by M. D. Cooper
Now all the humans were doing the same. Only the Sybillian remained with an expression that looked, if Strax was reading it right, rather peeved.
“Might I remind you – he killed my father?”
“You were going to do the same.”
“It’s not the same! He’s a monster!” she spat, “The patrimonial killing is a coming of age in our culture. Without having a father to kill…”
“The emperor will do nicely, though, won’t he?” said Human-Steve, “think of all the gourmet meals he’s been eating while the rest of you have been starving… he’ll be quite delectable.”
The woman licked her lips. “I do like the sound of that.”
“Then it’s settled,” Human Steve said with a wide show of teeth, “you don’t have to like each other. You just have to not shoot at each other when we storm the castle.”
“And how exactly are we doing to do that?” asked the commander.
“You leave that to my team,” said Steve, “the three of us will lead the way. Now, here’s how we do it on Earth: you take a rifle, right…”
“And you shoot at the enemy,” Human-Patel explained, “shoot at anything but us. We call it the Rambo method. We’re going to strap each of you with as much ammo as you can carry, and you’re going to take down anything that gets in our way, all the way up to the Emperor – and the Travan overlord.”
“This method sounds idiotic.”
“With all due respect, this method reclaimed your ship, commander,” the human female said gleefully.
“Then, I shall defer to your judgment.”
“You’ll be happy you did. Get ready to kick some ass!”
Strax found his mind buzzing at the prospect. What was this odd feeling in his chest, somewhere between panic and exhilaration? Was it excitement?
Or was it the foreknowledge that he was about to do something incredibly stupid that would most certainly result in his death?
Oddly enough, even knowing he might die today, Strax was sure this was the best plan he had ever heard. And for some reason, he didn’t mind dying if it meant going down like this. Whoever this Rambo and this Leroy Jenkins fellows were, he must have been one hell of a human hero.
Chapter 11
Which is how, an hour later, Strax, Steve, and the rest of their small crew found themselves at the gates of the Sybillian fortress, armed to the proverbial teeth. Strax had two belts of ammo crossing his chest, a rifle in each claw – including the arm that was working poorly, but it was going to put in its best effort – and two slung across his back. Along with pistols at his hips.
The humans, with their meager stature, carried far less, but they were far more at ease with the bulk of their weapons. They wore black gear, sleek and shiny, fitted to each of their bodies like they have been molded of the same material. Now in their own shells, Strax found the humans more intimidating than he had first assumed.
“Ready?” asked Steve, his grip tightening and listening around his pistols. They glistened with sweat.
“I will never be readier, Human-Steve,” Strax found himself replying, with no small degree of admiration, “Is there any kind of ritual you humans entail before heading into battle?”
“None specifically,” he said, “Why? Do you?”
“We usually thank our limbs for carrying us this far, and hope to see them after the fight.”
“I like that,” Steve said, “we do have an old, holy saying on our planet… it goes, Yippy Kayay, Motherfuckers!”
“If you find yourself screaming at any point, let it happen, ok?” said Patel. “Let it out. It’s going to be a lot.”
“I’ll take that into consideration.”
“Can we go now?” asked Yana. “I’m itching to do some killing.”
“Fine - Yippy Kayay, Motherfuckers!”
And Steve… there was no other way of saying this, he pounced.
Like an animal, he ran at the massive stone gate, holstering his weapons and dashing up the stone face like it was a flight of stairs. He disappeared from view, but a few minutes later, the gate began to slide open, crashing to the ground in a massive cloud of dust.
As the cloud settled, Steve appeared in the middle of the newly cleared road, facing up the tiny streets as if they were the only important thing in the universe.
“So? You guys coming?” he asked, before running forward once again.
Strax extended his weapons, finger poised on the trigger. But it was no use: the streets were cleared. It was as if they knew the humans were coming.
“Damn,” said Patel, “they were expecting us. Who tipped them off?”
“I would assume the fact we reclaimed the ship might have done the trick,” said human-Juarez.
“Stay close. Be on high alert.” Human-Steve nodded slowly. “And if anything moves, don’t hesitate, take the shot.”
Strax wasn’t sure what to make of this foolhardy approach, but, armed to the teeth, he felt better about the outcome. If he didn’t like what happened, he could shoot it until it led to a better result. Easy. Great philosophy. Humans.
They marched in a loose, automatic formation up the hill, following the winding streets he had seen from the chariot just one day ago. It was odd, following an untrained, untested human into battle, but even stranger so was how safe Strax felt in the human’s presence. Like they would stop at nothing to reach their goal.
Something to report to the Order. Maybe these humans did have something to teach them.
But the true test would come when they reached the actual army. Which, until now, they had not.
It was only when they reached the top of the hill, and stood facing the walls of the imperial city, that they started to see any signs of life.
“This is the place,” said Sybillian-Yana, “the place we lived before the emperor wanted us dead. The place we were banished from.”
“Are you going to be able to do this, Yana?” asked Human-Steve.
“Anything that moves is the enemy,” she said, “I’m ready to shoot some scum! Yippe Cayenne Mother frosties!”
