by L. S. Mercer
The door to the bridge slid open as they moved towards it, everyone in the command center turned in unison to look upon their two leaders.
“Play the transmission.” Ordered Helen as they stepped down into the communicator.
The communicator was much different than any that Draxis had ever seen before. Completely three dimensional with holographic projectors built all around a single platform, allowing the image to be transferred to them with view on all sides of the transmitter.
“Very interesting.” Thought Draxis as he slid his metal finger across the design.
The communicator came to life, bringing up an image and location of the transmission, which was the center of Ostillion. The image was of a man in a black warsuit, much like the one Sebastian built for Draxis, but this one was more human than his. Half of the man’s face was still flesh, and his eyes seared with a burning red as if he himself had been forged in flames. The eyes made him think of one person, the pulsecutioner.
“Hello travelers, you are approaching Ostillion. If you plan to land on the planet, wear filter masks, for the air is toxic to those unaccustomed to the environment.” He said.
Helen gave Draxis a strange look, but he didn’t turn his head from the image or utter a word to her.
“Who are you?” Asked Draxis.
“If you land at this hour, be prepared. When the sky darkens, the creatures come forth to feed upon the flesh of the survivors. Land at your own peril.”
The transmission cut out, causing Draxis to squeeze his hands together in frustration. Knowing that it wasn’t his ship, he refrained from destroying everything in sight, though the people still moved away from the command center.
“Land the ship.” Growled Adrian as he stood up from his seat.
The main officer nodded at him and began barking orders to the others.
“Find me when we are prepared to depart.”
Helen nodded at him and turned to head for the front of the bridge.
Draxis clenched his fists as tightly as the body would allow and began to storm out of the bridge, infuriated by the lack of information that the strange man on Ostillion was providing. Part of him was starting to wonder if he should just kill him once they finally meet. Draxis was so angry that when he stormed out, the energy pulsing from his body had become visible to the people around him and sparks seemed to fly up to his waist with each time his boot stomped onto the ground, almost as if he were absorbing energy from the ship itself.
Chapter 12
Damon went over the battle plans again and again through the entire night. No matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t see how it would work to their advantage. It was too simple for the Kharan to fall for it since the plan was literally to storm the planet with the entire Alliance fleet. If they were smart, they’d think it was a trick from the first word, but then again, the Kharan weren’t known for their intelligence.
After careful consideration, he finally decided that it was worth a shot. In the end, he’d always know that there was no way he’d ever sell out the only good group in the galaxy, plus where would he get his paychecks if the Kharan destroyed them? More importantly, they were the only ones who could play Val’Drago’s games and have a chance to win. Damon was too small time for that.
Damon’s mind returned to the Eyres, wondering if they were doing okay back on the Kharan planets. The two were very resourceful, but there was no way for him to know how well they were, even if he called Drago right then and there the guy wouldn’t tell him.
As the sun began to shine down on the outpost planet, Damon got off of his bed and dressed himself up for the day. There was a lot of discussions to be had about the plan before launch, and he was hoping to make a few changes as well if Aela would permit it.
* * *
“So if we move the ships here, they wouldn’t be expecting an attack at this post.” Said Striker, slamming a stick against the planning board.
Damon fully stepped into the room, going unnoticed by the two.
“Yes, but if we attack from two sides, they’d be discombobulated. That would give us a better advantage.” Said Aela.
Striker stared at the board blankly and then smiled.
“Even better!” He replied.
Damon intentionally kicked over a basket to get their attention, adding a fake cough for extra measure.
The two immediately turned to him in surprise.
“So the plans are real?” Asked Damon, twisting with confusion about the entire situation.
Striker grinned at him and motioned for him to join them.
“The attack is real, but the plans are backward.” Said Striker.
“Ah.” Replied Damon as he studied the board.
“What makes this perfect is that their scouts and spies will all report massive troop movement.” Said Aela. “Which will solidify your evidence.”
