Sacrifice:The Shenkar War

by Libby, Seth

  “Evan, I don’t know how you do it. You flew like you were one with the machine. Compared to you, I was flying a garbage truck,” said Tim.

  “Oh, you did fine, I think I used to play a lot of video games . . . it seemed like I had done something like it before,” said a smiling Evan.

  “Hey, did anyone notice anything when we did the group exercise?” asked Crystal hesitantly.

  Liam had noticed something, but it was Dimitri who spoke up first.

  “I could almost feel all of you, like a sense of if you were in trouble or if you needed assistance,” said Dimitri.

  “Yes, that would be how I would describe it exactly,” added Crystal.

  “It seems that our enhancements go beyond just physical and learning abilities,” observed Tim as he unconsciously rubbed his left earlobe. “I have been wondering something. Dimitri, I overheard you say that you grew up in a little town in Russia. Where did you learn to speak such perfect English?”

  Looking confused, Dimitri looked at each of them in turn, then smiled as if he thought he was part of a big joke. “I don’t speak English at all. It is you who speak perfect Russian,” he said.

  Now it was Liam’s, Evan’s, and Crystal’s turn to look as if they were part of a joke. Before Liam could ask what this was all about, Tim elaborated on what he had been getting at.

  “It seems that the nanites in our bodies grant us the ability to understand any language spoken to us--or at least any language in the Meshtrell database. It would also explain why all the people who haven’t undergone the enhancement process wear those earpieces that look like hearing aids. They must be some sort of translating device,” explained Tim.

  “Wow, it would have been nice if they told us of all our abilities instead of just letting us figure them out,” said Evan, a bit irritated.

  “Actually, in truth, I am willing to bet they don’t know exactly the limits of our abilities,” Tim said as he rubbed at his left earlobe again.

  “Well, then, I guess it is our job to discover them all,” Evan said with a smile of mischief on his face.

  The rest of the conversation was cut short as they reached Building 234. Inside, it looked pretty much the same as the previous building minus the flight simulators. A Meshtrell stood at the front of the room with two human assistants waiting for everyone to take their seats. Once everyone was settled, the Meshtrell spoke.

  “Welcome, my name is Jaera. I will be your instructor on the subject of the biology and society of the Shenkar Federation. First, let us begin with what are the Shenkar. As you know, the Shenkar are a highly religious race to a point of being fanatical. We know where they call their home world, but up until four hundred of your Earth years ago, they were nonexistent as a dominating, spacefaring race. It is highly speculated that they were an undeveloped race that came upon advanced technology that accelerated them into a spacefaring species.

  “The leadership caste consists of thirteen council members led by a Shelecore, which is the equivalent of an emperor. The name of this Shelecore is unknown to us. It will be their toughest, most intelligent warrior, although the council members tend to be of their scientist caste.”

  After pressing something on a handheld computer, a screen descended behind Jaera. The lights dimmed and an image of a tall humanoid appeared on the screen. The humanoid was heavily muscled with blue, scale-like skin and straight, shoulder-length black hair. Its arms, Liam noticed, were slightly longer than a human’s, and the being appeared to have a mouth full of needle-like teeth. For the most part--except for the scaly skin, elongated arms, and needle teeth--it looked very much like a human. Then, with a second look, Liam noticed the eyes; they were solid black. This gave the being a most sinister look--a look of evil.

  “This is what a typical Shenkar shock trooper looks like. They are the fighter pilots and the ground troops. They are the backbone of the Shenkar military, and they are all clones.”

  The words took a second to register in Liam’s head. He heard Crystal speak to Tim as others whispered in soft tones around them.

  “Clones? Jaera did say clones, right?”

  “Yes, how very interesting that is,” said Tim in a subdued voice.

  Jaera waited for the murmuring to subside before it once again spoke.

  “Yes, you heard me correctly. The Shenkar use cloning technology for their military. That is what makes them so dangerous. They cannot be reasoned with; they are bred to be killers and to follow orders. This also makes them very predictable.”

