by C. C. Ekeke
The towering rodent looked down with that same impenetrable glower, wrapped in a hooded cloak of pure midnight. A conversation Habraum had with Cortes days ago was jostled loose from his thoughts. Was this the weird rodent creature she had seen when CT-1 arrived on Faroor?
The answer mattered little once Habraum drank in his new surroundings. A dome of swirling pools, rainbow-like illumination splashed as far as his golden eyes could see. Clearly they were no longer on Beridaas.
“Take me back,” Habraum demanded.
“NO,” the rodent creature thundered back. “Who knows the damage your brief appearance did—”
Habraum was done arguing. “TAKE ME BACK!” He aimed a fist glowing with bright crimson energy at the creature. “NOW!”
The Cerc would blow the pelt off this…thing…to save teammates past and present. Every moment wasted meant Cortes could remain lost on Beridaas…or worse.
This furry white being remained stone-faced, unimpressed by Habraum’s threat. “If you change the past, what catastrophic damage will that do to the present you, your combat team, and your loved ones?” The creature’s otherworldly voice dominated the space. “You were never supposed to be there, Habraum! I was fixing the disorder Ghuj’aega has wrought.”
That reached Habraum, cooling his fury. I was in the past, he decided, at that horrible massacre which ended so many lives. The Cerc couldn’t even fathom how or else his brain might break completely. Regardless, this creature was correct. The Cerc felt a stab of shame to his chest, being so hell-bent on fixing the past.
Regardless, Habraum discovering the Cybernarr’s involvement in his combat team’s annihilation brought up a slew of questions and fears.
All which had to take a backseat for Cortes…for now.
“Wait—” He realized something else and lowered his glowing fist. “How do you know about Ghuj’aega? And my name?”
The rodent creature opened his mouth again, only to keel over with a cry sounding like the heavens had split open. The reverberations actually hurt Habraum. He covered his ears until they subsided. Looking at his rescuer revealed the furry being on hands and knees. Habraum approached cautiously. “You alrigh’…whatever you are?”
The creature struggled to one knee. “I am a Particulate…Habraum, and there…is not much time. You and...Star Brigade must prevent…Ghuj’aega from merging with the Zenith Point!”
Habraum stared at him in confusion. “We already stopped Ghuj’aega from that—”
“Think he will not try again?” The Particulate asked, sounding more strained, his furry face more wizened. The Cerc took a few steps back. All this was too much. He focused back on what he could control. “And Liliana Cortes? Where is she?” The Cerc glanced around and then gaped. The collage of radiant colors had now coalesced into images, appearing briefly before shifting into another. Some were of worlds, others of actual beings.
He saw one he recognized, a shower of golden drops raining down from a churn of bullion billows. Sundrops from Cantalese. Then another himself kissing and holding a human woman with dark hair, vanishing before he could recognize if the woman was Jennica or another.
In another image, an earth-like world with half its atmosphere burning bright against the inky black of outer space. He knew that immediately, the Earth Holocaust.
Countless other images, many Habraum recognized and even more that he didn’t, blended together, quickly replaced by new images. This constantly fluctuating tapestry was enthralling and terrifying, filling his line of sight. What kind of power struggle had Habraum and CT-1 stumbled into?
The Particulate’s voice jarred him back into the conversation. “Ghuj’aega is just a pawn. The Dreaming Farooqua is the true threat. He must be destroyed or…” The Particulate keeled over again.
The Dreamer? Habraum scowled, more confused. Was this the Zenith Point? “If you can pull me back from the…past,” the Cerc couldn’t believe he actually uttered those words. “Why don’t you destroy this Dreamer?”
The Particulate groaned and struggled up to his feet. “I no longer possess the strength. The Dreamer has corrupted the Zenith Point and commandeered the majority of its power. I am barely keeping them in check…had enough power to draw you back from the past.”
The Dreaming Farooqua is a separate entity. Habraum’s concerns had not left his medic officer. “And Liliana Cortes…”
“You have bigger concerns!”
Habraum wouldn’t accept that. “Not bigger than my operatives!”
The Particulate crumpled again. “There is little time, Habraum. Find your other self. He will help your team reach the Zenith Point…so you can kill…the Dreaming Farooqua.”
