The Reign: Destiny - The Life Of Travis Rand

by Lance Berry

  The amateur corpsman grimaced. “The laser sliced through flesh and clipped bone from her skullcap, but there’s no neural damage. She’s fully conscious and aware.” His voice carried both horror and fascination in it.

  “If we move her, will she stay stable ‘til we get her back?”

  Bennis blew out air as he considered the question. “I don’t know. I’m too new at this. She might, or her system could do a hundred-eighty flipflop and she could die if we move her two feet.”

  “I know this is a stupid question,” Danielle piped in, “but how much pain is she in?”

  Bennis rechecked the readings on Jones his dsp had taken, and shook his head. “There’s no real way of telling. Her biological functions are stable, if slightly reduced. Tell the truth, I think her entire system’s in a state of mild shock…as much to protect her pain receptors as from the abruptness of the trauma.” He looked to Travis once more. “I can give her something for pain, but…it might do more harm than good to shut her system down even a bit.”

  “I won’t risk it, then,” Travis said softly. “Don’t give her anything. We’ll just have to hope she can hold on until we come back.” Travis then addressed all of them, but focused an icy gaze on Drake. “There’s Calvorians out there we need to kill, and we have to stay focused. We’ll leave her here. If she survives, we’ll take her back when we return.”

  A stunned silence fell over the group. Drake nodded, satisfied. “Good choice, Commander.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Travis ordered. He then went over to Jones and knelt beside her, trying to avoid the hideous gaze of that accusing remaining eye as he pulled the micro-com out of her dangling right ear as gently as he could. She squealed like a skewered pig, and Travis grunted in empathy, his stomach doing cartwheels. He then had to unclench her left fist, which was holding tight to the tactical dsp. For reasons which he couldn’t fathom, he looked directly at her. The eye darted between him and the squad, as if pleading for her to not be left behind. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and turned away.

  Travis stood and went over to Pietro. “You’re my XO. We’re going to track the other Calvorians, and if we can hook up with one of our own units along the way, the sooner the better.”

  “Understood, sir,” Pietro replied stolidly.

  Travis wiped the micro-com on his pants leg, attempting to get as much blood off as he could. He then placed it in his ear and listened to the standard background buzz which preceded the opening of a channel. “This is Private Travis Rand, acting officer in charge of Alpha group. Lieutenant- Commander Jane is down, and we have rendezvoused with–“ he looked at Drake expectantly.

  “Epsilon-pi.”

  “–Epsilon-pi. We are proceeding on bearing two-four-three, mark three,” he said as he glanced at the dsp’s tactical readout of the landscape and the closest proximity of enemy forces. “Outpost 339, please respond. Do you copy?”

  There was only static to greet him, and his brow furrowed in concern. He thought to look to Drake, but instead turned to Pietro and shrugged. The Russian stepped forward, whispering in his left ear. “Perhaps the enemy has broken the code for this frequency. We will have to maintain silence as we scan for other channels.”

  Travis nodded. His second action as officer in charge, and it was very likely he had given away their tactical strategy. “Good move, dumbass,” he muttered to himself, then motioned for the company to go forward. Without hesitation, and only a brief look of uncertainty from Drake, the seven soldiers moved forward under Travis’ guidance.

  Chapter 28

  Travis Rand’s unit headed northwest for four miles, tracking a Calvorian squad which the most recent info indicated had come down in the vicinity. Travis, Pietro and Steinholtz took point. Drake, Danielle and Bennis were center, while Gutierrez and the last soldier from Drake’s unit–Nicholas was his name–brought up the rear.

  Travis had taken the micro-com out of his ear to try and check for other channels that might have info from the base’s command center, but most of the channels were scrambled and he didn’t know the codes to clear them and link in. He had given Pietro the dsp to scan ahead for the enemy unit they were tracking, and the young man was intent on carrying out the task. They had come a considerable distance from Outpost 339, and while they could still see the three Calvorian light cruisers hanging in the sky still firing on the base, the sound of their weapons striking the shields and the retaliation of the base’s laser cannons had ceased to carry on the thin air. Travis hoped that they could find this group of aliens and take them out quick so that they could locate another unit with an experienced commanding officer to take charge.