Before anyone could say a word, Yana dashed at the gate. It was as if the world had been a video on pause until that very moment: the instant she broke past the city’s walls, the world burst into action. From all directions, soldiers came flooding in, bringing with them their Travan firepower and ornate formations.
The crew of five stared at the troops, Travan and Sybillian forces united in a single place square. But they didn’t stare long.
Yana opened fire, and the world fast forwarded. Everything was moving in fast motion: the bright light, the explosions, the sounds that destroyed Strax’s ears. And here he was, wielding lightning from his hands, aiming his weapons straight into the enemy lines, releasing a torrent of bullets so rapidly he could no longer feel his arms.
He was doing it!
He felt a power surge inside of him, so massive, that it burst through his mouth through the form of a shout. He screamed, his own voice masked by a wall of gunfire, but he was screaming, laughing, his hands tingling.
He felt alive!
But the feeling had opposition. Before long he too felt the wind of bullets sailing past his ears, and he realized that his crew was gone. Where was his line? Where were his men, his crew? They were five to come into this battle, but alone to fight it. Strax had to think fast, which was not his forte.
He watched as Human-Steve flung himself over two men manning a grenade launcher, smashing their two heads together, taking the weapon for himself and taking aim at the front door of the palace. The wall burst into a million flaming pieces, crumbling to the ground, forcing the backup lines of the Sybillian force out into the elements.
Despite no longer having any ammunition for his launcher, the lieutenant was still using the launcher as a weapon. He spun it in his arms, using it to take down a hoard of Sybillians who were running his way. His body armor was dented with the repeated hit of bullets, but he still stood strong.
“Th
is is for my father, Strax!” said Yana, shooting a man straight through the chest, then devouring his still beating heart in one swift move.
“For… me?” Strax didn’t know if it was a thought or something he had actually said, his voice drowned out by the thunder around him.
“Take that, Strax!” she shouted, before dismembering another one. Strax had the chilling realization that, as she killed, she was plastering his face over the faces of her targets. However, after being initially repulsed, he found that the thought filled him with an even stranger feeling, one he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
It might have been akin to admiration.
Before he could ponder this any further, a massive roar brought the gunfire to a sudden and terrifying stop. The crash of wings beat above him, a shadow obscuring the sky.
“Muffins!” Steve’s cry could be heard throughout the courtyard. “You came back!”
The dragon flew over the army, blowing his fire upon a handful of its ranks. But it was only a diversion: he swooped low to the other side of the courtyard, breathing fire on the massive door that held his brethren back. The entire team of dragons burst from within, roaring and rearing, trying to rip the chains from their legs.
“Help me!” Human-Patel ordered, and while Strax’s first instinct was to shout at her for pure insubordination, he instead dashed off behind her, slipping through the ranks of the angered beasts, using his plasma pistol to sever the chains that kept the magnificent beats bound.
One by one, they were freed. They flew up to join Muffins, and together they burned the hoards of soldiers in the yard, taking turns sending jets of fire down below.
“This way!” cried Human-Patel, grabbing his claw. Strax didn’t even realize the touch was a touch, he simply ran along behind her, dashing for cover in the palace’s grand hall.
They were not the only ones. The enemy forces were also seeking refuge, and ran like madmen to reach the hall. In their rush, they didn’t take notice of a few flashy strangers, and Patel and Strax used this to get inside unnoticed. It was only then that they encountered a problem.
“Where to next?” asked Patel, in urgent whispers, as they tried to keep to the walls to avoid being detected.
“I do not know the layout, human.”
“Fuck.”
“Is this when we shoot again?”
“Have some tact. We’re in cramped quarters with a few hundred well-armed enemies. This isn’t when we shoot, this is when we regroup, and avoid detection.”
“Your human logic astounds me,” said Strax, “one minute, it’s “shoot everything with impunity” the next it’s “have some tact.” I simply cannot follow.”
“And that is why,” the human said, “we’ll always have the upper hand.”
It was then that a torrent of bullets came bursting through the front doors. Yana appeared, riffles in both hands, screaming into the mass of soldiers as she plowed them all down.
“STRAAAAX!” she screamed, rushing forward through the mass of corpses she was creating, “take that Strax! And you, Strax! And you, stupid fucking commander! Die, alien scum!”
By the time she reached Strax and Patel, she was out of breath, but looking exhilarated. Strax didn’t know if he should stay, or if he was next. Thankfully, before he could ask, Patel and Juarez appeared, the latter missing a leg.
“What the hell, Juarez?” Patel intoned, “I thought the commander told you to keep all your limbs!”
“I must have dropped it somewhere,” she laughed.
“But your limb!” Strax stammered, “it’s…”
“Tis but a scratch! I always wanted to say that!”
“Keep moving, team!” Steve said, gathering them with his words, “we’re close now! Yana, which way?”
“Do I have to do everything around here?” she scoffed. “it’s down the overly ornate hall covered with portraits of the guy. A little hard to miss.”
Strax wanted to ask why they even brought her along, but he was beginning to feel more than just a twinge of fear about this woman, so he let it slide. She was as fearsome as a fireball, and twice as deadly. Now he knew what humans meant by imagery.
