Colliding Worlds Trilogy 03 - Explosion

by Berinn Rae

  “We’re safe from the toxin and from attacks while we’re on the Striga, but we’re not going to live out the rest of our lives on it. At some point, we’re going to have to leave the safety of this ship to set up permanent homes outside. And when we do that, it’s a few thousand of us against a world that may not want us here. We need to count on each other or else we’re fucked.”

  “But we’re not leaving while the toxin’s out there, right?”

  Jax turned to the only other human man in the room. “They’re working on an antitoxin, but it could take some time. The toxin hasn’t made it to American soil yet, so it may never be a risk.”

  The man nervously wrapped an arm around his wife. “But what if it spreads?”

  “The plan is that we stay on the Striga until it’s safe. Any other questions?”

  Silence.

  “All right, then,” Jax said, reading over his wrist-com. “Let’s get the housekeeping out of the way. I’m Captain Jax Jerrick. U.S. Army Rangers, fifty-first division. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a human, and it’s my job to turn you all into a team. Now let’s go down the roster … Sana, Qan, Gix,” he said, looking from the Sephian woman, then to the Draeken man and woman. “You all have solid military experience, and I’ll count on you to help train. Tanel, you’re in charge of communications. I know you have Sephian and Draeken technology down. Get up to speed on human technology if you haven’t already.”

  “Yes, Captain,” the slender Sephian replied quickly.

  “Let’s see,” Jax continued, looking up to inspect the rest of his team. “Starting with you … ” he pointed at the humans to his left. “Tell me your names and your skill.”

  The man spoke first. “I’m Scott Edmonds, but you can call me Grease. I drove trucks and was a diesel mechanic before that, and they have me learning the engines on the aggressors now. I’m good with engines.”

  Jax nodded. Mechanical ability was a valuable skillset to have on his team. “Whatever vehicles we get assigned, no matter what they are, it’s your job to keep them running. Understand?”

  The man nodded. “I can do that.” Grease turned to the woman at his side. “And here’s my wife, Jeannie. She’s — ”

  “ — Going to speak for herself,” Jax interrupted.

  The petite redhead gave a sheepish smile. “Hi, everyone. I’m Jeannie.” She waved at the others on the team. “I’m a senior at ISU, a Poli Sci major. Grease and I came on board last night, so everything’s still really new. As soon as we heard what the government was doing to you, we hurried down here. We want to help in any way we can. I’ve been assigned to work in Supply.”

  She spoke with enough passion that Jax couldn’t help but feel a prickle of pride in his recruits, even though they were as green as they come. At least they had potential. “And you’ll do the same for the team. You need to get up to speed on gear, weapons, and ammo. Got it?”

  Her eyes widened. “I don’t know anything about guns.”

  “You’ll learn,” Jax said before turning to the Draeken standing nearest to Jeannie.

  The thin man’s wings nervously flicked. “I’m, uh, Nurn, and I was an office administrator. I guess I’m pretty good at organizing things.”

  “Good,” Jax said. “You’re in charge of scheduling our training times around everyone’s work schedules.”

  He nodded hurriedly. “Yes, I can do that, yes.”

  The youth next to Nurn was the same height but where Nurn was all lankiness, this kid was lean and strong. “I’m Grept,” the young man said. “And I didn’t have a job. But I was a messenger on the trip here. And I played sports.”

  “How old are you, Grept?”

  The kid stiffened. “Old enough.”

  Jax raised a brow. “How old, son?”

  Grept stood defiant. “Nearly sixteen in human years.”

  Sixteen? Too damn young. The kid should be in school, not preparing for war. But according to the kid’s bio, he had no family left. He probably knew more about war than Jax. “So you were a messenger. You fast, Kid?”

  “Fast as the wind, Captain. Both on the ground and in the air.”

  Jax smiled. “We’ll be able to use you.” He turned to the next man in line.

  “You know me already. I’ve done a bit of everything,” Elc said, but then turned to the human pair. “I’m Elc, by the way. Welcome aboard. It’s good to see that not all humans hate us.”

