by Justin Sloan
“You are the Bandian,” the soldiers intoned. “The Grayhewn. The scourge of the galaxy. The drinker of blood. The killer of children.”
“That is correct. And I have returned!” The priest shifted, changing shape from that of a Pallicon to the large, muscular shape of a Bandian. Then he crushed the flower in his hand.
The object lesson over, he immediately transformed back to his true shape.
Then he started talking. And boy, did he talk. On and on, for nearly thirty minutes. He said they now had eyewitness accounts that the Lavkins were harboring at least one Bandian, something the Wandarby had suspected for a longtime.
He told tales of the evils supposedly committed by the ancient Bandians. He told them how they and their evil-worshiping allies the Lavkins were once again on the rise. About how the Wandarby were the faithful few Pallicons dedicated to good. He mentioned something about how the gathered faithful would be united with their fellow believers very soon, but Jilla was barely paying attention at that point.
Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, she felt a tap on her arm.
“Let’s go!” Wearl said. “I got the info and our ride back to Rewot, but we have to go now.”
Jilla stood up and tried to slide down the aisle without attracting attention. But the moment she stepped into the aisle, the priest stopped speaking and glared at her.
“Where are you going, soldier?” he hissed.
She stood frozen for a long moment, unable to convince her mind to spew out any kind of an answer.
“Say something!” Wearl demanded.
She spoke the first word that came to mind. “Bathroom.”
The priest squinted at her as if trying to tell if she was being serious, then nodded and returned to his speech on the evils of gray skin.
When they reached the corridor Wearl said, “Go to the end of the hall and turn right. I found the flight manifests for today. Fighter 7584 is scheduled to head out on a patrol mission in ten minutes. I have all the codes we need, so we can fly that fighter back down to Rewot.”
“Okay, but won’t the real pilot have something to say about that?”
“I don’t think we have to worry about her showing up,” Wearl said evenly.
Jilla started to ask what had happened to pilot, but stopped herself. She decided she’d rather not know. “You get anything good?”
Wearl let out an eerie, lilting laugh. “Did I ever! I found this workstation where the guy kept his password written down next to his computer. You know what his password was? Go ahead and guess.”
“I really have no—”
“It was ‘butts.’ His passwords was butts. Do you know you how stupid you must be, to not only make that your password but also to write it down because you can’t remember it? That’s a seriously dumb creature.”
“That’s great, Wearl, but the info? Did you find anything interesting?”
“I found a whole treasure trove of interesting, and none of it’s good. We need to get back to Kalan.”
***
Kalan picked up the broom and started sweeping. It felt like such a small thing. Such an unimportant task, and yet it had to be done. He believed that if you had an idle moment and there was work to be done you might as well do it, even if it wasn’t technically your job.
They were still cleaning up the Flamebird after the Wandarby cult’s attack. The ship had gotten away with relatively little damage, thanks to the squadron’s good planning and their quick response. A few doors had been blown off their hinges and there were plenty of dings and scorch marks on the hull, but the ship remained intact. The Pallicon attack had been unsuccessful.
But that didn’t mean it had been without cost. Two Lavkins had died during the fighting.
Kalan was trying to occupy his troubled mind with the task at hand, but it wasn’t helping. He’d observed the truth firsthand. Although the Lavkins’ ships were technological marvels and their weapons were cutting-edge, the orange-skinned creatures weren’t the best at fighting up close.
It was no wonder the Pallicons had tried to board. If it hadn’t been for Kalan and his friends, the attempt might have been successful. Ultimately the Lavkins had driven the Wandarby cultists off the ship, but by that point they had wanted to leave.
Suddenly, the alarms began blaring again. Kalan’s hand immediately went to his Tralen-14, and his eyes went to the big window. A single Pallicon fighter was approaching. He stared at it for a long moment. Why would they send a single fighter?
Then a realization hit him, and he sprinted toward the control room.
When he got there, most of the gunnery stations were already occupied.
“We’ll wait until it gets in range,” Commander Larence told them, “and then blow it out of the sky.”
“Wait!” Kalan shouted.
Every head in the room turned toward him.
“Don’t shoot. I think that may be Jilla!”
The commander stared at him blankly. “What makes you say that?”
“Think about it! Why would they send a single fighter to attack us?”
“Could be a suicide mission,” one of the gunners suggested.
The commander frowned. “Seems unlikely. They’ve never used that tactic before. Let’s see if we can hail that fighter.”
A moment later, Jilla’s voice filled the room. “Thank you for not shooting me down. I couldn’t figure out this damn radio until you hailed me.”
“Good to hear your voice,” the commander said. “You can land on the island.”
“Got it, thanks. I’ll talk to you soon. I have news to share, and it’s not the good kind.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Wandering through the night, Valerie felt odd at the freedom they had given her. She appreciated it, and could tell the other Lavkins had been briefed on their presence by the way they looked at her, but it was still strange to not be challenged, or at least escorted. She wondered where Robin had gotten to, but she had been strolling around long enough to realize Robin didn’t want to be found. Valerie was certain the woman could handle herself if she got in trouble, and she figured a little alone time wouldn’t hurt anyone.
