The Game of the Millennium: A Novel

by James Martin

  “I won’t forget what happened to you and yours and you don’t forget mine.”

  A brief timid smile appeared on her lips. “You got it.”

  Nate did a small nod towards Astraos. “I hope to have a more enjoyable conversation with you in the future.”

  Lauren grinned, dark thoughts may have plagued her but she recognized his effort. She wouldn’t let all this overwhelm her. “Me too.”

  “Get some rest. We’ll have dinner in a few hours, then we have a client to meet. An interesting one.”

  Astraos snorted and Nate glowered back.

  “Lauren, I grabbed your backpack. May I come in?”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you and. . . sure.” She hoped he wasn’t about to tell her something terrible; although her mom had given her ample practice dealing with such a person. She would give him another shot.

  The cabin had a cot in the corner, a nightstand with a lamp, and a chair with a small desk and a journal on top. Lauren made a mental note to thank whoever gave her that journal at dinner.

  “I’m sorry, Lauren. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay.” She sighed and sat down on the bed. “I know you had good intentions.”

  He laughed. “If only that meant anything, right?”

  Lauren chuckled. “Right.”

  “Do you have any questions for me?”

  She looked at this massive alien and smiled, casting her head down. She was astonished at him being into her. It was written all over him and somehow eased her pain. “So you’re a prince, huh?”

  He sat down on the bed next to her. Lauren felt heat rising within her, her checks becoming flushed—her response to him, she hated, it felt juvenile and ignorant. God, what am I a teenager? Foaming at the mouth for the next teen hot throb on the silver screens?

  “Yes.”

  “You didn’t mention that when I first met you.”

  He shrugged. “Didn’t come up.” That was interesting to her, a certain distinguished modesty. Most guys bragged or hinted when they were privileged, this made him so much more refreshing.

  “Pilox is a cheshir, too?” Her small talk was strained, contrived. She cursed herself. Why couldn’t I be smoother in these situations? Astraos was just as terrible in this moment, though.

  “Yeah, Nate’s his master—long story there—so he is actually tamer than other cheshirs.”

  “That’s tame?”

  “Would you like to hear about my species?”

  “Of course.” She tilted her head and laid her hands on her lap. “A little history before I get some rest.”

  Astraos scratched at the back of his neck, grimacing. “It’s hard.”

  “What’s hard about it?”

  “Well. . . We are a notch above the katros and hold the lofty title of most hated species of the galaxy.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re a warring species. We perceive just about everything to be some sort of slight or aggression towards us and we act without thinking. To give you a better comparison. . . Earth has something I stumbled upon, The Guinness World Records. . .?”

  Lauren laughed, swaying and touching her shoulder to his. “Oh, sorry. . . When I was a child, my father read from that book like it was the bible.”

  “Bible?” He remembered a mention of that in human history, but it wasn’t something he was interested in and forgot the details.

  “Oh, right.”—she searched for the best word to describe the bible that an alien would understand—“um, religion?”

  “Oh yes, a book of religions.”

  “No. . . Just one religion.”

  “I see.”

  “Anyway, he just thought it was the most interesting and silly thing to keep track of.”

  Astraos laughed. “Yes, well, we have such a thing too but it is about the whole galaxy.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “Unfortunately it is not flattering for us.”

  “What records do you have?”

  “Just about every single one involving conflict and war.”

  “Oh. . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “I don’t have any illusions about who my people are, but I’ve spent time with Nate and his crew and I realized something that I never thought possible before.

  “I found that other species can exhibit change. They can change themselves for the better. We have lived longer than any other civilization so why can’t we change as well?”

  Lauren weighed this, realizing this statement to be profound for where he came from. “You seem very different than Pilox.”

  “Yes.” Astraos nodded excitingly, getting up from the bed. “That’s exactly it, Lauren. I am different than him. And he is different than other cheshirs; although, we could never say that to him.

