by Brad Carr
Steam rose from his ginger root tea in the porcelain cup. His right hand began to twitch. Attempting to avoid a show of physical weakness, he transferred the cup to his steady left hand.
Brakion had a high tolerance for pain. The life of a warrior has a price. If one lives long enough, past wounds will haunt them. He acknowledged this, yet rarely complained of the agony he endured on a daily basis. Brakion's physical ailments could lead to questions of leadership in his new role as Alpha General of Outpost Seven. It was best to avoid adding merit to such whispers.
He kept a simple home, constructed of materials found or salvaged. It was typical for dwellings on Outpost Seven to use old rusty metal, driftwood, whale bones, bear hides, or ancient plastics from the past. The porch rested on eight pylons below, reaching about one and half meters above ground. Two blue tinted circular windows from a scavenged ship were incorporated onto the front of his home, overlooking the ocean. He could easily live within the Outpost Seven walls for safety, but Brakion enjoyed living near the beach. Although his home seemed typical of people living outside the walls; he had the privilege of privacy. His plot of land had a fence, limiting exposure to the crowds.
At one time he was a King of the Capital Kingdom, living in a large palace with all the amenities a king typically has. In the past, anything he wanted or needed was given by simply commanding it. Now a decent selection of food, was diminished to whatever was hunted, gathered, or bartered from the Exploration Commission Culinary Class.
In the full decade he ruled the Capital Kingdom, Brakion didn’t enjoy his residence in the palace. He grew up poor, and the palace felt overwhelming. Rumors circulated of his unusual habit of sleeping in a walk-in closet. Living his young life in poverty gave him lessons he would never forget. Brakion earned his accomplishments by hard work and sacrifice. Most recognized Brakion as a hardened warrior, a philosopher, and charismatic leader.
He felt comfortable with uncertain danger of what any day could bring. Mainly, he despised boredom. Solving difficult problems gave Brakion a sense of satisfaction. Retirement after his term as king, would feel like a creeping death. Above all else, the Capital Kingdom was his first and foremost love.
A youthful woman around the age of twenty years, briskly walks out to his porch from the entrance door. She carried her clothes and dropped them to the floor; her firm breasts exposed cold erect nipples. Hurriedly slipping on a boot with one hand, she tried to multi task by putting her bra on with the other. Her short brown hair seemed unkept. Forest green eyes complimented her pale skin. The lady finished clothing herself, then kissed Brakion on the cheek.
“Thanks for a wonderful time last night. I hope to see you again, soon,” she said.
“You know where I live Cate,” says Brakion in his rough and raspy voice.
Cate smiled and quickly rushed down the porch stairs onto the beach. Speed walking away as her navy blue jumpsuit flapped loosely against her thin body. Brakion watched until she was far in the distance.
Grabbing his leg brace near his feet, he allowed his right leg to convulse. Keeping his damaged nerves calm took willful energy. The metal brace outlined the middle of his shin bone, connecting to gleaming blue metal ports. The connections protruded out of his skin by a few centimeters. The ports walked up the shin, traveling up to the exterior sides of his upper hip.
Once he plugged the thin leg brace into them, Brakion instantly felt a jolt to his spine. His head snaps back and he grabs the arms of his chair, slowly waiting for the electric shock to diminish. Sensations of fire shot through his leg, transforming into an icy feeling, until interrupted movements returned to a normal function.
Standing up from the bench, his height reaches one point eight meters. Brakion re-enters his domicile. On top of his driftwood nightstand was a sleeve for his right arm. The sleeve is black, coated with wire mesh. Quivering ceases on his right arm when slipping the tightly stretched material over the top of the bicep.
Brakion pulls out a uniform from a metal storage chest and immediately dresses in his Alpha General Uniform. The uniform is also black, with blue trim on the sides of the arms and legs. Loosely fit and pocketed, his trousers were held up by an oiled leather belt and a gun holster wrapped around his right leg. The long sleeved shirt was tailored perfectly to his dimensions; he tucked the bottom inside his pant waist. Black matte boots are slipped over his feet reaching the bottom of his calf muscle, covering the pant leg bottoms. On the right side breast pocket of his shirt, an emblem of a five pointed star colored red with a blue trim outline was embroidered. The five pointed star is reserved for an Alpha General of an Outpost.
