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The Traveler’s War

By Kelly Heimdale
Into the Breach

Once more into the breach.


Once more into the mouth of hell.
We will not go quiet.
We will not give in.
How far we reach.
How far we fall.
Drive on another hour.
Drive on another day.

Once more into the breach.

- Daren Travers
ONE
The Jump

Just another day in the neighborhood, rounds flying past my head. Between the rocky
berm to my left, and the HMMWV at my back, nothing seemed able to stop the whizzing bullets
and the ping-ping ricocheting around me. A grenade bounced off the other side of the truck,
hitting the ground behind the other wheel, barely giving me time to duck before it went off. The
shockwave rocked the vehicle, knocking me onto my face. My ears echoed with a high-pitched
ring that drowned out the world. Rocks and grass still rained down when I pushed back up to my
position behind the front passenger tire. Shaking my head, shoving beyond the dizziness and
aching. Wearing full gear, the midafternoon August sun blared down hard, making ninety-
something degrees feel like a hundred and twenty. Even the wind was unforgiving. My clothes
felt as though I’d taken a bath in a bucket of sweat.
A hell of a day.
Our mission was fairly routine. Hop in the HMMWV’s and escort a Colonel thirty miles.
Such a simple concept in supposedly friendly territory. Why he didn’t take a helicopter is beyond
me. Maybe itching for some ground time? I don’t know. Well, the man sat dead now—with his
nice, pristine uniform. They hit us with RPGs and a couple of Russian fifty cal’s first. Took out
the first and last vehicle in our convoy, immediately followed by our mounted M2s. Trapped us
in less than twenty seconds. Even over the firefight, I heard the enemy hollering their victory.
We were attached to Special Operations, our company officially labeled as “a mixed unit
designed for unusual missions”—with access to some damn good intel. And they still caught us
with our pants down.
I popped up over the hood of the truck with my M4, took aim, and shot off a few rounds.
Bang! Bang! One.
Bang! Bang! Two.
Bang! Bang! Three.
Bang! Bang! Four.
Bang! Bang! Five.
Their bodies dropped in sequence. The rifle clicked and I ducked to reload. My mags
were out.
“I’m out!” I called. “Anybody got a—”
When I looked up, my jaw dropped and my heart sank. Twenty eight of the finest soldiers
I had ever known, plus one idiot Colonel, all dead. Blood soaked the dirt and everything else.
The bodies of my friends, my unit—my family—were scattered in a bloody mess. On top of each
other. Hung half out of the trucks. On the berm behind us. Except for me.
“God…”
Alive. Still have a job to do. Where the hell was our air support I’d asked for? Where
were the saving angels to rain hell on that hill side?
Spinning on my toes, I went for the open door behind me. Once more, I paused. The
radio, dash, seats, two windows, and one body shot to hell, splattered with blood. Reaching over
the dead, I grabbed his ammo. Specialist Magister. Good kid, a bit shaky and new to the platoon.
Why the hell did he have five full mags left? Also, the mic was in his hand, but he wasn’t my
radio man. Speaking of which—where was that guy? I grabbed his mags and the half full one
still in his rifle. Not sure why, really, but I also snatched his dog tag on the short chain, stuffing it
in a random pants pocket.
“God help me.” I stammered, heart quivering, while I scanned the carnage again.
Growling, I loaded my rifle with a quickness, letting the ferocity of action and click of
the bolt stabilize my insides.
Insurgents ahead and to the left. Just how may were there? We had to have dropped fifty
at least and so many more were left standing. Why so many? Never heard of these kind of
numbers hitting a convoy. Must have been targeting the Colonel. Might explain that little thing
in his breast pocket I’d spied him playing with earlier and trying to keep so secret.
Bullets whizzed by my head, pinging off the doorframe. My body reacted on instinct,
ducking, spinning, and then firing.
Bang! Bang! One.
Bang! Bang! Two.
Bang! Bang! Three.
Three more bodies hit the ground in a bloody heap on top of the berm behind me.
I grabbed the tags off two more friends on the way. Sergeant Holden and PFC Jackson.
Good soldiers. Running around the truck to the next one, chancing the storm of bullets and that
RPG whistling past my skull. The explosion took me off my feet and into the air. The truck
stopped me abruptly, dust and rock raining down when I hit the ground out of breath. My ear-pro
did not seem to be doing very well, all things considered. Head pounding, my ears rang louder,
and I heard my own breath, listening within myself as the world around me muffled.
“Get up.” I ordered my body into action. “Get up, Ranger.”
I pushed up with a growl and continued on.
A round had ripped right through the armored rear passenger window and took off half
the Colonel’s skull as he slumped in the seat a bloody mess. Peeling back his IOTV body armor,
I reached to grab the thing he had been so adamant about keeping to himself.
Roughly the shape and size of an Altoids mints tin box, rectangular with sharp edges,
engraved lines ran across it at strange angles. The markings along every line were rough and
fluid all at once, like a strange combination of hieroglyphics, Arabic, and Thai script rolled into
one odd language. It certainly looked alien, and that strange black metal seemed ancient.
