Dominance Fury

by Dominance Fury (lit)

  Chapter Three

  "Chicken," Rjant said.

  "What?" Tren stared at his brethren's profile, his expression questioning.

  "It's an earth game." A smirk appeared on Rjant's lips as he turned to stare at him.

  Rjant himself was a dare hellion and the rush of excitement that leapt from his mind to Tren's, coupled with the glimmer in Rjant's eyes was explanation enough.

  "I see." Tren glowered at the ground where the two groaning men were lying. His attention shifted to the tree where the mangled mass of metal that once was a hover cycle wrapped like a bow around the trunk. Further beyond that lay the remains of a second cycle. After cart wheeling nose to tail several times it had crashed and smashed to a halt against a boulder that sat on the training grounds where the failed exploit took place. "An asinine game of stupidity."

  A snort escaped Rjant.

  Have you contacted their fathers?

  I did.

  And?

  Their fathers informed me that they are as befuddled by their hatred as much as we are.

  And they said nothing else?

  They told me that ever since Calem and Arjim were born it was impossible to keep them apart. Likewise it was impossible to keep them from conflict. Even as infants they scratched and clawed and pushed at each other. Left a few good teeth marks on each other as well, from what I'm told.

  It sounds like they were a handful, Tren responded.

  The healthteks Tren had called for had arrived and he watched them hovering over his fallen warriors examining their injuries.

  I was told that as children, frequently there was need to separate them. Rjant continued his report. As they grew older the competitiveness between them intensified and they often battled until both were bloodied.

  Tren lifted a brow, watched the healthteks exchanging bloody gauzes for clean ones. Apparently not an exaggeration.

  Indeed, Rjant agreed. Calem's father said that there was an incident where they both almost drowned during a race across a wide, treacherous river, but were rescued by a nearby angler and dragged into his hover boat. Even still they lashed out at each other, throwing fists and nearly capsizing the vessel.

  "Sir?" Melaj, one of the teks stood and faced Tren.

  "Status?" Tren asked.

  "Flesh wounds, no broken bones, no internal bleeding, no brain damage…"

  "That last one is questionable," Rjant interrupted.

  "Are they ambulatory?" Tren took the compu-sheet Melaj held and visually scanned the results before handing it back. His sentry would be sore for a few days but they were otherwise undamaged, physically speaking. "On your feet warriors!" he commanded.

  Both men gingerly rose to their feet, doing their best to stand at attention but failing miserably, Calem struggling to a half kneel while Arjim teetered on his feet. Tren studied them. Calem's mouth was bleeding, a bruise already forming on his chin, and Arjim, his uniform jerkin was torn open revealing a jagged, bloody line on his left shoulder, now sealed shut by the med team where a nasty gash in his flesh had been.

  "I cannot allow this disruptive behavior to continue." Tren looked at them sternly.

  "The zapping appears to have had little effect on their behavior, Commander." All amusement aside Rjant's expression went serious, his decorous manner exemplifying his rank as Chief Loyal. "An alternate approach to this situation seems to be in order."

  "It would appear," Tren returned as he watched Arjim shaking the apparent fog from his head, and Calem wincing as he brushed himself off. While he was perturbed, Tren was equally relieved that both were able to vault from their hover cycles in time to prevent more serious damage to their physical well being. Their mental status however was under question. "I believe spiritual meditation may be in order."

  Calem and Arjim exchanged questioning glances and then Arjim asked. "Sir, you want us to pray?"

  Tren strolled to his nearby hover cycle and straddled it. "Was my directive unclear, sentry?"

  "No sir," Arjim returned.

  Tren tipped his face toward the bright, pink skies above, tinged by only a few pinkish clouds. He paused to absorb the warmth of the red, sparkling sun shining through.

  "Then carry-on," he said as his fingers found the ignition button on his cycle. The engine revved, and the vehicle lifted, hovering a couple of feet above the ground. Tren snatched his helmet from where it hung at the cycle's side and buckled it onto his head. He flipped down the face shield and grinned, thinking about how he and Rjant had taken their She'mana Alea over the cycle on the dawning following their Triconjugal Hunt and mating.

