by M. D. Cooper
“It’s what we’ve assumed as well,” Human-Steve said sternly. Then, in an instant, all calm demeanor was gone. In its place came the voice of a child. Strax forced his eyes open, and in the dim light of the human’s communication device, it seemed as though Steve was leaking through his eyes.
For a second, the commander thought to approach him, to see if he could fix the human’s malfunction. But he was curious to know where this was going.
“God, Paige, I’m so scared,” he admitted, his voice wavering. “Are you safe up there?”
“I’m hidden,” she replied, “I’m as safe as I can be. They found Michaels – he’s back in the dorm, confined to quarters - but Patel and I have managed to evade capture for now. Patel hacked the ship’s directory and deleted our presence from the logs, so they’re not looking for us.”
“Good, that’s really good,” said Steve, “Look, Strax and I are going to try to get back there.”
“Don’t! The second he boards the ship, they’ll be able to leave the solar system. They’ll fly the ship right into Order HQ, and the Travans will have access to earth.”
“We need a plan,” he said, “what about protocol beta?”
“We need Michaels for that.”
“Think you can break into his dorm, get him out?”
“Patel could, I think. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Call me with a signal,” said Steve; “I don’t want Strax to know I have someone on the ship. He will want to take command, and there’s no way he can work with us.”
“Agreed,” the human female replied, “The Order is not in the habit of making bold decisions, and if Strax knew about us, he’d overthink everything. See what you can do about pulling that stick out from his ass.”
A stick? Strax reached for his posterior, confused. He had nothing up his rectum, he was certain of that. The humans had no idea what they were talking about, and they were going to ruin this entire operation! Not that it was much of an operation – yet.
What did they mean, he’d overthink everything? These rash, primitive humans never took the time to think their options through. What they were doing now, actually hacking into the Ascendant’s logs… that was dangerous, and not to mention illegal on so many levels.
He should have burst through the bushes right there, demanded the human hand over his com, and solve this issue once and for all. But the consequences of that action could be relentless. He stayed in waiting, quiet as the bush that hid him.
“If you want my opinion,” said the female, “we’re perfectly capable of handling this entire rescue mission on our own. We’re basically Earth’s A-team. I didn’t spend eight years training as a Navy SEAL, flying jets, and studying astrophysics just to deliver fish juice on an alien’s ship.”
“Look, we’re the first generation of Astronauts to ever get this far,” said Human-Steve, “we do need to make a good impression. We still need Strax to think he’s in charge.”
“He will never listen to you.”
“Hey, I just pulled a Hermione over here and saved both our asses,” he insisted, “And did I mention the dragon?”
“You did mention the dragon. Three times. Four, now.”
“He owes me his life, a few times over. I think I can at least gently push him in the right direction.”
“And we will receive no credit whatsoever for saving the entire Order from their worst enemy?”
“Probably not.”
There was a pause. Was that a cleansing breath from the female?
“I think we’re in agreement,” she said, “we go SEAL team 6 on the Travan’s asses.”
“If we have to,” said Human-Steve, “see if you can find where the Travan leader is hiding out. Is he on the ship, or on the planet? That will determine our course of action.”
“Rambo the place out, if you have to.”
“That’s probably what I’ll end up doing. We’ll have to coordinate our strikes, so neither can ask for reinforcements. Divide and Conquer.”
“I’ll set everything up for a swift and easy takeover, Captain.”
“Thanks, Paige. Oh, and just a reminder… I love you, sweetheart. Stay safe up there.”
“I love you too, Hunter. Now go kick some Travan ass!”
“If you kill more than I do, I owe you dinner.”
“You still owe me for last time, sweetie. Now go! Let me handle things up here.”
“Love you.”
“I know it.”
Strax realized suddenly that the conversation was over: and that meant Human-Steve going back to the campfire, with Strax missing. But the human did not move: he stared at the coms device, his eyes still leaking like a faulty tap.
Strax turned to return to the campfire, leaving the human to cleanse in silence. He could have confronted him: he probably should have. But that certainty… the human truly thought him, and the other three humans, could take down the entire Travan threat by themselves. How naïve! He should call off this charade.
Or, better yet, watch them and see how this played out. Knowing what he did now, he would not let himself be tricked.
But still, he wanted to know where this was going.
Chapter 8
Strax made a great effort the next morning to pretend he had slept all night.
“What a sleep!” he said, pounding his chest in a morning ritual. “I feel revitalized!”
He hopped on his feet, flipped forward onto his pincers, and proceeded to do pushups, while chanting his early morning waking rhyme.
“Sleep is the enemy! I banish you! I banish you!”
The human didn’t seem to have a morning ritual. He just got up, kicked some dirt over the fire, and pretended not to stare at his magnificent commander, this finest specimen of his species.
Well, that’s how Strax saw it. And with the vigor that came with knowing more than the human thought he knew, of secretly one-upping the opponent, came a self confidence that could shatter a mirror.
“Did your batteries recharge, Human-Just-Steve?” asked the commander, chortling. He wished his fellow commanders could see his impressive humor today.
