Divine Commander Lahamu’s emotions underwent a shift and became closer to positive feelings as Fighter Number 3,482 knew a lot about what had happened. She made arrangements for the mystics to extract his mind and convert it into an engram for her to study further and learn of the thief that stole the divine powers from the monolith.
Fighter Number 3,482 was brought aboard the vessel Divine Commander Lahamu used to flee the human homeworld undetected with its magical stealth abilities, bypassing the detection abilities of the human battleships. She rewarded him by allowing himself to have a name rather than a class designation while a mystic guided him away to perform the engram conversion procedure. The mystic was a half-dragon like himself, draped in transparent robes, brimming with energy from her magical powers.
Divine Commander Lahamu stood in front of a visage of the universe located on the bridge of her ship. She used it to chart a path to the next system which needed to be liberated from the alien infestation that had plagued it for far too long.
One fleet was selected to lead the charge, while the remaining two remained in control of the system they were in. Words were put into the heads of the horde that made up the selected fleet, instructing them to enter a new conduit that tore open the fabric of space-time. The paths within the conduit would lead the Divine Commander Lahamu on her next mission, a star system known to the humans as Sirius. It had been many stellar cycles since they ventured into the system.
Divine Commander Lahamu hoped the believers that lived in that system had remained unharmed by the human infestation.
36 Williams
Marques Desert
Terra Nova, Sirius A system
August 11, 2118, 12:12 SST (Sol Standard Time)
The Marques Desert was one of the few arid places on Terra Nova where sand, rocks, and dry hot air were in complete dominance, denying the thirsty land of the rain water it desperately needed. Within the center of twirling dust storms and sand dunes hovered an oval-shaped Lyonria crafted wormhole, one of many discovered throughout the planet’s surface by the first generation of human explorers that arrived via the Carl Sagan.
The Poniga and Undine seldom made use of the wormholes on Terra Nova in the past, understandable given the control the Architect, Marduk, had imposed over both their societies during his reign over the entire Sirius system. From time to time, Poniga or Qirak living on New Babylon would traverse through the forgotten wormholes to trade with humans, an act Demarion Bailey became all too familiar with during the years he spent living amongst the indigenous people, helping them discover dormant wormholes on Terra Nova.
It was Bailey’s knowledge of the existence of the Marques Desert wormhole that allowed him to lead Williams, Chang, and Nereid through it to wade through the scorching heat of the desert air above, and the blazing sands below them. Five sets of footprints dotted their way away from the wormhole onwards to what seemed to Williams as an object buried below the sands.
Bailey’s tattered-robed body stopped ahead of the buried object, and shoved heaps of sand away from it with his hands. He unearthed the side of a ship’s hull, a ship that bore the flag of the Hashmedai Empire.
A flag that sent Williams back in time.
It brought back memories of Hashmedai transports that bore the same flag, painted on the sides of their transports that descended to the city of Chicago. The transports released hordes of Imperial death squads, beheading civilians, the national guard that tried, and failed, to stop them, razing every structure they came across, and eventually ending the lives of his mother and father. It was unnecessary blood and gore for the child he was to see—
“Williams!” Chang yelled, shaking Williams’ body to return to the present.
“I’m fine,” Williams grunted.
“Yeah, bullshit you are.”
Williams glanced at Chang’s sand- and dust-covered hands and arms, noting that the outfits Nereid and Bailey wore too had been dirtied in a similar manner as the unburied crash-landed Hashmedai transport took center stage. Did I seriously blank out and stand there while they unburied it? Williams’ mind grumbled. “What’s a Hashmedai transport doing out here?”
“The Poniga found it,” Bailey said, dusting his robe off. “Since I’m the only human they trust, they told me, and only me, about it.”
Williams cautiously approached the transport making circles around it. The exterior of the craft showed signs that the desert had made it its home for a number of years, the once purple color of it had faded to lighter colors, thanks to the consistent bombardment of Sirius’ light.
