The Chosen Race (Space Empires Book 2)

by Caleb Selby

  Reesa smiled. “I wish things could have been different,” she said and grabbed his hand.

  “Oh?” Darion asked, rubbing her hand.

  Reesa nodded. “I wish I could have gotten married, raised a family, done all those silly, boring things that regular folks did way back before fleets, colonies, and Krohns. I just wish I could have lived a normal life.”

  “I wish I could have lived it with you,” Darion whispered.

  Reesa looked up at Darion and smiled.

  The blast door suddenly blew apart, sending fragments of shrapnel everywhere, mortally wounding several of the men and women nearest the door.

  “Here they come!” Darion said as he sat up on his knees and rested his weapon on the barricade. He fired several shots blindly into the smoke. “Fire at will, fire at will!” he yelled resolutely, followed by dozens of other shots into the breach. Several rewarding Krohn screams sounded out after the initial barrage but it wasn’t enough. Krohns poured into the chasm and took positions within, all the while firing back with deadly accuracy, felling several volunteers nearest the doorway.

  “Don’t let up!” Reesa added, clutching twin pistols and firing them as fast as she could pull the triggers. “Keep them pinned! If they get further in here, we’re done!”

  “Look out!” someone yelled, as a Krohn rocket came burning through the doorway and landed directly atop one of the barricades. Bodies, weapons and burning boxes went flying in every direction followed by horrific screams of agony mixed with fear. Before the defenders could respond to the lethal strike, another rocket flew overhead and crashed into an upper level of the bunker, killing several dozen refugees instantly while raining down smoldering debris upon others.

  “We can’t hold them this way!” Reesa shouted to Darion as yet another rocket slammed into the floor, blasting chunks of debris into the air. “We are no match for those rockets!”

  “Pull back, pull back!” a volunteer screamed in panic as she ran in a daze away from the smoldering corpse of a comrade.

  “There’s no place to pull back to!” Darion shouted back between shots. “Stand your ground!”

  “Watch it!” Reesa said as she pulled Darion behind the wall just as a salvo of laser fire raced past.

  “It’s no use!” exclaimed Darion in despair as he dropped behind the barricade and re-primed his weapon. “We’re going to die!”

  “Then let’s die fighting for those kids!” Reesa said handing Darion a grenade. “Let’s give them a chance!”

  Darion grabbed the grenade and then leaned over to kiss Reesa’s forehead. Reesa then looked at Darion intently, saying much with just a glance of her eyes, before crouching up on her feet.

  “Ready?” Darion asked.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Reesa answered.

  “Lets do it!” said Darion and pulled the pin on the grenade. He was just about to toss the device into the doorway when through the thick smoke, he noticed several strong arms wrap around a Krohn neck and effortlessly fold it over. The Krohn quietly slumped to the ground without uttering a moan.

  Darion couldn’t decide what had happened when four more Krohns suddenly bounded into the doorway and roared loudly.

  “What are you waiting for?” Reesa yelled. “Throw it!”

  Darion reluctantly held the grenade in his hand, contemplating his options when suddenly dozens of huge Branci, clad in pale green uniforms, jumped atop the intruders and using only the tremendous strength of their mighty six arms, crushed the thrashing Krohns, some shaking off clamped Krohn jaws from off their forearms as they were but irritating annoyances.

  “Hold fire!” Darion called, as he quickly replaced the grenade’s pin. “Hold fire! Hold fire!”

  “What’s happening?” Reesa asked as she looked at the Branci inquisitively. “What are they doing here?”

  “I’m…I’m really not sure,” Darion answered in a stunned tone. “But they are the most beautiful things I have ever seen.”

  “That they are,” remarked Reesa as tears of gratitude filled her eyes. .

  The huge Branci figures slowly stood up, leaving the dead Krohns at their feet and then took several strides into the super bunker. A massive Branci with a silver-plated patch over his right eye, stepped in front of the group. He eyed Darion and promptly walked over toward him, revealing a slight limp as he did so.

  “My name is Ganon,” he bellowed out, standing erect before the General. “Chief Protector of the Branci people.”