Damon nodded and smiled to himself. He knew that he’d made the right decision.
“What if Val’Drago doesn’t follow through with his promise?” Asked Aela, causing Striker to stop as if he’d never considered it.
“He’s a pretty honest fellow.” Replied Striker.
“He’s a gangster with an army, doesn’t seem like the very honest type.” She argued.
Damon smiled at Aela.
“Are you worried about me?” He asked.
Aela’s face went a light shade of pink as she looked over at him, surprised by his assumption.
“I’m more worried about the cute ones actually.” She said, her tone as defensive as her newly adopted posture.
Damon couldn’t hide his disappointment at her response, though he made himself look a little less hurt and she caught it. Aela smiled at him uncomfortably.
“Okay, Damon.” Said Striker, almost in a shout to interrupt the awkwardness. “Go get ready to head to Kharan with the plans, we will get the fleet ready. Make sure to call me on a private channel before you go.”
Damon nodded, giving Aela one more odd look before turning to leave.
Walking down the hall, he moved slower than usual due to being lost in thought. There were so many different ways his mission could go wrong and get the Eyres killed, but at the same time, he had all the confidence in the world to give it his best shot. As he got to the door he was stopped by a hand grasping his arm and pulling back. In shock, he turned around to see who it could be.
“I’m sorry.” Said Aela, letting go of his arm.
Damon raised his eyebrow in confusion, unsure of what she was apologizing for.
“I forgive you.” He whispered with a light chuckle.
Without warning, Aela pushed herself into him, pressing her lips against his. As she pulled away, Damon stared deeply into her eyes with a mix of confusion and the unavoidable urge to do it again. As if she’d read his mind, she kissed him again and then smiled up at him.
“In case you don’t make it.” She whispered.
“Now I have to.” He whispered back.
His comment caused her to giggle, even though she tried her hardest to hide it.
Giving her one last smile and a pat on her shoulder, Damon turned to leave, possibly for the final time.
* * *
As Damon sat down in the captain’s chair of the duster, he rubbed a bit of dirt off of the terminal and setting the systems to online. The ship fired up in an instant, which wasn’t usually the case since it was quite an old ship. Impressed, he nodded to himself as if he’d fixed something, but in reality, he hadn’t really worked on the ship in quite some time.
The locking magnets from the outpost failed to disengage, it was just like Kharan all over again. Damon smacked the side of his head in frustration as he jumped up to go check the engine room again. Not knowing what could be going on, he grabbed a pistol from his gun case and slowly moved towards the room. As he walked down the hall, the door to the ship’s exit hissed as the hydraulics lowered it open.
“I mean it doesn’t really matter, orders are orders, Sam.”
Whispered a gruff voice as footsteps came up the ramp.
Damon raised his pistol to fire.
“He’s a smuggler, we can’t really trust him.” Whined another voice.
As the two came into view, Damon noted how odd the pair was. A short, pale, and incredibly scrawny young man standing next to a large and oddly pleasant looking Kharan with his horns shaved off. The two froze in fear as they saw the pistol aimed at them, the young one even looked as if he might burst into tears right then and there.
“Who are you?” Asked Damon, narrowing his eyes for a more precise shot.
The Kharan maintained statue-like eye contact with Damon, not even moving towards his pistol for defense.
“My name is Gerrig, and this is Sam.” Said the Kharan, slowly as if to avoid alarming Damon.
Damon maintained his crosshairs for a moment longer before slowly lowering the pistol after remembering where he was. He figured they couldn’t be dumb enough to steal on the outpost.
“Thank the gods!” Exclaimed Sam as he began to pant, he’d been holding his breath for what felt like ages.
“Why are you on my ship?” Asked Damon.
Sam looked at Gerrig in a confused manner.
“Striker didn’t tell you?” Asked Gerrig.
“Great.” Muttered Sam as he brushed a hand nervously through his bright blonde hair.
