Star Brigade: The Supremacy (SB3)

by C. C. Ekeke

  “Y-Yaeson,” Taorr croaked at his remaining bodyguard. “Why aren’t we using short-range transmatters?”

  “It’s…not responding, sir.” Grief bled into the massive Ttaunz’s voice, which Taorr understood. Yaeson and Oanor had been friends since childhood. “Interference from this…skyquake,” he continued.

  Just as the group broke through the massive urbrui thicket, Zojje pointed his spindly finger ahead. “We’re almost there.” Through the flurry of tremors, flames, and crumbling clay, the three transports lay just ahead, all primed for takeoff. Taorr rushed toward them without help. The sky roared openly now. Never had Taorr felt such all-consuming terror. Yaeson, barely a step behind his charge, motioned for the first transport. The front shuttle—holding Kerr Nadal and the Ubruqite—rose into the air quickly.

  And another lightning bolt splintered down, impaling the vehicle through the middle. The eruption of white-hot flames threw Taorr, Zojje, and Yaeson back, its brilliance fleetingly surpassing the blaze they just fled. Taorr and Yaeson sat up and gaped at the fiery wreckage.

  Suddenly, Taorr was jolted from his shock by a strident scream—three screams, at once. He turned to see Zojje writhing on the ground, clutching his head. Taorr crawled to his side.

  “I felt their lives go silent!” Taorr did not know what to say or think while helping Zojje to his feet. Finally, the air and ground ceased trembling. The vortex overhead vanished as quickly as it had appeared, giving way to dark grey billows rising from the N’noa settlement.

  From the other occupied transport, a female Galdorian diplomat dove out the side door and scrambled towards Taorr, as did two other mountainous Ttaunz bodyguards sitting with her.

  “Yaeson!” one bodyguard barked. “Thank the Old World that you both are safe. Where is Oanor?”

  “Oanor is dead, Xieg,” Yaeson stated, his voice flat. Those words knifed through Taorr’s heart. Xieg’s shock melted into anger. The Galdorian slapped both webbed hands on her beaky mouth in alarm.

  “These savages are too archaic to know reason!” roared the other bodyguard, his dark-red hair hanging loose and free. “We must leave here now, your grace!”

  “How, Nealuc? These primitives somehow blocked all communications and use the very sky against us!” Yaeson fired back. “We tried to escape and failed.”

  The Ttaunz bodyguards continued barking at each other. Taorr was about to order their silence when something pricked his ears. The young Ttaunz only saw billows of smoke behind urbrui stalks. Then, Taorr could have sworn he heard a popping sound, followed by another and another.

  “What is that?” asked the Galdorian female.

  Zojje gaped at the urbrui stalks just beyond them. Taorr followed his gaze, and quickly regretted it.

  The red thicket rattled and out stepped two tall Farooqua, males by the look of them, with ropy and stalwart physiques. Unlike Mhir’ujiid, their entire body pelts—save for their colorful manes—had been burned clean off their bodies, leaving only bare, black hides.

  Many more Farooqua appeared until Taorr and his group were surrounded. Regardless, Yaeson, Xieg, and Nealuc formed a defensive circle around their charges, heavy pulse blasters aimed at the intruders.

  “Ghebrekh,” Zojje stated fretfully. The Ghebrekh, Ghuj’aega’s tribe, was a union of many Farooqua tribes who had adopted his creed as their own. They stood silent in the fire-lit night, wielding knifelike weapons.

  Each Farooqua’s body displayed an intricate and angular tapestry of tattoos. Taorr made no effort to hide his fear as he poked his head from behind Yaeson. Finally, one of the Farooqua Ghebrekh walked forward. Taorr’s heart raced as he asked, “Are…are you Ghuj’aega?”

  “I am not,” said the Ghebrekh in an accented voice. “But he wants a word with you, youngling.”

  “Have a word with this!” Yaeson cried.

  “Yaeson, NO!” both Zojje and Taorr cried. Too late. The bodyguard’s finger pulled the trigger. His blaster barked repeatedly. And the battle was joined.

  Mhir’ujiid ran as fast as her legs could carry her across the Yanjon grasslands, every fiber in her body riddled with fear—but not for herself.

  That was why she ran back toward the N’noa settlement. The heavens looked fouled, blackish-grey and angry, swirling in a vortex. Its epicenter lit up once more and belched out another lightning bolt. It struck something, no doubt a transport, from what Mhir’ujiid could make out this far away. She quickened her pace. Was Taorr inside? She fretted. I swear, if Ghuj’aega hurt him, I will hunt that monster down myself!

