by Dawn Chapman
Drayk turned. “Always,” he choked. It didn’t stop him from wanting to be the protector.
Haal scraped his chair back. “I can see you’ve got a lot to work through.” He rose to leave. “Cale, I’ll be around later.”
Neither Drayk nor Cale moved. “Drayk, promise me you’ll not do anything stupid, like volunteer for service.”
Drayk laughed, but it came out a strangled squeak. “No, no way. And I’m not giving up on getting Cale out of it either.”
“They drafted me. I’m in. I can’t get out of it now.”
Drayk nodded at Cale. “I know.” I’ll find a way, even if it kills me.
“Come on. Let’s get some decent breakfast in you.” Cale tugged Drayk’s arm away from the kitchen sink. “The guys gave us tokens to the Amstea café down in the city.”
Drayk grinned. “Really? Wow. So generous.”
Cale nodded and followed Haal out of the kitchen, dragging Drayk with him out the door.
“Got to get some decent food in you while I can.” Cale laughed on the way to the café, but Drayk didn’t think it was that funny. He tugged on his trousers, and with a pull on his belt he tightened it.
The walk to the city was a long one, and Cale talked for most of it. Drayk enjoyed his chatter, the laughter. The jokes from the party he’d missed. It made him wish he’d been there.
Rich scents of barbecued meats and the intoxicating hint of freshly baked goods wafted up the street as they neared the Amstea, making Drayk’s mouth water. “That’s delicious.” He stood outside the cafe’s entrance, watching as people inside ate at the counter.
Luckily, there was one small empty table in the corner. Drayk went to grab it as Cale moved to the counter to order. They had enough credit to eat what they wanted, and Drayk knew Cale could order for the both of them.
While Cale waited, Drayk pulled the card from his pocket and flipped it over. There was just a name, Altus, and a number. Beneath it a hefty price tag: 400 gidon.
Drayk swallowed. He didn’t even have forty gidon, let alone ten times as much. But, watching Cale standing in line, he dialled the number using the table’s call function, making sure the line was private, then listened as it buzzed. His breathing quickened.
“Altus,” a gruff voice answered. “What do you want?”
What am I doing? Drayk stalled, saying the only thing he could, “Drei gave me your number. I just failed Hygon’s Guild,” he confessed. “I also have a device in my chest. My father built it.”
Static.
Then a cough, “Vellis?”
Drayk nodded, but laughed as he realised Altus couldn’t see that. “Yes. Drayk Vellis.”
“Meet me at the corner of Traik of the Moon’s Cull. Dusk. Be alone.”
Drayk struggled to think of where it was in the city. The darkest side, for sure. “I’ll be there,” he managed, just as the line went dead.
Placing two steaming mugs of foul-smelling liquor on the table, Cale sat down. “You really want to drink that now?” Drayk picked up his mug and sipped, its raw taste exciting to his tongue. “It’s good. Thanks.”
“Happy Dragawn, brother.”
They clinked glasses, a lovely-looking young lady brought over two huge trays piled high with food. “Is all of that for us?” Drayk drooled over the choices.
Cale sipped his drink as the lady served them, her name tag read, Miki. His eyes said everything. This was more than just a rare treat; this was something they’d remember forever.
Drayk fingered the card in his pocket, hoping there was a way he could get his brother to go home alone, so he could meet Altus.
By the time their server had returned more than a couple of times, Drayk had a plan. He kept ribbing Cale, saying, “That waitress seems interested.” When she came over for the third time, Drayk pushed it further. “Come on. Why don’t you take her out tonight?”
Cale tried to knock his brother’s insistence into the curb, but Drayk had done this a few times. Cale was a sucker for a pretty lady.
In the end, it all worked out. And Drayk was the one walking out of the café on his own. His brother would take Miki to the local dancing haunt, to enjoy each other’s company and light up their fair city with dancing and drinking.
Drayk turned away from home, headed to the city’s darker side.
It wasn’t a place where he’d want to go but knew he must. He wouldn’t let his brother die in an unknown galaxy for something they didn’t believe. No, no way.