Damon continued to stare but made an acknowledgment about Sam’s nervousness with a slight curl of his lip, trying to hide a smile. Sam noticed it and became slightly embarrassed.
“Striker hired you on as my crew?” Asked Damon. “Sounds like him.”
Damon finally holstered his pistol and walked up to the guys, putting his hand out for a handshake.
“Welcome aboard.” He said.
Sam and Gerrig shared an excited smile before shaking his hand.
“It’s truly an honor to fly with the great Damon Blackwing.” Said Gerrig.
Damon’s eyes went wide as he realized who these guys were, they were the some of the recruits that Striker had been training before, straight out of the academy fangirl types.
“Well, it’s uh, an honor to let you.” Muttered Damon. “Specialties?”
“Huh?” Asked Sam, staring at Damon as if he were in some sort of dreamworld.
Damon’s wide-eyed, blank stare turned into one of confusion and a pinch of concern.
“What are you good for?” Asked Damon.
Sam’s face fell into something almost resembling despair like Damon had just crushed him into bits and pieces with a simple question.
“I’m not the best pilot, but the top of my class in combat.” Said Gerrig proudly.
Sam trembled slightly, showing the typical signs of a cowardly, undertrained spy trying to conceal his identity. Damon, being a master of the mind, saw right through him and came to the conclusion that these guys weren’t just recruits. There was something different about them.
“Computer science.” Sam stuttered.
Damon nodded his head slowly, giving Sam a very uneasy smile.
“Can you fly Sam?” He asked, turning back to head into the cockpit.
Sam looked over at Gerrig, who gave him a nod accompanied by a rather furious glare.
“Of course.” Said Sam as quickly as he could, moving to match Damon’s speed and escape his friends stare.
“Good.” Stated Damon. “Gerrig, you’re on guns and anything defensive, and you’re with me, Sam.”
“With you?” Asked Sam, sounding as if he were trying to avoid the Captain at all costs.
“A duster always needs a co-pilot in case we get into battle. I assume that I’m quite a better shot, so you’ll fly as a backup.” He replied.
Sam nodded at him as they sat down in their seats and prepared for take-off.
“Not bad for a trade ship eh?” Asked Damon with a chuckle.
Sam stared at him, seeming to try and read him. Another sign of a spy.
Damon clicked the door button on his terminal and locked the cockpit door as it closed. Sam’s eyes went wide with fear as he watched his only escape route close.
“What aren’t you telling me, Sam.” Muttered Damon with irritation.
Sam looked away from him, pretending as if he hadn’t heard him speak. He began to run his fingers around all of the switches and buttons, reading each one’s function.
“That door doesn’t open until you tell me.” He said with a smile as he unlocked the magnets.
They graciously allowed him to leave this time, the ship jolting from idleness as it veered upwards back towards space. Damon watched Sam with amusement, seeing that any moment the boy was going to crack under the pressure of being stuck in a room with a notorious smuggler.
Finally, Sam turned to him, looking scared for his life.
“If I tell you, don’t tell Striker or Gerrig.” He whispered.
Damon’s face didn’t change one bit, he continued to appear amused.
“Scout’s honor.” He said, his smile growing more sinister by the second.
Sam leaned in towards him, to the point where the two’s lips were almost touching. Way too close for Damon’s comfort, but he forced himself not to appear awkward for the sake of getting the information that he craved.
“Espionage.” Sam whispered. “That’s my specialty.”
Damon forced himself not to burst into laughter at the thought of this guy actually doing a reconnaissance mission, or even worse, actually infiltrating an enemy facility. He stood up and went to the door, still looking as if he were going to have a breakdown.
As soon as Damon’s back turned, Sam’s hands slid around his neck and before he knew it, he was somehow facing the other direction, lying on his back. Damon’s eyes widened as he stared up at Sam, who was now sitting on his stomach with a very sharp blade in his hands.