The lines on the box flashed for a slight of an instant as an electric tingle rolled through
my hand.
A bullet zinged off my helmet, ripping through the cloth cover and drawing me out of my
stupor. Hitting a knee, I spun and fired.
Bang! Bang! One.
Bang! Bang! Two.
Bang! Bang! Three.
My weapon clicked empty.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I roared, exchanging the empty mag for a new one.
The corpse to my left belonged to Staff Sergeant Jenkins. A good friend since before I
received my commission. Loading up on his three full mags, I took his tag and dumped it in a
pocket with the others and that alien box. Still under fire, I ran to the next HMMWV looking for
a working radio. Had to pull another dead friend off of the radio. Sergeant Jessie Denver.
Somehow she looked alive, eyes practically glaring at me, skin still warm, but the bullet holes in
her shoulders and neck said otherwise. She was our intel liaison, assigned by mistake, we liked
her, and convinced powers that be to keep her on. I took her tag, adding it to the others while I
grabbed the mic, thanking God this one was working.
“Sanctuary. Devil Bravo Six. Sanctuary. Devil Bravo Six. Nine-line medevac to follow.
How copy?”
Devil Bravo Six. Sanctuary. We read you Lima Charlie. Go ahead.
“Line one—” The loud screaming of a hajji running at me called my attention, blasting
away with his AK47 and hitting nothing but air. “Wait one!”
Bang! Bang! He dropped like a rock, skidding on his face across the ground a few feet.
I grabbed the mic in even more of a hurry, giving the location immediately, followed by
my radio frequency and call sign. “Line three, twenty nine alpha. Line four, alpha. Line five,
twenty nine alpha. Line six, x-ray.”
I paused to scan the area, making sure I could continue. The reply came immediately.
Twenty nine...? Holy Shit. Good copy Devil Bravo Six. Evac and Assistance on the way.
A whistle split the air just before an RPG hit the truck engine, jumping the whole truck so
hard I hit the roof, my body somehow rolled further into the vehicle.
“Fuck me…” I coughed breathless and off balance. “Get your ass here, Sanctuary! We
are under heavy fire!”
Roger Devil Bravo Six. Just hold your position.
“Cannot hold position. Too hot. Watch for,” I checked my vest. “Red smoke.”
Roger red smoke.
“Devil Bravo Six out.”
I found myself a bed of grass in a nice rocky crag just off the road with a good view
across the whole area. God! What a slaughter. Bodies everywhere. The trucks completely
screwed, most smoldering. They were still firing at the trucks and bodies as if expecting them to
get back up. I had stuffed all available pockets with magazines. All I could do now was keep
firing and pray. Twelve, maybe fourteen more died after I made that radio call.
How many of the bastards were there? When would my luck run out?
Finally, I heard the sweet sound of multiple helicopters. Taking a short reprieve from
shooting, I turned over, pulled the smoke grenade and tossed it. Two apaches roared past over
my head and unleashed hell on the enemy with rockets and really big guns, making more noise
than I think I’ve ever heard before.
Silence, except for the thunder of rotor blades, marked the end of the battle.
Dust and great wind kicked up from the choppers. Boots scrambled toward the carnage
on the highway, checking for survivors. For a moment or so, looking to the sky, praying for
survivors, seemed all I could manage. Maybe I was wrong.
Please, God.
With a reluctant, stiff body, I stood to look around. Since the age of eighteen, for twelve
years, the military had been everything to me. Firefights and losing friends had become an
unfortunate reality. You grieve then move on. This, however, was something altogether new.
Too much death. Too many lost. Too much blood. I cannot say why, but a sort of calm
enveloped me, a kind of numbness gripping my every fiber to wash away the grief and heartache.
Serenity through detachment due to great loss. The whole world in all its brutality and splendor
became perfectly clear, and I understood. Death is a part of war, and war is inevitable.
Peeling off my helmet, I closed my eyes with my face toward the ground. Grip lost, my
head can hit the dirt and rolled down the small slope from the side of the road.
“Be at peace, my friends. The only family I ever loved.”
Somewhere in the slaughter of HMMWVs and soldiers, I heard a voice. “MEDIC!”
It didn’t really register at first.
“Lieutenant Travers?” Another voice called from behind me over the sound of the
helicopters. “First Lieutenant Daren Travers!”
Turning, I faced the man at the bottom of the small crag just below me. A PJ sergeant in
full gear stood behind and just below me— Air Force Pararescue. They’d just saved my ass.
“I was ordered to ask if you have the Colonel’s secure package, sir. It’s about the size of
a pillbox. Metal. Strange writing. That’s all they told me.”
“Secure package?” I wondered for a moment then remembered. I’d almost forgotten. “I
have it.”
Two apaches circled the area while a few choppers sat on the ground, soldiers carting
bodies to them from the devastation. Worst defeat in my company’s history. I wondered who’d
dropped the ball on this one, or if there was a leak in intel. That Colonel sure had been adamant
about taking a convoy when a helicopter would have been safer and cut his total travel time
down to about twenty minutes rather than a couple of hours. The sudden urge to march over
there and beat the hell out of his corpse sounded delightful.
