Green, blue, and red lasers streaked across the atmosphere as the dogfights and bombing runs continued. The screeches of the Olonictic Valkyries shook the Star-World, even from five miles above the streets. Explosions lit up the night on the horizon and four rebel fighters sped past, completely oblivious of the scene playing out below them. Not that they could even see much from that height.
The ringing in his ears faded, giving way to the rustling of nearby loose papers and banners hanging from the buildings as they caught in the cool breeze. Pops of gunfire and shouting echoed from the other side of the empty streets of the Star-World, but only the crackling of fires came from nearby.
Groaning and wincing through the pain radiating up his back and sides, Rav pushed himself up onto his knees. He held his right arm where the burnt skin had oozed white and green puss through the gauze. Infection was undoubtedly setting in, but the throbbing pain was the only thing he could think about in the moment. But once clarity entered his mind again, Rav became aware of the true emergency situation he was in.
He found his orange flight goggles a few inches from him, the lenses cracked and wires exposed from the sides. With blistered fingers, he picked it up and slid it on. He tapped the controls on the side to use the radio, but nothing happened. "Leah? Sandra? Someone? Can you hear me? I think I crashed. I . . . the ship . . . it's gone. Someone help me. I can't find Nemo."
When only silence greeted him, Rav pulled the busted goggles from his head and tossed them back into the street. A deep and penetrating feeling of loneliness sunk into his chest. Through his chapped and bleeding lips, he repeated the last sentence over and over, as if he was coming to terms with the seriousness of it all. "I can't find Nemo. I can't find Nemo. I can't find Nemo!"
Rav stood up and brushed away the mud from his flightsuit before fumbling with the buckles for his parachute that trailed behind him on the ground. Once he found the release, the entire pack dropped with a thud against the soot-streaked concrete. Rav moved his hands over his body, checking for any broken bones or blood, but he found nothing more than a few scrapes and fresh bruises between the ripped sections of his slightly singed flightsuit.
Stumbling along the pavement, he headed towards the glow from the fires. Every step brought him closer to answers, closer to clues, and closer to his greatest fears. The events of the past hour slowly drifted back to him. The bombings, the talk with Leah, the news about Ben, the fear in Neon's voice . . . the barrier above the city. Falling, shattering, ejecting.
At the other end of the street, Rav spotted the glimmer of slick metal in the firelight against the darkness.
The wreck.
Rav walked closer, his legs shaking with the fear of what he might find there in the burned-out hull and shredded interior of the Galaxy Glider. The burnt leather and white puffs of insulation and padding were strewn across the cracked asphalt and carried away on the breeze. Nothing else moved aside from the flames that devoured the puddles of spilled Vitalanum from the shattered fuel cores.
"Nemo! Nemo, where are you? Vance? Someone answer me! Let me know you're alive. Dear space, let me know you're alive. You have to be alive! Nemo!"
Broken glass and twisted metal crunched below his sneakers as he cautiously made his way through the rubble that was surrounded by three different blazes. The flames illuminated his way, casting their bright yellow and orange glow across the debris. No one answered his shouting. No one emerged from the wreckage. Kicking over hunks of blackened metal, Rav held his breath with each one, hoping he did not find the body of his son trapped below.
Then he saw it. The thing that nearly struck him dead where he stood.
A pair of tiny purple sneakers.
Rav picked the sneakers up and his heart stopped. They were burned, blackened around the laces, and soaked with a mixture of blood and sticky blue coolant. He fell to his knees in the rubble, clutching his son's shoes to his chest as he let out a heart-wrenching cry. The tingling coolant trickled down his arms. The smell of sweet blood sent his mind into a whirling tailspin of anger, fear, grief, and self-hatred.
How could he have saved only himself? How could he have left his only son, the son he had given so much for and searched so long for, to die in such a horrific way? How could he possibly live with himself now?
Rav cried out to the smoke-veiled sky, releasing his gnawing and unbearable emotions, but his shouting was cut short when the footsteps ran up behind him and the sound of laser rifles powering up drew his attention.
