The Game of the Millennium: A Novel

by James Martin

  “Huh?” Lights of a deep magenta hue strobed around them, Lauren closed her eyes after being assaulted by a few flashes. She wanted to punch Nate for not telling her earlier and the concierge and everyone else in this damn place. But she silently cursed to herself, not wanting to look stupid.

  The wave transporter hummed, then came a solemn ding and the doors opened to their destination. Lauren slowly opened her eyes and said, “Why do you say that?”

  “The person who owns this whole joint and has built several of them. . . And he or she can be found at the bar? Doesn’t sound like much of a lavish lifestyle to me.”

  “True.”

  Jaziel said, “If it happens to be a he, I hope he is not of your persuasion, Captain Nathan; although, it would be nice if he were of the same cut in appearance.”

  “So you can make him your concubine?”

  Lauren opened her mouth but chose to remain silent again. She wanted to add one of the keen remarks along the lines of: eh, huh, uh, what, que?

  “Unfortunately, no, I could not do that without taking away his drive and ambition, thereby making him useless to me and my species. But. . . I am always up for a game of in-and-out.”

  Nate laughed through close teeth. “Figures.” He stepped off the wave transporter. “Follow me.”

  “Of course, our prestigious captain knows where the Bar District is.”

  Nate ignored the comment and Lauren wondered what Jaziel was alluding to: Drinking? Unsavory character? Thievery? Smuggling? They all had a horse in the race.

  As The Place came into view, the same three sex workers from before were seen standing in front.

  Nate heard to his right. “That is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever beheld.” He turned his head with a look of bewilderment crossing his face. The outburst had come from Pilox. Unexpected. But he shrugged it off and continued walking.

  “Yeah, two nice ladies.”

  “There is only one.”

  He brushed past Nate and Jaziel and ran up to the big tentacle being who’s face was a nightmare only a momma could love.

  Lauren pressed the button near her temple, triggering the Informer, while she made her own unique grimace to the scene:

  Bocalus - A species evolved from a deep sea creature on the planet, Bacca. They have black slits for eyes and each tentacle’s suction cups are used for breathing on land. Their skin, porous and slimy, known as gatchea, protects their bodies from the environment.

  Their language is spoken by the amount of bubbles generated at varying speeds in an aqueous environment; and therefore, not covered by the Universal Translator. On land, a series of grunts and muffled gurgles are used to communicate with other species.

  She could barely process the information, given the grotesque visual display by the bocalus and Pilox. She clicked the Informer off.

  The words escaped Nate’s mouth, “Oh, lord.”

  Jaziel said, “You see, now it makes sense why he wasn’t thrilled to be my sexual conquest. And yet, captain, he still succumbed to his urges. This is your last chance with me before we meet the owner.” She smiled his way and arched her back.

  “I’m going to be sick.”

  Jaziel turned up her nose and marched off.

  Pilox was groping and massaging tentacles and licking the oddly shaped mouth as her freakishly large tongue darted around his mouth and face.

  Lauren felt her stomach turn and revulsion run through her body. She had never seen anything so gross and odd. She attempted to look away but much like a train wreck, was mesmerized by it. “Do we grab him? He’s our muscle.”

  Nate shook his head vehemently, giving the most miserable frown he could conjure up. “Do you want to untangle them? No. No. No. We’ll be fine. You’ll be my shooter.”

  Lauren looked at the mirage of appendages and shuddered. That’s a negative, cap. And because of Nate’s question and the scene in front of her, she had limited time to dwell on being his shooter and the anxiety that came with that responsibility. She had only shot the blaster in target practice. Astraos’s smirk and know-how saying, you got this, roared through her mind, dispelling her anxiety. I can do this.

  The ezon and kaledio both sported equally disturbed frowns. Nate laughed. “Hey, if they’re disturbed, we can’t feel too bad.”

  They went inside The Place. Nate nodded like he was a regular, flashing a big grin. He really liked the atmosphere. “I need to come here more often.”

  They walked through the throngs of people who had their jaws limply attached to their faces, staring at Jaziel.

  “I have been assaulted with vulgar looks from repugnant characters while you remained outside.”

  “Don’t march off next time.”

  “There will be no next time once this is handled.”

  Nate sighed. “If only I could believe that, this galaxy has a tendency to screw with me.”

  She met the remark with cold silence. Nate went past her and up to the counter.

  A shockwave rode into his face and through his body. It can’t be. The face, the body, it all pointed to one conclusion. One he could not avoid.

  In unison they said to each other, pointing to the other, “Emerald City?”—breath forced out of Nate’s lungs as he tried to accept the person in front of him—“How?”

  The bartender exhaled and shook his head. “My ship took damage and the computer thought the only way to preserve the crew was to keep everyone cryogenically frozen. We crash landed, which destroyed the cryo wing. I wasn’t a part of the wing, though. We had taken on an extra passenger and I was using the spare cryo located in the bay. Aliens found and revived me and that’s all I can say for now. Give me the pad.”

  “Uh. . .” Nate was caught between processing that another of his kind lived and giving over the locater. The effect was his best portrayal of a statue.

  “Now!”

  Nate was pulled back to reality. He handed over the pad.

