War of the Three Planets Collection (Book 01)

by Justin Bell

"I take it that's where we're headed?" I ask. Behind me a loud clang signals the lowering of the back cargo ramp.

  Gragson nods as he pushes past me. Before he reaches the empty rear cargo door, he reaches right and snags a weapon from a rack on the wall. The two other Bragdons trailing behind him repeat his motion and all three of them vanish into the darkness, swallowed by this strange new environment.

  "Why did they take weapons?" I ask Luxen.

  He shrugs. We look at each other, my eyes darting to the door, the weapons rack, and then out onto the rocky ground beneath the ship. I don't like anything about this.

  I clench my fists and look down at my hands, my flesh colored skin looking vulnerable in this low light. For a moment I consider attempting a change back into my Bragdon form which seems more natural for this environment.

  Part of me feels like Bragdon skin is unnatural skin, and this is my true form. Another part of me wants to abandon the Athelonian personality, to give myself up to the instinctual reptile viciousness of the Bragdon, and to eliminate all worries and all concerns by becoming one of those things.

  Aren't I one of those things already?

  I miss the days when I was worried about what color shoes to wear with my frilly, pink socks.

  Can't I go back there? Back to living in blissful teenage ignorance, just worrying about popularity at school instead of planetary warfare and celestial beings that I may or may not actually be? If that power is within me, why can't I forget all of this and go back to when things actually made sense?

  "Brie Northstar!" Gragson shouts from out in the darkness. "Time is short!"

  I nod although I know he can't see it. Step by step I move down the ramp with Luxen close behind, walking out into yet another strange new world.

  AS WE WALK ALONG THE hard, asteroid surface, I glance up into the darkened sky and see strange streaks of light. Almost, but not quite shooting stars. They seem to be moving too purposefully.

  "What do you see?" Luxen asks, coming up next to me.

  I shake my head. "Nothing. Just meteors."

  A part of me sees it, or at the very least, feels it. Not from the stars, but from behind us, next to us, and surrounding us. It feels like we are the subjects in some twisted experiment, trapped in an elaborate laboratory under constant surveillance by invisible scientists.

  . . . Not just being watched, but being studied. I don't like it.

  "Gragson, this doesn't feel right," I whisper to the group of three Bragdon in front of us.

  "The cave is a few hundred meters away. Calm yourself."

  "Calm myself?"

  This guy spends the whole trip telling me how special I am and how many super space girl powers I have, but never once actually listens to me. Part of me wonders if it's because I'm a girl.

  Silly little Brie Northstar, overemotional teenager, she doesn't know what's going on. She doesn't know what war is. She's just a spoiled Athelonian rich girl who wants to go home.

  Well. To be fair... that's all true.

  "Halt," one of the Bragdon soldiers says, lifting his hand. I think his name is Krelix, but who knows? All of their names sound like someone talking with his mouth full.

  "What?" asks Gragson. "What do you hear?"

  "Not hear," Krelix replies. "Smell."

  Oh, so if something feels strange, they ignore me. Ole Krelix gets a whiff of something and it's all hands on deck, right? These creatures drive me crazy. Krelix lifts his weapon, cradling it in two leathery hands, then presses it to his shoulder and guides it along the horizon, his glinting eyes squinting.

  I turn and stare into the blackness, half expecting to see rows of eyes staring back at me, but the dark sky is an uninterrupted sheet of black. I can't help but let my eyes drift upwards where those streaks of shooting stars still scatter along the perimeter of my vision.

  Something about them doesn't seem right—

  "Horaks!" screams Krelix. The word barely registers. It means nothing to me though I can see Luxen jumping away out of the corner of my eye.

  That name is familiar . . .

  The creature suddenly lunges from the left with its four thick legs outstretched. Moving high and fast for such a large creature, it lands on the Bragdon on the left, the one who isn't Krelix, and buries its snout in his throat then tears free with a triumphant roar.

  Tears well up as I realize I don't even know his name. He has a family, a life, and a whole story that is completely unknown to me.