  She tore past smoldering N’noa huts, pushing through the urbrui thicket. Mhir’ujiid knew coming back was not wise. But she had to make sure Taorr was safe.

  And the zapping gunfire started. Mhir’ujiid barely ducked in time to avoid two stray red bolts. What are they shooting at? she mused, before the answer became clear. The Ghebrekh were here, attacking Taorr’s group.

  Then she heard screams, one of them Taorr’s. Sharp weapons whistled through the air, singing a deadly song before slicing through meaty flesh. More screams from a female, a Galdorian from what it sounded like. But the blades kept slicing and slicing, finally silencing her.

  That pushed Mhir’ujiid harder through the thicket, right as several sharp pops sounded in concert.

  The Ghebrekh were gone, but what had they left behind? Her spear fell, clattering on the ground. Mhir’ujiid saw two Ttaunz transports sitting untouched beside the smoldering shell of a third. Then she saw the bodies, all hacked to pieces and spread across the open plains. Mhir’ujiid almost slipped on puddles of blood around some severed limbs. One Ttaunz lay mostly intact—save the red, gushing stump where his left forearm had been.

  Mhir’ujiid covered her mouth, trying not to vomit. She had to search the bodies for Taorr.

  Quickly she noticed no trace of Taorr’s Kudoban companion among the remains, meaning he wasn’t dead. To every Farooqua tribe, killing a Kudoban was the equivalent of cursing oneself. As she tossed aside limbs and other parts, her heart leaped when finding no trace of Taorr’s body among the dismembered body parts.

  He’s alive! Mhir’ujiid cried out happily, despite standing in a sea of mutilated corpses. That joy vanished when the reality of Taorr’s fate sank in. The Ghebrekh had him. Death might have been the better situation.

  “Taorr!” she cried out in Standard, moving to the edges of the plain. No answer.

  “[Curse Ghuj’aega!]” she gestured hatefully and continued looking for any signs of the Ghebrekh, Taorr, or the Kudoban. Once word spread of Taorr’s abduction, Mhir’ujiid knew the response would make the N’noa butchery look like a wrist slap. Ghuj’aega had just declared open war against the Ttaunz, whether the other Tribal Nations wanted that or not.

  So focused she was on Taorr, Mhir’ujiid never even heard boots squishing across the blood-soaked soil. When the Farooqua finally wheeled around, the enormous Ttaunz with a missing forearm loomed over her like a bloodied mountain. Before she could react, the Ttaunz swung the butt of his blaster down like a bludgeon.

  An explosion of pain crashed into Mhir’ujiid’s skull, so hard that her feet left the ground.

  Then everything faded to black.

  Chapter 7

  “So we’re getting nothing? Again?” Habraum asked, trying to curb his anger. The Brigade Executive Officer wore casual clothes—white, long-sleeved tee with dark, baggy slacks. Feverishly, he paced back and forth across his red-hued and modestly decorated office. Sitting in front of the Cerc were the life-sized 3D holos of three different sentients from three different locations across Union Space. “We caught at least forty Children of Earth adherents, M’Kuvuh.”

  “My interrogators are doing their best, Captain Nwosu. You know how the CoE structure has changed these past few years,” retorted one of the three—M’Kuvuh Markan-Enthyra, Deputy Director of Terra Sollus’s UniPol division. The Kintarian’s lithe and wiry build was covered in pure white fur with a few scattered brown spots. “Everything is very
compartmentalized. Except for their leader, each cell only knows what goes on in their unit.” An animalistic growl colored M’Kuvah’s retort.

  “Capturing Kingston Reyes might’ve been more helpful,” added a human with a slim build and a large head full of dark, curly hair. That would be Atom Greystone, liaison between Star Brigade and the Union Defense Ministry, as well as a constant source of irritation for Habraum. “Star Brigade forced itself onto this operation over a month ago, and loses another viable lead. How’d you mess that up, Nwosu?”

  Habraum’s hazel-gold eyes glittered with subtle disdain. “Reyes is currently being tracked, and UniPol alerted planetary authorities of his status. If you read my briefing, you’d know this, Greystone.”

  Greystone scowled. “And if Reyes ditches the trace?” he fired back to regain some ground.

  Habraum chuckled. “He doesn’t know he’s being traced. But if it fails, we’ll work our other leads.”

  “M’Kuvuh tells me you’re keeping all tracking data in-house?” asked the third face on Habraum’s holoview screen—Admiral Hollienurax, Habraum’s superior officer from UComm’s Joint Special Operations Group, wearing crisp white military regalia. The Galdorian’s stalk-like amber eyes curved out and upward inquisitively.

