by C. C. Ekeke
“To dissuade him from helping Aut’ala,” Habraum corrected. Forcing the disconnection might backfire. “Then he’ll be more vulnerable.”
Taorr and Mhir’ujiid looked from Habraum to Zojje and nodded. The Cerc glanced over at the Particulate. The creature had gone limp, juddered by the savage energy whips Aut’ala kept hurling. Time was running out. “We have to do this now!”
In moments, the Cerc felt Zojje’s presence in his mind, along with Mhir’ujiid and Taorr. Abruptly, memories from three other lives entangled with his own. Habraum felt the thrill of scaling Qiidr’s vast peaks, exceeding any mesas he’d climbed on Cercidale. He tasted boredom with life despite being showered with opulence beyond imagination. He sensed pride as a prized pupil named Lethe made strides as a peace ambassador throughout Union Space.
Then the quartet of minds hurtled into the dark. The consciousness they touched was young, like a toddler, its existence defined by an expanse of darkness, pain, and helplessness. Followed by the kindness of another prisoner, Aut’ala. For over a thousand years, these two had each other.
In that moment, Taorr’s resolve briefly faltered. How can we ever stand against that? he wondered.
Don’t stop, Habraum pushed. Stay as one.
Zojje steered their mind link forward. Almost immediately the Zenith Point recoiled, horrified by the violation to its psyche. Its power was so immense, Habraum felt dwarfed.
Zojje buckled beneath its enormity. “The Zenith Point is resisting,” he grunted.
The Kudoban was right. The Zenith Point was a hateful force, not just for this intrusion from unfamiliar minds, but from the pain caused when the Particulate tried smothering its consciousness. The Cerc realized what had to be done. “Show it the stories of our lives, our loves, everything that we are.”
Habraum felt a rush of memories, Zojje, Mhir’ujiid, Taorr’s and his own. He saw Zojje’s disappointment in Lethe for working more closely with UComm, he saw Taorr and Mhir’ujiid’s first kiss. He saw Mhir’ujiid’s heartbreak at fighting the Ghebrekh who had been family. He saw Taorr rejecting the Ttaunz lifestyle to help the Farooqua. The Cerc experienced their whole lives in mere nanoclics of time, loves, losses, grief, sorrows, regrets, and willingness to forgive.
Habraum then experienced a nostalgia trip of his own: torture by the Cybernarr, marrying Jennica, the second family that Star Brigade had become, the son who made his universe brighter. And Samantha D’Urso, his partner, his best friend, his soulmate.
The Zenith Point reeled under the flurry of memories. But no longer did Habraum sense hatred. There was childlike awe…and then nothingness.
Suddenly Habraum was back on the ground, convulsing from the sheer weight of what he’d experienced. “Nwosu!” Mhir’ujiid cried and swooped to help. But how? His chest burned, his limbs lost all strength. Everything around him shuddered and shook like an earthquake. His time was up…
“What just happened?” he heard Taorr ask in a panic.
“The Zenith Point shut me out,” Zojje answered, sounding drained. “I can’t…can’t read its mind now.”
“You truly thought your paltry efforts would stop me?” That had to be Aut’ala. From the corner of his fading vision, Habraum saw the gaunt silhouette approaching slowly and assertively.
Further back, the Particulate’s body lay motionless. But Habraum could barely focus. Not when every cell in his withered chest seared white-hot. The agony was unlike anything he’d known, yet somehow invigorating. Mhir’ujiid and Zojje tried holding him steady. But he thrashed around violently, desperate to escape the pain. Gods, Habraum just wanted it to end already.
The silhouette stopped just before the group. “The Particulates are arriving. I’ll kill you first before I deal with them.” Aut’ala turned away to face the viewscreen. The golden sphere dominated the screen, close enough to touch.
The fire enveloped Habraum’s whole being, burning away the fatigue, the weariness, the murky vision.
“Habraum…” he heard Mhir’ujiid clearly, saw her unfiltered shock, already knowing why.
The Cerc felt like himself again, hale and robust, his armor light as air on him. I’m back to my proper age. The Cerc stood up with ease as Aut’ala walked away.
Before Habraum could lift a finger, the Farooqua terrorist froze and floated off the ground. By how he struggled, clearly it was against his will.
“Not so fast, Aut’ala.” Khal stood nearby, a full-grown adult in his grey and red field uniform. He reached out with a partially closed fist, holding Aut’ala telekinetically.
