Starblade

by Rodney C. Johnson

  Down in the walled ring-shaped garden, the Shotar could make out two female figures, one taller than the other. Back and forth they exchanged harsh words under the branches of Rishaak trees that drooped with long silver fronds and tear shaped golden fruit. Neither woman seemed to care that their voices carried throughout the palace complex and down to the market outside the walls.

  Sitara, the taller of the two, hands on her hips, her tail swished in anger. Beside her a large pet kheigra sat. The Princess was dressed in a purple and silver lehnga-choli. Many bangles and jewels bedecked her arms, all of which clanged when she moved. Her hair was put in an elaborate hairstyle intended to show off the points of her ears which were decorated with complex earrings. This most feminine of clothing made it clear why Sitara had her reputation as a flirt. Compared to the hardness she tended to communicate while in her black Armada uniform, the lehnga-choli seemed a welcome change. Though the figure she bore down on might not have noticed the difference.

  Kheira, called such for the Falcanian word given to the Himalayan range fit her appellation rather well, had pale luminescent skin. A glow in her complexion gave her a radiant aura. Straight, jet black hair contrasted with her lighted body. The young princess had a rare genetic anomaly known as the rahli'ka, or the gleaming. A child born with the rahli'ka was otherwise in perfect health and Falcanian physicians could see no reason to eliminate this abnormality from their genetic structure. To begin with, they were not entirely sure of the genetic alignment which produced this unusual outcome and preferred to leave it be. Those with the rahli'ka were in truth revered by the Tahru.

  By the time Sharr, entered the courtyard Sitara and Kheira had begun to shout at an even greater pitch, not only in Falcanian, but in English and Hindi, along with Bengali. They seemed to be finding the most abrasive of words in whatever languages they studied in order to insult one another.

  He approached silently, only Sitara's tiger striped white oversized blue-eyed feline, which had been a gift from her grandfather Turhan's laboratory, Krürashi paid the Shotar any mind. His daughters were doing some unspeakable things with their wings and tails – brandishing them as if to strike at each other. Most uncouth decorum to be sure.

  On the under part of his fingerless gloves, golden studs were attached. The decorative studs served a practical function in his black regalia. Sharr Khan crossed his arms and let the rivets clang against one another, which produced a shrill sound. That got the girls' attention. At sight of their father, the princesses stopped yelling.

  Silent and respectful in front of their Shotar, the girls glanced downward.

  “Girls?” Sharr said in a low voice.

  Sitara turned at her sister. She started to speak, but bit her lip, shifting her weight to her leg. She had no desire to test her father today and blaming the argument on Kheira wouldn't help.

  They waited together wordlessly for a minute and Sharr grew irritated.

  “What was this about?” he asked.

  “Sitara started it!” Kheira said and pointed at her elder sister.

  “Sitara?” Sharr asked his tone stern.

  She sighed as her father looked at her severely. “I told Kheira I wanted to be alone in the garden,” she murmured. “I wanted to think, not listen to her sing.”

  Sharr regarded his younger daughter. Only nine by Falcanian standards, she appeared fifteen human years old. “Kheira, I believe your mother’s ready for your lesson.”

  The girl who gleamed politely excused herself.

  Sharr gave his elder child a severe look. “You shouldn't have done that Tara.”

  Sitara rolled her violet eyes as she reached down to pet Krürashi between his ears. The biorobotic cat purred and pushed against its mistress's legs. “I know.”

  “Among other things, Kheira has a wonderful talent and I think your mother has taught you to appreciate song and music. Though, I know opera wasn’t ever your thing, to your mother's tremendous disappointment.”

  “I just wanted to be alone.”

  Sitara sat on a bench near a fountain carved to resemble a female Falcanian and placed her chin in her hand.

  Falcanians preferred stylized representations of the human form and this statue had been intended to be the idealized model of Falcania herself. Winged, and almond eyed, the statue had delicate features with pointed ears and a small nose. Her body well proportioned, and though clothed, the stone wrought female might as well have been nude for two erect nipples could be made out beneath the choli that the stone woman wore. In one hand the statue of Falcania held a Kraris, the blade which she had forged from three broken swords and Arntiraas had won by his response to her riddle. In Falcania’s other hand she held three shards, pieces of the blade Fordon that could not be worked into the Kraris. The shards were known as the Phoenix Puzzle.

