Anstractor (The New Phase Book 1)

by Greg Dragon

  For two minutes (which seemed like a lifetime), the boy and the machine had clashed las-swords. The android parried his swing strongly to the side and swiped at Rafian’s exposed arm, slicing the skin into a burning gash—which would have taken his arm off if the las-sword had been powered up beyond training level. Without giving in to the pain or severity, Rafian had spun a back fist into the skull of the droid but lost his las-sword at the same time.

  They had kept the fight going, with Rafian using unarmed martial arts to parry the machine’s swings and thrusts. After Rafian planted a side kick into its chest to knock it across the room, the android threw the sword. That was when Rafian pulled out a hidden pistol and angrily shot back to put it out of commission.

  The fight had lasted all of five minutes total before the gunshots went off, but by the time it was over, Rafian was sore, tired, and regretful of having to resort to cheating in order to take out the android that was meant to train him. Perhaps setting it to kill mode was a bad idea, as the machine had fought him the way an angry, skilled Geralos would have if the situation were real. Even worse was the swipe that had nailed his now-numbed arm. Had that sword been powered up, he would now be without an arm—or worse. The machine was rigged to finish the job, and if he had been a second too slow, he would have been hit by the thrown blade and killed.

  Rafian was no stranger to life-and-death situations, as that had been the narrative of his life, but to lose to a training exercise was not the most glorious end to a soldier’s life. That was not the way he wanted to go out, by a long shot! He opened the door to the training room as he wrapped his seared arm and slowly made his way back to his room. He ran into Vani, who looked as if she had seen a ghost when she saw him.

  Almost instantly, she began yelling. “Are you all right? What the hell happened to your arm? OK, OK, infirmary, right now, Lieutenant! We need to get this looked at before it’s too late!”

  * * *

  For all the loud explosions, screaming from superior officers, and random panicky cries from fellow officers that Rafian had endured in his career as a military person, the screams of a baby in close proximity was in a category of its own. As he sat in the ship’s infirmary clutching a badly burnt forearm, Rafian tried his best to ignore the screaming boy who commanded an audience despite the objections of his young mother, who all but looked defeated. That young mother was none other than Kim, the girl he used to love, who had broken his heart with that same baby.

  Fate has an odd way of forcing us to face the cruelest and most embarrassing situations sometimes. Having to sit in a room with this girl was one of life’s little jokes at his expense. The boy kept on screaming, and Kim produced a breast for him to feed on. She wrapped an attractive blue blanket around the act to keep him comfortable and herself less exposed to Rafian and the other five people present.

  “Rafian?” She exclaimed, as if seeing him for the first time.

  He looked up to regard her but was cut off by Vani, who had removed her earpieces just in time to hear it. “You don’t talk to him, cruta!” she said to Kim, while gripping Rafian as if to show ownership.

  “Cruta? Who’s the cruta now, Vani? You over there acting as if you’re his rabid watchdog or something,” Kim spat back, clutching the boy close, eyes like hot coals searing into Vani’s as they squared off against each other. Vani made to get up, but Rafian reminded her quietly that Kim was a mother with child, and his flustered girlfriend sat back down and gestured rudely at her.

  An awkward silence followed until Kim broke the air to continue. “You don’t have to like me, Vani. You don’t matter to me. I was just concerned about Rafian…Raf, can you talk to me?”

  She seemed almost desperate in the way she said it, and it made him wonder where Marce was.

  “I got burnt with a las-sword jousting,” he said finally, then felt uncomfortable under her stare, which would not break no matter how much he tried to avoid it.

  “I heard what you did for Aurora,” she said to him as he looked over at Vani, who sat with her hands crossed, fists balled up and face cocked to the side with eyes shut so tight it looked as if she were about to explode.

  “You’re like the ship’s biggest hero next to the commander or something. That is so freaking cool…”

  She was cut off by the medic’s voice over the telecom calling her back to see the pediatrician. Vani was still coiled ready to strike, but Rafian kissed her on one of her closed eyelids, and it was enough to diffuse her fire and make her open her eyes.