  “But the species I always saw do the most change and fluidity is your kind. You have shown to rise above and certainly sink below, but change is as natural as existing for humans. It’s magical.”

  “I never thought of it that way.”

  Astraos realized he was straying off subject to a much bigger one, way too soon. He knelt before her and took her hands in his. “I am sorry. I truly am. I will do everything I can to help you and your people.”

  Lauren gazed into his eyes but could only hold them for a moment. There was a kindness there, a tenderness. She managed to get back into the moment. “Thanks.”

  He smirked and said, “Hell, I grew up on American TV.”

  She laughed. “Really?”

  “Oh yeah, I love it. I’ll let you get some rest. This is all a lot to process, I can imagine.”

  She was about to grab him. . . then reality settled in and the lives that may be lost on Earth, rattled her.

  Astraos got up to leave.

  “Wait.”

  “Yes?”

  “Would—Would they still hurt so many lives?”

  Astraos paused then realized what she wanted. “Yes, they are ruthless. I am sorry.”

  She stared blankly at him, her words hollow, automated. “Thanks for your honesty.”

  “See you in a few hours.”

  He walked out of the cabin, sighing when the door closed. If the katros would’ve seen his image from her brain, they would not have continued to ruin so many lives. He would let that weigh on his soul, take up that burden for her. Because whether or not that had occurred, they would have struck. They will rob and rape and steal the lives of all on Earth, or sell them to someone who will. That was a fact. But there was a sliver of hope, a chance he could find a way to save them.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞

  Kat asked, “You set it right?”

  “Best I could.”

  “That doesn’t give me much hope.”

  Nate rolled his eyes. He leaned on a beam next to the shielding core. “Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t.”

  “What’s that?”

  “An old saying.”

  “I was surprised you shared a story, Nate.” An endearing look gripped her eyes as she glanced back. She steadily worked on getting the shield back to one hundred percent, ignoring his previous comment that was sarcastic at best.

  “I guess it was time to give up some more.”

  “Bracket coupler.”

  He peered into her tool kit and handed the part over.

  “We all know separate bits, huh?”

  He nodded to her back. “You do.”

  She got up close to him, her breath brushing his neck. “Yes, I know what comes after, but I don’t know the whole puzzle. You’re a very frustrating male.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because unlike this ship or this shield generator I am working on, I do not have all the parts I need to fix you. . . Shield manipulator.”

  He placed it in her hand that she had behind her, waiting for the part. “Who said I need fixing?”

  She laughed, heartily. “You’re joking, right?”

  “I think I am perfectly fine.”

  “Your close friends
don’t know you. I don’t know you. I am afraid that Astraos gets too much of that from you.”

  He dismissed it. “He’s a cheshir. He was made that way.”

  “Not him.”

  He sighed, rolling his eyes again behind her back. She had this way of saying something declarative that somehow felt like a direct nag towards him. “What do you want from me?”

  Her retort was to sigh right back at him, roll her eyes as well and duck to the side of him, grabbing the tool she needed. “Nothing. . . Not a damn thing.”

  Feeling the tension, knowing that this conversation could lead down a path to feelings and emotions that Nate liked to not engage in, he decided to steer the conversation in another direction, whether a wise choice or not.

  “I saw some exposed wires in the direct hallway from the bridge, left-side next to Airlock A.”

  She could barely keep her rage suppressed. This insufferable fool. She knew this was his defense; Nate felt attacked so naturally he fired back. He needed to hide behind another wall and not have to expose himself, whatsoever, to anyone—not even her. She masked the hurt in her voice with indignation, “What are you getting at?”

  “I mean, you know, check them out. Maybe they’re needed—”

  “I know every bone and nook and cranny and crack and wire and coupler on this flying rubble. I have to constantly fix the major items, and in doing so, I’ve resorted to pulling out non-essential wiring to patch up these critical items. We don’t have any money, Nate. You know that. Fix that before you come to me about a stupid wire hanging because you can’t handle a real conversation.”