Glow stones lined the streets here, and outside the city the storm was coming. Strong winds blew and the night sky flowed with dirt and clods of clay…and then she froze, staring at the massive shadow that moved. Not one of those statues, not the moving city from earlier, but a shape wide and tubular, flailing about and then leaping into the sky and arcing down, taking its time to hit the ground again and plunge in, and then it was gone.
That was their Eran, she realized with a shock. A massive sand snake, was her best guess. How terrifying that it had been out there, moving about under the ground while they were coming here. She didn’t care how strong she was, how much she could heal—if she got eaten by a sand snake, she was pretty sure it would be the end of her.
Or what if she were ground up, but still live? Would she be stuck between constant rejuvenation and being torn apart, feeling eternal pain? There wasn’t much that would be more horrific to her mind, so she turned from the storm, arms wrapped around herself against the chill riding up her spine, and made for the center of the city. She wouldn’t be able to sleep now and figured it would be fine to go there, since nobody had told her not to.
On the way Valerie tried calling the ship, but only got static. She realized that they might be caught up in the storm, but the ship could handle it. She pushed the thought away, hoping she was right. They would go back tomorrow after the storm was over—and after they had the information they needed—and then be on their way. In the meantime, she had to have faith in them.
In the center of town was a small garden with pools of liquid that she at first thought was water, but when she drew closer she saw that it wasn’t reflecting the buildings. It was red. Not blood—she could tell by the smell—but still odd.
A younger-looking Lavkin, teenaged maybe, poked his head out of second-story window.
She smiled up at him and nodded. “I’ll be heading back then.”
He drew his head back inside and a moment later waved her in. “My parents said for you to join us. We’re eating supper still, and have plenty.”
Valerie hadn’t been expecting it, but when was she going to have an opportunity like this again? She tried to refuse out of politeness, but when he ran downstairs and appeared at the door with his mother, she couldn’t say no.
It was surreal, sitting here with this family. There were six children, eating some sort of orange bread and goop on the side that reminded her of extremely spicy mashed potatoes. Mostly it was the feeling of being part of all this, of seeing how families lived on these other planets, that got to her.
Lately she had been in need of a good reminder that these were real planets with real people, not simply allies and enemies in this war she’d found herself a part of. Life wasn’t about fighting all the time—at least not for these Lavkins, nor for so many others out there.
And she wanted to keep it that way. These children didn’t need to experience that. It was a nice reminder of what she’d left behind. People on Earth and on planets like this—people of all races—deserved to live their lives without being scared.
She fought for them.
The storm had died down outside and they told her they were in the calm few minutes before it got really bad, so she had better hurry. They gave her some more bread and she thanked them profusely, then darted into the night to find her hut.
She returned to find Robin deeply asleep and smiled, feeling bad for again putting her friend in an awkward position with her feelings.
No more.
She left the bread on a portion of the wall that stuck out like a table, then removed her armor and laid down to get some sleep. Even with the whistling winds of the storm and images of that sand snake running through her mind, she managed to pass out after a few minutes.
Life was exhausting sometimes, and wonderful others. Dreams came to her of a grand return to Earth, Robin and Kalan and all the others there with her, walking into a dining hall and being served those amazing steaks Colonel Walton had fed them once upon a time.
Maybe that day was only in her dreams, but it could all come true. They were going to set this universe straight, then enjoy the fruits of their labor—or the steaks of it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“They know we have a Bandian,” Jilla told them, “and they are coming to kill him.”
The Lavkin leaders listened in silence, their eyes wide with concern. Mej and Lien sat together on a wide chair. Commander Larence and the other ships’ commanders were there, too.
“They’ve been harassing you for the past few months in the hope that they’d provoke you into an attack,” she continued. “They were hoping your Bandian allies would reveal themselves, and then they would bring their entire fleet down on your heads.”
“And now they know we do have a Bandian,” Mej said with a sigh.
Jilla nodded. “Of course, they believe we have more than one. They think Kalan showing himself was a mistake, and the rest of them are hiding in the ships. But now that they have a confirmed sighting, they’ve put out the call to the rest of the fleet—a dozen ships, each as big as the one from which they’ve been launching attacks.”
Lien made a guttural sound that either wasn’t a word or one Kalan’s translation chip was unable to interpret. “A dozen ships? Each probably has a squadron of fighters.”
“We’ve had a hard enough time fighting off one squadron,” Commander Larence added.
A ball of hot guilt burned in Kalan’s belly. A fleet was coming here to kill these people, and it was all because of him. “There’s only one thing we can do. I need to leave. We have the fighter Jilla stole from the Pallicons. I can fly away from here, and hail them on my way out. They’ll chase me and leave you alone.”
Mej shook her head. “As noble as that sounds, I don’t think it’s going to be that easy. As Jilla said, they believe we are hiding other Bandians. Now that they’ve seen you, it will be incredibly difficult to convince them otherwise.”