“My other self?” Habraum shook his head, which didn’t clear up the bizarre statement. And the shifting images were making his skull hurt. “None of this makes any sense.”
“It will. Good luck, Habraum.” The Particulate placed a large paw-like hand to the Cerc’s chest. “You cannot…fail!”
“We’re not done!” The Cerc grabbed at the Particulate’s snowy paw, shocked at how bony it felt. Yet Habraum could not budge the vise-like grip.
Once more he felt his core stretched molecule by molecule, until the Particulate and the dome of color images were ripped away and Habraum was sucked back into the void.
“Not again!” he bellowed, but the deafening nothingness had devoured his voice.
The pitiless void stretched Habraum beyond agony and sanity…until he knew no more.
Chapter 10
Sam D’Urso stared at the Phaeton’s massive mainscreen, not believing her eyes. “Are you shitting me?”
Surje, standing beside her, shook his head. “Not even a little.”
The Star Brigade captain stood on Phaeton’s bridge as the vessel floated just below Alorum’s atmosphere. They had entered on the dark side of the Rhyne System’s last planet, approaching cloaked and at low speeds.
But the barren planet’s bland greyish crags and craters weren’t the root of Sam’s outburst. Nor were the blues mines dotting its surface.
Her ire came from one of several mini-holoscreens floating alongside the larger mainscreen, where Surje and Addison had pinpointed the Children of Earth’s base.
Alorum’s Light, if there was ever a bigger oxymoron of a name.
The underground internment base formerly held Korvenite slaves for over twenty-five years, and was where the terrorist Maelstrom had almost massacred CT-1 months ago.
That memory still gave Sam shudders. And now, the Children of Earth had repurposed the abandoned prison into a headquarters. Those motherfuckers—
“This place was decommissioned five months ago!” Jan’Hax said from his recon station. Sam and the rest of CT-2 turned to see the lazy smile on his duck-billed mouth. “No one would look here for the CoE.”
Bevrolor nodded, jostling her bouncy curls of green hair. “Bevrolor agrees,” she added gruffly.
“It’s quite smart,” Sam agreed, toying with her sleek ponytail. She wore her snug red field uniform, a thick white stripe running down the middle. The rest of CT-2 also stood in uniform, the colors varying among gunmetal grey, cobalt blue, and dark purple.
My combat team. The sight filled Sam with pride, dread, and queasiness all at once.
She turned to Addison Raichoudry. “Freerunner.” Sam still needed proof of her possible treachery. A live operation was both a good and risky place to gather such proof. “How many hostiles?”
Raichoudry stood behind her tech station, various mini holoscreens floating around her. She had helped track specific CoE frequencies to find this location. So she said. “Forty-one humans, all in the medical personnel levels and its flight bays. The other ninety percent of Alorum’s Light is sealed off.”
Stronghold, at the far-left corner and armored for battle, rose. “Two strike teams.” His helmet mask was expressionless, but Sam noted his uneasy body language. “Almost seven times our numbers.”
She ignored him. “Any Korvenites?”
Or in a satellite headquarters, Sam supposed. “Which could hold the answer about their Korvenite experiments. We attack in ten macroms.”
The announcement drew surprises from CT-2.
Surje frowned, his body glow darkening in concern. “Shouldn’t we wait? For UniPol?”
“How far are they from Alorum?” Sam asked, hands on hips.
Her Voton intel operative pulled up a smaller holoscreen near the mainscreen. “Over an orv.”
“UniPol could draw attention arriving in mass,” Jan’Hax stated casually.
“Or the CoE could evacuate by then,” Bevrolor added. Her broad, flat face looked battle-hungry.
Sam nodded in satisfaction. “Both good points. No waiting.”
Surje wasn’t convinced. “But we’re outnumbered. By a lot.”
“Considerably,” Stronghold stated.
Strangely, Addison said nothing. She probably learned to hold her tongue after defying Sam before. But the aloofness on her thin, sharp features told a story of disapproval.
Sam understood the concern. CT-2’s first official mission. Waiting made sense if she felt CT-2 couldn’t handle this threat. But this could finally lead to dismantling CoE’s paramilitary arm. And God, did Sam needed to incinerate something. She scanned the viewscreen again while CT-2 debated attacking or waiting.