“Enough for what lies ahead. And please, it’s Just Human-Steve. I mean Steve. Dammit.”
“Good, because we have a ship to reclaim, Just-Human-Steve,” said Strax.
“It’s Steve. As I am well aware. What is the first step here, commander?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
The human seemed taken aback: he probably did not except for Strax to fall into his manipulation so easily. Strax was eager to hear, though, how a rag tag team of primitive humans could ever hope to accomplish the takeover of his infiltrated ship.
“Well, the clear thing would be to reclaim the shuttle,” he said, “which would enable us to contact the ship in orbit. However, that might be difficult, seeing as how we’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“I have a tracker.”
“You what?”
“Did you not hear properly? Would you like me to repeat?”
“I heard fine. I just can’t believe my ears. Why didn’t you tell me this last night?”
“We don’t park the shuttles without a way of retrieving them, we do have a way to track them.”
“And does that tracker have a homing device?”
“Please explain what you mean by that,” asked Strax.
“You know, a way to call the shuttle to you.”
“Now, that would be work of fiction, Human-Steve.”
“Jeez, it’s worth asking,” the human scoffed, “what else aren’t you telling me?”
That I know your secret, Strax thought, and a thrill traveled up his spine at the idea of being so far ahead of this small creature. He did as the humans did, and bared his mouth. He did not have fangs, only bristles and bone, but it had the intended effect, and the human looked uneasy.
“I hide nothing from you, lieutenant, just as you hide nothing from me. Now, come along: we’re going to find my shuttle, and
assess the status of the Ascendant from there. Now come along!”
The human did not appear to be pleased at being called like some kind of house animal, but he thankfully did as he was told. He ran his flashy appendages through the odd coif on top of his head – were those feathers? Strax still could not tell – before placing a hand on the pistol on his hip.
“How far?” he asked.
Strax opened up the finder on his pocket computer. Five bounds: not too far off. He relayed the information to the human, who only bobbed his head up and down, grunting like some kind of dust hog.
“Let’s get moving,” he said, “we need to reach the shuttle before the Travan fleet does.”
“I do not think they know it exists, Human-Steve.”
“Well, we wasted all this time, sleeping, I think we need to make up for that lost time.”
“I think you’re having trouble speaking, Human-Steve. Perhaps the sleep was not as fitful as you claim.”
That made the human go silent, very fast.
They began the arduous walk towards the shuttle. Strax let his pocket computer guide them, but the terrain was foreign and traitorous. Every so often, they had to stop, thinking they heard one of the massive dragons storming through the woods, but not once did they see one in person.
They emerged from the woods soon after, but the tall grasses proved to be much worse to hike through. For one, they offered no cover from above: but it did not seem that the enemy was using dragons, or ships to fly low overhead. Strax proceeded with caution, but it seemed as though no one was trying to find them.
Having had nothing to eat that morning, Strax was beginning to feel hunger gnawing at his stomachs. He could imagine a creek running not too far ahead of them, or a coast, with live fish swimming down them, easy to stab to death and shred to a million pieces with his powerful jaw. His mouth salted at the thought. He coughed, little grains of sodium spilling onto the earth, and instantly killing the grass there.
Human-Steve said nothing to this, even when Strax brushed the grains off his uniform in silence.
Soon, they reached the road: the only road for miles, it would seem. The long dirt expanse stretched to the city in one direction, and back to the ship in the other. Strax was eager to get to the rations, but more importantly, to get back to his beloved ship.
He fucking loved that ship. Why had he even considered retirement? He belonged there! The Ascendant needed him! He could practically hear it calling from orbit: Help me, Strax! Bad men are trying to take me!
“I’m coming, my sand dollar,” he said.
“What’s that?”
Strax snapped his head in the direction of the voice, but it was only the human. He said nothing. The human gazed forward once again.
“Wasn’t this where we parked?” he asked, pointing a pink finger straight ahead.
“If it was, then the ship would be there.”
“Check your locator: I’m pretty sure someone’s taken our ship!”
Our? Strax wanted to smack the human across its face. To watch that skin flop, without an exoskeleton to protect it.
Strax zoomed in on the little beacon on his computer’s screen. They were close, but Human-Steve was right, the shuttle wouldn’t be anywhere near the main road where they had actually left it.
“Gods,” Strax refrained from crushing the palm computer in his claw, “they have taken our shuttle! And our ship! When will it end?”
Human-Steve didn’t answer. Instead he crouched on the ground in the space the shuttle should have laid, touching the grass with his hand outstretched.
“The ground is colder here than over there,” he said, “and the grass is folded over. Which means the shuttle was here, and moved rather recently. The sun hasn’t had time to warm the space under it since it’s been displaced.”
Strax was taken aback: so, the human was moderately intelligent. His deductive reasoning sure was impressive.
“And which way did they take it?” asked the commander.
“Your claw.”
“My what?”
“Your claw… palm?… thingy.”