Picking up his laser pistol off the wall bracket, Brakion secured the weapon to the leather leg holster. Pulling a black cloak over his uniform to hide his appearance from possible threats, he quietly snuck out the back exit.
Typically he travels the cave entrance for safety. Today the weather was to his liking. Brakion was known to blend in with the masses outside the walls. He believed it would keep him humble.
Brakion stepped along the jungle wood planked walkways. Passing through the mob, he noticed it was remarkably quiet today. Through all the guard checkpoints, passing by the gates to the wall, he reached a large dome shaped building a quarter kilometer inside. It resembled an ancient airplane hangar.
A high ranking general named Loft, stood as the hangar doors opened to greet him. Loft is wearing a similar uniform to Brakion, with the exception of five horizontal blue lines stitched above his pocket instead of a star.
Loft is a lanky man with lightly tanned skin and a clean shaven face. Receding on the crown of his head, he kept his hair clipped short on the sides. Loft’s pupils were light yellow, giving him an eerie appearance. Near the same age as Brakion, Loft stood two meters in height.
“What’s the status of the new recruit arrivals General Loft?” asked Brakion.
“Most of the recruits are here,” Loft responded in a thin tone.
“Most?”
“One of the ships has not made it to shore.”
“Which ship?”
“Ship Number Five. I believe Magnus calls it Helga.”
“Is that the one Angus is on General?”
“Regretfully, it is.”
“Has a distress beacon been signaled?”
“Yes, the Navy has sent Colonel Kerr’s crew to investigate.”
“It could be pirate trouble. I will handle talking to the new recruits that arrived once we find out all the details.”
“Yessir,” answered Loft.
Loft saluted with a left fist to the right of the chest. Brakion passed General Loft, then he realized, he forgot to mention something. “Loft! One more thing…”
“Yes?” Loft turned to face Brakion.
“Before you leave, inform Sergeant Argiss to show the new recruits to their quarters. Postpone training for two days until we find out what happened to Magnus’ passengers.”
“Yessir.”
Brakion set out to his main office building, crossing over sandstone walkways. Upon entering the office, the door is opened from the other side by an elderly man.
Joel hunched over from scoliosis, his body was thin and brittle. Nearing the age of one hundred and two, his health was in decline. Joel wore civilian office personnel clothing which consisted of a dark blue cloak, brown shirt, black pants, and knee high matte black boots.
He was Brakion’s secretary while he served his term as King of the Capital Kingdom. Although Joel was now too old for active duty, Brakion allowed him to continue his secretarial duties when he became the Alpha General of Outpost Seven. Joel insisted, Brakion obliged him.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning my King,” said Joel.
“I’m not your king anymore Joel. I’m just Brakion to you. You know Lucian is your king now.”
“You will always be my King.”
“Thank you for the respect Joel, but I prefer you call me Brakion now.”
“
I’m sorry my King, I will try.”
Brakion knew Joel was set in his ways. Instructing him nearly every day to call him by his name, Joel stubbornly refused, yet he was loyal. In his mind, Brakion would always be his King.
“Any calls Joel?” asked Brakion changing the subject.
“Prime Minister Lighten from the Scarlet Republic is awaiting your call.”
“Okay, I’ll take it in my office.”
Brakion’s office building felt stygian until he opened the blue curtains. The sunlight revealed a simple mahogany desk with a glass keyboard and electronic tablet placed on top. The walls lacked paint, remaining as light gray concrete. A gleam bounced off a katana sword with a shiny blue handle, hanging on the East wall.
Two Capital Kingdom flags hung vertically behind the desk. The insignia on the flags consisted of a leafless dark brown tree with a blazing red-orange sun behind it. Baby blue surrounded the image on the cloth.