  Shifting his thoughts to his duties Tren's demeanor turned serious. He revved the engine of the hover cycle once more and sped off, heading toward the docking platforms to obtain the fleet inspection reports. The fighter vessels needed to be properly prepared for the late dawning's drills. Flight training was a dangerous practice. So much could go wrong, mechanical malfunctions being one of them. Of course pilot error being another. Tren accelerated, his thoughts turning back to Calem and Arjim. He most certainly couldn't permit them to pilot in this condition. Their combativeness toward each other might haphazardly erupt into another challenge of--what was it Rjant called it, Chicken? Such a thing on hover cycles was bad enough, but in outer space? The consequences of such impulsive behavior could be devastating. Instead of a resolution between his two highly decorated warriors, he might find himself burying the dead.

  * * * *

  Reality check ….

  Sydney sat in her pilot's seat, mouth agape and eyes fixed open. She exhaled a quick, sharp breath of air before finally blinking.

  "There has to be another explanation …," she whispered. Oh snap, oh snap! "This is absolutely, without a doubt, incomprehensibly nuts!"

  Pausing Sydney stared out the forward window of her star jet. "No way, this isn't happening." She did a quick inspection of her communications equipment and then attempted to radio the space station. "Command Control, this is star jet two-four-one, copy?"

  Silence answered, and she wasn't surprised.

  "No one is going to believe this." Well, half of them would believe it. A choked cry hiccupped from Sydney's throat, part fear, part reluctant realization that she wasn't in Kansas anymore. She'd gone through that faux wormhole the engineering crew argued about.

  Except it wasn't faux.

  When her star jet shot through the tunnel of spiraling colors and was coughed out on the other side, the disorientation had cleared quickly, and Sydney saw more than stars. In front of her was the most ginormous space station she'd ever seen. At first she couldn't believe her eyes, but there it was, skyscraper tall, and wider than the Great Divide, and it wasn't as if she'd zoomed by it with only a flash of time to process what she'd seen. Her jet had slowed to a turtle's speed, and she was just sort of hovering and staring at the structure, staring at the thousands and thousands of windows glowing with the lights from inside. There the structure hung suspended in space, its needled top and bottom attaching to absolutely nothing and turning round and round, slowly, slowly rotating clockwise like a rogue top in space. The traffic was incredible! Space craft of every shape and size moved to and from what she assumed were docking portholes. It made Europe's hectic MAGLEV Terminals look like a turtle parade.

  Rar tsif yaucre sideen

  "Wha…?" Strange, alien sounds came through her intercom, and Sydney wrinkled her brow. Should I reply? Deciding it was the logical thing to do, she pressed the radio button on the side of her helmet to attempt contact.

  "This is Lieutenant Sydney Laurens, star jet two-four-one, of the planet earth .…" god that sounded so sci-fi. She felt almost silly saying it. "I mean you no harm…" Sure, like she could even put a dent in that monstrous space station with her puny craft. "I come in peace .…"

  Rar tsif yaucre sideen!

  The voice was more emphatic this time, more stern. She could hear other voices in the background, messages being relayed, and strange beeping sounds.

/>   Rar tsif yaucre sideen. Sith sroug lanyi fwinan!

  There was silence as they were seemingly awaiting her next response, but Sydney didn't know how to respond. English didn't appear to be their first or second language … or third. Instincts told her that backing away might be a better choice than flying closer, especially when she started hearing what sounded like alarms coming through her head piece and the communications between the alien voices occurring more rapidly, frantically even. Within moments she saw what looked like fighter jets launching from the space station and zooming towards her. She reacted like any good starfighter should.

  Sydney's fangs came out.

  "Come on bastards, you wanna fight!" Her vision sharpened, and she felt the surge of adrenaline rush through her blood. Every muscle in her body tensed as she prepared to do battle. Quickly she checked her artillery and then realized ... . "Oh shit."