Forty-one CoE operatives versus six Brigadiers. What would Habraum say? Sam remembered and smiled. “Unfair odds. For them.”
Surje turned in her direction. “What’s that?”
“Nothing,” Sam deflected. The flight bays on the complex’s blueprints had caught her eye. “Obviously they outnumber us.” An idea began taking root right then. “What if they didn’t know that?”
The question again drew stares, except from Jan’Hax. “Weapons of mass distraction,” he muttered, understanding her implication.
“Exactly.” Sam beckoned CT-2 closer, a lopsided grin on her lips. “Gather round. Mama’s got a plan.”
It took five macroms to hash out the specifics. By the time Sam finished explaining, even danger-averse Surje was onboard. The only problem? This gambit relied heavily on Addison’s data-slicing skills. But Sam ensured Surje’s tasks paired with Raichoudry’s at every step.
“If that’s what you want,” Addison remarked sullenly.
“That’s what I’m ordering,” Sam retorted with a barbed smile. “You and Surje get started. Bevrolor, get ready.”
The Nubrideen XO parked herself behind the weapons array controls. Addison and Surje huddled behind a workstation, typing on various floating holoscreens while muttering to each other.
Sam paced from Jan’Hax to Stronghold, eyes fixed on the viewscreen.
“Done,” Addison announced like the teacher’s pet finishing their test first. “Ready when you are.”
Sam eyed her doubtfully. “You already took over sensor, weapons, and comm arrays?”
“Yep.” Addison smirked.
“Disabled all ships and transmat hubs?”
“Yep.”
“Created the holoimages for our ‘UniPol’ attack?”
Raichoudry’s smirk went from cocky to insufferable. “I am that good.”
Sam kept her expression neutral, with considerable effort, glancing questioningly at Surje.
He nodded in confirmation.
“Nice.” Sam turned to her XO. “Hightower. Got that photonic spread targeted?” Bevrolor nodded her curly-haired head.
“Ensign Liddell,” Sam addressed Phaeton’s human pilot at the helm. Herrycon Liddell had remained silent and seated the whole time. “Ready to make Phaeton look like five UniPol Nightrazors?”
The lean, dark youth gave Sam a thumbs up. “Indeed, Heatstroke.”
His boyish confidence made Sam smile. Liddell had improved tremendously these last six months. “Pull up the base map with hostiles marked.”
Jan’Hax did as asked. An inside blueprint of Alorum’s Light replaced Alorum’s surface on the mainscreen. The 3D diagram was dotted with red, indicating CoE hostiles on its lowest level. “Begin Phase 1,” Sam ordered.
Addison and Surje initiated their part. Moments later, five sleek and dagger-like battlecruisers with midnight blue hulls zipped onscreen as if jumping out of hyperspace. The Phaeton projected both a holodisplay and false sensory data to convince the CoE that five UniPol vessels were hovering over Alorum’s Light.
The counterfeit was successful. Within two macroms, Alorum’s Light’s proximity alarms erupted and the Children of Earth’s com channels erupted with chatter.
“Holy shit! Are those UniPol ships!”
“They found us? HOW??”
“How did we not detect them? We should’ve caught their approach light-years away!”
“Everyone, remain calm. UniPol might not even know we’re here.”
“Agreed. Attention. Shut down all non-critical systems and switch to auxiliary power.”
Sam smirked as readings showed the station’s power emissions dropping, though the comment about detecting UniPol’s approach drew surprise from everyone on CT-2.
“Phase 2,” Sam directed. “Flight bays and weapon arrays.”
Bevrolor worked quickly from her station. Volleys of photon scattershot sprayed from Phaeton’s weapon banks. Onscreen, it appeared that two Nightrazors fired. Bright red discharges ripped through four of Alorum’s Light’s flight bays, demolishing them. That left one smaller flight bay for the CoE.
Another blazing salvo reduced the turrets and cannons to smoldering curls of grey smoke.
More panicked chatter. More shouted orders. More chaos.
Sam beamed, finding their disorder delicious.
“They fired on us!” a CoE operative screamed. “Four of five flight bays, gone!”