  She looked up at him as he placed one hand on her cheek and kissed her on the lips. The pair forgot where they were and kissed longingly as Kim gathered her things. Vani’s fists had opened to find their way to Rafian’s back in an embrace, and she smiled despite herself, forgetting what it was that she was upset about in the first place. The gesture was enough to distract Rafian from seeing Kim disappear into the back room, which had been his intent with showing sudden affection to Vani.

  Rafian didn’t hate Kim, as she assumed he did; he merely hated what had happened between them. Kim was a reminder of the times when things were so unfairly negative for him, and her stare brought him back to the time when he was a green virgin intoxicated with the spell of her beauty, sex, and experience. Now he stood as a marine, one of Vestalia’s hopefuls, and he could not stand to remember how much of a loser he had been to think this girl was going to be his forever.

  “Get her out of your head!” Vani said as she brought him back from the abyss of his mind. She held him close until he was summoned by the doctors to have the skin on his arm replaced and the scars removed.

  * * *

  Aurora had given up on her dreams of piloting after experiencing the worst of it before being rescued. She would visit her brother often and spend the weekends with him and Vani whenever the pair was not arguing or busy with errands, as they so often were. Although Rafian had been grounded for rescuing Aurora and disobeying orders, he was still responsible for gaining leadership knowledge. So he was made to shadow different commanding officers on random days, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was responsible for staying sharp via the virtual machines and holographic study.

  Vani’s duties were more mundane. Being primed for navigation, she often pored over galactic maps projected so large that it took up most of their tiny apartment. Vani had grown fond of Aurora, but her jealousy of the closeness Aurora shared with Rafian was hard to put in check at times. The fights she would get into with Rafian would range from her being upset about Aurora hanging out too much to his aloof attitude about everything that seemed to concern her.

  For Rafian, Vani was a drama queen. But he saw her as his drama queen. He would often call her a “spoiled spacer brat,” better suited for some tucked-away planet like Louine, with maids and manservants who would cater to her every whim while she was oblivious to the galactic war. Louine’s royalty was frowned upon by the galaxy because they stayed out of the wars that threatened even their own privileged existence. It was a nice insult to levy at Vani, but Rafian would say it only in those rare moments when he was angry, since he cared very much for his Vani no matter how crazy she would get.

  Rafian and Vani were the talk of the ship as far as passionate, dramatic lovers go, but it was all her. If he had it his way, she would be as quiet as he was—quiet in her objections toward everything and quiet about her disagreements with him. She was so vocal and expressive that it made him love her when she was happy and hate her when she was upset. He never wanted to end up coddling her and bend to her will, as he feared she would get used to it. So he fought back when she was disagreeable and encouraged her when she was being cute. At the end of the day, he loved her immensely, but he was concerned about their future if she didn’t find a way to curb her rage.

  It had been three months since he rescued Aurora, and he was told that he could finally fly his first mission whenever he was prepped and ready. But he was restless and mentally drained from both Vani and his superiors. So he de
cided to hop onto the next shuttle heading to Missio-tral. This was a large Vestalian cruiser that was primed for heavy space combat. Since the Helysian was part academy and floating barracks, missions were not carried out off of her. This prevented any retaliation against her from enemies who may follow the pilots home or spies who managed to see where she was cloaked and orbiting.

  Rafian stepped off of the shuttle with a spring in his step, 3B suit primed and air supply full. He was armed to the teeth with the weapons he had chosen for this particular trip. On his person, as usual, was the gun he had cherished since childhood, a las-sword very much like the one that had almost taken his arm off, and a sniper rifle fitted with a stealth shield that he had stolen from the special reserves.

  “Rafian VCA in the flesh,” a loud, deep voice stated from somewhere in front of him. He recognized the voice as that of Val, his old friend from his days as a cadet. Val had grown to be very mature—in terms of looks and speech—unlike the other boys, who still maintained boyish features and higher voices.