  “It’s good to have you on team, Elc,” Jax said, and meant it. The Draeken was a literal jack-of-all-trades. If they needed something, he had no doubt Elc would get it for them. There was a reason Roden kept him as a gopher.

  When Jax turned to the older businessman, he eyed him for a moment. “Hert,” he said. “You say you’re good at designing things. That true?”

  “I’m the best,” the Draeken with long whitish-silver hair replied.

  Jax grinned. “Our team needs an insignia. Something that isn’t Draeken, or Sephian, or human, but yet encompasses all three. You up for the challenge?”

  Light twinkled in the man’s eyes, and he managed to stand even taller still. “We will have the finest insignia of all teams.”

  “That covers it,” Jax said. “Each one of you brings something to the table. We’re going to use that to build some semblance of a team.” Jax realized that his team was much more than individuals from three different races coming together. His team was a microcosm of the new Earth. Human, Draeken, Sephian … at some point those labels would no longer apply. Their common cause would unite all three as one new Earth race.

  Several of his team looked past his shoulder. Jax turned to locate the distraction, and found Roden standing in the doorway. Jax headed toward the newcomer, commanding over his shoulder, “We have one hour left. We’ll start on basic self-defense. Sana, you take Nurn, Hert, and Elc. Qan, you got Jeannie and the Kid. Gix, you get Grease and Tanel. See you tomorrow.”

  Draeken and Sephians alike had looks of unpleasant surprise.

  Jax cocked his head. “Anything wrong? ‘Cause if you thought that I’d allow segregation in this team, then you’re dumb as shit.”

  “You have such eloquence to your leadership style,” Roden mused.

  “What do you want?”

  Roden inhaled and then frowned. “Fyet. You’ve been drinking. Bolgt, no less.”

  Jax ignored the comment, looking back to see his recruits busy in training.

  “I have a mission for you,” Roden said.

  “They’re not ready yet.”

  “Pick your two best. I need you to ex-filtrate an ally. He sent word that it’s no longer safe for him. And he requested you by name.”

  “Damn it, Roden. Send some other lackey.”

  “It’s your father.”

  Jax stopped cold. He knew his dad disagreed with the orders coming down from the General of the Army, but to defect? What else had happened? Jax turned to his team. “Sana, Qan, you’re with me. Gix, take over the training.”

  “I’m impressed at how well you function as a drunk,” Roden said quietly from Jax’s side. “You must have experience.”

  Jax flipped him the bird.

  Scowling, Roden walked over to the service station and hit several buttons. He returned with a small cup of thick dark liquid and held it out to Jax. “Drink this.”

  “What is that?” he asked, eying the inky drink.

  “It’ll sober you up for this mission.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “If you don’t drink this, I’ll send Talla to pick up your father. It could be dangerous.”

  “Blackmailing son of a bitch.” Jax snatched the glass. He downed the contents and coughed. He glared at Roden, his eyes watering. “God, that shit is awful.”

  “Give it a second. It gets worse.”

  Right then, Jax’s stomach cramped and Jax nearly doubled over. Cold fire shot through his veins and doused his brain, leaving no traces of liquored bliss in its wake. Only hard reality remained.

 
Roden took the glass back just as Sana and Qan joined their side. “We have a sortie to make,” Jax said.

  “Grab whatever you need from Supply,” Roden said. “I’ve already reserved an aggressor for you in hangar fourteen. I’m having the logistics sent directly to your wrist-coms within a few minutes.” With that, Roden left the room.

  “I can fly an aggressor,” Qan offered.

  “Good,” Jax said with a nod. “Then we don’t need to pull anyone else. Get the ship ready. Sana and I will grab gear for you.”

  Qan took to the air down the opposite hallway Sana and Jax headed. They didn’t speak all the way to Supply, not even after they picked up their weapons and gear. They were nearly to the aggressor when Jax asked, “You cool working with Qan?”