“Main weapons batteries destroyed!”
“What about transmat hubs to the satellite base?” a female operative asked.
“Nonfunctional.”
“We have to destroy the lab research!”
“FUCK the research! We got the right results and sent them up high!”
The female swore colorfully. “Evacuate to the remaining flight bay now!”
The order was music to Sam’s ears. Onscreen, she and CT-2 watched the little red dots moving toward the last flight bay. “Almost there,” Sam murmured, glued to the viewscreen.
“We’re going to get in so much trouble. For this,” Surje fretted, always worrying.
Sam shrugged off his concerns. “Relax. Lily said the same thing before firing on this base…and dropping a betelydra on it.” Hopefully Lily was safely kicking ass on Faroor.
Soon, Alorum’s Light’s remaining flight bay was clustered with red dots. Sam and CT-2 waited.
More explosive chatter filled the bridge as the Children of Earth discovered none of their ships worked.
“That’s more than forty-one operatives,” Jan’Hax noted.
“Closer to sixty. More to go around,” Sam said with a lopsided grin. Higher odds barely concerned her. “Time for Phase 3.” CT-2 gathered together: Bevrolor, aka Hightower; Surje, aka Courier; Ozaihi-Iphor, aka Stronghold; Jan’Hax, aka Incognito; and Addison, aka Freerunner.
Sam’s heart always raced with anticipation before battle, various scenarios skipping like quicksilver across her thoughts. This was Sam’s second favorite part of a mission.
Habraum sometimes gave mini speeches beforehand. Sam wasn’t a pontificator, preferring to just dive right in. But on CT-2’s inaugural mission, a few words were apropos. “You assholes ready to party?”
A consensus of nods and verbal agreements replied. Her gaze landed on Addison’s translucent yellow visor to her field uniform. Sam felt a wave of dizzying déjà vu. Her ode to Jovian Ivers.
Raichoudry gave a reticent nod, betraying clear anxiety. What did she fear?
One way to find out. Sam tore her eyes away. “Let’s do this.” She looked to Liddell. “Drop us a
t the coordinates.”
Phaeton’s bridge shimmered away, replaced by a spacious yet overcrowded flight bay. Sam was greeted by scores of panicked Children of Earth operatives running around the flight bay’s length, shouting orders at everyone and no one. Several operatives and engineers huddled beneath ships searching for why none worked. Sam glanced left. Jan’Hax stood at her side, two pulse pistols drawn.
She glanced across the flight bay, finding Addison and Surje in battle stances.
Another glance to her far right revealed Bevrolor and Stronghold blocking the flight bay’s main access hatch. A Triangle Charge.
Not a single CoE operative noticed, all too focused on escape.
“Attack,” Sam commanded. She rocketed into the air, an orange comet swaddled in churning flames.
That grabbed the Children of Earth’s attention. Many shrieked and pointed. Several clawed for pulse pistols and rifles...
…and got mowed down by torrents of blistering green repeater rifle blasts. Bevrolor roared rebelliously, a barking repeater pulse rifle hooked on each arm.
Forks of jagged blue voltage sizzled across the flight bay, electrocuting many CoE operatives from behind. Surje held both hands high, fingertips crackling as electric bolts zigzagged out. The Voton took no pleasure in this, but did his duty.
Stronghold soared overhead, pounding any operatives diving for cover behind their useless ships with purple energy bolts. Those who narrowly escaped had to deal with Addison Raichoudry.
VVMP! A cartwheel kick from the petite teleporter knocked two operatives out. She vanished.
VVMP! Raichoudry appeared on the flight bay’s opposite side beneath a ship, back elbowing an engineer’s jaw and vanishing. VVMP! No stray CoE operative was safe from Addison’s teleporting barrage of strikes.
And whenever Sam spotted CoE operators abruptly drop like stones or go flying as if smashed by some invisible force, she knew an unseen Jan’Hax’s was doing damage. Hence the codename “Incognito.”
So far, so good, Sam observed, secretly pleased. CT-2 worked well together.
Sam, however, was dealing with scorching volleys of pulse blasts fired in her direction. Her veins throbbed with electricity as she looped and weaved around each discharge. I was made for this!