  The fleet had been on practice maneuvers and her ammunition wasn't live. Why would they be? It wasn't like they expected Martians to come out of nowhere. Her eyes flicked to her radar screen, and she could see they were closing fast. Martians were coming out of nowhere. And it would be quite nuts to engage in a dog fight with …. "One, two, three, four…" Oh fucking snap…six bandits on her tail. Sydney revved her star jet. "I really don't think I care about who your leader might be right now!"

  For all she knew, she could be lunch. Yikes!

  With her balls to the walls--if she had any--she skedaddled, but the precision maneuverability and swiftness of their crafts was astounding. It made Sydney feel as if she was steering a horse cart.

  With no horse attached.

  It didn't matter that she was moving. Attempting to dodge the laser blasts the alien crafts fired at her was a futile hope as the speed of her star jet was no match for theirs. She was like a sitting duck … and the quacking sound was ugly ….

  "Oh god, I'm dead." The alarms that blasted from her console rang in a disturbing mismatched harmony that made her want to cringe. They'd zapped her butt.

  The humongous, pink planet with its amber and rich wine-colored land masses came up on her quickly. Her jet was going down, and its keister was completely in flames.

  ?

  Chapter Four

  Arjim was in the temple when Calem arrived. Immediately, they were both irritated by the other's presence. Neither could fathom why their Commander thought a full dawning of meditation would remedy their animosity towards each other.

  It is perhaps his solid belief that we'll not desecrate the spiritual grounds by battling, Calem sneered at Arjim knowing full well his thoughts would be clearly heard. That we will be forced to face our demons instead of slaying them?

  If so, then he would be correct, Arjim commented mentally reining his nettled sentiments.

  Agreed. Calem spun to leave, needing to distance himself less he commit the very crime his Commander unwisely believed would be avoided in such a sacred place. I will not desecrate the temple no matter how badly I'd like to use your face to polish the floor.

  "Don't go," Arjim requested aloud, his voice even yet somehow bidding.

  Without turning around, Calem halted. Closing his eyes, he pressed his fingers to his brow. He winced at the throbbing in his head caused partly by the half dial of zapping they'd endured, but also a persistent affect from phases of discord with his childhood nemesis. He was in no mood to go another round with Arjim.

  Both were weary of it.

  When Arjim failed to speak further, Calem turned toward him. Arjim's body quaked briefly. His lips pursed and his nostrils flared repeatedly. Suddenly he stalked toward Calem, who stiffened, expecting yet another quarrel to jell. At the same time he became unnerved by how close to blasphemous it was to show anger within the temple walls. Indeed their spiritual integrity was being tested.

  Much to Calem's surprise, Arjim didn't draw back his fist as he approached. Instead he grasped Calem to each side of his skull and planted less than passionate, less than platonic lips on Calem's mouth. The hard contact, which was more of a punch than a kiss caused Calem to recoil.

  "Uch! Ka! Bluk!" he spewed, swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. Straightening his head, he shot feral eyes at Arjim, his expression snarled with disdain. "What in hades blazing star pits did you do that for?"

  Arjim glared back unmoving, other than the lifting a brow. "I take it you didn't like my kiss?"

  "Like it!" Calem furled his own brows. "Why would I like it? You kiss like a slurping gluber. That was deplorable. It's no wonder you lack in pleasing the females."

  "Then why does it arouse you?" Arjim's sight dropped to eye the obvious bulge in Calem's crotch.

  Calem's shoulders drooped. He was troubled. "You know the answer as well as I, cousin."

  "Shall we explore it further?" Arjim implored, his expression unreadable.

  "Though you obviously take pleasure indulging in your effeminate nature," Calem snorted. "I dare to say that I find you rather unattractive to put it mildly."

  "Thank the holy Divinities!" Arjim threw back his head and laughed. "The feeling is mutual. If ugly were tears your face would be a tidal wave, to put it less than mildly."

  "We still have an issue however." With a grunt Calem's gaze dropped to Arjim's hard-on. Mentally he perceived the warrior's arousal, and it was feeding his own. He looked up. "It's past due time we discussed this ongoing sexual bond between us."

