by C. C. Ekeke
Then Khal got an idea, and tapped on his wristcom.
“Is everything alright, Khal?” Taorr answered.
“Actually,” the earthborn smiled at his own brilliance. “I need your help.”
Chapter 16
“Habraum,” a faraway voice called.
It was day six of his vacation with Sam and the kids. Warm, satisfying sunlight radiated down, cooled by crisp sea breezes. Habraum lay splayed across the lounge chair on the yacht deck, in a state of blissful near sleep.
“Habraum,” the voice sounded nearer, girlish and familiar. Then someone lightly shook his shoulders.
He jerked away, squinting his eyes at the glare of Cantalese’s pale sun beginning its afternoon descent.
The Cerc’s vision soon adjusted. He wore nothing but white baggy pajama pants and a matching skull cap over his bald head.
To his left, a full bottle of red Cantalesian candywine sat open on a small coffee table. To his right, a lounge chair bearing a towel, child’s T-shirt, and a dryer ring piled together. The silhouette of a slim teenager stood over him.
Habraum calmed and sat up. “Dani. Everything alrigh’?” His words were thick with sleep.
Tharydane’s black on gold eyes gleamed with laughter. The Korvenite wore a bright yellow tank top with a shapeless skirt smeared of rainbow colors, ruffled by ocean breezes. Her tumble of lazy, violet curls was up in long cornrowed braids spilling down to her trim waist.
“Turkey neck stew,” she stated after recovering from her giggles. “I forgot the last few ingredients.”
“Oh, yeah.” Habraum asked what she’d added, then recited what she still needed. Turkey stew, a Nigerian recipe from Old Earth, had been passed down his father’s family for decades. Tharydane had wanted to take on dinner, so he’d given her the ball.
“Thank you, Habraum.” The Korvenite then scurried back below deck. Fully awake, Habraum glanced around. The yacht wasn’t small, but wasn’t a ridiculous behemoths like many of Cantalese’s affluent visitors chartered. The deck flooring looked wood paneled and maple brown coloring, though no wood was used. Habraum would’ve rather flown to Cantalese’s Ioko Beach in his ship the Crimsonborn. After half a day on these sparkling oceans, Habraum was glad Sam had insisted on sailing.
Competing peals of laughter could be heard from the ship’s port side.
Habraum smiled, recognizing both. He grabbed the adult-sized towel, kid-sized white T-shirt, and dryer ring from the lounge chair beside him before heading over to the yacht’s silver railing.
Rippling wine-red oceans stretched in every direction. No other boat or landmass was visible for miles. Habraum leaned over the railing and saw two figures several feet below, frolicking near the yacht. The small boy with light brown skin wore black and burgundy trunks, floatation bands around his arms. Opposite him was an earthborn woman with long dark hair treading above water smoothly. An ivory two-piece bikini accentuated her curves and bronzed complexion.
Habraum’s heart swelled upon seeing Jeremy and Sam together. The latter’s hair color switch from blonde to brunette had happened because of how tanned she’d gotten during the vacation. Nonetheless, the Cerc found her stunning with any hair color.
“Ready, Jeremy?” Sam called out in husky tones. “Just like your dad and I showed you.” Spying Habraum up on the deck, she teased him with a wink.
Jeremy began swimming toward her, his strokes and kicks frenzied but effective.
He’ll improve with practice, Habraum mused. Better that he learned instead of uploading the skills into his brain like most kids nowadays. When Jeremy reached Sam, she greeted him with a hug. “You did it!”
The boy was equally happy as was Habraum. “Top marks, sprout!”
Jeremy looked up, tremendously pleased to see his father. “You saw me, Daddy?”
“Absolutely,” Habraum replied. “Come up, then. Almost time for dinner.”
Sam grabbed Jeremy around the waist. “Ready?” When he nodded, she exploded upward with a frothing splash, buoyed up by her cushion of heated drafts.
Habraum quickly backpedaled to avoid getting soaked, but still got slightly sprayed across his bare chest.
Jeremy’s delight was audible. Sam hovered in midair to let the water sluice from her and Jeremy back into the ocean. Moments later, they floated onto the yacht deck.