Don’t be psychotic, I thought. There’s enough of that bullshit in my family history.
The sergeant said something I paid no attention to, then he patted my right thigh pocket
where I kept the tags and that alien curio.
“Ah! What the hell?” The sergeant jolted.
I looked at him. “What was that?”
“Something in your pocket shocked me, sir.” He rubbed his hand. “We have to go. There
are a lot more on the way. Whatever this was, you boys sure as hell kicked up a hornet’s nest.
Let’s get you to the medivac. You’re wounded, sir.”
I nodded.
A faint electricity surged through my right leg, tingling up my spine and through my
bones. The Colonel’s package grew warmer in my pocket. Curious as a kitten confronted with its
own reflection in a mirror for the first time, I pulled the thing out. The lines and strange script
glowed pinkish violet, gaining intensity. Instantly, it grabbed at something inside me, freezing
my body and captivating my mind. The world drowned away. Lightning and thunder ripped and
roared across the suddenly darkening sky overhead, the horizons remaining blue. A vortex of
wind kicked up around me, spinning with a mounting force, tossing debris and rocks away.
Muffled voices called to me from beyond the whirlwind, yet I remained spellbound.
It lifted from my hand on its own, now shining too bright to look at, though I could not
pull my gaze away. When my feet left the ground, the weightless sensation brought me back to
reality. I’d lost grip on my M4, but it was attached to my vest via a one-point sling. Like an idiot,
I waved my arms and legs as though I could swim the five or six feet back to the dirt. That alien
device now hovered a foot over my head. Lighting surged beneath my feet and in the sky high
above me in every color of the rainbow. The cyclone swirled with pink and violet energy, bits of
eerie green slipping in here and there.
Thunder boomed before the bolt of red light hit me. I shouted at first, but then realized it
didn’t hurt. Numbness, fear, grief, anger. They no longer mattered. I was… Intrigued. Curious.
Eager, even. The bolt of red light and the maelstrom of energy and wind veiled the rest of the
world, opening up only at the head and foot into a never ending blackened abyss. The object
exploded.
Searing pain of a hundred thousand needles hammered through my skin, my muscle,
bones, and organs, until all I could feel was electric fire. Screaming in agony, unable to move,
frozen to the core as though dropped naked into the arctic amidst an inferno. Knives pierced my
eyes. Jackhammers assaulted my ears. Nostrils charred and burned. Dry ice forced down my
throat.
My eyelids opened to the fury of power surging through me, and there I saw Afghanistan
fade. The Earth and Moon, then Sol drifted. Stars and darkness whizzed by. That alien script
from the little pillbox passed across my eyes, scrolling a thousand words a second and I
understood it. Then another star came near, followed by three moons orbiting a planet surely
larger than Earth, full of greens and blues. Suddenly, the light blinded me, numbed every one of
my senses into perfect stillness and hush. It exploded so hard it might have ripped me apart. I hit
the ground with a splash and lay there numb for a while before gathering strength to stand.
Splotches of light assaulting my eyes, ears ringing, my body rigid and stiff, I struggled to gather
my feet beneath me. Too quickly the sensations faded and the final surges of energy drifted
away.
Panting for air, I stood in thigh deep water of a place I did not recognize. Though my
body still stung from the meat-grinding battle I’d just been through, my senses had strangely
recovered. Once more, I was on alert, bringing up my rifle. Everything around was simply alien.
The few flowers around the clearing gave odd geometric shapes in neon colors. Trees
with unusual, intertwining roots and bark more like taught skin colored a reddish brown. The
leaves of every plant were fern-like with differing spade shapes, taking on dark blue-greens and
aqua colors. The jungle grew thick, tall, and old. The water in the slender river I stood in
appeared clear, having a slight, somehow natural pinkish hint to it. The algae and scant bits of
underwater plant life were more of a blue with pink cores rather than green.
Stepping out of the water on alert, filled with awe, wonder, I wiped water from my face
and hair, eyes drifted toward the gap in the trees above the clearing a short distance to my left.
The sky had a hint of natural green in its hue rather than the solid blue of Earth’s skies. Two stars
burned bright overhead. Gasping, I stepped forward as though it would afford me a better view,
nearly ripping the very expensive bulletproof sunglasses off my face. The star on the lower right
shone small and yellow, while the one immediately to its left was three times the size, shining
red-orange.
“Binary stars,” I stammered, drawing on a deep breath. “Binary fucking stars!”
Eyes aching from the light, I looked away and put my sunglasses back on. Curiosity and
awe gave way to a pounding pulse that drowned the aches and pains across my frame and a blank
mind, unsure what to think.
Get out of the clearing. Find high ground. Get your bearings. I told myself, then paused
before I even started walking.
A small bird stopped to inspect me, hovering only inches from my face. Barely larger
than a humming bird, and neon green, bits of neon blue on its wings and tail, with pink stripes. It
had three beady black eyes forming a triangle on its head, and a long, curved, needle-like beak.