Sam smiled down at him.
“Never underestimate your opponent Damon.” He whispered as he gracefully and oddly flirtatiously slid the blade across Damon’s lips.
“Noted.” Said Damon, his smile forming once again.
Sam stood up and put out his hand to help his Captain up.
“Does Striker know?” Asked Damon.
He was rather confused as to whose side Sam was even on, and why he’d actually tell him. Damon was good at sniffing out a spy, but even he had been slightly fooled into thinking that Sam was some sort of pathetic, cowardly initiate.
“No.” Replied Sam, rubbing his elbow nervously. “But Gerrig does, and he’d be pissed if he knew I told you.”
Damon unlocked the door to the cockpit as he sat back down in his chair and looked forward into the stars.
“The truth is, my brother, he’s imprisoned in the Royal District on Kharan.” Mumbled Sam. “You were the perfect one to take me there. Gerrig said he’d help me.”
Damon shook his head.
“Striker will have your heads if you leave this ship.” Said Damon.
Sam nodded, his face had returned to that of a frightened boy, but this time it seemed authentic.
“But.” Said Damon, pausing for dramatic effect.
Sam’s eyes immediately lit up and went to Damon’s.
“I’ll allow it.” He said. “As long as you don’t compromise my own mission.”
Sam clapped his hands together in excitement, almost like Alloy would do in that exact spot. The thought of the Eyres caused Damon’s eyes to portray sadness, confusing Sam completely.
For Damon’s sake, Sam didn’t ask him what was wrong, the subject matter basically gave him all the information that he needed to deduce what the Captain was thinking about. Plus Sam had read the mission briefing a million times before accepting the contract.
“There it is.” Whispered Damon, snapping Sam out of his thoughts.
Sam looked forward to see the three planets rapidly approaching.
“Kharan.” He whispered.
Chapter 13
The Eradicator entered the atmosphere at an alarming rate, much faster
than any other ship that Draxis had ever been on. He wasn’t concerned though, Helen’s crew was more than capable of landing a ship in any condition, judging by their profiles from the Ghan database. It pleased Draxis that he now had the power to do such things, looking up a profile on the fly allowed him to know who he was speaking to and whether or not he should trust them.
As the ship got closer to the ground, the ride got a lot smoother. The ship’s landing systems were almost futuristic to him as they gracefully fired up and brought the ship to the ground with ease and delicacy. It was almost like a symphony playing into his metallic hearing aids as the landing proceeded.
“We are here.” Said Helen through the room’s communication device.
Without a word, Draxis walked out of the room and headed directly to the loading ramp to depart the ship. Helen and the ground crew were already awaiting him at the ramp, armed to the teeth with the latest weaponry and ready for anything.
“We’ll be fine.” Said Draxis, amused by the nervous chatter he picked up on as he arrived.
“It’s night, whatever these creatures are.” Started the Commanding Officer.
“Are not nearly as terrifying as I am.” Interrupted Draxis.
The officer immediately ceased, knowing by now that angering Draxis would be futile.
“You ready?” Asked Helen, smiling up at the hulking brute.
Draxis nodded and summoned a rifle from the racks next to the ramp. The gun floated over to his hands and he grasped it with an excitement boiling up within him. Everyone stared at him, still amazed by his power even though at this point they should’ve been used to it.
The door began to slowly open itself.
“I’ve commanded your people to stay on the ship.” Said Helen, staring at the sky as it became visible.
“It’s for the best, they are not warriors, not yet.” Replied Draxis.
The door fully came to a stop onto the soil of the once vibrant planet, now looking desolate and toxic. The troops activated their breathing masks and moved in unison off of the ramp and onto the dirt below. Although less beautiful, Draxis still admired the landscape as he casually followed behind the nervous soldiers. He used his computerized vision to scan everything, not sensing movement in any direction whatsoever. It made him wonder if the transmission had even been accurate.