Sam crouched and held Jeremy’s shoulders. “Jerm,” she began seriously. “Love you from the bottom of my bottom, but your cheeks looks delicious.” She gave Jeremy big, sloppy kisses on both cheeks. He squealed with scandalized delight and dashed to his father. Habraum’s heart couldn’t have been fuller. He tossed Sam her towel before removing Jeremy’s arm bands. Extending the dryer ring over his son’s head, Habraum dragged it down to the deck. Jeremy was totally dry.
“Dani’s finishing dinner,” Habraum said while helping Jeremy put on his T-shirt. “Go help her, and don’t take no for an answer.”
“Okay, Daddy.” Jeremy nodded. “The forecast said there’ll be sunstorms. Can I watch up here?”
Habraum glanced at the heavens. Churning golden billows were rolling in from the west. Definitely a harbinger of Cantalese’s unique weather phenomenon. “After you help Dani.” His eyes landed on Sam drying off her hair with the towel. Stray beads of water dribbled down her flat stomach and the thorny tattoo around her belly button. She watched Habraum and Jeremy adoringly.
The Cerc made a comical face. Sam rolled her eyes and smiled.
“Alright.” He turned to his son. “Off with ya.” Jeremy, incapable of walking anywhere, dashed inside the yacht. Habraum and Sam were alone.
He stood up. The bullion clouds were approaching fast. “Care to watch the sunstorm for a bit?”
Sam’s large brown eyes brightened. “Definitely.” The sun gleamed off the silvery necklace with the green quosprace gem hanging around her neck, a Cantalesian heartknot. Three days since Habraum gave her the necklace, she hadn’t removed it.
He smiled knowing that. Taking her towel, the dryer ring, and the floatation bands, Habraum tossed them onto the second lounge chair. The Cerc plopped down on his chair from earlier.
Sam took her time sashaying across the deck, running her fingers through dark wavy locks, sizing Habraum up like a wrapped Christmastide gift. Cantalese’s sinking sun and churning gold clouds paled before Sam’s…everything.
Sam snatched the wine bottle from beside Habraum and took a long swallow, her throat working feverishly. She slammed the bottle down, half empty. “Hungry?” the woman purred.
Habraum looked her up and down, food quite far from his mind. “Very.”
Sam’s lips curled into that lopsided grin he loved. “Right answer, chief.” She straddled his waist and leaned in to kiss him with one sensuous motion. Her mouth was hard and hungry. Habraum responded in kind. Sam’s damp tresses lashed against his face, unnatural heat oozing off her skin. Habraum’s joy was a gushing river as they devoured each other while their hands wandered and groped.
Then Sam’s fingers wandered too far down his pants.
“Rogguts, Samantha!” Habraum nearly had a heart attack, pushing her hands away. “Not here.” He frantically glanced around the yacht deck. Still empty, thankfully. “The kids—”
“Are below deck, making dinner.” Her husky voice sounded like sex, each word drenched in longing. Sam pressed her warm, bronzed flesh on top of him. “We’ll be quick and…thorough.” Her hands started roaming again, getting a swift rise out of the Cerc.
Habraum sank back onto his chair. Who could deny her, looking like she did? “Yea, go on then,” he sighed.
Their mouths eagerly mashed together again. Soon Habraum had Sam pinned and supine on the lounge chair, her bikini deftly unlaced. He kissed a tender path across her chest, nibbling along her belly, then traveling further down. Before long Sam was writhing and making soft whimpery noises, totally blissed out.
After Habraum finished her off, he pulled Sam’s ragdoll body onto his lap. The pair quickl
y found their rhythm, sometimes whispering and giggling like randy teenagers. Habraum lost himself in her silky flesh and easily lost track of time.
Sam gasped as he attacked her chest with eager kisses. “My turn,” her words caressed his ear.
She shoved him away, down onto the chair. Habraum landed hard on his back. Sam’s aggression surprised him…until he saw the look on her face.
Excitement scorched through Habraum. He seized her waist with both hands and held on tight.
Sam grabbed his ankles for leverage, riding him ferociously, almost angrily, as if her life depended on it. The Cantalesian heartknot around her neck cast an emerald glow under the brewing sunstorm as her chest bounced unimpeded. Their eyes locked, Sam gazing down at Habraum through heavy lids, no one else existing in their private cocoon.
Bright gold sundrops began pitter-pattering on the deck as well as Habraum and Sam’s bare skin. The sundrops stung briefly before vanishing in steamy sizzles.
Habraum barely noticed. The throbbing union between him and Sam was that electric, that ungovernable, consuming in ways he hadn’t known possible after losing Jennica.