The city’s vibrant colours dulled as Drayk moved along; reds and blues faded to grey and darker into black. Plant life wilted to nothing. Drayk shivered. The night was coming, and his thin clothing was never enough to keep the cold at bay.
Drayk rounded the next corner, noting the lack of street lights. The area lay in pitch black. No one around. No sounds anywhere.
He took a deep breath, heading in, lowering his head and body stance, bracing, an effort to try to feel invulnerable.
When he reached two roads, he stopped, glancing from left to right. The area’s pitch blackness had started to fade as the twin moons’ silvery light twinkled off shops and doorways. Drayk waited.
But when nothing happened and no one showed up, he decided, I can’t wait here all night.
“Don’t turn around.” The same gruff voice from the call said from behind. “Take several steps, then enter the door on the left.”
Drayk didn’t hesitate; he didn’t turn, only walked to the doorway, and took a deep, slow breath. He entered when it creaked open. Inside, he blinked, taking in his new surroundings.
The room was plain: a desk, a back wall, doorway, Drayk surveyed. His mind catching everything he saw. Several shelves. Various trinkets laid out. It resembled a typical tourist shop, but here in the darkest part of the city things took on a more jarring aspect.
The disembodied voice spoke once more, “To the back door. We’re heading down.”
Drayk wanted to turn, to face the man behind him, but he didn’t. Not yet. However, no one knew he was here but Drei. Can I trust her? Can I trust this Altus?
Sucking in another breath, steadying his heartbeat, Drayk moved toward the only other door in the room. To hell with it. He stepped inside.
There was no other way.
Chapter Ten
Pierce
This feels so different from the simulation. More intense. More real.
Pierce stood, looked around. The rocks and trees seemed familiar, then he saw it. He grinned. He was in the same spot the simulation had taken him before; at least being here felt right. This time, the textures felt much better; he could see it was more realistic than reality.
A breeze ruffled his hair. Pierce glanced down. Yep, same grey camouflage he’d worn before. This time with an additional armoured vest and backpack. He noted a round, blue patch on his chest, which he supposed represented their planet Earth, although only vaguely.
Pierce checked his Main Plasma Rifle stats, and was happy with them, at least for now:
SHOTS—20
RE-CHARGE—1 EVERY 30 SECONDS
His own stats, not so much. Basic everything meant he needed to train and pick up his pace if he wanted to get anywhere and win this.
Checking the backpack, Pierce noted his basic equipment included a compass, a pair of binoculars, a water canteen, a holographic map, two days’ ration bars, and a reel of thin black rope. The rope could sustain six times his body weight. Here in the simulation, the rations were important, even though his real body was well fed and would be through this entire journey. It was his virtual body he’d need to manage: eat regularly, keep up his strength.
With a tiny eye motion, his special glass monocular picked up movement. Pierce’s main stats table appeared, bright, in red. Exact same numbers as before.
Those zero points in abilities intrigued him. Will I really be as bad a shot as they figure?
Pierce flexed his muscles. I’ll find out. He took up his plasma rifle. Kneeled, and pointed to a ro
ck sixty feet away. Boom!
The blast took out several branches above it.
Boom!
This time he hit the tree behind the rock.
Boom! Direct hit.
Three shots to demolish a target. Ouch.
Should I practice for hours or buy abilities with credits?
He pulled the knife out of his pack, tossing it from one hand to the other, waiting until the skills he already knew caught up with his virtual body. Lots of practice sessions ahead, but I’ll enjoy them. Eventually, I’ll use it as well as in the real world. They’d provided him with a good blade. Pierce just needed a chance to use it.
The red appeared in front of him again: Mission One—Climb Mount 23 deactivate radar at the watchtower. Reward—Unknown XP, he read.
He studied his map. Distance—Ten miles. Then Pierce studied the terrain. He couldn’t walk in the real world, but as a fit man, he knew his virtual body was up to the task. I should be able to do this. It’ll take two hours at least to get to Mount 23’s base, then maybe forty minutes to reach its summit. He hoped to find some other action along the way. His fingers and mind itched for something else to do.