  The pair grasped forearms in the customary greeting for Special Forces, and they took a corner to catch up on their individual happenings in life. After the first-class exercise that Rafian had undergone, Val was transferred to the front lines on the marine vessel Alpha Terracydes, where he was deployed into fighting on a small moon by the name of Cairn. Many had died on the moon, but Val had proved himself an ace at survival. He told Rafian of his tour of duty, and Rafian in turn told him of the Aurora mission.

  “So with a badass like Val Tracker down there with a star gun and balls the size of planets, why would they need a half-witted spec-ops scrub like me to do a drop?” Raf jokingly asked.

  But Val reassured him that the mission was indeed important and best suited for a soldier who could pull off a stunt like the one he had done on Geral as a cadet.

  The friends spoke for an hour before they were summoned to be briefed on the mission. The man in charge was a short, scarred brute of a colonel who went by the nickname Rend and the official name of Colonel Cilas MEC. Cilas had a raspy voice that sounded like ball bearings inside a rotor that badly needed oil. The man was hard to understand, but Rafian was in awe at being in his presence.

  The fact that Rend was in charge of a mission meant that it was not only important but that it was classified, high-level, and more than likely going to be something legendary that he would never be able to discuss. The muscular man spoke, and the entire room dared not breathe lest they miss an important detail about the mission at hand. Rend was a man of few words and wasn’t the type to repeat himself.

  “Marines and elites, let me just congratulate you on being chosen for this mission. This duty that you are being asked to perform is one of great importance and one that will strike a critical blow against the disgusting Geralos and gain us much ground in retaking Vestalia and granting our people freedom.”

  He continued to tell them of how honored they should feel for being selected and reminded them of their sworn secrecy in matters of military service, especially when it came to missions that involved him. Rend was not a man to be trifled with, so the soldiers swore on their names to keep the details classified.

  He then brought up an older woman to give the pertinent mission details to the group. Her name was Hylga ATE, which she combined to make her call sign, Hellgate, a name she earned from singlehandedly destroying sixty Geralese spacecraft in dogfights during the Sixth Expanse. Hellgate, unlike Rend, was soft-spoken, but nobody dared mistake this for weakness or calm, as she was known for her ferocity and merciless flybys on multiple enemy cities, leaving nothing in her wake but fire and death. Hellgate had leveled her share of civilizations, and Rafian imagined her kill count being in the tens of thousands. He smiled slightly at the war heroine because she was one of the soldiers who had inspired him to seek flight as a career.

  Hellgate explained the mission details, and Rafian blinked away his admiration in order to truly listen to what she was saying.

  “It has been 183 days now since we have clashed with the Geralos over the moon of Meruda, whose rich resource of Io-89 they have coveted since they started aggressions with the United Worlds. Colonel Cilas and his troops have gained much ground in the last few months, after the Geralos commander Baiken fell from tripping a silent mine outside Unik5 some six or so months ago. The Gerals are in disarray, and it is due to their lack of leadership. So far, we have been able to take advantage of this panic state and destroy a number of their forward operations. We cannot afford to lose momentum now. In order to maintain this momentum, we have called upon you, the best of the best, to stage a hard push into the capital of Arisani, jewel of Unik5.”

  The hard woman paused to look across the room, her eyes focused a bit to the area where Rafian was standing, and he felt as if she was speaking to him.

  “We aim to take that capital by any means necessary, marines, so this mission is a ride-or-die operation. Once we have the capital, it will be very difficult for the Geralos to come and go, so their reinforcements, supplies, and ultimately their morale will deteriorate. With our success, we will turn the tides of this war, and the United Worlds will recognize Vestalian marines with the proper respect that we deserve.”

  Hellgate spoke more on the specifics of the mission and the divisions that would carry it out. Rafian thought he would be there to run flybys on the enemy in Hellgate’s Nighthawk bombing squad, but he was chosen for recon instead and was hustled aboard the Shadow Raven en route to the moon of Meruda to be dropped on foot with Val and the other marines. They were to march under deadly fire upon the gates of Arisani and take her. He felt a knot in his stomach that was very much like the one that came about when he thought he would not escape the cylindrical prison of the resource ship with Aurora.

