by Justin Sloan
“Still, I’m going to go ahead and say we’ll be following my people on this one.” Samantha arched an eyebrow. “No more questions like that, not to me. You want to get all googly-eyed and talk like twelve-year-old boys, go chat with Carma. I know she’s into it, if she can get over the fact that you are both men, and she hates men.”
“I don’t hate all men,” Carma said, stepping up from behind Samantha. “Lately, these guys have grown on me. I just hate men from my world. Now, what were we talking about?”
“These guys actually seemed to think I would want to describe Agathe’s… body to them.”
“Shame on you, Napalm,” Kwan spoke up, having not moved from his spot. He glanced over his shoulder. “Every woman on the team is as much a teammate as you or I. You want them talking about the size of your boomstick, or chatting about how you perform in bed?”
Napalm frowned as if debating how to answer, but Kwan shut him up with a grunt. “Whether you do or not, it’s not professional.”
Samantha nodded. “Thanks, Kwan. At least we have one gentleman on this ship.”
Napalm stood, laughing, and hit Ferder on the shoulder. “Why’d you act like that, anyway? What’s wrong with you?”
“Me!”
The others started laughing, but Samantha just rolled her eyes and went back to her food. It wasn’t that this type of behavior surprised her. After serving with Marines and resistance fighters, she had certainly witnessed her fair share of group incest, heard plenty of potty mouths and innuendo jokes, and even walked in on way too many situations. Even Carma had fallen under that last category recently.
But this was her team. This was the Shadow Corps, and she was determined to see that such behaviors weren’t allowed. She made a note to talk with everyone individually regarding fraternization. Go on-planet and have a threesome with some Acome, or get married to a damn space dragon for all she cared. Fine. But aboard this ship? Hell no.
Maybe it was their way of dealing with their nerves? She had always felt training was the better option. Since she was supposedly in control here, she decided it would be a good time to show them her way.
“All right everyone, to the training room.” She stood, carrying her tray to take care of it before moving to the door, not even waiting to see if anyone was following.
“We’re still eating,” Carma argued.
“Let me ask you something,” Samantha said. “Is the enemy going to stop and ask if you’ve finished eating, and are ready to fight? I don’t think so. And I think I’m in charge of making sure we’re all ready. So if you’re stuffing yourself so much that you can’t train or fight, we have a problem. Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” Carma said, one eyebrow raised.
Kwan turned and walked toward Samantha without question, and nodded. “Always ready. Born to kill.”
“That’s the attitude,” she replied with a smile and wash of relief. At least one of them was still with her.
At Kwan’s words, the others stood to follow, though she saw at least one set of eye-rolls. As they made their way out of the mess hall, Agathe and Voira came strolling down toward them, laughing as if sharing a joke. The pair froze at the sight of everyone.
“What’s going on?” Voira asked.
“Training,” Samantha replied, curtly.
“We just got cleaned up,” Agathe replied. “We thought—”
“You thought wrong. If you’re going to be a part of this team, you follow orders. You follow orders, or people die.”
“Damn, something crawled up in your breakfast and died?” Agathe bit her lip, apparently regretting what she had said, but it was already out there.
“I’ve had it with the smart mouth and the bickering,” Samantha said, turning to address them all. “Hadrian pulled us all together because he knew we were the most badass warriors, the ones with the most potential to kick alien butt. I know that, you know that… we all know that. But that doesn’t mean we know how to work as a team yet, and I want to see that changed. We’re training until we’re almost at the damn moon, and then you can get some food and rest. Got it?”
As they all started towards the training area, Samantha touched Kwan’s arm. “Thank you for speaking up earlier, about the… boomstick.”
He smiled—an uncommon expression for him—and said, “You’re welcome. Honestly, they needed this push. Good job.”
She smiled, then glanced around. “You seen Dex?”
“Guess where? Training, like always.”
“I knew I liked him for a reason.”
Kwan nodded, and the two followed the rest of the team to the training rooms.
5
Enotono Fos Prime: Prison Room
Hadrian paced the locked room, considering the possibilities. Someone in the chain had been corrupted or made susceptible to the mind-controlling influence of the enemy’s minions, the Scrapulent.
But how? The Elders were all supposed to be immune. They had made sure of that.
This meant either the Scrapulent had found a new way to manipulate their prey before applying their powers, or another force was at work.
If he didn’t find an answer to this, there was another issue left out in the open, a very dangerous one indeed. The remaining two Guardians—or space dragons, as Samantha called them, were still out there. Likely under the same influence. The thought of Samantha made him smile, despite his predicament.
She wasn’t even technically an adult yet, but she had proven herself over and over. Now she led the Shadow Corps, while he oversaw it in one of his many capacities. Rather, he had, until he was imprisoned. Now he wasn’t sure what would happen to his team, or to all of the other work he had been doing in the universe.
He lifted his gaze to the ceiling, wondering how far the team had made it by now. They were safe—he had no doubt about that. If they had gotten in trouble while trying to escape Entono Fos, they had no business being the Shadow Corps to begin with.