Several more just like it whizzed past, and the little one inspecting me hurried after them, its
wings whizzing against the wind.
Following for a moment until I reached a boulder beside the river, I saw something else
even stranger. Eight, I think. Built almost like a rhinoceros, but easily twice the size and colored
to match the foliage with stripes and swirls. Their skin at least looked tougher than a rhino, and
had one massive horn on the end of their noses rather than two. The one in the lead had a split
head crest like a triceratops, not quite the same, while six of the others did not, except the
smallest in the herd. They were running at an easy pace, glaring at me while passing at least a
hundred or more meters away across the river.
The gray boulder next to me stood taller than I am and twice as fat. On the flat face
skittered a little aqua shaded lizard that looked more like a hairless, scaled flying squirrel.
“Where the hell am I?” I wondered aloud. Is this a dream? Am I unconscious? All those
movies I watch might explain this shit. Or was that some kind of secret military high-tech
gadget? Fuck. It feels so real. I’m really starting to think this is an honest to God alien world…
Holy shit, that means… “I was just teleported! Fuck me sideways.”
A cylinder of bright green light blasted so close to my head I could feel the heat, leaving
an electric-laser-like hiss behind it in the air. Another went right through my legs and exploded
in the water behind me.
“Shit!” I yelled and ducked behind the boulder, finding myself back in the water. “What
the hell was…?”
Chancing a peek, I took a quick scan of the clearing in the direction I thought the blasts
had come from. Seven humanoid creatures skulked behind trees watching me.
Easily seven feet tall with shoulders three feet wide, they were built like a bunch of lean
Arnold Schwarzeneggers. Clad in full body armor from head to toe that had camouflage too
perfectly blended into the forest to be painted on. I only spotted them because of the sun glaring
off their yellowed visors built into the full-head helmets, which were designed with a bulbous
head and a pointed backside. Once I knew what I was looking at, it was easier to spot them all.
Even from the distance I could see they only had four fingers. Their rifles were long and heavy-
looking, with buttstocks curved to the shoulders and loop-style grips built into the stocks. Each
rifle had three barrels in an almost mini-gun style.
Only one did not have a mouthpiece attached to his helmet. His (and I am assuming it
was a he) mouth split three ways, with the chin dropping and two upper lips raising at angles, all
forming one gaping maw full of sharp teeth. He took a shot at me. Dust and pebbles splattered
my face before I could duck, the green blast ricocheting with an electric zing off into the jungle.
Immediately I popped back up with a quick aim and took a shot at him while he laughed.
The noise he made was odd, like WHA-WHA-WHA-WHAH! Rather than a more human laugh.
However, it was short lived. A single bullet from my M4 slammed through his teeth and open
mouth. The alien soldier went stiff for a few seconds while purplish-gray blood began poured out
around his mouth. Then he just fell over.
“Stop shooting that green shit at me!” I shouted at them while the others studied their
dead companion as though not understanding what had just happened.
Taking advantage of their distraction, I fired at another. My bullets pinged off his helmet
like mere pebbles in the wind. That got their attention and my aggravation. Green laser blasts
seared my way, pelting the rock in front and the water behind me. I had to shoot back, but the
rounds were barely scratching their armor even from thirty meters.
More laser blasts came from the left, forcing me to turn on the new shooter, drop into a
crouch that brought the water up to my chest, and fire back. Still zinging off his armor, finally
one bullet ripped through his neckpiece. His rifle dropped when he grabbed at his gushing throat,
then he fell forward gagging on his own blood.
“The neck is weak,” I told myself.
With a quick scan to reveal no more were flanking me, I turned my attention back to the
other guys. I mean, the aliens. Yes. The aliens.
Wow. This is like a bad sci-fi. Except I’m in it.
Aiming for their necks, even as good a shot as I am, proved difficult with four firing at
me from two positions, and two more flanking me. I shot at the flankers just enough to get them
to stop and duck behind a tree. I had no idea where to run, nor where to go, and no hope for
reinforcement or evac. Pinned down and already half my ammo was gone. A Ranger’s worst
nightmare.
“Fuckin’ A!” I growled win an unexpected smirk and chuckle. Staff Sergeant Jenkins’s
favorite phrase. Crazy bastard. I wasted another mag and one more body while thinking about
that. “Just fucking leave me alone or die! You ugly bastards!”
Another magazine spent, but with no kills; I dropped the empty one to replace it with a
full one. There were five of them left and I only had four mags. I’d had a pistol too, but there was
no telling where it went. Briefly, I scolded myself internally about how the hell I could have lost
an entire pistol and holster during a firefight (most likely back in Afghanistan a short while ago).
Now it was lightyears away, I assumed. I still had two grenades. Pulling one, I cooked the
grenade for a two count before tossing it over the boulder in the direction of the group. I heard a
shout only an instant before the explosion rocked the air. A second explosion hit, then an
immediate third, followed by three more instantaneously. My one must have detonated theirs.
Again, I chanced a peek. Four bodies, or at least the remnants thereof, lay across the
clearing in a bloody, scattered mess amidst a ruin of blasted plant bits and charred dirt. Green
lasers splattered the rock in front of my face, making me duck again, this time with another
chuckle.