“I know our memories are fuzzy, but I do clearly remember everything we did here in the system,” Williams said.
“Yeah, and I sure as hell didn’t pick up on the scanner a Hashmedai transport,” Chang said, looking at the craft.
“Neither did the probes we sent out,” Williams said. “Or the first wave of explorers we had scout this planet for that matter.”
“So then, this transport arrived after we went missing,” Nereid added as she brushed a wet cloth across her face and arms. She, being a species of the ocean, needed to keep her skin moist whenever possible. Williams was surprised the desert hadn’t taken her out already.
“Undetected? Doubtful, not with all the bases on this planet and the ships in the system,” Chang said. “Someone would have detected a Hashmedai transport entering and crash-landing here.”
“Yeah, that’s now, presently,” Williams said. “But what if it came just after we went missing? The Carl Sagan was the eyes and ears of the system, without it, the colonists had nothing but the odd transport we left for them and planetary satellite detection.”
“Hmm, in that case,” Chang said as he eyed the transport longer. “Yeah, this could have slipped in undetected if they took the right flight path that put them out of scanning range.” Chang kicked up a plume of sand into the air. “And all this sand covering it up after all these years would have made it harder for anyone to find it. As for the pilot . . .”
“Nobody has seen a Hashmedai runnin’ around in the years since we found this,” Bailey said.
Williams looked back at the large and seemingly never-ending sand dunes and dust-covered rocks around them and the transport. “Hashmedai won’t last long in this heat, they’re probably dead, and their bones long buried in the sands.”
“I feel as though we’re getting a little off topic here, you know with the mysterious old Hashmedai transport that has nothing to do with our situation and all . . .” Chang drily said.
Faint pulses of light, visible from the transport’s windshield in the cockpit caught Williams attention. The light came from its computer terminal upfront, the transport still had power. Williams stood in front of the side entrance of the transport and took several deep breaths to keep his head in the game, cast away any looming fears that Hashmedai warriors might still be inside, and searched for the manual control lever to force the doors open.
The haggard transport hissed. Its doors slithered open for the first time in years, sand that fell into its joints and grooves sprinkled down from the newly opened doorway into the darkened interior of the craft.
“Off topic, huh?” Bailey said, nudging Chang as the four stepped inside. “You wanted to check out the wastelands beyond the dome, right?”
“Wait . . . with this rust bucket?”
Williams entered the cockpit, ignoring the odd odors that entered his head and eyed its computer terminals more as noticeable pulses of light flashed. “It’s got power,” Williams said, grinning. “With the right hands, tools, and knowledge of the Hashmedai language, we might be able to make it spaceworthy again and get our answers.”
And the best part? It would be an old Hashmedai transport. UNE personnel monitoring scanners would have to look twice at their computers before they took action, and then scratch their heads as to how an Imperial vessel entered the system undetected. Space bridge jumps always left behind a burst of psionic energy, easily detectable by scann
ers and psionics.
We could be in and out before UNE moves in to investigate their protected world. Williams faced the three while they sat in the rear cabin, with blissful looks on their faces. They were after all indoors and out of the sun’s heat for the first time in hours.
“Anyone got Rivera’s contact information?”
37 Peiun
Atrium Arm, A-OK Fourteen Pub
Amicitia Station 14, Arietis system
August 12, 2118, 13:26 SST (Sol Standard Time)
Peiun felt like an outsider sitting on the bar stool within the human-run pub. The music, its mostly human patrons, and holo screens playing human news media broadcasts, was a different experience for him compared to pubs run by Hashmedai.
Much to his surprise, the establishment was equipped to service non-humans. The cold glass of Hashmedai ale in his hands was proof of that, the chair that blew cold air up his spine was another. The chairs were programmed to link with one’s HNI and deliver an experience that would be best suited for their species. An Aryile that sat on a chair for example, would feel tropical heat rise to comfort them. For a Vorcambreum? The chair would lower for their short bodies to sit on it, and then rise for them to face the bartender, a human bartender that wasn’t afraid to speak to extraterrestrials like him.