With a glance over his shoulder, he spotted the squad of warbringers in leather armor.
Fueled by the loss of his son, Rav stood and held out his arms as he screamed out the sequence of numbers he had memorized. "9412536!"
Chapter 7
Slayven shivered as he sat across the table from Jezzien and Kalimis in the shady smoke-filled bar in the middle of Star-World Zero Alpha's largest urban district. Humiliated and freezing, dressed only in the traditional black and red sash of the rejected slaves chained into place around his hips, the skinny Azimandian sunk down in the rough wooden chair and waited.
He looked down at himself with shame bearing down on him like a blanket of bricks. Still bound by Azimandian customs and technically enslaved to Kalimis, he had no say, no voice, and no rights as long as they were in Azimandian territory.
The sash marked him as belonging to Kalimis, which was demeaning and made him worth less to society than a dog. However, it ensured that no other warbringers would try to attack Slayven and claim him as theirs. That was the absolute last thing he wanted. So, to keep himself safe from being dragged off down some side street and raped by a warbringer, he wore the sash and kept his head down in public.
The clinking of glasses, the laughter of drunken patrons, and the quiet music playing from the antique jukebox filled the foul-smelling bar where nearly fifty warbringers had gathered to drink their worries away after training for the day. Sweaty and filled with pent-up anger and stress, they made a raucous of the place. Some of them were accompanied by their own rejected slaves who were dressed in the same sashes, but with thick metal collars locked around their necks. Their warbringers held the chains to their collars in their muscular hands as they ordered more rounds of shots and joked around with their colleagues, ignoring the rejecteds they had claimed.
One of the other rejecteds, who was no more than ten years old, took a risk to look over at Slayven with large pleading eyes, but he was pulled forcefully back to his warbringer's side with the clanking of the chain around his neck. Slayven ground his teeth together as he watched the warbringer take the boy by the back of his head and shove his tongue down his throat as his other hand dove down the silk sash around the boy's waist. Slayven's fists clenched in anger.
"Slayven? Slayven, are you all right?"
He snapped out of his thoughts to look up meekly at Jezzien's pink hair and her smiling face.
Jezzien took a shot of tequila then slammed her glass down before she repeated her question. "Are you all right? Kalimis asked you a question."
"Forgive me, warbringer." Slayven bowed his head again to stare at the peeling paint on the edge of the sticky table. "I didn't hear you."
Kalimis picked up the paper menu. "I asked if you're hungry. I'll order you something."
"No. I'm fine."
"I know you hate this. I do too. But it's for your own safety, and you know that. It's just for a little while longer until we meet with our contact. Don't worry about these warbringers in here. They're all members of the Azimandian Underground."
"Who are we meeting with?" Slayven asked.
"You need to stop talking directly to me in public. Even though these warbringers are allies, they still view you as being nothing more than property. If you have something to ask, write it on a napkin and hand it to Jezzi. I'll answer you, though. We are meeting with the head of the rogue warbringers, the ones who have turned against Vance. They don't accept him as their future warlord. It's who we're fighting against,
but he's the last one here. He has recently sent all of his troops to Odyssia in order to meet with Vance there and kill him. It's all going according to Vance's plan."
Slayven grumbled under his breath as he took a napkin from the plastic dispenser in the middle of the table and a pen. He scribbled his question on it. Then why are we meeting with him?
"Because there is always the Azimandian way of doing this. And no, it's not just abuse and warfare." Kalimis reached into the backpack between his legs then dropped a heavy bag on the table. It fell over, spilling rubies, sapphires, and diamonds, all the size of a human thumbnail, across the napkins and coasters. "You're about to bear witness to one of our great empire's favorite pastimes. Bribery."
Slayven raised an eyebrow, silently asking for more information.
"You don't get it, do you? Listen closely. I don't want Krisharn to be my warlord. He's a maniac. I don't trust him as far as I can kick him." The orange-horned warbringer leaned forward and placed his hand against his face to hide his mouth from any onlookers. "I didn't say anything to anyone, but I caught Krisharn in Ben's room on the ship. I watched him for a few minutes. Ben was in the shower and Krisharn sneaked into the bathroom to watch him. Ben didn't have his glasses on, so he didn't notice, but Krisharn was peeking in on him."