  Rafian was made to don full marine armor, a blast helmet, and trek boots, so without thinking, he kept the 3B suit on and placed the armor over it. The company he was in was nicknamed the Twelfth, since eleven had gone before them on similar missions. He counted thirty soldiers in his unit, and they all seemed to know one another in some way.

  “Time to cash in that death sentence we all signed up for, eh, boys?” a freckled, red-headed marine with a permanent grin on his face shouted as the men and women strapped themselves into their cryogenic chambers in preparation for the jump to light speed. He was met with laughter and a few similar jokes, but the mood was still forlorn, and Rafian hated the way it all felt. The wait after being strapped into cryo seemed to last forever, but in actuality it was only half an hour when the glass doors shut around each one of them, encasing them within individual egg-shaped pods and a cold, thick, white mist coalesced about them, freezing their vitals and placing them into stasis, which would allow them to survive faster-than-light travel. The enormous Shadow Raven lifted up out of the mission central dock and blasted instantly into light speed, only to appear moments later above the war-torn moon of Meruda.

  When the cryo chambers had thawed out, the doors opened up to allow the soldiers to mobilize. Rafian realized that one of his hands had not been thawed and panicked at the sight of his paralyzed fingers and the grim claw that they formed.

  “One second, Lieutenant!” a pretty, young corporal announced as she rushed over. She shoved a six-inch needle into his arm to thaw it instantly. Rafian thanked her and got down on the deck to do his ritual of push-ups and sit-ups, which would allow his body to shake off the strange sensation he felt all over. All of the marines had their post-cryo rituals, and as the ship moved to break orbit and drop them off, they all eventually found the deployment bench located behind the pilot’s cockpit and strapped themselves into it.

  The moon of Meruda had gravity close to what the soldiers would consider normal but it had an unfriendly, nonoxygen atmosphere, making it a mandatory helmet-and-suit affair for air breathers. Rafian thought it was pretty brazen of them to attempt a hostile takeover of a moon that circled the enemy’s planet, but he was excited for the mission and was convinced
that there was no other place that he’d rather be.

  The ship cruised near the surface, and the countdown for them to deploy started. By the time it had reached thirty-one and then thirty seconds, a ranged missile crashed into the side of the ship, and the Night Raven no longer had the desire to stay airborne. They were falling fast, and the pilot did his best to level her to the ground as Rafian and the others took emergency measures and waited for the collision. The front of the Teradac-11 hit a large rock, killing the pilot instantly as they slid into the surface of the moon on landing, and the momentum carried them forward a few hundred yards. There was gunfire everywhere as the sounds of the war became real to them, and as a unit, they exited the back hatch of the downed vessel and primed their weapons for the attack.

  “STAY LOW AND HUG THE CLIFFS!” a man with a captain’s shield on his lapel was yelling back at them as laser fire and kinetic bullets rained down on them from all angles. Rafian saw four soldiers go down from gunshots, and the rest of the company huddled close to one another and ran along the face of a raised crater that provided some cover from the onslaught of bullets. Rafian thought the position they were in was simply stupid, but the brave marines pushed through it, returning fire as they could until there were only twenty left, hunkered down into a fissure that kept them safe from the fire and allowed them to regroup and catch their breath.

  Meruda was a desert moon, and the sand ranged from white to a graphite gray. Above them, a blazing star kept the surface bright like a spotlight shining down through the inky expanse of space. The sky appeared nightmarish, all red clouds with black splotches, broken only by the bright orange star, which gave the planet a strange crimson tinge.

  “VCA get to a vantage point!” the captain commanded as an out-of-breath Rafian looked over the other marines. It was his cue to take action, and as commanded, he scurried back along the fissure on his elbows and knees until he could see a large dune behind the area where the ship had crashed. Triggering the cloaking device on his arm, Rafian climbed out of the fissure, and the other marines began lobbing bombs and gunfire in order to draw the Geralos’ attention off of the invisible sniper who was trying to flank them.