As if feeling too exposed, Sam closed her eyes and tossed her head of flowing brunette waves back. Their union only deepened. She arched her spine further, grinding her hips into his again and again, squeezing him tight like a fist.
Habraum’s eyes rolled back, body thrusting in sync with hers, fingers gouging into her thick thighs. The Cerc tried slowing things down, wanting this to last longer.
But by the volume of Sam’s raspy moans, she was on the verge of explosion. So was Habraum, passion shuddering through him, waves of thunderous pleasure sweeping him away…
…jolting him awake.
Habraum sat bolt upright, gasping. Cold winds needled his bald head with a thousand icy pinpricks. All around, he saw only pitch-black. A quick physical assessment confirmed he was in one piece. His brain, however, took a few moments to catch up.
Habraum was wearing his green, white, and gold field uniform instead of baggy pajama pants.
Squishy soil replaced his lounge chair.
No Sam. No Jeremy. No Tharydane. Just himself alone in a vast, shadowy sea of swaying stalks.
“Just memories,” Habraum murmured sadly. Odd that he remembered one of the best days in his life after essentially reliving one of the worst. Desperate as he was to stay in that wonderful recollection, Habraum could not. Bigger priorities awaited: the Particulate, time travel, CT-1, Cortes still missing, and Ghuj’aega. And wherever the hazik I am now.
The Cerc’s eyes finally adjusted to his surroundings. Tall grass stalks around him trembled against the night breeze, probably urbrui grass. A moon resembling Qos hovered at the apex of a velvet purple sky, burning ethereally bright.
“Please let this be Faroor,” he prayed to the Holy Gemini.
The Cerc stood up tentatively. No wooziness. He typed into his wristcom for an accurate location and date. A mini-holo display popped up from the wristcom, casting a faint glow against the impenetrable darkness. Habraum was definitely on Faroor, in the Yanjon Vale. The current date was a day removed from CT-1’s engagement with Ghuj’aega.
Habraum sighed in relief and made a call via his wristcom. “CT-1, Reign requesting pickup. Again, Reign requesting pickup.” CT-1 must be searching for him. He broadcast his coordinates to make it easy.
“CT-1…minus Khrome.” With all this time-travel rubbish, the Cerc hadn’t processed Khrome’s death. Now, the murder struck harder than when it had actually occurred.
Habraum sank to his knees on loamy terrain, struggling to breathe. And all the pain came crashing down. Khrome, Jovian from a year ago, his former teammates on Beridaas, and Cortes possibly meeting a similar fate. “By the Twins…Khrome.” The reality was an awful truth to digest. And Habraum just…couldn’t. I promised Sam I’d protect CT-1.
With Khrome’s strength and absurd durability, Habraum also thought the Thulican was nearly invincible.
His thoughts steered to Ghuj’aega, the architect of Khrome’s murder and Cortes’s disappearance.
From the depths of Habraum’s grief, hatred blossomed as biokinetic energy churned inside him.
The Cerc hardened his heart and rose to his feet.
Hopefully, CT-1 had dealt with Ghuj’aega after Habraum’s disappearance. If not, I’ll kill the Farooqua with my bare hands, he swore. No powers needed.
The Cerc waited then for his CT to arrive, pacing about this patch of grassland but never straying too far. He was impatient, nervous. How much had he missed in his absence? Even worse, had his reckless actions in the past changed the present?
“One way to find out,” the Cerc told himself, and checked his wristcom again. The Phaeton was heading to his location. He heard the symphony of nocturnal animals all around, all keeping their distance.
Finally, after seventeen macroms, a ship appearing overhead signaled by lights flooding the hills. The vessel hovered right over Habraum, far off the ground. He shielded his eyes with a hand, but still recognized the ship’s spoon-like nose and cruiser shape.
“That’s them.” The Cerc smiled.
Someone flew from the ship, squat, burly, and silvery. Habraum squinted in disbelief. “Can’t be.”
The figure floated in midair ten feet away from Habraum, who was staring at a ghost.
“Khrome?!” For a heartbeat, he thought the Particulate sent him to the wrong timeline. Then the Cerc remembered it insisting that he and his Star Brigade were needed to stop Ghuj’aega. Which meant…
“You’re alive!” Habraum blurted out. He moved towards Khrome.