“Let me top that up for you.” Or offer refills.
“There is no need,” Peiun said to the bartender. “I have to save my credits anyways.”
The Empire was a currency-less society, Hashmedai were given implants that kept track of their standing within the Empire. Those that worked hard had high Imperial standing which allowed them to receive whatever they wished from markets. Underperforming members of Imperial society received lower standings, which limited them to which goods and services they could receive.
Such a system, however, didn’t work in UNE-controlled establishments or Radiance ones for that matter, only credits. Peiun, like other Hashmedai that frequently visited stations like this, took on small side jobs for humans to earn UNE credits, credits which in turn allowed them to conduct business on the station. Credits were also quite handy to use in regions such as the Morutrin system, in which neither, Union, Imperial, or UNE forces had claim over, only pirates, salvagers, and criminal organizations, Radiance exiles, and people that want to disappear from one or more of the three galactic nations.
“This one’s on the house, soldier boy,” the bartender said, pushing him another cold glass of ale.
“Excuse me?”
The bartender simply pointed up to the various holo TVs hanging off the wall playing the news. “There’s a war going on, one everyone that comes in here wants to deny. Take those men over there, for example.”
He directed Peiun’s attention toward a group of large and strong-looking uniformed human males sitting at a round table, exchanging laughs and consuming copious amounts of human-brewed drinks. “Ah, human warriors,” Peiun said.
“Marines,” the bartender corrected him. “But, yes, they make up the core of the UNE ground-based fighting power, and up until a few days ago, I rarely seen Marines in. Same goes for Radiance rangers, and Imperial military folks like you. You boys and girls are fighting to defend the galaxy from the invaders or working long hours to prevent other colonies from falling. This on-the-house beer slushy is my way of saying, thank you.”
Peiun motioned joyfully and drank his newly refilled drink. Its partially icy contents helped lower his body temperature more, making him forget the fact that he was sitting in an establishment with the sweltering room temperatures humans loved.
“I like you, human, what is your name? What do they call you?” Peiun asked.
“Name’s Paul, you?”
“I am Peiun Starblazer, acting captain of the Rezeki’s Rage.”
“Oh, a navy boy, sorry then for confusing you with a soldier,” Paul the bartender said, pointing at Peiun’s chest and arms. “That beastly body of yours led me to believe you swung plasma swords for a living.”
Peiun gazed at the decorations that covered the wall behind Paul as he wiped the bar clean with a towel. The decorations were of human origin, though Peiun had a hard time figuring out their purpose. A half dome object with a round board at the end of it colored blue and white, in particular caught his attention.
“May I ask what those are.” Peiun said, pointing at the decorative items.
Paul smirked and held one of the decorative items in his hands. “This is a Toronto Blue Jays baseball cap.”
“Baseball cap? Explain.”
“Hah, long story,” Paul chuckled. “Toronto was a city that was turned to ash by the Empire many years ago. I used to live there, got lucky and escaped death when I slipped out of town to do some business and visit family right when the invasion started. I collect and gather all things that came out of Toronto before that fateful day.”
Peiun grimaced with shame. “My apologies for what my people did to you,” he said. “It must be hard for you to serve drinks to a man that is part of a military force that killed two billion members of your species.”
“It’s all history now, the Empire has changed, and so has the galaxy,” Paul said. “If we keep holding onto old grudges we’ll never move forward with this new conflict on our hands.”
Peiun nursed his beverage for thirty minutes while watching various human warriors, Marines, depart and arrive amongst Radiance rangers, and the odd Qirak merchant. Foster and Pierce to his delight were among the newly arrived patrons. She took a seat next to Peiun, though judging by her uncomfortable body language, he had a feeling she wasn’t sitting there to speak with him. It was because it was the only free chair next to the bar.