  It hits me then. These creatures . . . they were on Braxis. They'd hunted and cornered me, and only Luxen's fast action spared my life. Why are they here?

  Krelix turns towards the creature and fires his weapon, sending green light searing towards the gore covered beast. Three shots plow into the Horak. Its head thrashes as it topples over. Even as it's falling, two more flank it, snarling as they prowl towards Gragson and Krelix.

  "The cave!" Gragson shouts, gesturing at Luxen and me. "Get to the cave!"

  I'm not the argumentative sort, especially when my life is in danger, so I slap Luxen on the shoulder to urge him along.

  "Run!"

  We charge forward. Our feet fly over ragged, uneven rocky ground that threatens to send us crashing down, but we keep going, with legs buckling, moving with the grace of drunk dogs.

  Over my shoulder I see a Horak lunge towards Gragson, but he steps back, lifts his weapon and drills pure, bright light into the underside of its chin, sending it somersaulting backwards. As the beast falls, he ducks the snap of fangs from the second, fires three times, and brings it down as well.

  He's fast . . . And deadly . . . A warrior.

  My heart races and my eyes widen. My mouth shifts into a sinister grin even as I'm running; this sudden up close heat of battle quickens my pulse and tenses my muscles. I want to join in. For a moment I slow to a light trot, my fists clench, and a strange craving surges through my body . . . Battle . . . I want the battle.

  "Brie!" shouts Luxen, tangling his fingers in the cloth of my tunic. "The cave!" He drags me towards him and I shake out of my momentary trance.

  As we continue running, another snarling Horak bounds over the rocks.

  I halt our forward progress, intercept the creature in midair, and strike its exposed belly with my shoulder to throw it backwards. It lands awkwardly on the rocky ground, I advance, driving a fist into its throat, then a second punch into the side of his long snout.

  Luxen is approaching from behind, I sense him there, but I keep punching, my vision clouding to a haze of red fog.

  "Brie!" he shouts and I hear him this time. I'm not sure how many times he yelled my name. "There are more!"

  That wakes me up. I lift my head to see four more creatures stalking from the darkness, closing around me in a semi-circle; moving paw over paw with claws clicking on the rocks. To the left I see the cave fifty yards away.

  That seems . . . far.

  I stand and back away with my eyes moving from creature to creature, measuring their readiness to attack. This strange sense in my head, that feeling of knowing every outcome to every situation, shows me my options, but with every second that passes, those options are dwindling.

  A streak of yellow burns over my right shoulder and slams into one of the lead Horaks, splitting its dark skin and sending it crashing down with a low whine.

  "Did you not hear me, Brie Northstar?" screams Gragson. "The cave! Get to the cave!"

  Another plasma beam blasts by me on the right and brutalizes a second Horak, but I see more eyes appear behind it. Finally I listen. As I draw a deep breath and force myself to settle the raging bloodlust and follow Luxen as he runs towards the cave. Behind us, Gragson and Krelix fire as they run, dropping Horaks with every blast.

  "They won't follow us into the cave!" Gragson shouts. "They know the Elders are there!"

  Luxen and I run, trying to ignore the rapid clacking of claws and the squinting eyes all around us. The cave is right up ahead, but they're running so fast, faster than we are,
that it seems foolish to think they'll stop.

  I keep running. I feel the hot breath of a creature on my back as it lunges, opening its jaws in search of wet flesh.

  Plasma strikes the creature in the skull to send it stumbling down screaming, but two others come up behind it. They are everywhere, eyes, skin and talons. I can see nothing else; I can hear nothing else. The entire world around us is surrounded by wild Horak beasts with a deep and endless thirst for our blood.

  Just like that, the cave opens up in front of us. A wide, black mouth in the side of the hill spreads wide to draw us into its mouth. Gasping for breath, Luxen and I stumble and roll on the dirt covered ground, which is at least softer than the jagged rocks outside.

  I wait, sprawled in the dirt next to the first Bragdon I ever met. We both lie there, breathing in ragged gasps, anticipating the approach of these killer creatures.

  None come.