“Fuck you!” I yelled from behind the boulder.
My bullets might not be punching through their armor, but I had yet to miss any of them.
The rock and water seemed to be all they could hit. Either they were horrible shots, maybe the
proverbial emperor had ordered them to miss so as to advance his evil scheme, or I was just that
lucky. I honestly think it was luck. Or grace from God. That would work, too.
I popped off a few more rounds to keep their heads down so I could pull my second
grenade. But I didn’t even have my hand on it before something punched me in the back so hard
it stole my breath and took me off my feet. I threw forward with the force of the blast a good ten
feet or so, landing face-first in the river. Gasping for air and coughing up water, I lunged out of
the river and headed for the nearest tree as fast as I could scramble. My spine felt like rubber,
and my body armor was still on fire! Pulling the quick release rip cord at my collar, I got out of
the IOTV as fast as humanly possible.
Now all I had to protect my hide was my multicam uniform—ACS shirt, pants, boots, the
old knuckled leather gloves I’d had for the last three years, and the shabby shemagh scarf I’d
worn for my last four deployments. I guess I could count the knee and elbow pads in on that, but
it seemed a moot point, all things considered.
I’d been tracking the last alien remaining. Whoever shot me in the back must have been
reinforcements because I’d taken out seven of the original eight so far. A quick scan revealed
there were eight more firing from four positions, plus that last one from the previous squad.
And… what in the hell was that hulking monster on two legs lurking in the shadows? Jesus! He
had to be eight or nine feet tall.
“Mother of God!” I growled frustrated, replacing yet another empty mag. Checking my
equipment, I only had three full mags left, to include the one in my rifle already. And to make
things worse, my last grenade was still attached to my vest laying at the bottom of the shallow
river ten meters away. “I haven’t got the ammo for this. I gotta get the fuck out of here.” Should
have done that sooner, dumbass.
Their lasers began to tear the hell out of my tree. Looking for a way out, a glimmer
caught my eye to the far left. The river turned toward a large break in the jungle from where I
could hear the sound of a small waterfall.
“Looks maybe two hundred meters. Fuck these guys, I can make that.”
I barely took a step forward when I froze, my rifle at the low ready. Three alien soldiers
suddenly de-cloaked right in front of me and the others stopped firing. Their armor literally
shifted from perfectly jungle-colored camo to a dull, metallic gray. The armor looked like some
kind of mashup of full body gear, heavy duty motorcycle armor, and football shoulder pads, with
a really weird looking helmet.
I stood up straight, taking my trigger hand off the rifle slowly.
“Clever girls…” I mumbled.
The one on the right shouted at me in some kind of guttural gibberish I could not even
begin to understand. Angrier and more adamant, he shouted again, nudging the air with his rifle
in a gesture toward the ground. Even a private fresh out of high school would understand a
universal “drop your gun or you’re dead” sign.
“Not my best day.”
My back still felt like rubber, yet on fire from taking that blast which had practically
melted my Kevlar. All the aches, stings, and bruises across my body from the two firefights
reared their ugly heads with a vengeance now that I had a moment of real pause. Vision began to
blur, ears dulling, and skull pounding. Was my heartbeat slowing? I hit the ground on my knees,
dropping my rifle in a dizzy, dreary haze, then shook my head. The world spun.
Flashes of blue and red rained in from the right. All three of my would-be captors hit the
dirt dead. Everything became a fog of blue and green lights, shouts, and electric sizzles
slamming into things, lighting the jungle up like a neon sign. A blast struck my shoulder, an
immediate second smashing my thigh, the pair spinning me around and taking me to the ground
on my side.
A human face hovered over me in a cloud of tanned skin and black hair. I knew those
eyes—nearly Japanese and yet bold green. A sweet gaze I can never forget. Could it be? So far
from home? Dare I hope?
The world was going dark.
“Daren! Hold on!” Her voice…
Saya?
TWO
Awake to the Future

Slipping in between vivid dreams that mimicked bad trips on LSDs while battling against
jellyfish, talking horses, and those alien assholes in the jungle amidst the faces of my dead
platoon, I woke periodically. I got a sense of sterile white walls appearing almost metallic yet
somehow not, ceilings made entirely of hexagon-shaped tiles that all gave off soft light, along
with strange life forms and completely holographic computer interfaces. Holographic computer
screens were simple panels of light with no visible projectors, lenses, or screens, in full HD. I’d
seen enough sci-fi movies and games to figure that one out. And if the time on the screen over
my head was correct, the surgery lasted at least six hours.
The doctors extracted five bullets, almost two dozen fragments of shrapnel, and replaced
charred, melted flesh in three places. Afterward, they stuck a breathing unit over my face and
dropped me into what looked like a giant petri-dish filled with some kind of clear-blue gel.
Nothing to do but sleep and watch the news, thirty hours passed while the gel healed my
surprisingly extensively damaged body. According to the doctors, I shouldn’t have survived.
Wished I hadn’t.