“Ah, Foster, it is a pleasure to see you again,” Peiun said to her.
“I just needed to take the edge off my situation,” she drily spoke, keeping her eyes away from him.
“Indeed, I heard about the new ship you have been assigned,” Peiun said. “You must feel honored.”
“Don’t get many IESA folks here,” Paul said to her after eyeing her uniform. “Can I get you anything?”
“Does Jack Daniel’s still exist in this century?” Foster said.
“You must be a sleep-in, and yes, it sure does,” Paul said.
Foster nodded. “Hit me.”
Paul moved to retrieve her requested human beverage as Peiun pondered who or what a ‘Jack Daniel’ was, for it was a rather odd name for a drink. Then he thought about Paul’s last words while giving Foster a long gaze. “You’re a sleep-in?” Peiun asked her.
“Did you not figure that out from the forum meetin’?”
“I did not, though I am not fully versed in the details regarding the Abyssal Sword.”
“Well, yeah, I am.”
“As you can see, the galaxy has undergone many changes,” Peiun said as Foster took her newly poured drink and downed a large gulp of it.
“I’m aware of most of them,” she said, pushing her glass away from her lips.
“What is your opinion of things, so far?”
“No offence, but there’s other people you could strike up conversations with,” Foster’s cold reply to Peiun was followed-up with another gulp of her drink. “I ain’t the gal you wanna speak with right now.”
“I understand, I was just attempting to set a better example to you in regard to my people.”
“I know what your people are,” Foster said, facing Peiun for the first time since she sat down. “And the lives they’ve taken.”
“Every human sleep-in I’ve met has hatred toward Hashmedai for the invasion of your homeworld hundred years ago.” Peiun did his best to maintain his polite and pleasant voice, though the stories of the Imperial invasion of Earth also made him upset. “But please rest assured that Empress Kroshka has been a major advocate for peace with humans ever since she took the throne. The generations of Hashmedai born during her rule don’t hate humans.”
Foster snorted. “So what? You one of them new generation of Hashme
dai?”
“I admit . . . I was born during the reign of Y’lin—”
“Empress Y’lin.” The name of the former Empress of the Empire made Foster finish her drink. “The bitch that ordered the invasion in the first place?”
Peiun winced. “Yes.”
“You just gave me this whole speech about post-Y’lin Hashmedai being all nice, and now you’re admitting you ain’t part of that group?” Foster’s voice evolved into a more assertive one. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t curse you for killing my papa?”
“I was born after the invasion; I was still a small child when Kroshka took the throne. As such, I spent the rest of my childhood and into adulthood to follow her message of peace and her love for the human race.”
Foster laughed at Peiun and faced the bartender Paul. “You hear this guy?”
Paul shrugged. “He’s not wrong, Hashmedai are some of my better customers.”
Foster made a cringing glare at him. “Get outta here, seriously?”
“They tip, Radiance folks don’t. It’s that simple, darling,” Paul said.
“Sorry, I’m havin’ a hard time imagining a world err . . . galaxy where what you say is true,” Foster said. “Hashmedai on Earth were the only ones that were known to be comfortable around humans and that was because they were forced to live there. Even then, they tended to get wrapped up with terrorist groups.”
“I’ve been comfortable around humans since I was a child,” Peiun said. “My mother was an assassin; she took a human as an apprentice for a while. He was the first one to work for the Empire in fact.”
Peiun paused briefly, attempting to recall the name of that human. Nothing came to his head as it had been many years since he heard it. I think his name was Jazz, but I’m certain that was a title given to him. Wonder what became of him, mother never spoke of him again after she returned from a mission.
A small group of Rabuabin business men departed the establishment, freeing up a table near the corner. It prompted Foster to settle up with Paul and excuse herself to sit at the newly vacant table. Pierce joined her moments later, while Peiun watched them.
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