Alien Wars

by Vaughn Heppner

  It seemed to Cyrus they invaded the heart of the city. The ruins towered even higher and the extent of the damage grew.

  Many blocks later Braunt held out an arm to halt Cyrus. The seeker knelt and examined gravel.

  “What is it?” Cyrus asked.

  “A handprint,” Braunt whispered. “Look. There is another. Saurians have ridden here. We must remain alert.” His features hardened. “The Saurians have slain those like me before, although we have slain them in turn. They are dangerous.” Braunt drew his saber and picked up a rock.

  They slinked in shadows and darted across open areas. Braunt often paused, listening, scanning the streets. Cyrus became tense.

  Braunt hissed in warning.

  Cyrus stopped.

  The seeker moved beside him and pointed across a crevice.

  Four humanoid mounts trotted there with Saurian riders. The lance-armed Saurians peered everywhere as if searching.

  “They hunt,” Cyrus said, a cold feeling squeezing his spine.

  “Why don’t the giant men buck off the Saurians and beat them to death?” Braunt whispered.

  Cyrus felt another inner jolt. Braunt now spoke with Klane’s voice. He eyed Braunt sidelong. If once the seeker had been red-skinned, the man wasn’t anymore.

  “I would buck my rider off,” Braunt said.

  “Are the giant men still human, or has their time in the vats turned them into beasts?”

  “Vats?” asked Braunt.

  “Look,” said Cyrus, “they’re gone.” While he’d studied Braunt, the Saurians had ridden away.

  Braunt hesitated and then started walking. Cyrus followed him.

  In this way, while avoiding other hunting parties, they reached a wide plaza with broken fountains. In the center of the least damaged fountain coiled a granite snake-like statue with vestigial wings and a bony crest on its serpent head.

  Is that what the Eich looks like? Cyrus wondered.

  “There,” Braunt whispered. He pointed at a monstrous dome in the distance. It was nestled between other large buildings. A fierce blue radiance set it apart from the others. Underneath the radiance the dome seemed intact.

  “The barrier,” Braunt said in a quiet voice.

  Cyrus frowned. It wasn’t a barrier, but a dome. Why did everyone call it a barrier then?

  “Did the dome glow last time you saw it?” Cyrus asked.

  Braunt frowned. “That’s strange. I can’t remember.”

  Cyrus tried to puzzle that out. The man had known before. Why would he lose the memory?

  “Is your name really Braunt?” Cyrus asked.

  The man raised his eyebrows. “I think so. Yes. That’s my name. I am Braunt.”

  Cyrus rubbed his chin, deciding to let it pass. He considered the dome with its blue light. The Saurians had cleansed a blue glow from other ruins. What did the blue glow signify?

  “Now,” Braunt said. He had been scanning the plaza and side streets.

  They hurried across the cobbles.

  “Maybe we should have gone around this area,” Cyrus panted.

  “No,” said Braunt. “The last Saurians—” He slid to a halt beside a fountain.

  Two Saurian riders trotted into view on a nearby street. Braunt and Cyrus eased behind the fountain. One of the mounts must have seen them. It hooted and pranced grotesquely about on all fours.

  “At least there are only two this time,” Braunt whispered.

  The riders, smaller Saurians than the Sa-Austra and bearing lances instead of swords, turned their mounts toward the fountain. The first rider raised its lance. A black pennon fluttered from it.

  “Cyrus Gant of Earth,” the Saurian hissed, “come forth.”

  The second Saurian raised a bone-white horn and blew a warbling sound.

  “How do they know your name?” Braunt asked.

  “An excellent question,” Cyrus said. The Sa-Austra had demanded to know his name. These two Saurians knew it. That seemed like a bad omen. He peered at the dome. It was still many streets away. “We must surprise these two,” Cyrus said.

  “How?” whispered Braunt.

  “Remain here,” Cyrus said. “Be ready to attack at my signal.”

  “Attack mounted Saurians?”

  “They won’t be moving fast when you do,” Cyrus said. With a twist of his head, he cracked his neck. Then he flexed his hands and strode from behind the fountain, walking toward the approaching Saurians.