While floating in that transparent tank, I nearly shat myself when an alien came to talk. I
think she was some kind of psychiatrist. She seemed a near-transparent-opaque blue where I
could almost but not quite see her bone structure, with pink head tendrils in place of hair I
figured were either dreadlocks or tentacles. Maybe she had been sent in to help me either
understand my situation better, or to put me at ease that I was not hallucinating and this was real
after all.
I couldn’t pronounce her name, thus forgot it almost instantly. She explained a lot of
things while at the same time blatantly assessing my mental state. The important information I
got from our chat included the following, among other topics. The Earth year is 2257, and
galactic cycle number (standard galactic year) 17,358. That weird alien pillbox-curio doodad was
actually some sort of sixty million year old trans-dimensional key that opens a gateway into
space-time…or something like that. Also, Earth has basically become a shithole comparable to
most post-apocalyptic movies and games I’d seen before, with the human Parliament now based
on a terraformed Mars. Then there is the fact that I’m what people call a Traveler, a club solely
exclusive to people who encounter and somehow activate those trans-dimensional keys spread all
across the galaxy. And another tidbit that I clung onto was the fact that every single other
Traveler, every last one, have been scientists, inventors, philosophers, and others of that sort; all
of which have had an IQ above 160. But I’m a soldier and my IQ is not genius level. So I didn’t
exactly qualify for the club.
Afterward, we had a long, arduous talk, with a more emotion than I cared to admit, about
what happened in Afghanistan. I lost a lot of good soldiers, friends, the only family I cared
about. I longed to go back to that battlefield. It’s not a feeling I can describe, nor do I care to.
That’s all I have to say about that.
I could feel her in my head through the process. It was a whisper in the back of my brain,
an emotion heard with my mind’s eye rather than my ears. I don’t know how.
Next time I came to, I found myself in a bed in a small room to myself, as opposed to that
vat of goo surrounded by people, instruments and other vats. The alien doctor was nowhere in
sight. The bed was thin and looked like it hovered below me, attached to the wall only at the
head. An open sliding doorway across the room revealed a bathroom I almost recognized. On the
wall across from the foot of the bed hung a completely holographic display—nothing but a panel
of projected light, no screen or visible lenses—I could not stop gawking at it—showing a red
reptilian human-like creature with really big yellow eyes talking about the local news. Two
chairs made of metal and cloth, appearing oddly comfortable, sat against the right wall. In one
chair rested a pile of clothes, and in the other…
Her beautiful black hair no longer hung to her waist like I remembered. In its place, a
seemingly purposefully almost messy style somewhere between bobbed and boyish. Her soft,
tanned skin a beautiful blend of her Japanese-Israeli heritage. And that pretty face I would
recognize anywhere, forever looking a few years younger than she really was.
She wore an outfit of brown on gray with highlights of orange-ish-gold, consisting of
fatigue pants fit almost perfectly to her hips and legs, and a slimming jacket that looked well
used, fashioned as a sort of cross between modern biker and space ship mechanic. I have no idea
what the suit was made of, only that it had some kind of heavy, super-tight synthetic weave.
With her jacket hung open, her pink t-shirt beneath showed off a cartoon kitten riding a rainbow.
She slumped deeply in the chair, arms crossed but limp, quietly snoozing. The first thing
on my mind was shock and confusion while my thoughts raced for an answer.
How? Not possible. So I wasn’t hallucinating in that jungle.
And then.
She’s dressed like some kind of space-ship mechanic.
Sitting up proved easier than I expected, especially since I understood it to only be a few
days after getting shot up to hell and back. I tossed the white sheet down. I wore black boxer
briefs and a matching sleeveless t-shirt that might as well have been spandex as tight as it fit. I
had to pull, prod, and crane my neck around uncomfortably to see all the new scars dotting my
skin, which only added to the others. No bandages and the lack of lengthy timeframe meant that
the vat of goo had healed me completely in a few hours rather than a few weeks.
“Talk about advanced medical science. Holy shit.” I mumbled distracted, then looked
back to my guest. “Saya?”
She jolted awake. Those big, gorgeous, emerald half-Japanese eyes opened up and stared
at me. I let the world slip away, staring into a face I had once called my lover many years ago.
As she stared back, a small smile curled the corners of her mouth, teeth showing.
“Daren!” She exclaimed, jumping out of her seat and rushing across the room.
Throwing her arms around me, she practically jumped onto the bed, tossing us both
backward. It felt so damn good to have someone I knew, even an ex-girlfriend, in such a strange
world. She smelled of wildflowers and engines, just like always. Never thought I’d have missed
her this much, maybe it was simply the familiar face. I prayed this was not a hallucination.
“How are you here?” I finally asked.
She pulled back, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
“Remember when I went to work for NASA?”
“Yeah. That was, what, ten years ago? You said you were working on new engine
designs. What happened? You disappeared almost two years ago.”
“An object came in. Several of us were pulled off to study it. It was a trans-dimensional
key. The instant I touched it, it activated. I’ve been here for almost two years now. It’s a strange
and amazing galaxy, Daren. You might not believe it, but I work on a warp-tunnel drive ship!”