  Sharr sat beside Sitara, and Krürashi licked his hand. “What bothers you my Hamsa?”

  “I haven't seen Kulcarin since my return from Mars –”

  The Shotar smiled. “I understand you love him and miss him. That’s no excuse to be meanspirited to your sister.”

  “Can't you tell me where he is?”

  “Kulcarin will be back in time for my birthday,” promised Sharr Khan.

  This didn't cheer up Sitara who continued to frown.

  “He’s doing something important for me, us.” Sharr pressed on his daughter's hand. “Kulcarin ensures that the Imperium doesn’t utilize its advantage with the DSV Excalibur.”

  It took Sitara a moment, but then what her father had just told her registered. “He's in space?”

  The Shotar nodded, got up, and touched his eldest daughter's cheek. For the first time in their discussion Sitara smiled.

  [Primus Sector: Outermost Terran Colony]

  The warship glistened against bright starlight, the elliptical blood-red hull and predatory wings swept forward. Tair'Aliran hid in the currents of a blue gas giant while she waited, ready and prepared to hunt for the DSV Excalibur. The Falcanian warship ascended into the darkness of space to meet its prey. One could be left with the impression of a tiny hunting bird. Each wing supported a nacelle capped with a twisted pyramidal ramjet which functioned also as a VTOL engine. The bow resembled sharp tines of a fork with a rectangular sensor array between the points. Mounted on the dorsal section the F-9 Raptor had a single guiding tail wing that allowed for maneuverability in atmosphere.

  In the endless expanse of the stars the F-9 Raptor halted itself. Front facing rockets brought the warship to an efficient stop. After all, being able to stop on a dime was important in space and F-9 Raptors had been built for both speed and maneuverability.

  The master of the Falcanian warship, aided by his Garuda thrusters, jumped into the air. His eerie, translucent-green wings slightly extended. With a tri-claw boot, the young warrior slashed the bucket headed battledroid, gripped and then pushed it onto the finished floor of the ships gymnasium. Another battledroid came at him, this time with his katar the young, powerfully built Falcanian male thrust the honed edge of the triangular sword into the combat automaton and pressed the sword deeper.

  By all accounts Kulcarin Aranskrai would be thought a brawny man. Like his namesake, the Khan of the Atlaar tribe in the Telchar Shanral, Kulcarin to remained steadfast and devoted to his Shotar. Muscles rippled, and bulged down his chest, he was not overly muscular yet well sculpted and his refined sinews spoke of tremendous strength. Kulcarin, like any Falcanian, had the strength of twelve normal humans. A perfect golden complexion glistened fresh with sweat. Angled green eyes burned with the soul of his people. Kulcarin wore his black hair long as was custom among the males of his kind and had braided it thick with dreadlocks. A mustache drooped over his lip, finished by a goatee.

  Kulcarin Aranskrai’s mother came from Nepal and his father heralded out of Russia. They were brought into the Phoenix Project by Sitara's grandparents. His father, Vultan, had been ex-Russian intelligence and his mother Kalpana an archaeologist. Both had contributed mu
ch to the Falcanian cause.

  “Bashir,” a voice called over a speaker. “The DSV Excalibur just arrived at the Primus colony.”

  “Understood,” Kulcarin said while he toweled off and headed out of the room.

  Colonel Aranskrai crossed the length of his ship and entered the well-lit command center of the Tair'Aliran. His second officer removed himself from the throne that sat on a raised area in the center of the command area. Stations were placed so each officer could look at their commander and their instruments.

  “Report!” Kulcarin commanded as he settled in his chair.

  “The Imperium’s vessel assumed a standard orbit around Primus.”

  Aranskrai leaned back and watched the white ship circle the green world below. He wanted very much to hear what was being discussed with the command crew of the DSV Excalibur. It would make his job easier. “Do they know we are here, Shierak?”

  “No, my Drak.”

