looking objects with a look of age about them. The flashes of light in the dark expanse between the opposing craft were like little exploding stars. Agena blinked, realizing what she was seeing.

  “Those ships, the ones coming out from the planet… I know those; they’re Lacertan ships,” Agena said.

  “They are,” said Thrax. “The others, though…the Mentor is correct. They’re alien. Totally alien.” He paused, staring at the hologram as if to burn a hole through it. “And hostile.”

  Agena said nothing more. The only words she could summon for the tableau in the air in front of them were obvious: They’re fighting. Fighting out there. She knew that interplanetary disputes did happen and that they did turn violent. The Knights of Lacerta had been involved in their share of battles and uprisings and had fought to keep the peace on planets and in space.

  But no such conflict had come to human space for years. She had never known of such conflicts as anything but outbreaks of hostility between alien worlds. She gulped, suppressing her reaction to the fearful implications of the hologram—and what it might mean for Thrax and for her.

  There were at least eight of the incoming ships heading for Lacerta and a swarm of ships from the planet shooting out to meet them. The flashes of light went on like lightning in a summer storm, exchanges of fire between the defenders of the dragon colony and the unknowns that continued undeterred along their path. Bursts of light appeared around the alien ships, and a few appeared searingly on their surfaces.

  Amid the flashes in space, there were terrible eruptions of red and yellow sparks, and wherever one of these appeared, one of the Lacertan ships suddenly vanished. Agena let out a half-audible gasp when she saw these latter flashes. She looked at Thrax and saw his teeth clenching. He breathed more heavily each time one of these eruptions occurred, and Agena felt a stab of pain for him each time it happened: for each one surely meant the destruction of a Lacertan ship—and the deaths of his comrades aboard it.

  The display of the battle in space contracted and shifted back to the image of the Mentor. “Sir Thrax,” he said, “you and all other Knights and Corps members in residence at all of the Chateaux are ordered to evacuate the civilians present; they are now under your protective authority. The remaining Knights on planet and the Corps are being assigned to defend the cities, settlements, and vital facilities.

  Once the Chateaux are evacuated, all Knights on planet will join the general civil defense and engage with any alien troops or craft that succeed in reaching the planet’s surface. Reinforcements are now heading in from other systems to aid in the defense. You, Sir Thrax, are the highest-ranking Knight at your Chateau and will lead the evacuation effort there. Once the evacuation is complete, you will contact me for further orders.”

  “I understand, Mentor,” Thrax answered. “But Sir…have the aliens given any identification of themselves or stated their origins?”

  “They have not, Sir Thrax. They have ignored all hails and all attempts at communication. The engagement in space began with warning fire from our craft, which they answered by firing upon our vessels. At that point, the battle began. They may state their origin and purpose once they have entered orbit, but we are not waiting that long.

  We can only assume they have come for planetary resources. Water, land, food, vegetation, minerals, and population are all at risk. Until we know more about them, we will defend by any and all means available, and reinforcements will add their strength to our own. You have your orders, Sir Thrax. The other Knights at your location will be awaiting you.”

  “Understood, Mentor,” said Thrax.

  “Dragon’s fortune to us all,” said the Mentor.

  “Dragon’s fortune,” repeated Thrax, and the hologram disappeared.

  Instantly, Thrax turned to his gear on the wall. He reattached his badge to his armor skin and took down the shiny garment. Agena watched him silently and apprehensively until he looked over at her and said curtly, “Dress yourself. Now. Others will be gathering; we’ll join them, and you will do as we instruct you.”

  His demeanor was totally changed from the way he had been since he had stepped out onto the balcony that morning, so many days ago, and had offered himself to her. This was a Thrax Helmer that she had never seen, not even on that day when they were first paired in the Lottery.

  His courtly manner was gone, and his passions were changed. This was not Thrax the suitor, nor was it Thrax the lover. This unsmiling, imposing figure was Thrax the warrior Knight, a leader of dragons and a creature of battle. It chilled Agena to the bone to see the man who had delivered her into uncanny ecstasy disappear into the man now armoring up in front of her.

  “Go,” he repeated. “Dress yourself; we’re leaving.”

  Without a word, holding the towel tight around herself and feeling more vulnerable than she had ever felt in her life, Agena moved to leave. She paused for just a second at the threshold and watched him take the hilt of his powerblade from the wall. He pressed its activator, and the lance of energy leapt forth from it, gleaming with power.. He glanced from the glowing weapon over to her, and for a moment, his expression softened as if to tell her that he regretted this moment and would give anything to return to the way they had been.