  Pietro abruptly stopped walking. “Travis…” he said, a look of worry creasing his brow. Travis looked at the dsp offered to him. There had been a steady blip on the screen, only about a mile from their position, and now it was gone. Travis peered ahead into the distance. The uneven surface of the planet stretched forward, but there were no sounds except distant fire off to the north–perhaps another unit had engaged the enemy at that point. But the direction in which their target should be was completely still, and there was no hint of movement.

  “What’s going on?”

  Drake had come up and stood at Travis’ side. The entire unit had come to a halt, their weapons at the ready as they anxiously looked around at the surrounding terrain. Travis shoved the dsp into Drake’s hand. “A problem,” he said as he stepped away from Drake and continued to look ahead, trying to think of what to do next. He looked back at the squad that had placed their faith in him. “We’re moving ahead. Straight line, same formation. Look sharp.”

  Drake stared at him in stupefaction. “Now who’s out of their mind? For all we know, the enemy’s waiting for us to pull a simple-minded stunt like this! I’ve heard of things like this before, with whole units of theirs suddenly dropping off of sensor lines! They must have some kind of cloaking technology–“

  “Cloaking technology is a myth, Drake,” Travis said sharply. “It doesn’t exist! It’s the province of science fiction and comic books!”

  “Travis, I have heard similar stories…” Pietro began,but a hard glare from Travis made him fall silent. Travis then turned back to Drake. “Get over here, Private,” he said darkly as he pointed to a spot a few feet distant. Drake gritted his teeth angrily but followed Travis over.

  “What the hell’s the matter with you,” Travis demanded. “We served together at Sanderson, we cheered together over Earth Force victories and commiserated when we lost. We were cadre brothers, Anthony! I thought we were past whatever petty rivalries we had when we were kids! And I thought you had more faith in me than what you’ve been showing–or can’t you stand to see me in charge just ‘cause your father’s more famous than mine, so you think you should be running the show?”

  Drake’s fists curled up and he took an angry step forward…and paused. A half-dozen emotions took their turn passing over his naturally tan features as he glanced at the ground, his thoughts warring within him. Finally, he looked at Travis, supplication and defeat in his eyes. “I do trust you, Travis,” he said in a low but certain tone. “You lead, I’ll follow without any more questions.”

  Travis nodded in acceptance, and the two friends clapped hands and shared a brief hug. They headed over to the rest of the unit. “All right, we’re moving out as I said–“

  A laser bolt caught Pietro in the shoulder, near the base of his neck. His eyes popped wide as he fell to the ground. His body twitched for an instant, and was still.

  “Incoming!” Travis screamed, and dove to the ground as a hailstorm of nearly continual fire rained down upon his unit. Travis heard the cries and cutoff screams of the others as he rolled onto his side, searching for the origin point of the attack. There they were: two Calvorians, standing atop the crest of a small crater, firing nonstop at the unit, taking them down as simply as if they were firing at stationary targets on a practice range.

  “Drop your weapons!” The voi
ce was not human; it was course, guttural…the sound of stone rubbing against stone. Travis hadn’t even gotten a shot off, yet the two aliens atop the crest stopped firing. Travis was tempted to open up, but had a sense that the battle was lost. He dropped his Blastrifle and held his hands up in surrender.

  Footsteps, and he turned his head to look directly at two grey boots. “To your feet,” the voice said. Travis reluctantly did as he was told, and came face-to-mouth with a Calvorian soldier. Travis looked up, into the searing green-grey eyes, for the first time in his life looking directly into the face of the enemy. The Calvorian had very feline, almost lion-like features. His hair fell about his shoulders, tousled like a mane and his skin was a golden-bronze. He had sharpened teeth and fingernails, and muscles which seemed to want to shred the grey uniform he wore. “Who among you is or was in charge?” the creature asked in flawless English.

  Travis managed to steal a glance at his team: of the entire eight of them, only Drake, Danielle, Bennis and Gutierrez were alive. All of them had dropped their Blastrifles, and Danielle was helping Drake to stand up right, as he had been shot through the lower leg. Of the Calvorians, not one of the three of them had been injured.