  “Yes. Since Children of Earth had quite a few UComm moles in the past, we’re keeping this as compartmentalized as possible,” Habraum added, recalling the Corowood Zoo attack months ago and then the mysterious murders of all known perpetrators. He glanced beyond the holos in his office to the rectangular realtime display on the wall behind his desk. Gas giant Zeid’s stunning jade cloud layers were needled with inbound and outbound spacelane traffic. Habraum had no actual viewports in his office, so this was the closest he could get. “One of my CTs will make observing Reyes their top priority. I believe he’ll be key in dismantling CoE’s paramilitary arm.”

  “Smart strategy, Nwosu,” Hollienurax extoled. “Let us know if you require additional resources.”

  Habraum casually saluted the three. Every holo winked out at the conference’s end—except Greystone, much to his chagrin. “What?” he snapped, making no effort to hide his dislike.

  “Children of Earth?” Greystone let out a condescending laugh. “That’s the white whale you choose to hunt?”

  Habraum narrowed his eyes. Deep down he felt the same, but would never give Greystone the satisfaction of knowing that. “UniPol requested the Brigade take point on taking down CoE after seeing the value we added to their operation. I’m not questioning that order out of ego.” He picked up his datapad from a chair in front of his desk, prepping to head to the War Room.

  “The good soldier response? That’s not fooling me. At the end of the day, your Star Brigadiers are beatcops thrown scraps dolled up as important missions by UComm,” Greystone sneered, digging deeper. “Allow me a more active role as liaison, and the Brigade would be getting real missions—”

  “Goodbye, Greystone,” Habraum cut him off. “End call.” Atom Greystone’s holo vanished, his mouth open in mid-sentence. This wasn’t the first time that sleazy bureaucrat attempted to gain real authority in Star Brigade, nor would it be the last. With Star Brigade back at functioning capacity, many within UComm wanted a piece. Politics, Habraum bristled, one thing he loathed about his current position. Shaking his head, the Cerc called up a holoscreen of Star Brigade’s War Room, where CT-1 was waiting. He usually did this before arriving at a debriefing, relishing the sight of his operatives connecting.

  CT-1 and Jan’Hax sat around the War Room’s large round table. Habraum had lost count of how many post-mission briefings had occurred in this room. Khrome wore a t-shirt with the encircled Star Brigade logo, as did Tyris and Jan’Hax. The uniformity didn’t surprise Habraum, given how close those three were. Sam sat next to Khrome, butter-blonde hair piled atop her head. She had changed into a body-hugging crimson magnezipped hoodie and matching drawstring pants, both made from velvety kurthon fabric. Liliana Cortes, parked between Jan’Hax and Tyris, looked lithe and slender in her long-sleeved black tee and khaki cargos. V’Korram, also dressed down, wore long shorts and a dark cutoff t-shirt that displayed his fur-covered arms with their lithe, chisled muscles. A red bandana covered the Kintarian’s forehead, his long ginger hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. The being not casually dressed was Marguliese, svelte in a dark-grey catsuit and her scarlet mane in a side-parted bun. The Cybernarr sat removed from what looked like a spirited conversation.

  “He’s useless,” V’Korram growled, arms folded across his massive chest.

  “Morje’Huijadan’s not useless,” Liliana fired back, her words accented with the Spanish flavors of Navarre, on Terra Sollus. “Bogosian threw him under a hovertram, so now he’s dealing with the fallout of the botched trade agreement and the Battle of Terra Sollus.”

  “Barely the start of his blunders,” V’Korram snarled out. “Useless.”

  Liliana rolled her eyes ferociously at V’Korram’s surliness.

  Politics, Habraum decided sourly. The news streams nowadays were rife with the failings of interim Chouncilor Morje’Huijadan, the former Vice Chouncilor who took over after Ari Bogosian’s surprise resignation months ago.

  “I get why Bogosian resigned, but Lily’s right, no?” Sam added, idly fingering her Cantalesian heartknot necklace. The silvery chain was subtle, a green quosprace gem encircled by knotted metal hanging off it. Except on the field, Sam wore it everywhere. That made Habraum smile.

  “Have you seen public-opinion polls on Morje’s performance?” Jan’Hax asked. Tyris shuddered.

  Liliana raised her eyebrows. “That bad?”

  “Useless,” V’Korram hissed.