What he wasn’t sure of, however, was if they would be able to activate the gate on their own. Especially if there was some mind-controlling power nearby. Hadrian stiffened. If that were the case, they might actually be in danger.
And if that was even a remote possibility, he could no longer allow himself to be held here.
For a moment he stood there, contemplating what it would mean to go against the Elders, to abandon this planet. Whatever the consequences, the alternative would be far worse.
Feeling the warmth of his transformation, he took on a persona he rarely wore, especially around those he cared about. It was too risky.
He assumed the form of his old king, the first to fall when his world had been overrun. He wore the bearded face with a hooked nose and strong, silver eyebrows that slanted upward at each side, customary of royalty among his people.
The golden glow faded and he went to the door, where he called out, “I’ll give you one chance. I know you were put here to stand guard. I know this isn’t your fight. You do not need to be harmed this day.”
A shuffle of feet sounded on the other side, but no response.
“Guard, I speak to you. Last chance.”
“Elder Hadrian,” a reply came in almost a whisper, “you know I would be punished.”
Hadrian sighed. “I do know,” he said. “Stand back.”
With a hand placed against the door, he waited for the sound of the guard moving away. Then he watched as it blasted from the room, slamming into the far wall and cracking down the middle.
The guard was a local with the wide, watery eyes of the Eliolations. He stared at Hadrian for a moment, confused by this appearance, then suddenly threw himself to his knees in supplication.
“The legends… they’re true?” The guard stared at him for a moment, then lowered his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“Mark my words,” Hadrian stated, eyes narrowed, “I can take control of this planet and the Elders at any moment, but I have a bigger purpose. My destiny must be fulfilled. In
the meantime, there is a mole within the Council of Elders. I suggest you weed him or her out, but be careful. I will learn what I can from my end.”
A group of other guards approached, a few Eliolations like this one and a number from other races. The Eliolations instantly fell back, bowing, while the rest lifted weapons, glancing around in confusion.
“They know my allegiance as a representative on the Elder Council,” Hadrian explained. “To move against me would be punishable by death. I’ll extend the same to each of you.”
A tall guard with a greenish hint to his stony skin stepped forward, the blaster end of his spear extended toward Hadrian. “You follow Entono Fos rules above all else. Submit.”
“Wrong,” Hadrian replied, stepping forward to meet him. “I follow the alliance. But before that, I follow the rules of survival for the good. My failure to depart from here posthaste means a risk to those races who depend on me. Therefore, I cannot in good conscience remain your prisoner. Last chance.”
The guard growled and two others moved with him in unison. A spear thrust towards Hadrian’s leg as two more guards aimed to fire.
Hadrian wasn’t having it. With a spin of his gold cloak, he was the king his kind had welcomed as their ruler, and with the power to back it up. Energy absorbed into his cloak, feeding his armor and reflecting it so that a field of power shot out at any nearby attackers. The guard’s spear took the brunt of this force, first vibrating with the power and then burning red-hot.
The attacker stepped back with a yelp, hands smoking and covered in burns. His buddies considered their next moves very carefully, but Hadrian was neither interested in harming them nor in waiting to see what they did next. Instead, he thrust out his hands, manipulating energy as he had shown Samantha how to do, and aimed at the wall behind him.
Stone shook, paint chipped, and then the stones blasted outward, slamming into the wall beyond and then into the next, again and again until a clean path through to the outside lay before him.
“If the traitor amongst you is revealed before my return,” Hadrian told the guards, “be sure they know I will return. When I do, they will wish they’d fled when they had the chance.”
With that, he turned toward the opening, ignoring the blasts that came at him. As they were absorbed and reflected by his cloak, he hoped the returned energy didn’t cause any lasting damage to his misguided attackers.
It wasn’t their fault they’d been led astray.
When he reached open air, he threw himself out and let the energy carry him until he was clear of the palace. Ignoring the shouts from those around, he glanced back at the broken palace wall. Then he turned away, transformed back into his natural self, put on his helmet and started his blasters.
Entono Fos grew increasingly small behind him, but he knew he hadn’t seen the last of the planet. He wasn’t a fugitive. He was a being on a mission, a being of immense power determined to put together the pieces of the puzzle.
If he could learn what was happening on Earth and connect that to what had caused the Council of Elders to turn on him, he might be able to locate the remaining two Guardians before it was too late.
6
Approaching the Thirteenth Moon
The main reason Samantha enjoyed being on the Noraldian was the focus on training it allowed her. Anywhere else, there were distractions. All of the politics on Entono Fos just made her head hurt, and the beauty of the planet made her want to run off and explore.
Unlike on the ship, where she could devote herself to the meditation Dex had taught her, the obstacle courses and training dummies where she could let out steam, or the sparring, where she and her teammates could improve their hand-to-hand combat skills.
At the moment, she was working on the last of those, squared off in full armor against Carma. Carma had challenged her to try a new weapon—the curved, dual blade. It was made up of two blades resembling the scythe Death carried, only set back-to-back in a crescent shape.