  “Passageway H is secure!” an Idok marine called out as he ran into the bunker behind the Branci force.

  “Tunnels three and four clear!” a Hornell Raider then yelled as he too entered the chamber.

  “Cover that flank,” another marine called out. “Kinetic scans are still showing activity in corridor V-sixteen and X-eleven!”

  Darion slowly stood to his feet, unsure of how to proceed. He slung his weapon to his back and slowly brought his heels together and stood up straight. His clenched fist was next which he brought up to his pounding heart.

  Ganon replied in kind, his three right fists stacked upon his own heart. “My fellow Protectors, together with Marines and Raiders from the Sixth Fleet, have converged on the bunkers,” he said, nodding toward the activity behind him. “The enemy is in full retreat.”

  “How can we thank you?” Reesa said as she stood to her feet, herself still trembling.

  Ganon looked around the crowded bunker and shook his head sadly. He then turned back to Darion and Reesa. “You can give my men and I the opportunity to help you. We still have much work to do to repay what your people have done for us and we’d like to start now.”

  Darion and Reesa looked at each other in amazement and then smiled. Suddenly, a well-built Raider with scuffed insignia studs on his helmet walked up behind Ganon.

  “Captain Carter of Raider brigade sixteen stationed off the Hornell, reporting General!”

  “Is it really over Captain?” Darion asked, trying not to yell his words as he had been forced to do for the last several hours.

  “Nearly,” Carter replied nodding to Ganon and then relaxing his stance. “Last I heard, the Clear Skies System took out the Unmentionable fleet.”

  “What of the city and the planet?” Darion asked.

  Carter shrugged. “Krohn ground forces in the bunker are in retreat. We still don’t have the mobilized army to fight off the Krohns on the surface but it’s only a matter of time. Now that their fleets and fighters are gone, they don’t have the advantage they once had. I’d give them a few more days before they are all dead or captured.”

  Ganon nodded in agreement. “My Protectors will make short work of them.”

  Indeed for all intents and purposes, it was over. The battle for Larep and Namuh Prime had been decided. Bodies, Namuh, Krohn, and Branci littered the bunker network as well as the streets, buildings and fields on the surface, testament to the horrible battles that had taken place. But it was now over and they had won!

  Reesa stepped up to Darion’s side and took his hand. Darion took her hand and held it tightly.

  “My volunteers and many of these refugees are in need of medical attention and provisions,” Darion said to Carter. “Can you please have your field medics tend to them to the best of their ability?”

  “Yes, Sir!” Carter answered.

  “Show me what we can do to help,” Ganon said to Carter. “My Protectors are ready and willing to lend a hand wherever we can.”

  “This way,” Carter answered and then turned and walked away, Ganon and his other Branci Protectors close behind.

  “You did it,” Reesa quietly said, leaning on his arm.

  “We did it,” Darion corrected. “None of this would have been possible without you, Kebbs, Professor Jabel, Zane, and all of the others. This victory is bigger than any one person.”

 
Reesa hugged Darion. “Let’s find the kids.”

  Defuria rolled out from beneath Tarkin and jumped to his feet. His eyes filled with unimaginable fury. “You’ve ruined everything!” he said and then cursed in an unknown language.

  “Get over it!” Tarkin yelled, himself regaining his footing. “We’ve beaten you, yet again! Time to move on buddy!”

  “Time to kill you!” Defuria retorted and then dove at Tarkin, brandishing a thin long blade. The blade was nearly at Tarkin’s throat when Fedrin reappeared in the doorway and without hesitation parried Defuria’s attack with Trab’s gifted dagger. Fedrin then immediately slid the dagger up Defuria’s blade and thrust it into his body.