Now that the army had been burnt to a crisp, it was easy to take down the few remaining stragglers between the five of them and their outstanding firepower. Strax found himself easing into the quiet comfort of the massacre. There wasn’t any thought, there wasn’t any planning: the only idea was to kill the enemy, and he felt good doing it.
Every soldier dead was a victory for the Order, and fifty pages of paperwork. But he would have someone else do that. Today, he could enjoy claiming a piece of territory no one in the Order had claimed in over a century.
“Through there,” said Yana, pointing at yet another ornate green door. Steve gave a low, solemn nod.
“Let’s end this.”
With a blast of his plasma pistol, the doors flew open. Strax’s heart fell. Before him stood two stout alien men, one reptilian, one insectoid, both cowering in fear. Their bodyguards rushed at the crew, but they were no match for the humans. In seconds, all that was left was the leader of the Order’s worst enemy, and some random Sybillian with too much power.
They scrambled back from the door.
“This is it?”
Strax only realized he had been the ones to say the words after they had come from his mouth. He marched forward, angry and exasperated.
“Commander…” Human-Steve reached for his arm, but Strax pulled away, making towards the emperors.
“This is what we’ve been so afraid of?” he let out a laugh. He never laughed. Today was a day to try new things. “we’ve been at war with the Order for thousands of years. And their leader is a…”
He looked like he was about to be sick on Strax’s shoes. A small, round insect like being, with a thick blue shell on his back and a mopey eyed expression. He looked like a poster for some seasonal disease back on Strax’s homeworld.
“Finish him off, commander, and end this war,” said Human-Steve.
“No, I cannot,” Strax spat on the Travan overlord, and the creature only squealed.
“Don’t hurt me! Please! I have a family! Five thousand larvae! I have mouths to feed!”
“If you can’t, I will,” said Yana. The Sybillian emperors’ head exploded. “That’s for my father, scum.”
“Are you good?” asked Strax. “Should I be worried?”
“Yeah, we’re good,” she said, “I think I’ve gotten it out of my system. Well, I will.”
She crouched down and began to eat the emperor’s copse, sobbing through every bite. This only made the Travan overlord more scared, and he squirmed deeper into his chair.
“I will not kill him,” said Strax, “I have something better planned for him.”
THREE MONTHS LATER
Strax pinned the insignia upon Steve’s chest with pride.
“We embrace the Human race as one of our own, and welcome Planet Earth into the Order. Long live the order! Long live our unity!”
The hall erupted with cheering, screaming, whooping and pleasant moans. Human Steve bowed low, doing that human thing where he glowed (he now knew the anti-camouflage was referred to as “blushing” or “beaming” depending on the resulting color, and was completely out of the humans’ control, which he realized fit the description of the word “cute” he had also learned) as he took in the acclaim.
Strax bowed to him, as was customary, and found himself not resenting the action. He had grown fond of Human-Steve, of his team, his race, his horrible little habits. He enjoyed watching him in battle, though he would never say it to his face.
“It is an honor, and a privilege, to be here today,” the human said. “I never thought I would see it come to pass. The Order and us Terrans have many differences… but one thing we certainly have in common is our need for justice. Our need to see things through. To make things right. And I am proud that Earth will be joining in the Order’s fight to bring justice to our shared u
niverse.”
Strax was certainly proud of this small creature. Proud to have testified to have him join the Order. Proud to know – though Human-Steve did not yet – that he would be the next commander of the Ascendant, now that Strax was going to settle down.
His retirement might have come as a surprise to high command, especially to Admiral Ma’kurajaa, who wanted to promote him for his capture of the Travan Overlord, but Strax knew he was doing the right thing. He had found the perfect place to retire: a little planet on the edge of the Order, though the Order was reclaiming much of what had once been Travan, so it wouldn’t be the edge much longer.
Sybillia was a much happier place without their dragon-imprisoning tyrant. Muffins was enjoying her freedom – for it was a her – and the two species were slowly learning to coexist again. Muffins had formed a powerfully matriarchal draconic society, and hosted weekend barbecues with the locals. It was becoming quite a nice place to live.
Especially when the current queen of the planet had discovered that maybe the feelings she felt when looking at Strax weren’t rage and anger, but some odd excitement he shared too. After a single night in bed with her, Strax had decided retirement was definitely necessary, and contacted Admiral Ma’kurajaa from bed to tell him he wasn’t leaving Sybillia.
Well. Except to invite Steve into the Order.
As for the former Travan Overlord? Well, in some cases, the Order’s consistency with process and procedure were worth worshiping. In the three months since he had dropped the overlord into high command’s hands, he was still sitting in “incoming prisoner” handling. It would be many years before he would reach a trial, and until then, it was a lot of waiting, paperwork, going back for more paperwork, and waiting again. It was, quite literally, hell.
“Congratulations, Steve,” said Strax, patting the small fleshy thing on the back, “the Order is better for having you.”
“Thank you, commander,” he said, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something, you know.”
“Oh? Tell away! You know how eager I am to hear your stories,” Strax did the thing humans liked, smiling, “but I am no longer your commander. Call me Strax.”