Khrome and Marguliese were up as well, the Thulican in once piece. The Cybernarr no longer spewed gooey technorganic gunk from her mouth.
Habraum looked to Zojje, Mhir’ujiid, and Taorr, smiling in shared awe. The Zenith Point.
Only Aut’ala didn’t understand. He struggled in Khal’s telekinetic grip, clueless. “What…I cannot feel you anymore…” The Farooqua clearly meant the Zenith Point. “Why are you withholding from me?”
Zojje rose behind Habraum, as did Mhir’ujiid and Taorr. “The Zenith Point has disconnected you from its power,” the Kudoban announced.
“I believe it did more than that.” Marguliese examined herself inquiringly, left eye flashing cold jagged blue.
“Bet you didn’t see that coming, Aut’ala?” Khrome quipped, rising in the air again.
“Nononono.” Aut’ala shook his bulbous head, refusing to believe their words. “No. This…cannot be!”
“It can and it is.” Habraum stepped forward, no longer smiling. He exchanged thankful, knowing glances with CT-1. Biokinetic power surged through his arms, pooling in his fists with crackling crimson radiance.
“CT-1.” The Cerc turned his full attention on Aut’ala. “Time for round two.”
Chapter 47
“What the blue hell?” Khal wanted to ask. One moment he’d moved to attack Aut’ala. An instant later, the gaunt Farooqua was in his face. Then Khal’s world suddenly became a crude blur of overwhelming sensations and colors.
Luckily, that lasted less than a macrom of time. Now Khal reached out telekinetically, restraining this piece of flotsam Aut’ala with an invisible vise. Focus on the battle, he reminded himself.
Marguliese, Khrome, and Captain Nwosu flanked Aut’ala on three sides, ready to take him down. Khal surveyed around this rolling expanse of the Zenith Point, awestruck as the veiny growths around them throbbed and heaved like turbulent waves. His eyes landed on the Particulate lying in a pool of twinkling midnight, not even moving.
Khal did a double take at Zojje, Taorr, and Mhir’ujiid appearing out of nowhere. “What exactly did I miss?”
The distraction cost him. Pain jolted up his forearms. Aut’ala, both arms pinned to his gaunt frame, was somehow forcing his telekinetic grip apart. Khal could feel a sharp feedback building in his wrists and fingers to near-torturous levels. He tried ignoring the pain and holding on. Yet the pressure squeezing kept escalating while his hold on Aut’ala was slipping...
“Hold him steady, Vertex.” Nwosu’s hazel-gold eyes glittered as he raised a glowing fist to blast Aut’ala.
“Can’t...hold...much longer,” Khal grunted through clenched teeth. The feedback grew too intense, like someone stomping on both sides of his fingers.
“You severed me from the Zenith Point?” the Farooqua sneered, wriggling forcefully in Khal’s TK grip. “No matter. I have more than enough power to finish you all before undoing your deception.”
“Ahhh.” Khal had to let Aut’ala go, shaking his hands to get the feeling back. “Couldn’t hold him,” he winced. “Or my fingers…”
Khal looked around. “Where’d he go?” Aut’ala had disappeared. Khrome, who was hovering in the air, along with Habraum and Marguliese on the ground, scoured around for any sign of Aut’ala.
“He will not venture far,” Marguliese noted. “Aut’ala still requires the Zenith Point to eliminate the Particulates.” The Cybernarr nodded at the flawless golden sphere floati
ng closer on the wall-length viewscreen. Khal could barely comprehend one of these rodent-like Particulates. But a whole race?
“I can’t sense Aut’ala either,” Zojje added.
“Marguliese,” Nwosu boomed, his muscular six-foot-five frame glowing bright crimson. Khal spied unease on his rugged features. “Now that the Zenith Point isn’t powering him, see if…” Nwosu paused in mid-sentence, and mid-movement.
Khal stared at his field commander, attempting to frown. Suddenly he could not move a muscle.
From the corner of his eye, Khrome froze in midair. Marguliese was motionless, her silver arm morphed into a small cannon. The trio of Zojje, Taorr, and Mhir’ujiid became statues.
Aut’ala, Khal realized. The Farooqua had slowed time again, appearing before a glowing yet helpless Captain Nwosu. “Now, Habraum, I end you, your team, and those who separated me from the Zenith Point.” He snaked a hand for Nwosu’s face.