"What? Are you serious?" Jezzien's eyes grew wide. "That's awful! My father was spying on Ben? I don't know which one I'm more upset about. That it happened or that you didn't tell anyone."
"I didn't want Vance to get upset and take matters in his own hands. You know how violent he can be when he's angry. I didn't think anything of it."
"Yeah, but now Ben is missing! What if Krisharn did something to him?"
"He went missing after Krisharn left the ship."
"He could have had someone else do something to Ben. Someone on the ship."
"Who would do something like that?" Kalimis asked, taking two more shot glasses filled to the brim with tequila from the waiter. "Leah and Remy are too kind and soft. Sandra is too deep in this rebellion to risk losing it all to do something to side with Krisharn. The Nemo clones couldn't. They're seven. That leaves Ben's uncle, the man who was finally reunited with his nephew after years of being apart. He gave Ben a significant sum of money and helped him escape from prison. I'm sure Tamir is just as heartbroken over all this as anyone else, probably more because he's family."
The three of them looked up from the drinks and playing cards on the table as a warbringer with twisted brown horns stopped beside their chairs with his hands on his hips. "Should I say Dovei? Or is that only for Aveni's supporters?"
Kalimis grinned, flashing his pointed teeth. "Welcome, Trilx. I've been waiting for you. Have a seat."
"No, I'd rather stand. I don't like being on the same level as a rejected slave." The warbringer dug his razor claws into Slayven's scalp then yanked his head by his black feathered hair. "Look at this good boy. You've done a good job with him, Kalimis. What I wouldn't give for five minutes with this one. These blue spots are so pretty. You're a pretty boy, aren't you?"
"You came here to forge a deal with the Red Sand Rebels?" Kalimis asked, changing the subject.
"No, I came here to tell you that I will keep Krisharn from taking the throne while finding a new heir and keeping the majority of the warbringers still on this Star-World from attacking you and your allies in exchange for a bribe. I know how this works. Well? What do you have for me, Kalimis?"
Kalimis pushed the bag of gems across the table. "All of it."
"Diamonds . . . rubies . . . gemstones . . . hmm . . ." Trilx scratched his goatee with his claws as he held up a sapphire in the light and examined it. "They're nice, I'll give you that. But I was under the impression you would be offering me something more warm . . . and alive. Something I could train and claim."
Slayven's cheeks burned under the gaze from the monstrous warbringer as his heart skipped a beat. He immediately averted his eyes to the sawdust-sprinkled floorboards below his bare feet. He did not want to drawn any more attention to himself. The punctures on his scalp were already bleeding.
Kalimis growled possessively, being challenged by the other warbringer's assertiveness against his property. He stood and flexed his bulging muscles, baring his teeth and ready for a fight. "Slayven is mine. You can't have him."
"I wasn't talking about your slave boy here. But another slave would do, yes. Maybe that human boy of yours in the corner? He's cute. I'll take him off your hands. You are a slaver, aren't you?"
"What human boy? There's no human here."
Slayven glanced over to the shadowy corner underneath the edge of the bar to where a bald pale-skinned boy, dressed in burnt jeans and a ripped t-shirt, was curled up in a puddle of purple blood. He looked at Kalimis with urgency.
Kalimis lunged out of his chair and raced over to the boy, taking him gently in his strong arms. "Nemo? Nemo, what are you doing here all alone? Jezzi, get over here and help me with him. He's injured."
Slayven could only watch from where Kalimis had left him as Jezzi tore open Nemo's shirt and began wiping away the blood and coolant with a rag the bartender had handed to her. The boy was soaked in fluids, but he was breathing and only the top layer of skin had been singed from some kind of flames. Nothing was black, nothing was rough. Only pink burns striped across his arms and legs and a gash above his right knee was responsible for the blood and coolant.
Nemo gasped with an airy whimper. "Vance."
"What did you say?" Jezzien asked.