  Defuria screamed in pain as the dagger sunk deep into his gut. As he recoiled from the wound, he tried to slash at Fedrin but failed to make contact. Fedrin then leapt at his wounded foe, retrieved the dagger, and then summersaulted down Defuria’s back. Upon regaining his stance, Fedrin was shocked to see glowing blood seep out of the wound he had inflicted on Defuria. Fedrin didn’t have time to dwell on it however as Defuria, now fueled with murderous rage, attacked like a wild animal. Over and over again Defuria tried to land blows but Fedrin dodged each strike effortlessly, drawing on his newfound knowledge to outwit and outmatch his once seeming omnipotent opponent.

  Continually losing blood from his wounds, Defuria suddenly stumbled back from the skirmish as if trying to catch his breath. Fedrin took the opportunity of the gained momentum to charge! Defuria tried to turn and meet Fedrin’s attack head on, but the wounded adversary was no match for the new found power and tenacity in Fedrin.

  “Ahhh!” Defuria screamed as Fedrin plunged the blade into him over and over again, spilling his glowing blood over the charred sands until the brute succumbed to one final slash across the throat and slumped to the ground near one of the volcanic rivers.

  Fedrin approached the fallen enemy cautiously, well aware of the deception potential of his foe.

  “This is not how it was supposed to be,” Defuria said in a hoarse, dying whisper. “I was…I was destined to be your god! You have stolen my fate!”

  Fedrin gripped the dagger tightly and knelt down beside Defuria, opposite the lava. He pressed the blade firmly against Defuria’s temple. As the glowing blood continued to flow from the lacerations and punctures, the visage Defuria had tried so hard to portray faltered until it gradually dissipated, replaced with that of a thin-framed being that glowed, albeit dismally.

  “You’re…you’re a Sion!” Fedrin exclaimed in utter shock as the last of the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

  Defuria looked at Fedrin, a weary expression on his face. “Yova…Yova chose my race but I didn’t chose him!”

  “But why?” Fedrin implored, desperately craving an answer that made sense. “Why did you fight for the enemy?”

  “I fought for nobody but myself!” Defuria answered defiantly.

  “But why?” Fedrin implored again.

  “Because I could!” Defuria said, tensing up and causing Fedrin to press the dagger a little harder. “Yova has given me a free will and I chose to use it, unlike Trab and the rest of the weak minded Sions!”

  Fedrin shook his head. “Just because you had a free will, didn’t mean you had to be Yova’s enemy. You could have freely chosen him and lived and died honorably.”

  “I don’t regret my decisions!” Defuria said with contempt, tightening his jaw as he spoke. “I only regret not killing more of your kind when I had the chance! I regret not being able to hurt Yova more than I did! I regret not being able to gather enough Grimsin to challenge Yova directly!”

  Fedrin stood to his feet and shook his head. “Look here, Tarkin,” he said nodding at the bleeding Sion at his feet. “Look and see the creature that entire worlds and empires have quaked and trembled before.”

  “Doesn’t look like much,” commented Tarkin.

  Fedrin nodded. “He sure doesn’t.”

  Defuria’s nostrils suddenly flared and his eyes lit up in revelation as he looked at Fedrin. “You’ve tasted of the Grimsin, haven’t you?”

  Fedrin nodded. “Yova gave it to me...I didn’t steal it!”

  Defuria smiled condescendingly. “Yova gave it to me too.”

  Fedrin’s jaw dropped, realizing that Defuria had been the representative Sion that had spoken with Yova when named the Chosen Race!

  “The Grimsin gave me such tremendous understanding and power that I wanted more!” Defuria continued, a strange hunger flickering in his gaze. “But I wanted more than Yova wanted to give me. So I took it all!”

  “What did the other Sions do when they found out what you did?” Fedrin asked.

  Defuria shook his head. “I tried to persuade them that what I had discovered was fantastic beyond their wildest imaginations and that we should immediately set out to find more of it...but they would have none of it! They even tried to subdue me by force but they were no match for me! The Grimsin had made me powerful!”

  “What did you do?” asked Tarkin.

  “I defected to someone who would appreciate what I had to offer!” retorted Defuria.

  “The Unmentionables,” Fedrin said in horror.

  Defuria nodded. “I used the allure of the Grimsin to enslave them...giving them small amounts to wet their appetites with promises of more that I had no intention of honoring.”