Pierce began. The foliage was thick as expected in this quest. Humidity made it feel like a sauna, but he didn’t mind. Good to be on a battlefield that actually feels and smells like real life. This was what I always dreamed of doing, what I fought for. Time to prove my worth.
The bush ahead moved. Pierce, on guard, pointed his rifle where the noise came from and a sudden feeling of déjà vu overcame him. But not déjà vu; I’ve been here before.
Chopper bounded out of the bush, staring at him with his big eye. Skin yellow this time. Pierce smiled, wondering if the colours the dog turned were related to emotion or activity. No fingers to spare this time, he took a ration bar out and threw it toward Chopper. The little creature hesitated at first, but then snapped it all down.
“Let’s see where we go from here,” said Pierce, continuing on his way, followed by the now-green Chopper. He hoped the little beast might be useful. At the very least, he could learn a bit more about the planet through him. I can’t let it be a burden, though. In battle situations, he’s expendable.
The path ahead was full of bumps and rocks. Pierce realized he had tired surprisingly quickly. For a man who valued fitness, this was frustrating, being trapped in a virtual body lacking strength. Energy. That never bothered me in the games I played with Wayne. Maybe I didn’t actually feel those limitations, unlike now.
From time to time, Pierce looked behind, checking if Chopper still followed. The creature never disappointed—always a few feet behind, not seeming tired at all.
Pierce pulled out his canteen, drinking small sips. There might not be a water source anywhere near. He tried not to smile as Chopper rummaged in the dirt. He didn’t want to admit he found it cute.
About an hour passed as Pierce trudged on. He sucked in a breath near some bright orange flowers, smelling something different. It drifted on the breeze. Rotting, a burning smell. Even Chopper stopped, looked around. Nothing at ground level was out of place. I need high ground. I know that smell all too well. Oil and burning flesh. Chopper sat on his haunches, stared at his master like he was expecting a command.
“You smell that?” Pierce asked, less to Chopper, more himself. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath, trying to identify the direction the stench was wafting from. He checked his compass. Mount 23 lay to the east. The stench seemed to be from the northeast.
It wouldn’t be a huge detour, but Pierce wasn’t sure. Would it be worth it? Much needed supplies enticed him. Really could do with more stuff, especially weapons, food, water.
Pierce examined trees, analysing which ones were taller, easier for climbing, and then chose one that looked like a giant coat rack. Commanding Chopper to stay put, he climbed. Soon above the green sea of treetops, he spied it: ahead, a column of black smoke wafted from the northeast. With the binoculars, Pierce tracked it to its crash site. Friend or foe? He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t want to take liberties. He knew nothing of the Maxol species on this planet, or much about them in general, other than they were Pierce’s enemy after what he wanted: a new planet.
Pierce surveyed the area around the oily smoke. Accident? He looked for any parachutes trapped in the treetops. None, which didn’t exactly confirm a pilot or team hadn’t been able to eject. Possibly they went down with the craft. Pierce climbed down, thinking of the horror of being trapped in some overturned craft.
What would it be like in that? He shuddered.
Chopper was still sitting in the exact spot where Pierce had left him, so Pierce treated him to another piece of ration bar. Noticing from the corner of his eye how his stats increased, Pierce took a sip from his canteen before continuing onward.
The stench grew more potent as the unlikely pair got closer to the accident site. Pierce covered his mouth and nose with a sleeve. Unbearable. Pierce found the first piece of scrap metal amidst the bushes a while later. It was made of a strange bluish material, but didn’t feel like metal at all. “Light, strangely warm,” Pierce commented aloud. “Seems to be part of a wing.” But he couldn’t be sure.
As he walked on, he came across other pieces, some made from the same strange metal, others clearly made of flesh. Pierce couldn’t tell which body part or species they belonged to, though, which he confided to Chopper. “It worries me.”
Finally, Pierce found something identifiable. A severed leg lay in a bush among a dozen human ears of differing sizes.
Ears attached all over the leg.