  Dark silence engulfs us. The confines of the cave, though cool and emotionless, seem like a warm, protective embrace.

  I push myself up into a seated position and check my surroundings. Gragson and Krelix charge towards the cave, make one last turn to fire a final barrage of plasma, then come lurching in behind us.

  I don't see the Horak's turning away. I don't see them hissing and spiting. They're just sort of . . . not there. One minute we are running with them hot on our heels, the next moment we're in the cave, and they're slinking back to their darkened lair, defeated.

  "Why?" I gasp. It's the only word I can utter.

  "Because the Elders wish it," Gragson replies. "They want a home that is as close to Braxis as possible. The Horaks are a part of life on Braxis."

  "Besides," says Krelix. "They have delicious flesh."

  I shake my head and lay back in the dirt because I simply don't know what else to say or do. Already my muscles ache and my breath feels shallow from this little adventure, and it's just beginning.

  With a groan I lift my head to look out of the cave, my eyes squinting. Even with the Horak's gone, that strange sense of observation is not fading.

  Someone is watching us, and that someone is smarter than those beasts.

  Chapter Five

  Ten minutes is a long time to sit silently when adrenaline is coursing through your body. An hour is interminable as the adrenaline drains away.

  Gragson hasn't said a word since he and Krelix crossed the threshold of the cave, as if this is some sacred place that the mere act of speech will desecrate. The two of them are just sitting there, cross legged and unmoving.

  I've had time to take note of darkened corners, curved rock walls, and a strange, shadowy corridor leading to the dim glow of . . . something. But we never go towards it; we sit around in this large entryway, as if we're not allowed to go any farther.

  "What are we waiting for?" I ask. This seems ridiculous. For the past hour I've felt like we're in a bell jar in some twisted science lab, and these two dudes are sitting here contemplating their navels.

  Do Bragdons even have navels? Ew. I'm not sure I want to know the answer to that question. I didn't exactly cross my mind to check when I was one. I was a little busy.

  To his credit, Luxen does not join them. He's wandering around like I am, taking the occasional glance out into the world of the asteroid.

  "Gragson, how long as we going to stand here?" I ask. "What's the point?"

  "We do not approach the Elders; they approach us," he replies, "when the time is right."

  I roll my eyes and turn away. Ridiculous! I don't have the patience or the understanding for this hocus pocus. First, I have Luxen telling me I'm some girl that comes from the stars, and now I have to stand here and wait for these Elder Bragdons to grace us with their presence.

  In that moment of frustration, that twinge of blood lust courses through me again. That strange hunger for combat, thirst for aggression, begs to be satisfied with hand-to-hand combat or with guns and plasma.

  Where did this come from? Even since I discovered this secret about myself I haven' t been this blood thirsty. I suppose my escapades into the night and across the rooftops could be explained away by this strange desire for action, but I've never been big on blood and violence.

  Am I now?

  Is this what being Bragdon is about?

  My moment of self-evaluation is interrupted by a booming voice, "Who enters the home of the Elders?"

  I spin on my heel.

  Okay, I can understand the reverence, to a point.

  There are three of them. They are taller than any Bragdon I've seen so far and are draped in thick, dark cloaks, with large hoods pulled up over their heads. I can't see their faces; I can only see the faint glow of yellow eyes. Their shoulders seem to be large and bone covered, bringing their capes up into pointed tips before floating down over their backs and pooling around on the dirty floor behind them.

  Between the cloaks and the light, they appear to be floating, not walking, and my first reaction is one of spiritual admiration. I can't control it.

  Gragson stands, keeping his head low and his hands pressed together.

  "Forgive the intrusion, Elders," he says quietly. "We have need of your insight."

  They halt. The creature in the lead looks offended as he draws back. His glowing yellow eyes narrow to a pair of light slits.

  "You were not invited," growls the lead Bragdon. His voice echoes from within the darkness of his hood.

  "I understand," Gragson continues, "but this is a matter of some urgency . . ."

  With no warning, the Bragdon leading the trio lunges forward with loose fabric flapping about as his narrow arm shoots straight out like a battering ram. His long fingers clamp around Gragson's throat, clenching to lift him straight off his feet. Gragson's hands clutch at the fist, literally holding on for dear life.