“What if I surrender myself to them?” Kalan asked. “Maybe even let them search the ships to confirm—”
“You’re not getting it,” Lien interrupted. “They are a cult. They believe your kind are trying to destroy the fabric of the universe, and that my kind are trying to help. There’s no reasoning with these creatures.”
“He’s right,” Jilla said. “I had to sit through one of their little revival meetings. You should have heard the priest! Reality and the Wandarby cultists are not on speaking terms.”
The ball of guilt in his stomach was threatening to overwhelm him with its white heat. “So what do we do?”
“I think it’s pretty obvious,” Bob said, speaking for the first time during the meeting. “We have to fight them.”
“Shut up, Bob,” Kalan said. “We can’t just—”
“No, Kalan, this time I won’t shut up. You need to admit it. There’s no easy way out here, no tricky plan. It’s going to come down to muscle, bullets, and blood.”
A wide smile broke across Jilla’s face. “As much as I hate to admit it, Bob’s right on this one.”
Mej nodded. “Jilla says the fleet will be here in the next day or so. There’s no allied force that could reach us in time. Converting our ships back to a flyable state would take weeks. Even Valerie couldn’t get back here in time if she went where I think she did. We’re on our own. We have to defend our homes.”
Kalan said nothing. In his heart he doubted their ability to fight off a dozen warships and dozens of fighters, but he’d stand by their sides while they tried. He’d give it everything he had.
Jilla looked up suddenly. “That reminds me, I have something Valerie needs to know, too.”
“If Commander Larence will let us use the comm equipment, we can send a message to the Grandeur,” Bob said.
“Of course,” Commander Larence said. “I have a favor to ask as well.” He turned to Kalan. “I was wondering if you might work with our people a little bit. I know we don’t have time for a lot of training, but the ferocity you and your friends fought with...I’ve never seen anything like it. If you could give us any tips, we’d certainly appreciate it.”
“Of course,” Kalan replied. “We’ll use every moment of the time we have from now until the attack to prepare.”
Mej and Lien exchanged a glance.
“Actually, there is one other thing we need to do tonight,” Mej told them. “If you three are going to fight by our sides, we need to make you part of our squadron. And that means making you part of a family. Lien and I would be honored if you would officially join ours.”
Kalan felt a lump rising in his throat. He’d brought these beings nothing but trouble. His very presence had directly led to what would probably be their destruction, and now they wanted to make him part of their family?
“Specifically, we’d like you to join my branch of the family,” Lien said. “That means you’ll be officially stationed on Flamebird. It would be your ship as much as it is mine. You’d have the same rights as any other member of our family.”
“We’d be honored,” Kalan said, his voice catching a little. “How could we say no?”
“Good, then it’s all—“
“Wait,” Kalan said, suddenly remembering something. “Before you make us a part of your family, there’s something you should know. We haven’t been entirely honest with you. There aren’t three of us here with you. There are four.” He had no idea how they’d react to this announcement. They might be angry that he’d kept Wearl hidden, but they needed to know the truth before they made him part of the family.
The Lavkin looked entirely confused by that statement.
“Have you heard of the Shimmers?” he asked.
Lien scratched his chin. “Yes. Warrior race. Invisible to most biol
ogical eyes. Their voices are inaudible to us too, I think. I’ve heard of them. Never met one, of course.”
“Actually, you have. There’s been one among you since we arrived. I’d like to introduce you to our friend Wearl.”
The Lavkins sat in surprised silence.
“What, am I supposed to give a speech or something?” Wearl asked. “It’s not like they could hear me anyway.”
“Wearl says she’s honored to meet you,” Kalan told them.
Commander Larence looked around the room as if he’d see her. “So the Shimmer is here in this room with us?”
Kalan nodded. “She fought in the battle on Flamebird. She was the one who blew up the Pallicon transport, and she went with Jilla to the Wandarby warship. In fact, she was the one who got the information from their records.”
After a long moment, Mej rose to her feet. “Well, I guess we’ll be welcoming four new beings into the family instead of three.”
***
They met on the island that evening. Kalan expected it to be the entire squadron again, but it wasn’t. There were only Lien, Mej, Commander Larence, and the crew from Flamebird—about thirty beings in total. The family into which they were being adopted.
They stood in a circle, with torches set in a ring behind them.
Lien stepped forward after they’d joined the circle. “Tonight’s ceremony is quite simple. As members of a family, you are expected to live and be willing to die to protect your new brothers and sisters. Do you have any questions before we begin?”
Bob sheepishly raised a hand. “Uh, this is very nice and all, but we’re not agreeing to like, live on Flamebird for the rest of our lives, are we?”
Mej laughed. “Of course not. A family does not hold each other hostage. You are free to leave, always knowing you have a home here with us if you want it.”
“Good, because I honestly think Valerie would kick all our asses if we told her we quit the Elites to live on the beaches on Rewot.”
Kalan had to admit he was probably right.