  Fedrin shook his head, blown away by an evil so pure that it could cause one to betray his own people and to ally with their sworn enemy.

  A course laugh sounded from Defuria’s lips and he struggled to speak. “You’ll soon be like me Fedrin. You’ll soon be a servant of evil...and you’ll love it!”

  “I don’t think so, Mr. President,” Fedrin said and with one forceful nudge of his boot, rolled the megalomaniac into the slow churning lava.

  “Impeached,” Tarkin said from behind Fedrin as they watched Defuria’s body catch fire before slowly sinking beneath the molten rock.

  “Epic line,” Fedrin said with an approving nod to his Branci companion.

  Tarkin shrugged. “I’ve been saving it.”

  Fedrin shook his head as he adjusted his breathing mask. “You ready to get out of here?”

  “Most definitely,” Tarkin answered.

  Etana sat in the command chair aboard the Iovara as she read again the message that General Darion had sent to the fleet. She smiled as she studied the detailed description of how the Branci Protectors had made the difference in the battle within the bunkers and how they had bravely fought against imposing and overwhelming odds to save the Namuh refugees.

  “Hey, Gallo,” Jonas called over to the ensign.

  Gallo glanced up.

  “We’re heroes!” yelled Jonas followed by a hearty laugh. “Genuine heroes! What do you think of that?”

  Gallo smiled and shook his head. “Think they’ll start paying us more now that we’ve saved the world?”

  “Paying us more?” exclaimed Jonas. “Let’s not get too carried away here.”

  Gallo laughed and shook his head.

  Etana sat back in her chair and smiled. The war was over and she couldn’t be happier.

  CHAPTER 22

  The Chosen Race

  Fighter squadrons, one from each surviving wing launched from the Idok and Hornell escorted the lone shuttle through the cluttered skies of Namuh Prime. Transports, cargo ships, repair vessels, drones and supply runners filled the atmosphere above the capital as the wounded world roused to begin the rebuilding process.

  “Traffic control tower seven, I repeat again, keep those supply runners out of this flight lane,” Tarkin said firmly. “We have the Admiral aboard!”

  “Copy that,” the control operator answered. “Diverting traffic to lanes four and seven. Your approach is clear.”

  “Copy and thank you,” said Tarkin with a roll of his e
yes, wondering why he had to ask three times.

  The shuttle and her escorts slowly descended through the majestic clouds toward the planet’s surface. As it lowered, Fedrin stared blankly out the window to his right, Etana holding his hand tightly on his left. So much had happened, so much had changed since he had left that the moment felt surreal, like the fleeting moments between dreaming and waking where true reality is uncertain. When his fleet had left Namuh Prime as enemies of the state, Fedrin had never thought the day would come when he would return to Larep, let alone return in the manner he was.

  “We should be entering visual range momentarily,” Tarkin’s voice announced over the speaker.

  “We’re almost home,” Etana said and squeezed Fedrin’s hand. “Can you even believe it? After so long, we are almost home...together this time!”

  Fedrin turned from the window and looked at his wife. He smiled and kissed her on the forehead and then turned back to the window without a word.

  “What’s wrong?” Etana asked as she let go of his hand and rubbed the back of his neck.

  Fedrin shook his head. “I don’t know how to be a leader,” he confessed.

  “You could have fooled me,” Etana remarked.

  “Leading a fleet is one thing,” replied Fedrin, his eyes still fixed out the window. “But being in charge of everything, plus shepherding other races at the same time? I don’t think I can do it.”

  “Of course you can’t,” Etana said frankly.

  Fedrin turned and looked at her in surprise. He had expected her to encourage him and say how wrong he was, not agree with him. “Come again?” he asked.

  “I said of course you can’t do it. Yova never expected you to do all those things yourself. That is why your people will help you. Just as Trab could not fight a war or manage the Sion Empire himself, nor can you. The role of the Chosen Race was not given to you alone Fedrin. You are but a tool that our people must use in order to fulfill our newfound duty. The Namuh are the Chosen Race and with Yova’s help, we can do anything!”