  “Move the Tair'Aliran into a shadowing orbit;. Match whatever the DSV Excalibur does.” Kulcarin Aranskrai stroked his goatee, while he contemplated his next move. Luckily for him, Sitara thought to make these starships able to deflect most modern scanners. The young lord hoped the other ship was not as sophisticated or could detect them.

  Lord Aranskrai longed to hold his love, the Princess Sitara. He had been away from her for far too long and he knew that by now Sitara must have returned home from her duties on Mars. Being aboard this vessel, this F-9 Raptor constantly kept her in his mind.

  Kulcarin refocused and set his mind to why he had come here. He recalled what the Shotar ordered him to do: “Kulcarin, I want you at Primus waiting for DSV Excalibur. Once there you are to find out where they are headed. Our intelligence has informed us that the American Imperium intends to send her to meet with an alien species and form an alliance. You are to use any means necessary to stop that from happening.”

  Indeed that had been a revelation to the young Falcanian. Mankind had reached out to space for many years since The Singularity. They even founded colonies and space stations, but had yet to make contact with an alien race. It began to look as if humanity were truly alone in the vastness of the universe. There were legends, whispers that aliens did exist and had no interest in humanity. Sightings of strange vessels which passed by planets and odd readings from ship sensors hinted of something. No other sapience had approached the third planet in orbit of Sol or any of its scouts. It seemed like whoever might be out there deliberately avoided humanity.

  If it were true that the DSV Excalibur had been sent to greet aliens and bring them into an alliance on the Imperium’s side, then Sharr and the Dreikatha were rightly concerned to send Kulcarin on this mission. No greater disaster could befall the Falcanians than if the Imperium aligned itself with an alien power. Such would unbalance Earth’s affairs. The primary concerns were of course a matter of technology. If aliens, who conceivably had journeyed the stars for an untold millennium joined themselves and exchanged knowledge with the Imperium, Earth would fall to the Republic and the Falcanians would become prime targets for its centurions.

  “So are Teresa and young Luc well?"

  Across the infinite vacuum, Captain Cole Braden waited for the official from the Imperium to join himself and his first officer, Commander Guillaume LaSalle.

  Cole Braden, clean-shaven, in his mid-thirties sported brown hair cropped in a style that his nation’s military had adopted a very long time ago. He wore his blue and white uniform with pride, its gold buttons polished to a pure sheen. Opposite him sat the Frenchmen Guillaume LaSalle. At twenty-one, he wore his hair short and lacked facial hair, even though he personally had always fancied a beard. In his estimation he looked better with one. An aura of magnetism surrounded LaSalle, an eager energy which telegraphed a fantastic inner-strength. The man oozed vitality.

  “They’re fine,” LaSalle said.

  “Outrageous is it not?” asked Cole.

  “Sir?”

  “Forced to be servants of the Imperium,” Cole said resentfully. “Being made to await Trajan.”

  Certain prejudices did not easily die. When the USA collapsed, Europe had cheered, given voice to long restrained thoughts. Until the fallout which had brought with it strife that did not know national borders. Romulus had risen from the chaos and bestowed new glory to a broken nation. Many across the globe shuddered and feared that the 'American Emperor' would make those he accused of betrayal pay for abandonment of his nation. Indeed JR Giovanni met them with his own onslaught and caused them to requite for their unfaithfulness. Both Guillaume and Cole understood this as they waited for Trajan to come and bequeath his orders upon them.

  “Lord Blud’s schemes disadvantage the crown,” the XO observed.

  “Gee,” Braden said. “Prime Minister Blud cares little for how his policies affect the Crown’s honor, provided he remains in power.” Cole always thought of himself as pro-royal. These hard times called for a powerful king.

  “King Odin should dismiss Archibald Blud.” LaSalle would love to see the day Odin demanded Blud’s resignation. The old warhorse wasted his honor with this risky alliance. Project Excalibur though seemed a boon. “It's time he uses his enhanced strength and intellect and challenge the Imperator for global supremacy.”

  Braden shook his head. “Odin Battenberg isn’t about to get rid of the man who gave him Windsor Castle or the prestige that goes with it.”