Strax writhed beneath his shell, pulling out his computer. The human was right, after all – he was the only one able to track it. But he wasn’t going to admit that, boost the human’s ego even more.
“It’s been taken in that direction,” he said, pointing down the road – away from the castle.
“It might be safe to assume it wasn’t the king’s men who took it,” Human-Steve bobbed his head, “hopefully it is not in Travan hands.”
“I share your enthusiasm,” Strax said, seething.
They followed the locator away from the fortifications, keeping out of sight in the trees along the road. Then beacon took them further away from any settlements, seemingly to the middle of nowhere. But the shuttle was stationary, if the beacon was accurate.
The forest was denser here than it had been near the encampment, and it was difficult to navigate. Deeper and deeper they went, pushing through the underbrush. The human’s arms and legs were soon covered in small red lines, and Strax took pleasure in knowing his exoskeleton truly was superior in every way.
He didn’t realize he was clutching his limp arm, though.
“It should be right up ahead,” said Strax, pocketing the computer. He crouched low in the underbrush, noting how they were now near a clearing. The Human followed.
“A dwelling of some kind?” the Human said – asking a question with a very evident answer. Before them, through the underbrush, stood a stone hut, round and tall, with an opening at the top letting out dense smoke. Human-Steve brushed the leaves aside to get a better look, before retreating.
“I see the shuttle,” he said, jutting his chin forward. Strax looked in that general direction, squinting slightly, and saw the front end of the ship, cleverly dissimulated in a brush pile.
“If they’re hiding it so, I would like to bet they’re just scavengers, not connected to the fight in any way.”
“I would like to agree with you, Human-Steve, but we must still proceed with caution.”
“I never said otherwise,” he stepped back from the leaves. “What’s our plan here?”
Strax had no clue. There wasn’t anything in the Order’s handbook about dealing with locals.
“What do you think?” he asked, “I’m in charge of vetting you. Give me your honest opinion; call it part of your assessment.”
The human gave Strax a look, the hair above his eye knotting together. Strax was beginning to understand the human’s many looks, and this one seemed to say that he knew exactly what Strax was up to. But he said nothing.
“I see two options,” he said, “we have the keys to the shuttle, so we could just walk up and take it. However, the brush covering it could take a while to clear, and we do not know the extent of the damage the ship has received being dragged here. Or if that dwelling is inhabited – which I assume it is, if there’s a fire going.”
“So what is your second option?”
“We befriend the locals,” he said, the corners of his lips pulling upwards, “we tell them we’re travellers from the stars, give them something good worth trading, and take the ship. They’ll be more likely to be silent that way, and everyone is happy.”
“I dislike the second option,” said Strax, “we are not cleared to make negotiations on behalf of the order.”
“So? Isn’t it our job?”
“No.”
“Look, commander,” the human crossed his arms in front of his chest. “We need this ship. Doesn’t the Order have some kind of… emergency protocol? We should be able to do whatever we have to. In order to save our people.”
“This is why the human race is not ready,” Strax replied, “you’re too rash. Stubborn headed. In the Order, we believe in weighing all of our options, taking our time to make the right decision.”
“If we wait any longer, we lose our ship, Commander.” Strax disliked the way Stave called the Ascendant “ou
rs” again, as if he had any claim to it. “We need this shuttle.”
“Then we go with option 1, Human-Steve,” Strax strode forward, “we reclaim our ship in the name of the Order, and anyone who interferes will be restrained.”
“Shouldn’t we…” but Strax, not able to take another minute of the human’s wretched mewling, strode powerfully forward towards his shuttle. Yes, his, and no one else’s. The human was nothing but a passenger, a deck hand at best, and would just have to do as he was ordered if he wanted any part in the rescue mission.
Chapter 9
The second he took a step into the clearing, the ground exploded at his feet. He flew into the earth; gravel covering his back, pelting his shell like bullets from the sky.
“What the trees are you doing on my land?” screamed a voice, “get away, you filthy spaceman!
“I am commander Strax, of the Universal Order,” the commander shouted, pushing himself to his feet, attempting to stand tall. “And I am here for my…”
“I do not care where you’re from, or what you want! Get off my land or I will blow your head clear off!”
“As a commander, I order you to…”
“Everyone stay calm!”
Strax blinked the dust from his eyes to look in the direction of the new voice, shocked to see Human-Steve, standing bold, his hands in the air. As he watched, the human placed his pistol on the dirt before him, keeping a neutral expression.
“Hi, I’m Steve!” he said, “and I fell from the sky. Sorry. Who are you, good sir?”
The Sybillian man who stood before them was clutching what looked incredibly like hand grenades in his talons. The other hand held a slingshot: apparently, combined with the little egg shaped explosives, it was enough to send Strax to the ground. His shame grew inside his stomach.
“Yaris,” said the Sybillian, “and I want the two of you to go, right now.”
“That’s actually something you can help us with, Yaris,” said Steve, “you see, we need our ship to get home. And you happen to have found it.”
“You mean that mobile home’s a vehicle?”