  Three! Travis thought in jarring shock. Only three of them, and they took us out like we were nothing!

  The alien punched Travis in the gut, and the young man fell to his knees, clutching his stomach in agony. During his classes with Sensei Ling and the boxing courses he had taken at Sanderson, part of his training was on how to take a punch. But he had never in all his life received a blow even remotely as powerful as this, and he could tell the Calvorian had only used a fraction of his strength. Even so, he felt as if his stomach had exploded within him! The air was completely knocked out of him, and he had to fight for a moment to claim his breath again.

  “I asked you a question,” the alien said. “If I am forced to repeat myself, you will lose an eye.”

  Travis grunted as he forced his body to work through the pain, and attempted to center himself once more. “I am in charge. Rand, Travis Xavier. Service number I-N-577-Alpha.” For all his trouble in regrouping himself, it turned out to be for naught. The Calvorian kicked him in the chin, sending him sprawling onto his back as blood shot up from his lower lip to land on his face.

  “I did not ask for your life story,” the alien said smartly, and his fellows laughed. Their laughter was odd; not because it was so different, but because it sounded nearly human. The alien reached down, harshly pulling the micro-com out of Travis’ ear and tossing the device aside. He followed this by ripping the rebreather mask away from Travis’ face. The harsher thin air seemed to snatch away the oxygen in his lungs and for a moment his surroundings swam about him. The Calvorian grabbed Travis by the front of his collar and effortlessly hoisted him to his feet, making him stand. “I am Aliamar, commander of this squadron. You are all now prisoners of the Calvorian Alliance. You will be taken to our shuttle and transported back aboard our cruiser. You will then be marked as property. Should you attempt to resist in any way before we reach our shuttle…” Alimar pulled out a holstered handgun and pointed it at Gutierrez. He fired and the beam sliced straight between his eyes, splitting his skull open. Danielle couldn’t help but scream as Gutierrez’ corpse fell backward onto the uncaring dirt and lie still.

  “I trust that I have shown my intentions are sincere,” Aliamar said evenly, his feline eyes narrowing meaningfully as he looked at Travis.

  “We understand you,” Travis said through gnashed teeth. He so desperately wanted to swear at Aliamar, to tell him what he would do to him if he didn’t have that damned gun…but he had to think about the survivors in his unit now; their safety had to be his utmost priority.

  Aliamar’s eyes drifted to a point behind Travis, and he barked an order to his apparent subordinates in their own alien tongue. Travis had never heard the Calvorian language before, and was amazed at how beautiful it actually sounded even when spoken in such a gruff tone. Aliamar’s people answered likewise in their native language, and the two spread out slightly, keeping their guns trained on the humans as they flanked them. One of the soldiers moved forward and ripped the survivors’ holstered Zuk-Lars off, along with their rebreather masks–tossing them away as their leader had the micro-com. Aliamar gestured with his own gun for Travis to join his fellows, and he reluctantly obliged, standing next to Drake and Danielle.

  Aliamar approached the group and looked at Danielle curiously. “I have seen pictures of human females. You are attractive…in a way. It still surprises me that your males allow you to serve alongside them.”

  Danielle said nothing, but stared straight at him–past him, through him as if he weren’t even standing in front of her. Aliamar was unimpressed by her defiance. He stepped closer, leaned forward and sniffed the base of her neck near the shoulder.

  “Keep the hell away from her–“ Drake began, but one of the other Calvorians took quick aim and shot him in the foot of the same leg that was already injured. He cried out as he fell to his good knee, unintentionally dragging Danielle down with him. Aliamar swiftly reached down, catching her by the throat and lifting her back to her feet. She grasped his wrist with both of her hands, struggling to break free as her face turned beet red but it was no use; she wouldn’t be free unless he wanted it so.

  “Aliamar,” Travis said cautiously, trying his damnedest to find a respectful tone, “She’s no threat to you. If you want to take it out on someone, do it to me. I’m in charge of this unit.”

  Aliamar released Danielle, but Travis got the impression his words had nothing to do with it. Bennis held the young woman upright as she gasped for air. Aliamar turned partially toward Travis. “You are all privates. How did you come to be in charge? You have no Cypher Division.”