  “Cyrus Gant?” the Saurian hissed.

  “You have me at a disadvantage, I’m afraid,” Cyrus said. “I don’t know your names.”

  With a talon-like hand, the Saurian stroked a red pendant dangling from its throat. “We know you’re a psi-wielder, Cyrus Gant. You should have told the Sa-Austra your name and come with him. For daring to raise your hand against our champion, you have gravely offended the Family.”

  “How do you know I didn’t tell him my name?” Cyrus asked, still walking toward the creature.

  “We questioned the Sa-Austra’s mount.”

  Sweat beaded on Cyrus’s neck. The Saurian unnerved him. With its long torso and short arms and legs, it looked like a lizard, more primitive than a Kresh. The unblinking eyes, the flickering forked tongue—he found the alien revolting. Maybe just as bad was the giant human mount with the spiked bit between his teeth and the shaggy hair in his eyes. The mount’s only clothes were the demeaning saddle and reins.

  Cyrus put that out of his mind. He needed to get a little nearer.

  “Ask him,” the second Saurian hissed.

  Another, unseen, horn warbled a distant cry. It caused the two Saurians to glance in that direction, which made their saddles creak.

  Cyrus strode faster as he began to ready himself.

  “You bear us a message, psi-wielder,” the first Saurian hissed. “We demand you relay it to us.”

  Cyrus’s gaze had locked onto the lead Saurian. The alien had coin-sized scales that became almost black under its arms, while those on its long belly were faded to a pinker color. It hissed, and it slotted the lance into a holder. At the same time, it yanked a capture net from a different saddlebag.

  “Resistance will be punished,” the first Saurian hissed. “You think to change the land, but we will not allow it.”

  Cyrus paused. “What are you talking about?”

  “We know your plan, psi-wielder.”

  “You couldn’t possibly know,” Cyrus said.

  The first Saurian stood up in the stirrups. “You are the One. Obviously, you are walking through the damaged areas of your mind, healing them. At least, so you undoubtedly see your journey. You make the un-Cyrus areas Cyrus. But we refuse to go down to the dark night of oblivion. The Family will live again through the Eich.”

  Okay. Cyrus could understand that. It was a weird concept, though. These memories fought to exist. If the Eich died, would they die? That might give them reason to fight.

  Cyrus realized, though, that here in the city he could use his talent. He could feel it flowing through him. As the Saurians watched him, Cyrus raised his right hand with the palm aimed at the creatures. Psi-power flowed from him.

  The rear Saurian hissed with rage. Both urged their mounts to charge. As the mounts leaped to the attack, they slowed as Cyrus dimmed their reaction time.

  The lead Saurian threw its net, but the psi-slowing of its arm marred the cast. Cyrus ducked the spinning net.

  Braunt charged from behind the fountain. Left-handed, he hurled his rock. It sped like a sling stone and struck the first Saurian on its low forehead. With a squeal, the creature sprawled backward onto the cobbles. Moving like greased death compared to the other’s slowed reactions, Braunt reached the fallen lance before the creature could grab it. The man skewered the Saurian through its chest as the lizard squealed horribly.

 
; The second alien, realizing it was in danger, jerked the reins. The spiked bit caused blood to well in the mount’s mouth. It turned and began to flee.

  Braunt unhooked the short-handled axe from his belt. With cold efficiency, he hurled it after the retreating Saurian. The hatchet spun three times and crunched into skull bone. The Saurian with a blade sticking from its head swayed in the saddle. The giant mount bawled in woe and bounded away with his master.

  Braunt’s nostrils flared. They were no longer flat, but looked just like Klane’s had once. In fact, Braunt looked exactly like Klane, with pale skin and blue eyes.

  “That was a killing strike,” Braunt/Klane said. “The Saurian should have fallen.”

  “Are you Klane?” Cyrus asked. “Or are you a shape-shifter who merely looks like the Anointed One?”

  Braunt/Klane examined himself with surprise. Finally, he regarded Cyrus. “Hello, my friend. It’s good to see you.”