Panic consumed Khal. He couldn’t save his field commander…
The Farooqua’s hand clutched nothing but air. “What?”
“Not quite.”
Aut’ala looked down and ate two red beams of concussive force to the face. The Farooqua’s head snapped back with stomach-turning force right before he went flying.
And Khal could move again. Marguliese and Khrome also.
Habraum, on one knee, popped up and bellowed, “KHROME!”
As Aut’ala sailed away, Khrome dove feet first onto Aut’ala. There was a loud crunch, followed by the Farooqua hitting the ground so hard he bounced up and down.
By that time Nwosu sprinted forward, both fists crackling and glowing.
Khal smiled, knowing what came next. The Cerc leaped several feet into the air and landed a few feet from Aut’ala’s dazed form, slamming one glowing fist deep into the ground. The ensuing concussive force wave quaked the lumpy ground beneath Khal’s feet. But the immediate area around Nwosu and Aut’ala expelled bright lancing biokinetic force, tossing the flailing Farooqua up again.
When Nwosu rose with a glint in his eyes, Khal already knew the Cerc’s next order. “SANDWICH.”
The Cerc raised both fists, unleashing twin concussive blasts. Marguliese discharged relentless greenish bursts from her arm cannon, while at the same time Khal thrust his hands out to ram Aut’ala with raw telekinetic force.
Having practiced this move a few times in training, Khal felt an intoxicating thrill employing it in combat. And the trio poured the pressure on, until Aut’ala’s violent struggling ended.
“Enough,” Nwosu ordered, ending his attack. Khal followed suit, as did Marguliese. And Aut’ala’s body hit the ground in a floppy, broken heap.
In a flash, Marguliese dashed forward and stabbed Aut’ala through the chest with her glittering energy blade. The Farooqua shuddered, pink blood spewing from his mouth, and slumped back. Yet he still lived.
“Stay back!” Khrome blocked Zojje, Mhir’ujiid, and Taorr’s approach, a compact wall of burly, metallic muscle.
Khal moved toward Habraum, confused. “How did you avoid getting frozen?”
“Without the Zenith Point, my biokinesis can cancel out his time hijinks,” the Cerc explained, his eyes never leaving Aut’ala. “Like with Ghuj’aega.”
Marguliese yanked her energy blade from the Farooqua’s chest, sending blood spurting from his mouth and chest. The statuesque Cybernarr raised her energy blade high to swipe down and alleviate Aut’ala of his head.
“Maggie,” Habraum barked. He marched toward the Cybernarr, hand raised to stay the deathblow.
Marguliese glared at him. Taorr, Mhir’ujiid, and Zojje all looked baffled.
“What?” the Ttaunz murmured.
Khal couldn’t believe his ears. “Reign. What are you doing?” he demanded, despite the Cerc being his superior.
“We need to end this dunce,” Khrome stated.
Nwosu shook his head hesitantly. “Every instinct in my body agrees. But given what we’ve seen these past few days, it’s not our call.” He looked up and gestured at Aut’ala. “Go on, then. What’s your choice?”
For a moment, Khal wondered if Nwosu had gone space crazy. Until the surrounding walls rumbled in reply, the veiny growths all singing, rippling, and shaking with power.
Khal understood. And felt terrified. “Should we trust the very thing which was powering Aut’ala?” Someone had to ask the hard questions.
“That thing,” Zojje added stiffly, “is why you aren’t still an infant.”
Khal recoiled. That brief blur of sensations and colors suddenly made sense. “Oh,” he said quietly.
Nwosu nodded at Marguliese, who stepped away from Aut’ala.
The Farooqua struggled up to his knees with a cracked laugh. Khal found the state of his body appalling yet satisfying: broken jaw, a gaping wound through the chest, both arms hanging like limp socks with bones poking against stretched-out skin. However, all his wounds were already healing rapidly.
“You made a huge mistake, Star Brigade,” he laughed. “We may be disconnected, but I have known the Zenith Point for over a thousand years. It will never harm me—”
A gaping chasm opened right behind Aut’ala, pitch-black and swirling hungrily.
Khal’s eyes widened. A micro-black hole.
Aut’ala turned his head slowly. He never even got to scream. The singularity immediately slurped the Farooqua up into its gaping maw. An instant later, the black hole closed up.