  “I’m not trying to—”

  “Oh, save it.”

  Nate started to see red, and in doing so, made the terrible decision of provoking her further, rather than running away with his tail between his legs. She was right, after all. And he hated that. “You always make it sound like you’re above us.”

  She dropped her tool and whipped around, going on her tippy-toes so she could look him eye-to-eye. “I could be at the academy on Ezo. I don’t need any condescending guff from you.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “You know what, like I said, save it. Let’s finish this job, and I’ll be out of your hair. You can go grab the manliest. . . best engineer you can find.”

  He grabbed the tool she dropped and handed it to her. Flipping it and tipping the grip to her. “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  She grabbed it. They exchanged mutual grunts and annoyances and Nate walked away.

  Kat went back to work and kept herself from crying. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and said, “Stupid boy.”

  Nate went towards his cabin to get some rest like he had advised Lauren to do. I hate today.

  Captain Nathan, I am disappointed with the way you handled that. K’anta has been the best engineer to ever work on me. Need I remind you of B’acko? He robbed us of a shipment and tore up my innards.

  Nate rolled over on his cot. “I will not be scolded by my ship.”

  Too late. And another thing. . .

  Galactic Calendar - 1258789 - Feels Like Spring

  Captain Nathan stepped off his ship and onto the planet Maseen with his crew: Pilox, Macellus, and K’anta.

  An advisor to the royal family came rushing in. “Captain—Captain Nathan, right this way.” The advisor bowed and gestured with his right hand toward what appeared to be a cave in a sand dune. He was a hunched, little old male chiman—short for his race at four feet tall. He was also part of an old bloodline and thus had tufts of hair encompassing his arms, legs, face, and chest—all gray and coarse with age. He used his cane as leverage to put his weight on and push forward, mimicking the way as a younger male, he would’ve used his arms to spring his legs forward; now, moving took a great deal of grunting and winding up, making his pace slothful.

  Kat asked, “What do you think she wants?”

  “I don’t know, but we’ll need some coin. . . More than last time.” Nate glanced over at Pilox, eyeing him with annoyance.

  Pilox’s eyes glowed inside his hood. “I am sorry, my liege. My warrior’s lust came over me.”

  “Yeah and destroyed a bar.”

  “I am sorry, master.”

  He waved it off. “This score we won’t squander.”

  Once inside the cavern, an ancient sprawling palace came into view. There was a single bridge with an army of soldiers funneled to the front. The advisor poked at some of them in their chest and legs with his wooden walking stick, which sparkled in the light of the cavern. “Come on. Come on, these are important guests.”

  The army filed out to the sides of the bridge, standing side by side to the end.

  “Really bolstered this place up since the last time we were here.”

  “Royalty commands it. The pieces are in play.”

  “Thanks for the update.”

  The bridge was made of a material so close to cobblestone, it ought to be called a sibling. The chimans culture long ago realized the importance of balancing life’s energy and the benefits of clear thought by advancing technology while keeping nature woven in. A green vine sort of plant engulfed the bridge and exotic trees with barks that were silver and gold and amber and blue rose up from the ground underneath the bridge. The trees’ leaves consisted of a kaleidoscope of colors and the branches extended far enough on each side to form a canopy. This formed the tunnel that Nate and his crew walked under.

  The light illuminating the cavern came from creatures of all sorts. Each one containing what would be best defined as the bioluminescence gene injected into them. Some landed on them as they traversed the bridge in a leisurely way, keeping pace with the advisor. The effect of everything, from the creatures to the canopy, was stunning. The essence and might of nature enveloped them. And to Nate and his crew, it felt like they were entering a forest of life rather than a palace; or more notably, the dingy cave it appeared to be from the outside.

  “Right this way. Right this way. Oh. . .” As they came to the end of the bridge, the advisor noticed their shoes. “Those all have to come off.”