  “Yeah,” Cyrus said, finding it hard not to choke on his words. He stuck out his hand. They shook.

  A warbling horn blared nearby.

  “Come on!” Cyrus shouted. “We have to reach the dome before they do.”

  “Cyrus Gant, you must come back!” a Saurian called from across the wide street.

  In Cyrus’s mind, the two dozen mounted aliens milled beside a marble plinth. Golden hieroglyphs were etched into it. The speaker used a horn that amplified its voice. It shouted, “You must align yourself with reality, Cyrus Gant, not indulge in these vain fancies. You cannot fix the altered areas of your mind. It is an impossible task. Accept what is.”

  Klane heaved against an outsized door. It was massive and glowed with the same radiance as the dome. Huge arches ringed the dome. Alien bas-relief images had been chiseled into the masonry. Cyrus had randomly chosen this arch, running under it to the mighty door.

  Cyrus watched the Saurians. It seemed as if it should have been easy enough for them to swarm and hurl their lances at him. If that failed, they could draw knives and follow him into the dome. Yet the Saurians did neither of those things, but carefully stayed across the street.

  “Your actions will be remembered,” the Saurian hissed through its far-speaker. “When the day of retribution comes, we will step forth and accuse you of malice. Your punishment will be long and terrible, Cyrus Gant. No one can defeat the Eich. He belongs to the invincible race.”

  Cyrus scowled.

  “Cyrus Gant—”

  Ahead of him, Klane squeezed through the barely open door. Cyrus followed. The door was metal and immensely thick. It had to weigh several tons. That Klane had moved it—the hinges had to have been well oiled.

  As soon as Cyrus eased into the dome and shut the door behind him, the Saurian’s words stopped as if cut by a knife. For more than one reason, Cyrus found that ominous.

  “Look,” whispered Klane.

  They were in a short but large tunnel. It led toward an immense area. The field contained a circle of six blue crystals, each at least thirty meters tall. A blue beam shot out of a single mineral monolith. That ray speared at the middle of the domed ceiling. Before each structure was an open pit like a grave. Small gas flames flickered around the perimeter of each grave. In the center of the crystals was a metal disc. Between the disc and the mineral monolith lay twisted swords, crumpled helmets, rotting clothing and chewed boots, torn belts, and bones, heaps of bones.

  “Why bones and swords?” Cyrus asked. “That doesn’t seem very modern.”

  Cyrus took a deep breath and immediately regretted it. A rotted stench hit him. As he advanced, the foul odor made his skin feel greasy and caused his stomach to twist.

  Blue light filled the interior of the dome, the illumination coming from the beam. Cyrus grew aware of a faint vibration and a whine. Both came from the ray.

  Cyrus swallowed with a dry throat. He didn’t like this place. If the Saurians belonged to the Eich now, why did they seem to fear the dome?

  Am I really cleaning out the damaged parts by passing through them? That would be nice to believe. I need some evidence of it, though.

  Cyrus walked toward the crystals, toward the mass of defiled bones. The stench of rotted death was powerfully rank. The area between the crystals was soaked with blood.

  “We must cross the barrier while we can,” Klane said.

  “How exactly do we do that?” Cyrus asked.

  “In the open pits—”

  “The graves you mean?”

  “The open pits,” Klane said. “Inside them are portal openings. One of them leads to the Eich’s fortress.”

  “How do we know which is the right portal?”

  Klane turned to Cyrus in surprise. “I thought you’d know.”

  Cyrus considered that. Finally, he strode toward the nearest crystal. Klane trotted beside him.

  At that moment, the giant disc in the center of the grisly mass began to dilate open like an obscene metal eye. Something made whirring sounds. There were clanks, a faint chugging sound. The metal disc dilated completely open and something began to rise out of the opening.

  “We must flee,” Klane said.

  “Flee where?” Cyrus asked.

  Klane gestured weakly toward the doors.

  “No,” Cyrus said. “The Saurians will capture us if we go back outside.” He swept his fingers through his hair.

  “We should climb down into a pit before whatever is coming comes,” Klane said.