Nwosu stared at where the Aut’ala once kneeled, gobsmacked. “That was decisive.” The Cerc exhaled and turned to Khrome standing nearby. “Check on the Particulate.”
Khrome floated over to the massive lump of midnight black that was the Particulate’s fallen body. After several moments of scanning and prodding, the Thulican shook his head. “He’s dead.”
And then the Particulate’s cloak deflated, revealed a body disintegrated to fine ash.
Taorr nearly fell over. “WHOA.”
Khrome’s eyes bulged at the ash that once was the Particulate. “Now he’s gone.”
Habraum shook his head. “Despite his mistakes, he sacrificed himself to buy us time against Aut’ala.”
Khal felt dazed. The reality of the Particulate’s death hit hard. “Does that mean we’re stuck in the past?”
Mhir’ujiid looked just as panicked. “How are we going to go back to our time period?”
“And off the Zenith Point?” Khrome muttered bitterly. “No offense,” the Thulican added after the structure rumbled in reply.
“Reign, we have a bigger problem.” The urgency in Marguliese’s remote tone drew everyone’s attention to what she spoke of. The golden sphere dominated their view.
Just underneath the wall screen, at least a dozen towering hooded silhouettes began to appear.
And the Zenith Point roared with pure hatred. Every aspect of the structure shuddered viciously. Khal could barely stay on his feet.
“More Particulates,” Habraum shouted.
Zojje cried out, clutching his egg-shaped skull. Taorr and Mhir’ujiid flanked his side, keeping him upright. “The Zenith Point is barely blocking their entry, and preparing to engage.”
“We must return to our time,” Marguliese stated. “If those Particulates find out what the Zenith Point is, that will alter the timeline.”
Hearing this made Nwosu’s mahogany-brown skin turn pale. “Meaning they never offer the ancient Farooqua their technology.”
Khal’s chest tightened. “And Aut’ala gets what he wanted.”
The shadows of the Particulates grew more solid. They were nearly onboard.
Habraum got over his shock and trudged forward. “Star Brigade. Form up with me.”
Khal felt ice water running through his veins. But his feet were moving without a second thought. Now he stood side by side with Khrome, Marguliese, and Captain Nwosu. He could not help but admire the Cerc’s tenacity and unshakeable bravery throughout this space/time madness.
Nwosu looked over his should
er. “Taorr. Mhir’ujiid. Zojje. Speak to the Zenith Point and—”
“We’re already on it,” Taorr and Mhir’ujiid said simultaneously, helping Zojje stand. The Kudoban appeared zoned out, his milky white eyes staring at nothing.
That didn’t encourage Khal one bit. Nor did the odd gaze Taorr and Mhir’ujiid exchanged as they held hands. As if they knew this was the end of everything.
We’re gonna die, Khal realized. He breathed in deeply to grab at some bravery. But the fear sat there in his chest, unyielding. Khal had so much to still accomplish, so many females to enjoy. Then Khal gazed upon his three teammates at his side, facing the massive silhouettes without flinching. Cosmic beings whom they had no chance of defeating.
Suddenly the rookie Brigadier’s anxieties felt so insignificant.
You’re a Star Brigadier. Act like it. Fear lingered in his chest. Khal forced it as far down as possible.
“Star Brigade,” Nwosu spoke in his deep, commanding voice, biokinetic power crackling in his fists. He had five inches on Khal. But the way he remained so grounded and in command, the Cerc stood like a giant. “Stand ready when those Particulates get through.”
“We’ll be ready,” Khal finished.
Khrome grinned, slamming his fists together with a loud clang. “Count on it.”
Marguliese twirled her energy blade, the threat of a smirk on her golden face. “Let them come.” Khal never wanted to be on the wrong side of that threat.
Just as they had fully solidified, the shadows of the Particulates retreated from a fissure of sky-blue radiance slashing along the Zenith Point’s veiny growths. Another carved across the wall-length view screen and the sight of the Particulates’ golden ship.
Khal stumbled back. More fissures opened along the Zenith Point’s interior, as if it was tearing itself apart. The reverberations nearly blew out Khal’s eardrums. “What’s happening?” he barely heard himself over the din.
Nwosu shrugged, eyes filled with terror and awe. “Either the Zenith Point is taking us back, or those Particulates are about to rip us molecule from molecule.”
More fissures erupted all around Star Brigade, the radiance washing a terrified Khal’s world away.