Nemo pointed to the back door of the bar then began screeching at the top of his lungs and convulsing out of nowhere. Every patron in the bar turned to look at him and the music stopped.
Kalimis slammed his hand over the boy's mouth to quiet him before motioning to Slayven and rushing out the back door.
Slayven waited until Jezzien grabbed his arm and half-dragged him through the maze of tables and stunned Azimandians. He nearly tripped over a passed-out warbringer then stumbled the rest of the way past leering eyes and sideways glares.
Once he joined them outside in the back alley, Nemo was shoved into his arms. Slayven stared down at the unconscious boy who weighed nearly nothing, his ribs protruding through the thin layer of skin.
"By the Great Horned Mother! Vance!" Kalimis ran to the blond man whose eyes were glowing with a purple haze and whose fangs glinted in the streetlights. "Watch out. He's in his warbringer state. There's no telling what he's capable of doing."
Jezzien held up her hands as she stepped closer to the man whose body was contorted unnaturally under the leather coat. "Shh . . . calm down, big boy. You're not in danger anymore. There's no reason to be so hostile."
Vance's arms twitched and his frantic eyes darted back and forth. He hissed and gnashed his teeth together as he backed away until he hit the wall and covered his head with his metal arm. Cowering like a wounded animal, he stayed there until his breathing slowed. After a few minutes of gurgled growling, Vance dropped to one knee with blood trailing down his chin. He blinked a few times until his eyes stopped glowing and returned to normal.
"There we are." Jezzien knelt down beside him and rubbed his tense shoulder blades. "That's it, Vance. Breathe. You're safe. You're with allies. Kalimis, call Sandra and tell her that we've found Nemo and Vance, but there's no sign of Rav."
"On it." Kalimis touched his earpiece, but frowned. "I don't have any signal. I can't call out or receive any transmissions."
"Vance, where is Rav?" Jezzien asked.
The battered and bruised man sat back against the wall as his chest heaved. His voice was raspy from pain and smoke as he spoke, barely audible over the laughter and shouting coming from inside the bar. "I don't know. He flew the Galaxy Glider into some kind of barrier above the city. He ejected as the ship began falling."
"How did you and Nemo survive?"
"As we were falling, I drank the rest of the gravity flower serum. It was just enough to activate my warbringer state and give me enough adrenaline
to withstand a significant amount of damage. I grabbed onto Nemo and sheltered him in my arms. I jumped out before the impact so we wouldn't be caught in the immediate explosion. I timed it right so we didn't fall too far, but we weren't crushed by the Galaxy Glider."
"You're in pain, aren't you?" Jezzien asked, rubbing Vance's back carefully.
"It's my shoulder. I landed on it. I think I shattered it. I can't move my right arm and my back is all kinds of messed up. Now that the gravity flower serum is wearing off, I'm becoming aware of all the places I've broken bones. Guys, I'm losing feeling in my hips. Oh, hell. There's a bone sticking out of my leg." Vance rolled his jeans up to reveal his busted and bloody knee where flashes of white bone were visible. "I think I'm gonna be sick, mates."
"Let's get you back to our ship. We have a plasma regenerator pod, courtesy of the Azimandian Underground. They stole it from the palace laboratory. It should get you as close to normal as you've ever been, Vance."
"What about Nemo? Is he okay? Tell me he's okay. I took most of the impact so he wouldn't. Please tell me he's okay."
Slayven cradled the boy in his arms. "He's okay, I think. He's not badly injured, but he's been screaming uncontrollably."
"He does that if he doesn't take his medication. Someone help me to my feet?"
"Yeah, sure."
As Kalimis hoisted Vance up and began carrying him on his shoulders, screams came from a few streets over as an explosion shook the ground and filled the sky above the nearby training yard with smoke.
Slayven spun around as he heard footsteps behind him in a side alley. His blood ran cold as the red-haired man in the pale blue pilot flightsuit emerged from the shadows with blood-shot eyes filled with blazing rage. "R-Rav? What are you doing? Why do you look so angry? Rav?"
The Genesis Sequence Books 6-10 Page 58