  "We decide what is or is not urgent," the Elder hisses as Gragson's feet kick at empty air.

  "Don't!" I shout before I even realize what I'm doing.

  The yellow eyes beneath the hood snap back towards me. "You dare?" the Elder growls. "You? Not even a Bragdon?"

  The Elder turns towards me, cocking his head, as if in sudden realization of something. His fingers spring apart and he casts Gragson aside as if he's a worn out plaything. The Bragdon who was once so intimidating to me slumps down to the dirt, cowering from the looming Elder.

  "Who are you?" the Elder asks me, taking a step towards me, narrowed eyes burrowing deep inside me. "What are you?"

  He looks down over my body in a way that doesn't make me comfortable, but isn't sinister either.

  "You have only two arms. You are not Athelonian, though you bare the most resemblance to them."

  As he watches, I focus my concentration inward. The ripple of skin twists over my muscles as my limbs warp and reshape. It's less painful than it was the first time and seems to happen immediately. One moment I'm a two-armed Athelonian, and the next, I'm standing there before this Elder, a fully formed Bragdon, clothed in a loose shirt and pants, with my gray scales still shifting over the thick, leathery skin that now covers my body.

  Through the yellow haze of my Bragdon eyes, I watch the Elders exchange glances without speaking. It becomes clear that they are communicating somehow in ways that I can't hear. The thought puts chills up my spine.

  That's not the only thing putting chills up my spine. I glance back at the cave entrance, half expecting to see more of those Horaks amassing there with steam snorting from their nostrils. I sense a thousand eyes, but see nothing, even with my super Bragdon x-ray night vision.

  "Who are you?" the voice isn't coming only from the Bragdon Elder himself, but feels like it's inside my head, an echo in the confined chamber of my skull.

  "My name is Brie Northstar," I reply. "Up until a month ago, I believed I was an Athelonian girl, daughter to Jary and Redax."

  His eyes squint at the mention of my parents' names and I get my first inclination of what kind of reputation the Athelon political leadership has on the
se other worlds.

  "Who taught you to shift?" he asks. "Only the most highly trained Bragdon commandos have that ability. Not . . . little girls."

  I turn my palms up. "You saw it with your own eyes."

  The Elder comes towards me, not so much stepping as swooping above the surface of the ground, with his cloak rippling around his feet.

  "Watch your tone, young one."

  "Elder, if I may," Gragson says, his voice hoarse. "This is what I was trying to explain."

  "Then explain," the Elder replies without even turning to look at him.

  "We believe Brie Northstar may be 'the one'."

  Those last two words hang in the darkened air of the cave like two loud shouts echoing into eternity. The Elders, all three of them this time, approach me in unison. They get close enough that the skin creeps up my arms as if hit by an unexpected stiff, cool breeze.

  To tell the truth, I'm not real comfortable with any of this, even with my tough Bragdon skin wrapped around me. Just the opposite. I'm more vulnerable at this moment, even with my super vision and hard-as-nails reptile scales. As I glance down at my hands, I can't help but think about how easy it was to change this time, how slick the Bragdon flesh twisted over my pale Athelonian flesh. Did the Bragdon skin cover it, or did the other layer melt away?

  Which is the real me?

  Are either of them the real me, or am I something completely different?

  "She is unique," the lead Elder says, his hot breath punching me in the face. Although he's standing within a foot of me, I still can't seem to make out his features beneath the hood. It's like there's a vast emptiness there, a gaping hole into some other world wrapped in thick, dark cloth.

  "Well, thank you," I reply. "That's what my mom tells me."

  His mouth narrows to a firm, straight line, indicating he's not amused.

  "Your shifting is impressive. Especially for one of your vintage."

  "You say the sweetest things."

  As his arm lifts, two of his long, bony fingers extend from the rumpled bundles of cloth at his wrist. His yellow slits slide closed as he touches the two fingers to my left temple and presses. I feel light headed and unusually clumsy.