  Taking the meaning in his eyes, Agena nodded and left, going quickly back to her side of the suite.

  _______________

  Presently, she was using her data collector in a manner for which it was not intended.

  The Knights and Corps had followed their orders with flawless efficiency. All the civilians were gathered in an open outer courtyard of the Chateau to await the arrival of aerovans that would bear them to safety. The courtyard was filled with a hubbub very different than the noise that had inundated Thrax and Agena at the Stadium during the Lottery.

  They were now immersed in a buzzing of a different sort: just as constant and insistent, but lower, more subdued and restrained, with an edge of nervous, anxious energy. People’s data collectors and other media devices, including Agena’s collector, were showing the reason why.

  Everyone had divided into sub-groups to watch the live holograms that now floated like stationary bubbles in the courtyard, showing the battles that had unfolded in space—and the ones that were breaking out all over Lacerta; now, the alien ships had entered the atmosphere and had started making their w
ay for the populated areas.

  Agena held a holographic playback in front of her like some ancient seer’s crystal ball. A knot of other people had gathered around her, people she did not even know because she had been so busy—or Thrax had kept her so busy—since the morning they had talked on the balcony. Thrax had shown her how to call up different kinds of information from the data collector, though she frankly could have figured out how to do so herself.

  What she and her fellow aspirants were seeing now was a continuation of the nightmare that she and Thrax had seen in the suite. The lead alien craft in orbit, reminding her of the rust-colored, spiny shells of Earth crustaceans, had taken a geosynchronous position over Silverwing. The flotilla of ships accompanying it had issued a swarm of other craft that had descended like metallic hornets on Lacerta. They were gliding over the cities, exchanging fire with Lacertan aircraft that swooped in to challenge them.

  The air was torn with streaks of energy leaping back and forth, and harsh blossoms of explosive force that hammered the buildings and cracked and broke their facades, sending thick tendrils of smoke and showers of debris in every direction. Civilian were dragons flew wildly through the carnage, looking like scattering swarms of birds, and in some places, they winged their way through smoke clouds that made them flounder and falter in the air or were struck by hurtling pieces of rubble and went spinning to the ground.

  And on the ground, more civilians ran, desperate to put as much distance between themselves and the violence as they could, spurred and shepherded on by members of the Corps who barked and screeched at them to keep moving and not to stop.

  In Agena’s little knot of people, and in other clusters all around the courtyard, the questions flew back and forth. Who were the aliens? Why were they doing this? What did they want? Why didn’t they try to communicate? Did they mean to kill everyone? Or capture people and take them as prisoners and slaves? Agena, soberly and tensely watching the display from the band of false scales about her wrist, wanted to voice the same questions, but they felt redundant even before she spoke them.

  There would be no answers until the aliens chose to transmit their intentions—or emerge from their craft. Or until the defenses of Lacerta found a way somehow to force them out into the open.

  She looked away from her holographic bubble when she caught sight of Thrax in dragon form striding near and heard him say, “The aerovans are almost here. They have had to maneuver around the fighting near the Spires and through other traffic heading out of Silverwing. The Corps has been managing the traffic flow at the same time as they’ve been protecting civilians. It’s especially dangerous around the Spires because here in Silverwing is where the entire planet is governed. The aliens, whoever they are, knew this was a strategic point to attack.”

  “Of course, they did,” Agena half-muttered, feeling overwhelmed by it all. She waved her hand over the data collector and stopped the hologram; it turned to pixels and was gone. Now her attention and that of the people near her was squarely on Thrax.

  The other Knights and Corps members, also morphed into their reptile bodies, had distributed themselves around the outer edges of the courtyard as if to herd all of the civilians into the place. The armor-skinned, winged personnel stood watch, keeping their eyes on the sky and brandishing the hilts of their weapons, ready to produce their blades and lances of energy at an instant’s notice. Thrax, as leader, had taken his prerogative to step away while the others stayed at their posts.

  It took a minor adjustment of thinking on Agena’s part to relate the two-legged dragon in front of her to the man who had made such rich and lascivious love to her for days on end, for she had naturally spent much more time with, and been far more intimate with, the man than with the dragon. But this was her Thrax. He carried himself and spoke in the same way. For all that he was now a human reptile, the man under the scales still shone through.