  Cyrus stared at Klane for just a second. “Go!” he shouted. “Run!”

  Cyrus sprinted for the nearest pit as the tusked head of an impossibly gargantuan creature poked out of the metal hole. Fast eyes opened. The creature spied them, and it bellowed with rage.

  Flames roared from the sides of Cyrus’s chosen pit.

  “Jump!” Cyrus shouted, deciding he must have picked the right one if the guardian creature was trying to stop them.

  Klane never hesitated, leaping into the pit. Cyrus glanced over his shoulder. The creature’s warty neck appeared, a neck bigger than any sky vehicle. Once the monster’s shoulders cleared the dilated opening, it would be able to grab them with long arms. Cyrus jumped into the pit.

  It was time to find and slay the psi-parasite on its home ground. As Cyrus moved to a shimmering portal, the tusked creature boomed words.

  “You fools!” the monstrous creature bellowed. “It has never been my task to guard the route into the Eich’s realm, but to make sure no one can ever leave it. If you try to come back, I’ll devour you on your return.”

  26

  Dagon Dar stood in his private chamber aboard a hammer-ship.

  As FIRST, he had commandeered the best warship as his headquarters for the coming struggle. The circular chamber was strewn with charm, a reddish substance that grated comfortably against his talons. A padded acceleration board stood to the side. Prized chard posters hung on the walls, showing ancient scenes of his home world.

  This was an elegant room, fraught with hot fragrances. It would be easy to become lost here in contemplation of arcane mathematical formulas.

  I am FIRST. I have an obligation to my Race. I must bend my superior intellect to the great task.

  He was of two minds on the correct course of action. Without the cyborgs in the outer asteroid belt, he would have traveled down to Jassac and questioned human primitives of the uplands. He would prefer to hunt down these hidden aliens and discover their agenda. The existence of the primitive seekers proved the aliens’ hidden influence. No doubt the Resisters of High Station 3 and elsewhere had also originated with the hidden aliens. The Anointed One and—

  Dagon Dar hissed. Klane, the Resister’s famed Anointed One, had died. The human-hijacked Battle Fang meant nothing now. In a few more hours—possibly more because the Battle Fang accelerated away at high speed—the Tal drones would take care of it.

 
Still, he would like to know how the humans had overpowered Mingal Cham the 3012th and the Bo Taw. It was a startling victory for such base creatures. It would appear the Earther was the primary mover in that. The one named Cyrus Gant sought his own kind, heading for High Station 3.

  No. Cyrus Gant had headed for High Station 3. With the Battle Fang’s new acceleration, the hijacked ship would flash past the habitat as it sought to escape the Tal drones.

  Dagon Dar had considered ordering the rest of the Teleship’s Earth crew slain. He did not want them reuniting with Cyrus Gant. With the Special’s death, he could reserve the other Earthers for further study on the political situation in the solar system.

  In any case, Dagon Dar was not going down to Jassac. If he questioned enough primitives, he might find the location where the hidden aliens had met with the seekers. How could that help him against the present threat of the cyborgs or the Chirr?

  Lashing his tail, Dagon Dar began to stride from one part of the chamber to the other. The Chirr had annihilated the Heenhiss gravitational system. Many Vomag armies remained on the planet, but the polar spaceports were radioactive ruins and the guardian fleet, drifting debris. No habitat remained. Chirr hordes had already surfaced, attacking the Vomags. The stubborn humans fought valiantly and with cunning. It would likely take the return of the Chirr space fleet before the insects could reclaim the entire planet as their own.

  Why are the Glegan Kresh so foolish? Don’t they realize the Chirr mean to destroy them too?

  Despite his orders, the Glegan Kresh refused to recognize his elevation to FIRST. They dared to challenge his right as the primary philosopher king of the Fenris System.

  Controlling the larger fleet—as the Glegan Kresh do—means nothing when that fleet is about to perish. Maybe the old FIRST made a mistake sending the soft thinkers to Glegan. The soft thinkers believe this is their hour. No. This is their end. Soft thinkers indeed, they would be better served to listen to me, the greatest intelligence left in the system.