  Arjim nodded in agreement and then drew a heavy breath. He paused briefly before exhaling just as heavily. Over the phases as their mental link became stronger, so too did their animosity towards each other. Born first out of denial that gave way to anger and spells of depression, it was shame that in reality fueled the inferno of hatred between them.

  Or so they thought.

  The aggression that followed and persisted had grown to such monumental levels both Arjim and Calem had nearly lost sight of the reason for its beginnings. Born only a dawning apart they were raised in kinship. Even as infants they were drawn to each other though no one in their clan understood it as being more than family affection …

  … or discord depending on the particular situation.

  Being constantly in close proximity to each other, the call to the Trigon manifested inherently, and at a very young age. It went unrecognized by their kin because it was rare for brethren to be of the same clan. With no one the wiser Arjim and Calem had linked by transdelta at the age of seven, and the process of Changeover to become like in mind was triggered. Elemental instincts propelled them into a telepathic journey. The purpose was to search for their Tina. Across the galaxies they found her, but because she was still a young girl, and they were still merely boys, the primal mating urge had yet to manifest, and the Edification was never begun. Still, they were captivated by her, loved her profoundly in as much as children can love, a divinity blessed union on three that were much too young.

  "We desecrated the dictates of the rituals." The tightness in Calem's chest as he spoke was equally felt by Arjim. "We linked too early."

  Both retreated into quiet introspection while warring to push the other's thoughts away. As it had been during their growing times and all of their adult lives, it was nearly an impossible feat. Neither had learned to block the other completely, and the persistent cerebral probing nearly drove them insane. They warred with each other persistently, their battles becoming increasingly violent as the phases passed. Both their clans remained unaware that two young brethren were shifting towards the Ritual of Dominance--a perilous state of being with no Tina present to ease them through it.

  Do you still dream of her? Calem asked, his mind, his emotions seeping uncontrolled into Arjim's brain.

  You know I do. The muscles in Arjim's neck bunched in discomfort when his transmitted answer involuntarily reciprocated.

  "The guilt has been suffocating," Calem expressed out loud, retreating from the mental connection.

  "Her tears of sorrow as she faded from our minds still haunt me," Arjim retur
ned. "The pained sound of her voice as she said goodbye …."

  "Unbearable…" The same memories stabbed at Calem and his face twisted with sorrowful regret. "Our once pleasant dreams…"

  "But they weren't pleasant for her," Arjim replied bitterly. "We treated her like a toy, played wrench-battle with her as if she were a prize to be won. We failed to ease her fears of us and who we were."

  Calem sighed, his voice humbled. "How do you think she died?" Did he really want to know? An accident or maybe she took her own life?

  "I don't want to know!" Arjim bellowed, his retort echoing throughout the temple--loudly, too loudly--eerily. He didn't want to think about the few stolen links they'd had with her in the age pubescence, the few innocent caresses and kisses they had shared with her, attempting the Edification until that final dawning they'd barely reached full manhood, that horrible, final dawning when she'd completely vanished, when she had said goodbye.

  The two warriors stared at each other, their hearts heavy with sorrow. Over the phases, neither had had the courage to seek help from their parents, from the elders, from the Tribunal members--definitely not from the Tribunal. Fear of severe retribution for disobeying the dictates, for linking and seeking her before the age of reason, before the age of pubescence kept them from revealing their transgression. They hid it. Over the phases that fear subsided but by then they were both living in shame and aggressive denial.

  We frightened the life from her. Calem's heart sank, and he closed his eyes. He released a choked breath. There was never a moment in his life where he felt like crying except when he thought about her.

  "We killed her!" Again, Arjim's voice boomed through the air around them, repeating the self-condemnation several times as the sound grew fainter and fainter. He lowered his voice, sadness filling him and remarked woefully, "And yet there are moments when I think I can still hear her."

  "It is nothing but our imaginations, our hopeless hoping!" Calem growled. "The urges, the drive and the draw toward you and to her, have been impossible to suppress!"