  The bartender dismantled it, taking out a silver ball and pocketing it.

  “What was—?”

  “We have to get out of here, Nathan.”

  Feeling like the world around him was tumbling out of control, anxiety reared its ugly head to the surface, Nate grabbed the counter with both hands and leaned over to put his face close to the only other survivor of his people—a possibility he had dismissed as impossible, years ago. “What is going on? How do you my name?”

  “There’s no time for that. They’ll be here shortly, jump over this counter and let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  “Why should I go anywhere?”

  “You are Captain Nathan. Your crew is Pilox, Astraos, Lauren, Kat, and Macellus. I can explain everything later, but for now, you have to trust me.”

  Given that Lauren and Astraos were more recent additions, especially Lauren, Nate was blown away; so much so, that he listened without interjecting with his usual style of interrogation.

  Nate glanced back at Lauren. “Get Pilox.”

  She dashed back through the doors without much thought and screamed, “Pilox!”

  Pilox disengaged himself from the tentacle embrace of the bocalus. “What is it?”

  “We have to go now.” Lauren thought this over. She knew there was no time for debates or added context, and thankfully remembered what Astraos had said about how to make Pilox do something. “The captain commands it.”

  He turned back to the bocalus. “I will find you again, my love. But know, if I don’t, someone of your kind will be mine forever.” This was meant as a high honor by the cheshirs. He would spend half a century hoping to find her by galaxy’s chance and would be celibate during that time; however, if they did not cross paths within that half century, he would move on to another of her kind.

  Lauren turned to the other sex workers. “You guys should leave The Station if you’d like to live.”

  They laughed, even the bocalus joining in with her unique brand of laughter: consisting of whipping her tentacles to-and-fro. The ezon s
aid, “Looks like another doom chaser.” Lauren, seeing nothing else she could say or do to convince them, left with an exasperated outlook towards the occupants of the galaxy. It hit too close to home. She remembered visiting Phoenix and a man with holes for clothes who cried out about the apocalypse coming, nay. . . happening. She could not blame them for brushing her off. She stared at them, wondering if she would have done the same only days ago. She grabbed Pilox as he went to say more goodbyes to the creature from the black lagoon and ran inside.

  They ran up to the counter hearing Nate yelling, “Jump over and let’s get out of here. . . Come on, Jaziel, stop being dead weight.”

  “What is the meaning of that saying?”

  “Stop being an asshole and get your ass over the damn counter.”

  “Well I never—”

  The bartender bellowed, “We don’t have time for this!”

  She finally came over as Pilox and Lauren came running and jumping over the counter. They followed the bartender who used the same route he had used previously with Astraos.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞

  “Look at that. . . Still here.”

  “How are we getting in?”

  “Easy.”

  He went up to the ship’s door, took out Laverne and used it like a box cutter.

  “That’ll work.”

  He raised his eyebrows twice, smirked and twirled Laverne. “This is my universal key.”

  “Oh? I thought that was located elsewhere.”

  “I guess you need something to fantasize about.”

  The look on Kat’s face was priceless. “If we didn’t have work to get done, I’d bash you until your tool was as limp as your tongue.”

  He laughed. “Nate is missing out. I bet your wild—”

  “Focus!”

  He readied himself and kicked the door down.

  They both shuffled in. “Engine room is to the left. I’m going to make sure that if the katros come, they’ll find a nasty surprise waiting for them.”

  “I’ll go see what you’re working with.”

  Transmission commencing. . .

  A face that almost mirrored Astraos’s, except his stripes were prominently displayed on his chin and encircled his amethyst eyes, like permanent mascara.

  “Hello, father.”

  “Astraos! I have sent—”

  “I’m sorry. You wouldn’t sanction my visit. I didn’t plan on staying out of contact, but I knew you’d pick me up. The katros, specifically the Family of Klan, are looking to kill me and a few friends. I need your help.”

  His father’s eyes became slits on the screen. He breathed deeply and said, “What have you started?”

  “I didn’t start anything. The Family Klan took control of him and were looking to destroy the plythiens in order to get the next station’s contract. The leader of the plythiens, Ambassador Jaziel, was captured trying to secure the contract by finding the owner. She stated that her intent was to stave off civil war.”

  “Part of that doesn’t make any sense, son.”

  “It doesn’t?” Now that he thought about it, he remembered some oddities from Jaziel in that cell, her glancing away when talking about civil war and riots, and the most obvious truth, she was a bureaucrat.

  “The plythiens never had enough manpower to construct a station on their own. They’ve always worked with others. The ambassador is not being honest with you. They must be looking to capture the owner and force some lucrative projects that only involve them. You must remember. . . only the husbands work in their society.”

  “Oh. . . I missed that—”

  “That’s because you don’t study like you should. The katros part in this makes sense. They have the manpower by using humans as slaves. I can perceive there being a high probability that a Family’s plot revolves around the destruction of the plythiens’ leadership and Station XI. Subsequently, they will then enslave all the male plythiens in order to increase the value of human slaves as skilled laborers.”

  “Come again?”

  “Where are you, son?”

  “Station XI.”