Brakion removed his leg holster, placing it inside his desk drawer. Sliding out a high back chair, fabricated with a bear hide, he sat down and rolled forward until his legs reached under the desk. Pressing a yellow button under the desk top, a large image of Prime Minister Lighten projected, filling the entire wall in front of him.
Lighten was forty-two years old, with olive skin and an athletic figure. She wore a red form fitting blazer. Shiny jet black hair elegantly folded back. She sat clasping her hands together. The image of her white marble desk stood out with oil paintings filling up the wall behind her.
“Prime Minister Lighten, it is an honor to speak with you again. How may I help you?”
“Brakion, it’s a private line. We can cut the formalities,”she said in a sultry tone.
“Very well Veronica, it’s really good to see you. You still look sexy as hell.”
Lighten smirked and said,” You’re looking great yourself. I miss you. Can’t stop thinking of that month you spent up here a few years ago for the peace treaty agreement.”
“If only the world made it easy for two political figures to be happy. I miss you too. We’ll always have memories. And I regret nothing.”
“Neither do I. I was going to wish you a happy retirement, but I should have known better than that. Trying to get yourself killed?”
“Nah, you know I’m a bad ass Veronica,” he laughed. “I only had a few weaknesses in my life. One of them was you. But enough about that, I’m sure you’ve moved on now. I don’t think this is a social call is it?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I need you to fill me in with King Lucian. What kind of man is he? Is he someone I can put faith into? I just wanted to know what to expect when I cross into Katel in a few days. It’s about an upcoming trade agreement. Is there anything I should know about him?”
“I believe he’s a capable leader. He will honor all we talked about before. Lucian was my understudy a year before I left rulership. Lucian is definitely a politician through and through, unlike me. So he will talk around subjects. Just keep him on point so he doesn’t wander.”
“Good to know. Listen, I was thinking. Since I’m going to be in Katel for a few weeks. Would? You know, like to visit me?”
“I really wish I could Veronica, but I’m afraid it’s gonna be a long time before that happens. Setting up colonies here in the North East Territory is time consuming. But I wish I could. Besides, it’s too much of a tease knowing we can never be.”
“I know,” she confessed. “Listen Brakion, take care of yourself. I will always treasure our time together.”
“You too Veronica, and thank you for everything.”
“Think you can check on me every now and then? Maybe give me a call when you decide to retire? Then you can visit the Scarlet Republic?”
“I don’t think the Scarlet Republic would like a villain like me to visit,” Brakion said.
“I know who you really are. I don’t see you as a villain. But you’re right, too much bad blood. Guess I was being silly.”
“Goodbye, Veronica. Safe travels.”
“Safe travels.”
Veronica Lighten blew him a kiss on the screen and the projection turned off. Brakion leaned back in his chair and took a few deep breaths. He was flattered by Veronica’s call.
Brakion’s facial expressions became somber when he thought on Angus’ well being. The last time he saw Angus, he was a toddler. Now, he may have been lost to the sea. Angus is the last glimpse of his dearly departed brother, Salem Vol. He promised Salem he would look out for him, but that was a promise he has done a poor job of. Regret poured into his heart. Brakion made the choice long ago to put the Capital Kingdom above his family. His sense of duty outweighed his brother’s request. Now, he hoped he could have another opportunity to redeem himself, without impeding on Angus’ progress.
Chapter 4
(Six years ago)
Blurring shapes motioned around her light hazel gaze. Her head throbbed like a heartbeat. Warm oozing liquid ran down the back of her ebony curls. Crimson drops fell, dripping down her caramel colored skin. Sounds muffled. Trying to stand, a sense of vertigo made her knees buckle under. Attempting again to rise, Mona was successful in gaining her bearings. She was a short and petite woman; standing close one point six meters.
Roars of a monstrous creature frightened her into a state of alert. Wandering to her right, her clouded vision cleared into focus. Scarlet Republic Colonists were being ripped apart by a creature of immense size. The mud around them splashed in a symphony of vermillion.
The creature was a gristol. It was an evolved form of ancient grizzly bears. Gristols were close to extinction until a recent resurgence in population. These gigantic bears had developed into an upright predator. The ill tempered beast was able stand, walk, and run on two legs. Claws curved to lengths of fifteen centimeters or more. Gristols stood close to six meters, towering above most animals.