  Over the next few hours, the class droned on. Liam took it all in, but he soon grew restless. Sure, it was knowledge that would be required, yet he wanted to be back in the simulator, working his way to the real thing. After what seemed like an eternity, the class finally broke and everyone made their way to the dormitory where their quarters were located. After saying his good nights to Evan, Crystal, and the rest, Liam entered his quarters. He stripped off his uniform, grabbed a quick bite to eat, and then climbed into bed, sighing as he relaxed. As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered what the next day would bring.

  July 7, 2012, 3:36 a.m. ESTHanscom Air Force Base

  Her face was blurred as it swam across his vision--who was she to torment him this way? He ran down a dark hallway toward her, but she managed to stay just out of his reach. He would be just about on her when she would round a corner; when Liam would round the same corner, she would have jumped thirty feet forward. Her laugh was like magic in his ears yet tormented his very soul for the need to touch and hold her. He knew her yet couldn’t remember how. He had to tell her something but didn’t know what.

  “Liam, why did you leave me without a good-bye?” said the blurred woman in a pained voice.

  “Who are you? Why do you run from me?” exclaimed Liam.

  She disappeared from sight, yet Liam could still somehow sense her nearby. Turning in a circle, Liam looked at his surroundings. He was in a dark room with no exits except for the door he had entered through. The voice came again, yet he couldn’t find where it came from.

  “Why, Liam? Why did you leave without telling me you love me?” the disembodied voice said.

  “WHO ARE YOU?!?!” wailed Liam.

  “Liam!” came a loud whisper from behind him.

  Liam spun to see a Shenkar warrior holding a beautiful woman a couple of feet off the ground. She struggled against her captor’s vise-like grip around her throat. Her image was blurry, yet Liam was sure he knew her; he knew he loved her.

  “Liam, you failed; you killed me ’cause you failed me!” the woman cried in a choked voice.

  With that, the Shenkar warrior’s free hand drew back. Liam noticed it had a glove on with razor points on each finger. The hand shot forward and plunged deep into the woman’s chest; her body convulsed in her death throes for several seconds then was still. Despair filled Liam’s chest as he reached for her, his limbs feeling leaded down, knowing that it was too late to do anything to save her.

  “LEAH!” screamed Liam, bolting upright to a sitting position in bed. He was covered in sweat; his heart raced in his chest so hard that he thought it just might explode out of him. Who was Leah? He failed her how? He tried telling himself it was just a dream, but deep down he knew that it was much more than that. Sighing, Liam pulled back the covers and got out of bed; he knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep.

  He walked into his quarter’s bathroom, splashed water on his face, and looked in the mirror as he thought of his dream and what it could mean. He was just about to turn away to start the shower when he noticed something. Looking more closely in the mirror at his chest, he noticed something there--or, in all actuality, something that wasn’t there. When he first had woken from the enhancement chamber, he had noticed a small scar located on his left side just above his third rib. Now it was gone, along with the tightness in the muscle that had been there. Looking closer at his face, he noticed that slight wrinkles which had been there yesterday were now gone. If he were to guess, he
would say he was five years younger. What was happening to him? Had he known to expect these changes before he lost his memories in the enhancement process? Sighing again, Liam turned away, knowing that he would eventually find out.

  July 7, 2012, 6:45 a.m. ESTHanscom Air Force Base

  “Hey, Liam! Hey, wait up!” came a male voice from behind Liam.

  Turning, he saw Evan making his way toward him with Crystal in tow. Have those two been apart since the process? As he watched Evan, he noticed that he somehow looked younger also. So it wasn’t just him.

  “Hey, why are you in such a hurry?” asked Evan.

  “Sorry, just didn’t sleep well--had an odd dream,” replied Liam, who then stopped walking and turned to face them both. “Have you noticed anything unusual with your bodies?”

  Evan’s hand unconsciously went halfway to his hair before he seemed to notice and lowered it again.

  “So it isn’t just me, then,” said Crystal.