The mention of her work lit up that face with such enthusiasm and joy.
“Warp-tunnel drive? What kind of crazy Star Trek B S is that?”
She chuckled. “It’s based on a very old, and highly advanced alien design. You see, it
takes the theory of wormholes and applies it to a warp drive. In other words, it uses a warp
bubble to create a wormhole-like tunnel, linking two points together almost instantaneously.
Other than the anteeans and the shaozjen, there’s really nothing else like it currently.” She
paused, no doubt having seen the sheer confusion building on my face. “Think of it like a portal.
You get to your desired point in space within a few seconds, or maybe a few minutes.
Conversely, getting around inside that region once you’re there might take days or weeks. But…
I’m losing you, aren’t I?”
I nodded slowly. “You lost me at ‘alien design’. You’re literally the smartest human alive
with an IQ above 300, and I’m a dinky soldier. That’s all the information I need. Anything more
and my brain might melt.”
She laughed.
“Oh! Talk about your brain melting. I thought you’d like this.” She reached into a pocket
and pulled something out, dropping it into my hand. Her grin spread from ear to ear. “Check that
out. It’s my lucky die.”
A green cube with black dots. A five-sided cube, to be exact. I stared with growing
confusion, turning the die over and over in my hand.
“What the hell is this? Its… Saya, this is a five sided cube!”
“I know!” She smiled amused and thrilled.
I glared at her blank and confused, then back to the die.
“No. You do understand that cubes have six sides? This only has five and it’s still a
perfect cube. What the hell! It even has six numbers. Is this some kind of optical illusion?”
“Is your brain melting yet?” Her face filled with enthusiasm and glee.
“Yes! Take this devilry the hell back!” I shoved it back at her.
She laughed. Such a sweet, chipper thing halfway between that weird, shy Japanese
schoolgirl giggle and a full-on American girl laugh. It always brought a smile to my face. We
paused for a moment, eyes locked. She continued to smile with zeal.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I told her finally. “Knowing someone oughtta make this whole
sci-fi galaxy thing easier.”
Her gaze softened and deepened. “It’s good to see you again.” She pointed to the chair
behind her. “There’s a set of clothes for you. It’s a uniform.”
“A uniform?” I asked immediately, not understanding.
“Long story short?” She asked with a shrug and I nodded. Then she mussed up her face in
that half-annoyed thoughtful look she gets some times. “You never want the technical details.”
“Sorry, darlin’. You point and I shoot.”
Shaking her head, “The Earth Alliance Fleet rescued you. Ages ago, previous travelers
figured out how to track when and where new travelers would appear. The American
government and the UN back in our time knew about the keys. So, they never officially closed
your file. Instead, they froze your status and now you’ve been reactivated.”
“I’m reactivated? Shit. I just got here. That was quick.”
“Like I said, we’ve been expecting you. Now listen carefully. We’re not in EA space, this
space station is full of mercs, gangs, and outlaws, and the officials are as corrupt as it gets. Our
ship was able to stabilize you, but you were in bad shape, and we didn’t have enough RH
negative blood onboard. We had to get you help as fast as possible, so we registered you here
under a falsified biometric scan. An armed escort would only have alerted the wrong people. I
need to get you out of here as soon as possible. Just act natural and get dressed. I’ll be right back.
I’ve got to sign you out.”
She hopped off the bed and started toward the door.
“Wait, Saya. Am I in danger?”
Saya stopped and turned before opening the door. “The first two weeks after a traveler
arrives is the most crucial. The Anteeans are a very old, technologically advanced race who pay
exorbitant sums to acquire travelers. You’ve been here a week. Another week and you will be
useless to Anteean scientists. Just stay here, cowboy.”
And with that, she left. Swinging my legs over the side, I sat on the edge of the bed.
“Biometric scans, holograms, and alien assholes trying to probe me. Yep. I’m officially
in a bad sci-fi.” I chuckled at the notion. “Now I just need a ray-gun.”
Clothes. Military fatigue pants with a slimming jacket that sealed up the right side front
then across the collar and had a mandarin style neck. Tall black boots in a sort of cowboy-biker
combat style that just looked awesome. The black rigger’s belt appeared to be the same as they
had been in my time except the material was different—why get rid of a good thing, huh? The
uniform had a charcoal black on dark navy blue pattern.
My last name, Travers, was embroidered onto a stiff cloth name strip on the upper left
breast, and exactly below it, EA FLEET, both sets of text in gold. A pin made from some kind of
silver and gold fabric-alloy I had trouble wrapping my mind around centered above the name
strips—the silver part made up the UN’s planet and wreath emblem emblazoned on the breast of
a golden rudimentary eagle, head facing right, with no tail or feet. I fingered the strange pin for a
moment. The silver-fabric pin just above the emblem was something more recognizable: a
crossed musket and saber with a wreath.
When I saw the gray with black text Ranger tab across my left shoulder, I smiled. I got
curious about the phoenix and shield patch, same color scheme as the tab, with the number 17 at
the bottom point and the word LEGACY arched across the top. Interest bit in harder about the
Navy-style rank on my shoulders. Black and gold, stiff cloth shoulder boards were sewn directly
onto the jacket, two broad bars and one thin stripe between, stretching sideways at the outer
edges.