  “I don’t know what Cypher Division is,” Travis answered truthfully. “Our CO was killed earlier in an engagement with your forces. Out of all of us, I was best suited to take command.”

  “And a fine job you did,” Aliamar replied as he gestured to the fallen among them. “Congratulations,” he said, and the other aliens laughed once more. Travis’ features darkened in embarrassment and anger–though more in the latter.

  “You wish vengeance, Rand?” Aliamar asked. He obviously understood the human’s expression exactly for what it was.

  Travis stared at him intently for a moment, but finally looked away… he was determined to not say or do anything which would cause more harm to come to his people. Aliamar nodded and looked to his fellows. “Weak, like all humans. It is amazing that you have lasted this long in combat against us.”

  Danielle had knelt down beside Drake, doing her best to lend him some comfort as he sat on his rear, cradling his devastated leg. Aliamar reached down, grabbing her by the back of her head and dragging her forward so that she fell to all fours. “What are you doing?” Travis said, and one of the Calvorians stepped forward and struck him in the side of his head with a rifle butt, sending him facedown into the dirt. As Danielle struggled to a kneeling position, Aliamar studied her soft features even as he answered Travis’ question. “I have never had the experience of testing the endurance of a human female before.” Danielle’s eyes widened in fearful realization as he now focused his attention exclusively on her. “You may feel some slight discomfort. I understand there are certain…anatomical differences…between our species and the males you are used to.”

  And then, over Drake’s cries of protest and Danielle’s frenzied and useless struggles, Aliamar half pulled/half dragged her over the crest of the crater, and down into the impact site itself.

  The two remaining aliens shared a brief laugh and chattered intermittently among themselves as Danielle’s struggles could be heard from beyond the ridge. At first she was swearing, fighting back. But then Aliamar snapped a loud order or curse at her in his own language, and the blow he delivered could be plainly heard.

  “LEAVE HER ALONE, YOU BASTARD!” Drake yelled to the unseen demon who was ten
ding to his own sadistic needs, out of their sight. One of the soldiers jutted his gun in Drake’s face and cocked his head to the side with an expectant look in his eyes–daring him to say another word. Drake reluctantly fell silent, helpless tears of anger filling his eyes. Bennis said nothing, keeping his head lowered in either fear, or shame for Danielle.

  Travis’ eyes were riveted to the crater’s crest, where for a moment silence reigned. Then the sound of something heavy being discarded, tossed aside–Danielle’s body armor, more than likely–drifted over the ridge top, followed by the sound of clothing being torn. This snapped the stunned young woman back to awareness and she cried out, at first ordering Aliamar to stop, then begging him. Aliamar muttered something, Travis could have sworn it was in English, but it couldn’t be fully heard in the thin atmosphere.

  Then the screaming began.

  It was a scream unlike anything Travis had ever heard in his entire life, and a coarse chill ran through his entire body. There was terror in that scream, and not just pain–but a type of shock and agony that Travis couldn’t even begin to imagine ever existed. Aliamar’s grunts of satisfaction were fairly loud, and from the jovial snickers of the alien troops, Travis could only speculate that was more for their amusement. After a few minutes of this, Danielle’s anguished moans and pleas for him to stop could be heard once more, but she eventually fell silent as Aliamar continued to use her to pleasure himself.

  A thought came to Travis.

  As he cautiously pushed himself up from his prostrate position, he surreptitiously swept a handful of dirt into his fist. He looked over his shoulder at Drake, who was now sobbing openly, and Bennis, whose head still hung toward the ground. “Bennis,” he called out, but the young man didn’t answer. “Bennis,” he said again, louder and more sharply. The guard nearest Travis growled in a warning manner, pointing his gun directly at his head. Travis did his best to ignore him; either this would work, or they’d all be dead anyway. He focused on Bennis, who raised his face just enough to look at Travis. Like Drake, Bennis also had tears running down his face. Travis glanced at the other guard, who was paying no heed to him and instead was focusing his attention on the other two prisoners. Travis looked at Bennis intently, then shifted his own eyes to his right hand, which he flexed just enough to draw his comrade’s attention. “Get Drake to his feet,” he ordered.