Victims barely acquired time to cry before being slashed to pieces. Patches of brown fur appeared black when blood-soaked. Hunks of flesh stuck to its claws and teeth. Intentionally, it would crush the bones of the human prey, pouncing on top of them; causing massive internal hemorrhaging.
On top of the two story concrete buildings, Scarlet Republic Soldiers wore black and red armor. They shot a volley of red laser fire at the gristol. However, it would only sear off fur. This inflamed the bear’s rage. Swiping its large claws at the barracks, it tore out a chunk of the wall in frustration.
Many colonists were panicking, running in every direction. Changing course, the gristol looked directly at Mona. Picking up speed, it became apparent that she was now the target.
Mona reacted quickly, grabbing whatever was in reach of her area. She spotted a pointed iron pole from the broken fence; partially sunk in the mud. Knowing she couldn’t outrun the creature, she readied herself, directing the pointed end of the pole in the gristol’s angle. Within a few seconds it arrived, although it felt like an eternity to her due to fearful anticipation.
Swinging its claws, she was able to duck. Diving between the gristol’s standing legs she noticed a pair of large testicles. Instinctively, she jabbed the pole upward, penetrating inside the body. It was the weakest spot on the animal. The gristol howled in pain. Mona leapt to her feet standing behind the bear; temporarily escaping his notice. Thrusting the iron point two more times to its back, the gristol awkwardly tipped backward. Mona escaped the trajectory of his drop, sliding into the mud on her stomach.
Some of the soldiers, now wiser thanks to Mona’s gamble; held their swords and ran up to the beast. Piercing the gristol’s neck, blood spurted outward at a constant pulse. Lasers failed to hurt the animal, yet simple pointed edges had a better result. Now they realized the creature’s skin was immune to laser heat.
The gristol stopped breathing, expiring on the wet ground. Cheers were heard coming from the surviving colonists. Mona, however did not want to celebrate. Instead, she surveyed the massacre areas of her perished companions. They were butchered. It was a plethora
of crushed skulls, penetrating bones, and internal organs. One man desperately tried to push his intestines back into his body before dying.
Limping over to one of the bodies, she knelt down and closed his eyes. Weeping aloud, she curled up next to the corpse and rested her head on his broken chest. Attached to Mona’s tank top was name tag that read “Transmith.” The name on the dead man’s uniform matched hers. Clark was deceased. Their lives were just beginning together. The marriage has now ended, after only two years. Mona closed her eyes and drifted into unconsciousness.
***
There wasn’t any comfort in what would be considered a funeral. In the Repcol areas (REPublic COLonies), bodies of the dead had to be burned. Many of the wildlife, could smell fresh blood. Burning masked the scent of blood with ash. However Mona was spared from seeing her husband’s body burned. Clark’s ashes intermixed with others, carried by the wind. She rested in the clinic bed and did not awaken until eight days after he was cremated.
Upon waking, she could view the concrete ceiling above her. Mona’s body ached, as her mind wondered for a moment, hoping this was all a dream. But realizing it wasn’t, she started to weep silently. A young doctor walked over to her, read her chart, and proceeded to talk to her.
“Good afternoon dear,” he greeted her, but she said nothing. He continued, “You are a strong woman. Surgery had to be performed. We had to install a plastic patch to your skull, two ribs have been mended, and your right forearm, the ulna region has been repaired. You lost a lot of blood. But you will heal. I would recommend you stay and rest in your hut for at least a week. A nurse will come by every four hours to check on you.”
“You’re sending me home?” she asked as her voice cracked.
“I apologize Miss Transmith, but we have a shortage of beds and a lot of injured people.”
“What about my baby?”
“Oh,” the doctor realizing he had forgotten to mention it,“The baby is fine. It’s quite remarkable.” Changing the subject due to lack of time he stated, ”The nurses will help walk you back to your hut in a few hours.” The doctor strolled away without any further conversation.