  Both Liam and Evan turned to Crystal to scrutinize her a little more closely. She did look younger than the day before; neither could put a finger on what exactly, but there was something definitely different.

  “What are you two looking at?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” said Liam and Evan quickly in unison.

  “Well, if you haven’t noticed, it’s my nose that’s different. It was slightly off as if I had broken it; now it’s perfectly straight. I don’t have any trouble breathing through my nose that I noticed I had before,” explained Crystal.

  “It seems the nanites are rejuvenating our bodies, repairing parts that are imperfect. Scars that we had are disappearing, any aches we had from, say, arthritis are fading to nothing, among other things,” said Tim.

  All three turned to face Tim; they hadn’t realized they weren’t alone as they never heard him walk up. He looked thoughtfully at the three while rubbing his earlobe; then he raised a hand to his head.

  “Wow, Tim!” exclaimed Evan, smiling broadly. “Guess we can cancel that order of Rogaine we all chipped in on for you.”

  Evan was right, from what Liam could see. Tim had been a balding man left with only a few wisps of hair. Now a thin layer of new-grown hair covered his head, and when it fully grew out, he would once again have a full head of hair.

  “Well, it seems we have discovered another of the benefits that the enhancement process has bestowed upon us,” said Crystal.

  The four all compared notes on what had changed in themselves. So far, Tim’s hair was growing back and his arthritis in his back was gone. Crystal’s nose was fixed, and the gray she claimed had been in her hair was gone, although Liam and Evan didn’t remember seeing any. Evan’s slight graying in his hair and the wrinkles he had from aging were receding. Finally, Liam looked younger with wrinkles fading, and the mysterious scar on his ribs was gone. But all thoughts of their newfound revitalization were set aside as they arrived at Building 216 for space combat training.

  Over the next few weeks, the schedule stayed the same: space combat training in the morning until the afternoon, followed by Shenkar biology and society until the evening. They would all then break for the evening and make their way to their personal quarters. Nights were spent studying--and also in Liam’s case, his nights were troubled by the tormenting dream of the mysterious woman. Liam knew her, yet he still couldn’t manage to pull her identity from the depths of his mind. Liam and the others continued to regenerate, and soon Liam began to wonder how much younger he would be by the end of the process. It was a pretty dull routine after the first week as far as Liam saw it. It wouldn’t have been so bad if they were flying real fighters, but the simulators just didn’t hold the impact they had in the first week.

  July 27, 2012, 9:48 a.m. ESTHanscom Air Force Base, Building 216

  Milton Johansin entered Building 216 and looked around. Spotting the scientist in charge of the flight simulator program, he quickly walked over. As the man opened his mouth to speak, Milton cut him off.

  “And what is so important that you called me from my work, Mr. Danvers?” asked Milton Johansin rather testily.

  Milton Johansin, an older man in his early sixties, was the director of the research department, heading the training of what he called the super soldiers. He had always been a man immersed in his work, with no time for marriage or children--which didn’t matter much to him as long as he had his work. He was known by others to be a not-very-compassionate man. He was driven by results and expected everyone to work as hard as he did.

  “Well . . . uh, sir . . . uh, we discovered something very interesting that we figured you might want to know about,” said Danvers nervously.

  Danvers looked over his shoulder at another scientist, then turned back to Milton before he spoke.

  “Well, you know how simulation results have shown that the enhanced soldiers’ performance is exceptional?” When Milton nodded, Danvers continued. “Well, it seems we have found a way to increase their performance exponentially . . . ummm, well, at least with the Necro Squadron.”

  “Necro Squadron?” asked Milton.

  “Oh yeah, this squadron it seems has chosen call signs, and well, we sort of dubbed them Necro Squadron due to the call signs they chose,” said Danvers as he handed Milton his handheld computer.

  Milton took the computer and read what was on its screen.