  With one hand on the hilt of his weapon, which lay tucked into the loop in the armor at his waist, Thrax said, “Don’t be afraid, Agena. We will not let anything happen to any of you.”

  Agena believed his intentions, if nothing else. His voice had a slightly rasping, hissing sound in this body, but the tone of human concern—and more than concern—still rang through in his tone and his manner.

  This was still her noble Knight. This was still the man who had told her that he enjoyed her more than he had any other woman he had ever known. The future father of her child was here to reassure her that there would still be a future. He did not reach out to touch her with his gauntleted reptilian hand, but she would have welcomed his touch if he did.

  A whirring sound welled up from around one side of the Chateau. From that direction came three shiny, floating oblong craft with dark-tinted windows. They glided to a halt just outside the edge of the courtyard: three aerovans with enough seating among them to carry everyone in residence at the Chateau, guests and staff.

  The craft hovered down closer to the pavement. Their hatches swung open, and ramps extended downward. The armor-skinned reptilians motioned to their charges to start calmly and quickly boarding the vessels. The holograms in the air winked out, their users now intent on moving rather than watching.

  “It’s time to go,” Thrax said, pivoting his dragon neck and head from the direction where the aerovans waited and back to Agena. “We’ll be away from here directly.”

  Agena stayed close to Thrax as the crowd started to move. “Where will we be going?” she asked.

  “There are places in the forests,” he replied. “And caves where the Draconite and Odysseum are mined. Though we shouldn’t stay any longer than we absolutely must in the caves.”

  “Because of exposure to the minerals,” Agena guessed.

  “Yes,” Thrax said. “The vans will have a supply of inhibitors, enough for everyone, to minimize the risk of mutation to humans that might complicate any pregnancies. And medicines for exposure to the radiations of Odysseum. But the caves, if we use them, are only a short-term option. Quickly, now…”

  The crowd moved briskly, and people began to climb aboard the vans. The hubbub in the courtyard grew noticeably more frantic. In just a few more minutes, Agena thought, amid the human static, she and Thrax would be safely on board the nearest aerovan and ready to peel out of this place and into the Lacertan countryside.

  Then, a deep, loud rumbling made her wonder if they would even make it out of the courtyard.

  The new, nerve-drumming sound came from overhead. Agena and Thrax looked up but did not need to ask what the source was. It descended from out of the clouds, its shape like some huge, ruddy, sinister cosmic shell. Lights glowed at the front of its hull like the eyes of a demon, fixed right on the courtyard. And now, among those rushing to climb aboard the aerovans, the constant, hushed murmur broke into screams and shouts. Thrax instinctively threw himself in front of Agena.

  And that was when the firing began.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The first shot from the descending vessel hit the opposite side of the Chateau from where the courtyard was. Only the shocking, deafening blast of the explosion drowned out the screams and shouts of the civilians heading for the aerovans. Their frightened but mostly orderly procession to the vessels waiting to carry them to safety broke into a panicked run, a virtual stampede.

  The voices of the Knights and Corps ordering them to stay calm and hurry along to the vans disappeared into the din. Some of the uniformed dragons had to break into a low flight to keep from being trampled themselves in the terrified onrush. Others spread their wings and extended their arms and stood at positions to make themselves a corridor through which people might run without stampeding.

  It was only partly effective; many of the Chateau guests ran around them on their way to the vans. There were those who fell and were nearly pounded underfoot, and the dragons took to beating their wings and thrashing their tails to direct people around the fallen so as to help them up and get them going again.

  With the f
irst shot came plumes of smoke and dust and a hail of debris that climbed and arched cruelly into the air. Some of the fragments started to rain down like missiles onto the courtyard, striking pavement, trees, shrubs, and people alike. Moving fast, Thrax stepped to one side, kept one wing in front of Agena, and folded one wing in front of himself.

  Pieces of debris hit the pavement in front of him and around him. A small fragment struck the wing behind which Agena stood, making her flinch and making Thrax hiss angrily. His other wing was pelted with pieces of walls and fixtures. When this onslaught ended, Thrax let his wing down from Agena and kept an arm in front of her while unfolding his other wing to give himself a look at the alien craft now coming through the gouts of smoke that rose from the blasted Chateau.

  He opened wide a mouth full of gleaming fangs and uttered a roar so loud that Agena could actually hear it over the noise. She shuddered as much from the sound of Thrax’s rage as from what was happening before her and around her.