  “I have to be, don’t I,” she replied.

  “You chose to stay behind with the Draeken rather than returning to Sephia. Why?”

  “I don’t trust them.” Her response was simple and honest.

  He grabbed her shoulders. “I need to know that you have Qan’s back. I already know he’ll have yours. You’re good, Sana, but I can’t have you on my team if I can’t trust you.”

  She frowned slightly, but her face quickly returned to be devoid of emotion. “You can count on me.”

  “Good.” Because if his dad needed help, then this was no easy grab-and-go mission. The only thing that he had going for him was the knowledge that Talla would be safe on the Striga.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Heavy storms attacked the Midwest just before noon. Yesterday’s clear skies and warm breeze were swallowed by ominous clouds spitting hail and roaring thunder.

  Talla watched the Etzee get pounded on the wall screen. The winds battered the new tents spread out over the remains of the camp. The troops had bulldozed everything after the attack. Trailers, debris, and bodies. It hadn’t mattered. They’d leveled the place, leaving no protection for newcomers against the weather.

  By the time the military set up roadblocks around the Etzee, hundreds of people had made it into the restricted zone. And the military, rather than garner negative press by rounding up the protestors, allowed the humans to remain.

  Humans in plastic ponchos and rain jackets shoved against the barricades. They’d given up holding signs. The wind simply blew them away, and the rain melted the messages. Now, they used their bodies to make their point. They shook their fists at the soldiers on the other side. While the screen had no sound, Talla could imagine their shouting waged a battle with the torrential rain and thunder.

  There had to be thousands of protestors now. Mostly Americans, but some Canadians and Mexicans, who’d come to boycott the military’s treatment of the Draeken and Sephians. Their selfless actions gave Talla hope that her people could live on this world side by side with the humans.

  The violence of the storm seemed to infuse the protestors with strength. They surged and pressed against the barricades, causing the fence to bow and stretch. The individuals became a group, and they found a rhythm. As one, they pushed forward, stepped back, and pushed again. The metal stretched beyond what Talla thought it could. The troops on the other side looked jittery, raising their rifles and yelling back at the mob.

  Lightning flashed across the sky, and the protestors pushed forward once again. This time, the barricade collapsed just as another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky. Talla’s eyes grew wide. It was as though the humans’ god had helped them. The mob spilled over the fallen barricades and spread out. The first soldier disappeared in the crowd. Pulsating light flickered from the barrel of another soldier’s rifle.

  Talla gasped, raising a hand to her mouth. “No! They’re unarmed!” Her shout attracted attention in the hallway, and others stopped to take in the scene. The crowd scattered in every direction, crushing one another as they sought to escape the gunfire. Tiny lights flashed off more rifles.

  “We can’t leave them to die. They’ll get slaughtered,” the petite human redhead at her side said.

  The ship’s lighting went from white to blue, and a loud siren sounded. The Striga’s strong male voice came through all the wall screens. “An attack is underway on Earthside. All military personnel: gear up and proceed to your assigned hangar immediately.”

  Talla sprinted toward her sanctuary, which was closer than Supply. It took her less than twenty seconds to get the backup gear she kept stashed in her room and strapped on. Once out of her room, she flapped her newly strengthened wings and lifted. She soared above the human and Sephian traffic in the tall hallways and headed toward hangar five, her designated hangar.

  When she got there, a transporter and two aggressors were taking off. She touched down into a run toward another transporter with its engine already on. Pires, the only member of her team who was considered military personnel, came running around the corner and joined her side at the ship. He was fast for a Sephian and experienced. She’d made him her Second before she even met with her team.

  She looked him up and down, noticing he had more than a half dozen blades strapped to his chest and two blasters on his thighs. She’d brought only two blades and two blasters, but she also had three chaos-charges inside the pocket of her body armor.