Samantha came in for an attack, slicing upward only to be met by a spinning attack across her gut and then a surreptitious strike that left the pointed tip of Carma’s own weapon under Samantha’s chin.
Carma nodded and stepped back, her faceplate clear, her smirk visible.
“If you keep treating it like a regular sword, I’m going to beat you every time. It’s not a sword.”
“What did you call this thing again?”
Carma smirked. “Back home, we call it a moon beam.”
“Not the most deadly sounding of weapons.” Samantha tested the weight of her moon beam, trying to understand how Carma kept getting the better of her.
“Considering that I’ve already killed you five times in the last three minutes, I’d say the name has very little to do with how deadly it is.”
“Would’ve killed me,” Samantha corrected her. “Thank God I have this armor on.”
“You’re welcome,” Carma said with a bow.
Samantha had never much appreciated that joke, or the idea that Carma thought of herself as some sort of goddess. Or the God, as Carma would put it. Was it even a joke? The way Samantha saw it, if there was a God—or a bunch of gods—out there, such talk would be sure to earn their wrath and, the next thing you know, the Noraldian would be swallowed up by a giant space whale.
That thought made her cringe. Hey, there were space dragons the size of cities, why not a space whale? There were even unicorns in space, if you counted what the Acome called unicorns. Which were, in fact, Acoma warriors whose foreheads bore longer bone structures that could grow out like a horn. Since they were by far more humanoid than horse, Samantha figured it was more appropriate to call them devils than unicorns, especially after her little misunderstanding with Agathe.
Ignoring Carma’s self-flattery, Samantha spared a glance back to see the others all going at it. Napalm was taking extra care to show Agathe and Voira how to properly maneuver a section of the obstacle course that involved fake enemies popping up while the ground constantly moved out from under you. Even after her little speech, the man couldn’t help himself. Maybe there was something about men she didn’t get, or maybe it was his race. All the fire burning in him, as judged by his eyes and the visible flames within them, might translate into enhanced passion in ways other than violence, she supposed.
“Enough time to figure it out?” Carma asked, taking a defensive stance.
Samantha nodded, turned and prepared herself. Before the attack came, she glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “How come you didn’t get my back? Before? Aren’t we women supposed to stick together?”
Carma smirked. “Is that how it is on Earth? On my planet, I was known as a bit of an Alpha, always making the moves, having my fun. Never at anyone’s expense, I hope, but you know… deity and all.”
“And they actually put up with you?”
With a sly grin, Carma replied, “After I’m done with them? They believe anything I say.”
She stepped in for the attack and Samantha blocked, but had to sidestep to avoid the next blow. Carma kept coming, though, a whirlwind of silks over her armor floating through the air as she moved as gracefully as a butterfly, as quickly as the wind.
If it weren’t for Samantha’s enhanced speed, she would be in trouble.
“You’ve been upgrading, what…?” Samantha asked, holding up a hand to catch her breath. “Dexterity?”
“I figure the balance aspect of it helps in moments like this. Looks like I’m right.”
Samantha nodded. “Looks like I know what I’ll be focusing on next with my upgrades.”
“Hey, those electricity skills are nothing to scoff at.” Carma came in with another strike as she spoke. “But they aren’t as useful in sparring or a fight where you don’t want to seriously injure or kill your opponent.”
“Good thing we have a whole buttload of opponents we want dead.”
“Yes, a… er, buttload.” Carma landed another would-be lethal blow, then pulled back. “Good f
or now?”
“I could use some time on my meditation,” Samantha replied with a shrug. “You know, get my mind right.”
Carma nodded and took the weapon to place it back on the wall. Samantha found a corner opposite Dex, sat cross-legged, and closed her eyes.
You’re doing well, Dex communicated. Focus on the ball of light, create it with your mind’s eye, and then lose yourself in it.
Thank you, she replied, and then gave it her best shot.
Instead, the ball took on a green glow and transformed into a wing, and then another. And then there was the nude image of Agathe, flying with outstretched wings, laughing at her.
Not Samantha’s best meditation session.
She was about to give up and go get some shooting practice in at the simulation chamber when the speakers crackled overhead.
“Samantha, report to the deck if you can,” Jackal’s voice rang out over the ship’s speakers. “We have incoming.”
She frowned, excused herself, and ran for the deck. By the time she entered, the others had caught up and were finding their stations, all staring at the display.
Jackal turned back to find her, then pointed at several blips moving toward them. “Incoming, and it’s enemy ships this time.”
“You sure it’s not just the royal fighters again?” Carma asked, leaning forward from her seat.
The blue energy field around the ship shimmered as a blaster shot connected, and then three ships were visible on the display, flying past and barraging the Noraldian’s shields with more shots.
“Activating turrets,” Jackal announced. He turned to Carma and added, “And I think we can all safely say those are not friendlies.”
These ships weren’t anything like the snub-nosed fighters of Entono Fos; they were jagged, crude even. Another darted past, and Samantha observed the way its wings spread out like black lasers, the spaceship version of a cross between a raven and a porcupine. Each tip lit up red and then blasted, but it was clear their shots weren’t doing heavy damage to the Noraldian.