  “You need to get out of there now. I will be sending two battlecruisers over there.” He made an exasperated sound—somewhere caught between a sigh and a grunt. “My expectation is that you will be home after everything is settled. We will have a long conversation.”

  Astraos grimaced. I have to try. “Will you be going after the katros?”

  “I can go after the Family Klan and with enough survivors from Station XI, we will gain support. But the other families will turn against Klan; and therefore, that family will be the only casualty of the katros.”

  “What about the space they own? Can you claim it?”

  “Of course, I can claim it. But I won’t. It will appear as another heinous act by the cheshirs and we will once again become the enemy of all. We have a chance to have the rest of the galaxy not wanting us dead, for once. We will take it.”

  “But father, Earth—”

  “Enough! Astraos. I cannot help Earth over our own people. You must grow out of this romance you have with that planet and the humans.”

  “I—”

  “Leave at once, Astraos. We will speak when you arrive on Chesh.”

  Transmission ended.

  Inconceivable fury wrapped itself around Astraos’s insides, he activated Laverne and Shirley and slashed at the ship’s controls. Slicing, grabbing and ripping apart pieces like cardboard, the rage was fierce but short-lived. When he finished, he slowly pumped breath out of his mouth—staring at the mastery of his carnage. He sheathed his blades and screamed, clenching his fists as he howled at the top of his lungs.

  He loved humans and everything they brought to his world and that was before Lauren. He felt hysterical, tormented. The only thing the cheshirs accomplished was forcing him to hide in his own quarters as he grew up.

  Each breath calmed him down more, and he saw Lauren’s face, touching his cheek, sedating the savage underneath. He leaned forward and raised his hand, attempting to touch the apparition. I have to be better. The sentence rang through his skull, rummaging around his brain. How he admired Lauren’s acceptance of her fate. But he would not relent, he would not weaken his resolve; he would find a way to save her planet from the clutches of the katros and the slave trade.

  Kat stood behind, momentarily scared for her life. The rage of a cheshir was well-documented in the galaxy’s annals. If not quailed, they have been known to destroy everything around them, including themselves. But she found her inner-self that exuded bravery, and chose not to be shaken by any male, anyone, ever.

  “Get it out of you?”

  Astraos kept his head down, still breathing out of his mouth. “I am trying.”

  “I know. I know.” She gave him a minute then said, “We need to leave.”

  He arched his head up, deeply inhaled and slowly exhaled.

  Trying to change the subject and uplift the ominous mood, she made eye contact and gestured with the drive and said, “This beauty will pop in, no problem.”

  “Good. . . Good. . .” They were stray words with no emotion attached.

  She thought, I guess I should feel lucky it wasn’t Pilox. She cut off her inner laugh. We’d all be dead, for sure.

  He stepped past her and off the ship.

  Yezkal appeared in front of them, barring their path. “Well, well, if it isn’t the sukeltrat, I’ve been looking for.”

  “Out of my way, Yezkal.”

  In a swift motion the guards surrounding Yezkal lifted their blasters, at the same time, Astraos grabbed Laverne and Shirley and activated them. They shot at him, but he twirled his blades in a mystifying figure eight that reflected each blast off, finding a home in space or back at the source. The guards dropped one by one, killed by their own providers of oblivion. Yezkal began to back away. The guards who were still alive decided to drop their blasters and run. Astraos rushed and picked him up by his neck. “I said, out of my way!” He launched Ye
zkal behind him and he flew into space.

  Kat decided not to comment this time. He is certainly in a mood.

  The populace went back to their respective activities, ignoring the guards dead bodies they were stepping over—being detached from such events, seemed to be a subconscious effort by all who went about their business on Station XI. Astraos’s eyes honed in on a hooded individual standing near the middle of the docking area, waves of people were moving past, but the figure stood motionless. Head downcast and hood down, he felt a sensation envelop his mind and body. This was an enemy he knew, one incorporated into his genes.

  He shouted, “Kat, to me, now!” Not knowing exactly why he said it, he knew something to be coming, something terrible.

  The figure unveiled her hood, a toothy smile playing on her lips.

  Kat said, “Is that. . .?”

  “No. . . It’s not.”

  Kat understandably mistook her for Princess Wooshuda.

  Malevole reached behind her garments, pulled out a staff as black as night: no light reflected or emanated from it. Absolute black. The staff seemed to bend space around it, distorting her and her staff.

  She jumped and slammed her staff down. Ripples of energy charged the docking area like a tsunami, the waves flung every being in the area into space. The energy compiled upon itself, increasing in size and power with distance. Astraos slammed his feet into the metal floor. He unsheathed Laverne, triggered her, pierced the floor and grabbed Kat’s hand. “Hang on.”

  The ripple hit them, expelling the rest of the beings who had been on the docking area. Kat’s body was flying through the air, but she held on to his hand, nails digging into his skin. She waved much like a flag. Astraos used Laverne to deflect as much of the energy as possible around them.

  Then it ceased. . .

  Astraos pulled his arm in and whispered to Kat, “Run to the ship as fast as you can. I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again until you’re safe.”

  Kat whispered, “Who—?”

  “There’s no time. Go!”

  The fighters both strolled towards each other.