The Thulican didn’t share his enthusiasm. He hovered, beefy arms folded over his chest, cobalt-blue face uninviting. “State your rank, codename, UComm ID, and title,” he demanded.
That stopped Habraum cold. “Khrome, it’s me. What are you playing at—?”
“Codename, ID, and title,” the Thulican repeated, unyielding.
Habraum was no longer amused. “Enough with this greybrick, Khrome. I’m your field commander.”
“With what proof?” the Thulican threw back mechanically. “Answer or face the consequences.” The Thulican dropped his arms, both hands curling into menacing metallic fists.
Habraum stared into Khrome’s round gold eyes. He found only an unwavering focus on the threat in front of him.
Me, Habraum realized, shuddering. Behind Khrome, the Phaeton’s forward weapon banks opened yet remained unlit. No way is this the right time. The Particulate cocked up, meaning this wasn’t Khrome from Habraum’s correct timeline.
His heart sank, but Habraum maintained his poker face. The standoff could escalate if the Cerc didn’t play this correctly. He straightened up and spoke the correct information.
For a moment, Khrome remained stock-still and blank-faced while processing. Then, Habraum saw Phaeton’s weapon banks close.
Then, a smile pulled at Khrome’s lipless mouth. “Oh captain, my captain.” He dropped to the ground with a thump and ran over to Habraum. “It IS you.” The Thulican wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug.
Habraum would’ve been overjoyed if breathing wasn’t becoming a problem. Khrome’s alive. Thank the Twins. “Of course it’s me.” He scowled, struggling in vain for freedom. “Get off!”
Khrome gave the Cerc one more squeeze, making his ribs creak, before releasing him. “Sorry for the hostility. I’ll explain on the ship.”
Habraum had no grudge. He was just overjoyed by Khrome’s presence. “How are you alive?”
“I wasn’t dead.” The Thulican shook his head and sighed. “Long story.”
The Thulican gave a command, and the Yanjon Vale’s dark hills vanished in a shimmer of light. The two Brigadiers were transmatted into Phaeton’s familiar corridors.
“Was it time travel?” Habraum inquired as they exited Phaeton’s transmat hub.
Khrome whipped around, his round eyes narrowing into yellow slits. “Yeah. How’d you know?”
/> “Got a time-travel story of my own.” The Cerc’s journey eighteen months back dominated his thoughts. Inside, his mind churned over seeing his old CT and that Particulate creature. Outside, he kept a cool, grounded surface. Habraum wanted the lay of the land before revealing his encounter to CT-1. “Found Cortes yet?”
Khrome stopped as they neared Phaeton’s helm and shook his flat-topped head. “Nope. Specialist Byzlar got sucked into that singularity too.”
“Fekt,” Habraum swore. He recalled Sgt. Fiyan’s anguish upon losing her Nirandian sergeant. If Byzlar met the same fate… He would go to her once they returned to Magnasterium. “And Ghuj’aega?”
“Imprisoned within Magnasterium.” The cybernetic voice startled him, despite having heard it countless times. Habraum turned to see his Cybernarr teammate noiselessly approaching from the helm with her usual succinct and regal strides. She wore one of her dark blue catsuit outfits. Her hair was pulled back tight in a ponytail falling down her left shoulder in fiery red curtains. Usually, her presence would bring a smile to Habraum’s face. But after discovering members of the Cybernarr’s species behind his previous CT’s butchery, seeing her chilled Habraum. Was she still connected to the Technoarchy back then? And if so, had she known?
“Marguliese,” he greeted stiffly.
A slight furrow puckered the brow of her golden visage. “Greetings, Habraum.” Clearly Marguliese detected his awkwardness.
Before she could inquire further, V’Korram trailed her out of the helm, dwarfing his three teammates.
“Captain.” The Kintarian respectfully nodded, eyeing his field commander in blunt disbelief.
Habraum smiled up at the Kintarian, clapping him on the shoulder. “Hiyoo, Jakadda.”
He zeroed back on their mission objective. “Ghuj’aega. Why is he still alive?” the Cerc demanded.
Khrome exchanged looks with V’Korram and Marguliese. “We don’t know how to kill him yet,” the Thulican confessed sheepishly.
Habraum leaned away. That wasn’t what he enjoyed hearing, especially after the Particulate saying Ghuj’aega was the pawn of someone worse. The Cerc needed more info. “And the rest of CT-1?”