  Lt. Liam Brennan Call sign: Ghost

  Lt. Evan Maxis Call sign: Zombie

  Lt. Crystal McKenna Call sign: Revenant

  Lt. Tim Wellmo Call sign: Vampire

  Lt. Darren Driji Call sign: Wraith

  Lt. Steven Barrows Call sign: Ghoul

  Lt. April Groth Call sign: Banshee

  Lt. David Lapra Call sign: Spectre

  Lt. Michael Stert Call sign: Phantom

  Lt. Dimitri Glasniv Call sign: Demonknight

  Milton handed the computer back to Danvers before saying in a dry tone, “Yes I can see why you would call them Necro Squadron. So what is this you were saying about improving their performance?”

  “Well, as you see here--” He indicated the array of monitoring equipment against the far wall: ten monitors each showed a pilot concentrating on running something not within view. Two chairs sat in front of the equipment; at the moment, one was empty and the other was occupied by a scientist who was watching Milton and Danvers. The scientist, Milton noticed, looked rather uncomfortable.

  “We monitor all the pilots while they run their maneuvers. We also communicate to all the pilots from here.” He indicated a section at the center of the equipment.

  “Yes, I know how the system works. Can you get on to your point already?” Milton said irritably.

  “Uh . . . yeah . . . sorry. Well, earlier we had just run a simulation on attack maneuvers against capital ships and were just starting a new run. While they made their runs, Stevenson here decided he wanted to listen to some music and turned on the radio. Well, while the music was running, we became aware that someone forgot to close off communications and the music broadcast into the pilots’ cockpits.” At that last part, Danvers gave the other scientist an annoyed look. “When I saw that the comm line was open, I went to shut it off when we noticed that the performance rating of the pilots had increased by 23 percent.”

  “Are you telling me that these pilots listening to music make them more efficient?” asked Milton.

  “Yes, sir, it appears that the beat of the music seems to set the pilots into a rhythm. But not just any music, it seems. We have received the best results from metal music. Music types that have no positive effect include country, rap, and emo, but we are still testing different styles,” finished Danvers.

  “Interesting. I would like to witness this firsthand. That way, when I tell the President of your discovery, I will be able to tell him in truth that our pilots are far beyond even what the Meshtrell had predicated.”

  Looking rather pleased with himself, Stevenson turned back to the console, donned a headset, and spoke into the comm board. “Atte
ntion, pilots, let’s run battle plan Omicron 6.”

  Affirmative, flight control,” came a voice through the overhead speakers.

  Looking at the monitors, Milton saw that the voice came from the pilot with the call sign “Ghost.”

  “Let’s try a new style of music--what do we have in the way of pop music?” Danvers asked Stevenson.

  Stevenson took a few minutes to find a song, then transferred the song over to the comm channel, sat back, and waited.

  July 27, 2012, 10:05 a.m. ESTHanscom Air Force Base, Building 216

  Liam looked over his indicator board, studying the enemy inbound analogs: one lone destroyer with a standard fighter support of fifteen fighters. Liam keyed his comm and spoke.

  “Okay, we all know the plan. The fighters will move to intercept us as we make our run on the destroyer. Destroy as many as the fighters as you can as we pass them, but do not turn to engage. Evan, Crystal, and Tim will finish off any that we miss. The rest of you, stay with me and arm those torpedoes.”

  “That’s an affirmative, Ghost,” came back nine voices over the comm.

  Liam locked his target and hit his afterburners, moving his fighter forward. He was concentrating on his target when he became aware of music playing and took a moment to listen. The song sounded familiar, yet he couldn’t place it.

  An image flashed at the first words of the song across Liam’s vision: a young woman in her early twenties, brown-haired, green-eyed, and incredibly beautiful. Pain shot through Liam’s skull as images flashed through his mind. The beautiful young woman Liam had been dreaming about was now no longer blurry. Liam tried to concentrate on his board, but the pain intensified along with the image of the young woman. Soon the pain was excruciating: a feeling of white-hot needles pushing into his skull. Liam’s hands left his flight stick and went to his head. His head snapped back and a scream rose in his throat--a scream he wasn’t even aware of.