  “We know.” They began to take off their shoes, Nate smirked, looking at the alien’s feet. The dead giveaway of his species, opposable thumbs and another tuft of hair for the old gray one.

  The extra pair of thumbs came handy in a variety ways: the chimans being a renowned species in the underworld for being master assassins and spies getting anywhere, anytime, any place—whenever, wherever.

  Their society attempted to shun such ‘lost ones’ and keep their image positive and ignore their galactic label: ‘four hands of death.’ They were in an active war against this label, this stain on their culture and who the majority of them were.

  Kat looked up at the castle, smiling. A society where women ruled with a heavy hand, the iron rod, where they were judge and jury. Must be nice.

  The palace gate was small. It had just enough clearance for Pilox’s seven foot frame. The design of everything, from the entrance of the cave to the palace door, was to thwart invaders. What most did not know—even Nate—was that the trees were living, sentient beings. The trees’ movements were slow and deliberate, but in times of need, those branches could strangle all life in the area.

  “We must remain on schedule.”

  Kat’s heavy-duty grounding boots were the cause of her laggard pace. With such high-voltages and dangerous couplings on a ship, they were a necessity for any engineer. Nate kneeled down at her feet after taking off his own. “Let me help you.”

  She smiled. Finally, here’s the real male he brings out once in a while. She hoped to see more of that; she would chisel away at him as if he were an alloy obstacle barging her way from a core in need. “Thanks.”

  The advisor nodded, not commenting further. That was the reason he made the prior comment. For the female should be worshipped and any help needed provided by the male. He felt slightly better about Captain Nathan for helping the female of his crew.

>   Once the crew’s shoes and socks were off, they went through the small entrance into a hallway that forced them to walk in a single-file line. The dank, dark hallway also had little holes for stabbing intruders. Or traps set for guests, thought Nate, a nice killing hall, no one would survive. The door at the end led to the heart of the palace.

  Nate could never quite put his finger on it, but the palace seemed to have a spark of life to it. Every breath was rejuvenating, every footstep felt like he was on the path of to fulfillment, to love thy chiman, to listen and obey. He fought these peculiar urges that took hold each time he visited with every fiber of his being.

  “Right this way. Right this way. You are to meet the princess in her study.”

  They walked up the stairs lined with a material resembling silk, but firm and sturdy. It was plush red with gold trim. The wooden banisters were wrapped with vines and portraits of chiman royalty through the ages hung on the walls.

  They arrived at the study, which was the first door to the left. The advisor knocked. “My Majesty, the”—he looked Captain Nathan and his crew up-and-down, searching for words that were polite, but critical—“ruffians are here to see you.”

  Nate laughed to himself. Ruffians. What a clown.

  Pilox snapped his neck and looked at Nate. “Has he dishonored you?”

  Nate felt the sundry need to discipline the advisor. Rude is rude, after all. No matter what elegance you infuse it with. “You know, I’m not sure, Pilox. Ask him directly.”

  ’Ask him directly’ led Pilox grab the advisor by his collar and lift him up as he squirmed. “I meant nothing by—”

  “You know what, Pilox. I think he has dishonored me.”

  “Is a lesson needed?”

  “Two counts.”

  Pilox positioned the yelping advisor over his leg and spanked him twice—the advisor hooted to each one. No guard or personnel made any move to notify or put an end to the display because no one cared for that particular advisor. But more importantly, everyone knew Pilox to be a cheshir. Each made a silent prayer to their god that his master, Captain Nathan, had enough control over Pilox.

  “All right. I think he’s learned his lesson.”

  Pilox let him go and walked back to Nate’s side.

  “You may enter,” said the sultry voice from behind the big wooden door that was composed of branches with little leaves and flowers sprouting around. It eerily inched open with the accompaniment of pained sounds, like rusty hinges. The crew walked in as the door closed behind and the not-so-silent muttering of the advisor could be heard, “The scoundrels!”