  “Word around Terra Sollus is that the Bicameral’s pushing for a referendum vote to dump Morje and hold emergency elections for a New Chouncilor,” Khrome added with a scandalous smirk.

  Shock rippled around the table, save from Sam and Marguliese. Tyris’s eyes narrowed into dark-blue slits. “Wonder which high-powered doofus will get elected?”

  “When the vote passes, Ty,” Sam leaned back and stretched, catlike, “you’ll have many doofi to pick from.”

  V’Korram snorted. “Senator Guilloche should be Chouncilor. He has the experience.”

  “Honey?” Sam looked at the Kintarian sideways. “That’s someone we never want as Chouncilor.”

  V’Korram was looking surly at that response. “Why?”

  “Well,” Tyris said coldly, “he’s a morally bankrupt powermonger.”

  “And don’t get me in full swing on how Guilloche namechecks the Battle of Terra Sollus to justify his stances,” Jan’Hax chimed in, visibly riled. “In every speech.”

  “That’s actually impressive on his part,” Khrome pointed out.

  “He’s also against Korvenite rights,” Sam continued. “Which gets a big NO from me.”

  The Kintarian merely growled under his breath, green-flecked eyes glittering.

  “How many times has he run for Chouncilor?” Lily asked.

  “Too many,” Sam added, rubbing at her neck. “And whenever a news holovid camera is nearby, there’s Guilloche trying to have sex with it.”

  Most of the table snickered in agreement. Marguliese, who had remained silent, looked puzzled. “Senator Guilloche attempts to interface sexually with technology on a habitual basis, in public?”

  Everyone stared at the Cybernarr, but none had the moxy to laugh.

  “No…Marguliese,” Liliana amended, scratching at her cropped hair. “Guilloche loves getting in front of news-stream cameras for publicity. Sam was stating that in her distinctive way.”

  “Indeed.” Marguliese pursed her lips. “The Senator’s predilections and standpoint on Korvenites notwithstanding, he is a logical choice to better stabilize the Galactic Union.”

  Khrome snorted. “Of course you’d think that.” Suddenly, the room hushed. Marguliese fixated on the Thulican, her golden features as impassive as ever. Khrome glared right back.


  Uh-oh, Habraum cringed. The short and burly Thulican’s hatred for the Cybernarr was no secret. And it showed no signs of cooling even though Khrome had requested that she stay with Star Brigade. Habraum watched as Sam and Liliana exchanged an uneasy glance.

  “If I vote,” the doctor briskly changed topics, “it’d be Pollok Nammat from Uord.”

  Silence. Liliana confessing to armed robbery would have gotten a warmer reception.

  “Pollok Nammat? The hardcore theocrat?!” Sam looked disgusted. “Really?!”

  Jan’Hax’s duck-billed mouth hung open as he jabbed a finger at nothing in particular. “Don’t Theocrats believe that non-Union member races will burn in their respective hells?”

  Khrome turned to Tyris with amusement. “You’re plutoed then, Ty.” He spread his arms disarmingly. “I have nothing against faith-based creeds. But the last thing this Union needs is some scripture-spewing loudmouth halfwit from the ‘god squad’ in its highest office.”

  His teammates burst out laughing, even V’Korram. But not Marguliese, who observed with an arched eyebrow. Sam gripped Khrome’s shoulders to steady herself. “Amen to that, Khrome-Daddy!” she crowed, her throaty laugh filling the room.

  Habraum watched as the discourse continued. He felt a stitch of longing in his chest, knowing that this would be the last debriefing with Sam as his XO.

  When he finally left the refuge of his office, a cacophony of sound slammed into the Cerc. But having grown used to that, Habraum didn’t even flinch as he strode forward.

  One had just to look over the railing to Habraum’s left to see the source of the commotion. The first tier of this extensive space below housed the Command Center, Hollus Maddrone’s operations hub, a blitzkrieg of organized chaos, as usual. Between the Center’s soaring, silver-white walls decorated with bright red angular tracings, dozens of multiethnic analysts and UComm officers either raced around or tacked away at workstations with tireless speed. In addition, a twelve-metrid-high viewscreen at the Center’s forefront leered down at them, flashing a normal multitude of TransNet broadcasts simultaneously. Managing day-to-day operations and transmissions within the massive Hollus Maddrone starbase, along with Star Brigade’s infrastructure, had trained this team to handle their workload with quality precision and speed. Sometimes Habraum got so wrapped up in Star Brigade duties that he forgot how Hollus Maddrone served as a UComm starbase as well as being Star Brigade’s headquarters, handling countless incoming and outgoing military transports daily.