  She gave him a nod, and led the way onto the transporter. Good thing he was on her side because Talla certainly never wanted to meet him in battle. Pires was tall and well-built and filled out his body armor. He could handle himself in hand-to-hand combat as well as take down an enemy from a distance. But his shadowed eyes were what intimidated Talla. They were haunted. Like he’d seen too much and killed too many to ever fully recover.

  He followed her onto the transporter, and she found two pilots already on board. Like aggressors, transporters only needed one pilot, but it was standard protocol to bring a backup pilot into any battle. “You ready?” the second pilot asked.

  “Yes,” Talla said, strapping herself in. “Let’s go.”

  “What are we up against?” Pires asked, taking the seat next to her.

  She reached for the wall screen and pulled up the logistics. “Rescue mission.” The human troops had switched from firing on their own kind to the incoming aggressors and transports. “Looks like we grab every breathing protester we can and minimize casualties. Let’s see,” she said, scrolling through the details. “There are four full battalions out there, and they’re not playing nice.”

  His lip curled into a sneer. “And orders are to minimize casualties?”

  “‘Minimize’ can be subjective,” she replied quietly, leaning back as the transporter around her vibrated and lifted off the ground.

  Pires was battle-hardened like Jax, but they were otherwise two completely different men. Pires was a killer. Jax was a protector. She’d take Jax over Pires on this mission any day. After spending the last couple days with Jax, it felt strange without him now. Though, she figured she should get used to that feeling as he made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her.

  She wondered to which hangar Jax was assigned. She’d seen him earlier with that Sephian woman. It was the first time in her life that she was jealous of another woman. Talla had always gotten what she wanted. Not that she was a snob. It was just that when she saw something she wanted, she worked for it until she got it (and she always got it). She’d wanted Jax most of all. That he rejected her … hurt.

  At least she had Laze. She could always count on her brother. At the moment, she was thankful he was restricted to his sanctuary for a week to recover. That way, he wouldn’t see how Talla lost all sense of propriety around Jax. By the time, she’d get to Laze’s room later, she’d be prepared to deny any feelings she’d have for a human.

  Talla was knocked forward, tight against the seat belt. She looked out the front windshield to see utter chaos. Heavy artillery had begun to bombard the transporter as soon as they left the safety of the Striga. The core ship was grounded only a few hundred meters from the Etzee, its hull the same distance from the ground. It took mere seconds for the transporter t
o claw through the storm of nature and human to reach the Etzee.

  Shredded tents blew like banners in the wind. Bodies dotted the ground. Survivors ran out, desperately waving their arms at the incoming ships, with no sense to find cover. “Idiots,” Talla cursed, and unbuckled. She lunged forward and pointed outside. “Put us between the tank and that group there.”

  The pilot nodded, and Talla pulled out a blaster. She turned around to find Pires already opening the door. “Wait!” she called out.

  He jumped.

  “Damned Sephian.” She grabbed two shields from the wall and then threw herself out of the transporter. She glided to the ground, the wind buffeting her, and she held the shields out in case any snipers noticed her or Pires. He was already on the ground and moving toward the tank. She shoved the shield at him. “This is a rescue mission, not an offensive attack.”

  “It’s too cumbersome,” he snarled.

  “It’s to protect the refugees!”

  He shot her a hard glare and then holstered one of his blasters and took the shield. With Pires taking the lead, they rushed toward the nearest huddle of protesters. The approaching green tank was changing its trajectory toward the transporter. While it couldn’t destroy the superior armor of the ship, a couple direct hits this close would do some damage. They had to move fast.

  In a rush, Talla did a cursory scan of the humans. “Can you all walk?” she shouted above the engine noise and gunfire all around them. A woman meekly raised her hand, and Talla noticed her knee was bloody. She pointed at the two closest to the woman. “You and you, help her. We’re taking you to that transporter over there. Stay behind our shields, and you’ll be safe.”

  She sidled up next to Pires. He nodded, and then crabbed their small group toward the transporter. With the body-length shields their only defense, less than a third of the twenty-plus humans had any safety behind the shields Talla and Pires held. The rest simply huddled close as though proximity would help.