Chopper growled, then Pierce saw his silver teeth. “You hungry?” Pierce picked up the leg with a shudder and threw it over his shoulder.
Chopper’s big teeth ripped through the leg in a second, and before Pierce could think twice or do anything about it, Chopper had eaten it all.
It hadn’t been his intention, and he shuddered at the thought.
The creature sat on his haunches again, staring at Pierce with his big eye.
Even for a man prepared for anything, that had been way too grotesque. Pierce didn’t want to think of those teeth chewing him anytime soon. “You animal,” he said, tugging his rifle from his shoulder, levelling it at Chopper’s head. He was determined to shoot him right there.
Then he realized something. Chopper was larger. He hadn’t become huge by eating that leg, but he had certainly grown. He didn’t seem much interested in attacking his master though. His big eye just blinked. Watching, waiting.
Pierce slung his gun back over his shoulder, deciding to keep Chopper with him. At least I’ve got an opportunity of satisfying my curiosity about something.
With the flick of his eye, he tried to access Chopper’s stats.
MROVIAL GIANT—2 DAYS OLD
LEVEL 2—HEALTH 100/100
Pierce almost choked as he read.
STAMINA—20/100
ARMOUR—SOFT—5/100
He spat out, “Two days old, huh? Big for just two days. I think I’ll keep a close eye on your stats.”
He turned and headed toward the crash site, trying to ignore its assault of noxious fumes. The ship wasn’t as large as Pierce thought. “What do you reckon, Chopper?” They had these on Earth, and this one seemed to be used to transport material from one base to another. “Size of a regular bus. Same strange material we found earlier.”
Pierce had already deduced that this one probably had been transporting flesh. “With all those ears, no?” There was no crew, and the cargo was glass pods. “Filled with amniotic liquid, see? Inside are body parts. Mutated.” A human head with ten eyes. Hands with dozens of fingers. Some of them weren’t human at all. Pierce had fallen silent, having a hard time figuring out what they originally were.
Pierce assumed there had been a problem with something, pressure-wise, inside the ship. “Looks like some of the pods burst, before or during the crash. I can’t tell.” Damage to the fuselage, but with no crew, nobody was her
e to fix the mistake.
He warned Chopper, “If this ship came from a scientific base—most likely had—there’ll be other scientists on their way to rescue what was left of their cargo.”
Pierce decided not to wait around, but he still had an experiment to do.
Chopper stood at the ship’s door like an obedient dog. Pierce searched through the pods for the chunkier piece of meat, and threw its contents to Chopper. Chopper ate the ugly mass in seconds. And as suspected, the Mrovial Giant’s skin turned blue. Pierce watched him grow a few inches larger, as he thought the beast might.
“I could use a big fellow who’ll follow my orders.” He just needed Chopper to be big enough. Thankfully, they had a free buffet around them, even if Pierce didn’t know what it was Chopper was eating. Good to feed him up now. Rather than struggle for finding food later.
Maybe Chopper’s growth happened every meal time. Usually the case with most baby creatures. Or maybe it’s something in this genetically modified flesh? Pierce shook his head trying not to overthink it.
Maybe? Chopper, now the size of a hefty pony, seemed fit enough for Pierce to ride his back. He could at least try.
With food in his hand, Pierce approached Chopper, wary of the teeth. “There you go, good boy,” Pierce cooed. He placed one hand on top of his head, and when his tongues flicked out, he let Chopper take the food.
While Chopper munched, Pierce ran his hand down the deep contour of Chopper’s back, all thick skin, solid muscles. Also, noticeable spikes, almost like handles. “Will you let me ride you?”
Chopper didn’t seem to want to do anything but eat. Pierce leaned over the creature’s back, allowing some of his weight to settle there. Chopper struggled to turn, to see what Pierce was doing, but he didn’t buck or bolt.
Pierce continued with his cooing and calm, persuasive chatter, then he slithered onto Chopper’s back. His feet touched the ground, but if he tucked his knees up, they’d be okay for travelling.
No sooner had he secured himself, tightening his grip with his knees, did Chopper bolt.