  “Speaking of conspiracies – ”

  LaSalle was cut short as the cabin’s door opened. Not bothering to press the door chime, Trajan entered Cole Braden’s office. He held the sealed orders for Cole Braden under his arm. Unlike Cole and his crew, Trajan did not wear the blue and white of the British fleet, yet dressed in Centurion armor, complete with a gladius strapped at his side accompanied by a very lethal coilgun. The Praetorian looked like he had stepped out of the pages of history in his modern armor. Black hair cut in the Roman style, worn as others long before him who bore the honor of calling themselves “Centurion” once sported.

  “I bring orders in the name of Imperator Romulus. What you are about to read is to be kept inside this office.” Trajan made no attempt to hide the fact he checked the room for monitoring devices. Satisfied the room had not been bugged, the Centurion continued. “The crew of the DSV Excalibur are about to take the next step for humanity.”

  Cole put his tea aside and picked up the pouch sealed with the Imperial signet of Romulus; He broke the seal and removed a folded letter as well as a small CD. The captain opened the paper and glanced over the words. His eyes widened. He could not believe what he had just read. Both Trajan and Guillaume noticed the shocked expression on his face.

  “Sir?” asked the Frenchmen.

  Cole cleared his throat. “As of this date, the DSV Excalibur is to proceed to region 30 by 70 by 42. Once there, we are to await the arrival of an Iksar'rang ship and proceed to open negotiations for the Imperium with the intent of a treaty for common cause with the Iksar'rang Union.”

  “Who... or what exactly are these Iksar'rang?” In the pit of his stomach LaSalle was sure that he would not like the answer.

  “Guillaume… they... they are –”

  “Aliens,” Trajan finished. “One of our foldships was discovered by them. My government has been in contact with the Iksar'rang and we found that we share mutual goals. The DSV Excalibur shall cement that treaty. Finally, after years of conflict, Mother Earth shall be united in peace under the Imperium’s flag.”

  LaSalle had been right, he didn't like the answer.

  Captain Braden suddenly understood his true mission as well as why his ship had been designed as it had been. There were plenty of armaments on board: nuclear warheads, mass drivers and assorted railguns. Enough power to allow the DSV Excalibur to devastate an entire planet. Braden understood that he and his ship were to be the Imperator’s sword.

  “She's on the move,” Shierak Tariksar reported from his station. “Thrusters only and breaking orbit.”
>
  On the holoviewer, Kulcarin watched the Excalibur head away from Primus and go into foldspace.

  Aranskrai’s voice remained low, deadly. “Follow. Her.”

  The Tair'Aliran's helmsmen matched the course of their prey. They followed the collapse and expansion of the fabric of space. This however could prove to be a problem for Kulcarin and his crew. If they did not keep in the shadows of the DSV Excalibur's sensors the Imperium vessel would become aware of the Bloodwing as itself sundered the fabric of space. They would need to be precise when they warped out of foldspace so as to mask the collapse of their own gravitic-bubble.

  [Indian Ocean: Chrysanthemum Maru, 6:00 PM Falcanian Standard Time]

  Frederika held ivory chopsticks delicately between her French manicured nails, clutching a sushi roll. She dipped the roll into a lacquered bowl of hot wasabi and brought it back up to her lush pink lips to take a full bite from the colorful rice, seaweed, and salmon creation. Dressed in a green kimono, she sat on a bamboo mat in the ship's galley, decorated in the same Japanese style as the rest of the ship. The girls chatted and giggled with one another as they always did at mealtimes. Mia sat to Frederika's left at the floor level table and both had their legs tucked underneath them.

  “I like your nails,” Mia said.

  Frederika smiled at her companion. “Danke.”

  Ch'Kran Traken was also among the women, which was most unusual. He didn't eat with the dancers. Frederika assumed that he took his meals with the Captain in his cabin. In any event, the blonde had been stunned when the Falcanian entered the galley during the evening meal.

  The Japanese crew deferred to the Falcanian's traditions as Ch'Kran had been allowed to keep his claw-boots on within the personal areas of the ship. This spoke so much of the honor the Shogun held for his Falcanian allies.

  Most of the girls were somewhat intimidated by Ch'Kran. It was hard not to be as he walked around, his wings hidden in his gray cloak most of the time and appeared to look through them with his sapphire eyes.