“Navy rank?” I mumbled, curious. “Huh. Must be part of my cover or something. Or, it
could be that it’s almost two and a half centuries later and ranks are different in space.”
There were two sets of dog tags. The ones I recognized, dull, scratched, and permanently
dirtied, hung together on a short chain only. I stared, wondering, waiting for the illusion to end,
dreaming of better days. Images ran through my mind of the battle on the Afghanistan highway
where my whole platoon was wiped out. It had broken me, shattered everything. Now, though…
That blue skinned doctor flashed through my head. She had done something to me when she
touched the side of my healing tank. It took away the pain. Or had I lived years of it in a matter
of seconds? No way to tell. I felt cheated, as though I somehow had failed those who died. I put
them in my pocket along with those thoughts.
The second tags looked like a normal set, except the information was different, and they
had a tiny gold square at the flat side away from the text.
Travers, Daren M.
A592Y631BX8
AB neg, Human
Earth Alliance Fleet Marines
United States, Earth, Sol System
Name, a file number I didn’t recognize, blood type and species, military affiliation, and
the last part was either birth place or residency. That little gold square must have been a
microchip. I slipped them on over my head, dropping the set beneath my undershirt.
The last item was a watch-looking thing with a three inch wide synthetic leather band and
a flat, smooth rectangular metal face. Instead of digital numbers or a clock face, the watch had a
small holographic interface with the usual items: Zulu time and date, and… temperature? After
securing it to my left wrist, I began to play with it. More than just a watch!
“Is this a computer?” I mumbled, inspecting it with the care of a scientist. It certainly had
enough programs. “And a communication device! Holy shit.” I grinned with pride at my
discovery. “I’m Dick Tracy of the twenty-third century!” I chuckled at my own idiotic joke.
“Ooh. Or maybe Buck Rogers.”
Greetings, Daren. The watch said in a calm, smooth feminine voice.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Jesus! You can talk, too?”
Of course. I am your personal M. A. C. I., Mobile Assistant Computer Interface.
Pronounced Macy. I am a fully interactive artificial intelligence.
All I could do was stare open mouthed and listen.
My primary programming includes date-time functions, short-range climate scan, basic
computing and translation functions, external computer system interaction, audio-visual
communications, and a basic biometric health monitor. However, I am an EA Fleet Marines
model. Thus, I have also been programmed with basic EA Fleet information such as primary
regulations manuals, tactics analysis, geographic mapping analysis up to two kilometers, and
weapons and gear scanning. As well, Chief Engineer Sayako Takahashi, wrote me an advanced
personalized, self-evolving, self-adapting security suite, and upgraded my hardware to the
significantly tougher engineer user needs, making me more resilient in every way.
“Fuckin’ A,” I mumbled, taken completely aback. A few seconds of silence ensued
before it really hit me what I had. “That’s awesome! Just out of curiosity, Maci. How big is your
operating software? I mean hard drive size and ram.”
Researching terms, ‘hard drive’ and ‘ram’. Archaic computer terminology. Outdated and
phased out by Earth year twenty-ninety-one. Irrelevant to current technological standards.
Computer hardware systems of today, including myself, are quantum computing processors
running on a synthetic crystalline matrix. For example, I store and analyze two hundred
terabytes of data, with a processing rate of five terabytes per second. I am currently
programmed only with basic data stores. There are one hundred and ninety five terabytes of data
storage space left in my operating system. Functioning at average user capacity, it is estimated
that a Maci unit will need either replacement or upgrade once every three years. Just remember,
I am not an entertainment media storage device, although I can manage such programs, they
will significantly reduce my storage and processing capacity at a much quicker rate.
“Well, I think you’re awesome, Maci.”
Thank you, Daren.
“Uh. Do me a favor and tell me what rank I’m wearing.”
Your current rank is Staff Lieutenant, equivalent to old US Army captain’s rank, as you
are a recently activated member of the EA Fleet. In my data stores, I have your full personal,
military, and medical records from your life in the early twenty-first century, as well as your
updated current profile and medical scans. According to my information, you were awarded the
Medal of Honor two years after you were publically labeled as missing in action in August of
twenty-thirteen. However, your official records were sealed and classified above top secret until
your return.
“Okay. That’s enough. Fascinating, though… The Medal of Honor, huh?” I smiled and
laughed softly, feeling a bit smug. “Good shit. Alright, Maci. Can you help me get to the lobby?
I need to find Saya.”
Locating Chief Engineer Sayako Takahashi. Found in main lobby three levels above our
location. Your requested route and destination are now on the mapping system.
The entire length of my forearm facing me lit up into red, yellow, and blue lights making
up a flat holographic two-dimensional map of the hospital floor. Once more in awe, I turned my
forearm over to see if it wrapped all the way around. Instead, the map and the watch face
followed my eyes. I giggled like a child with a bucket of candy.
“I am so going to love this era.”
The only other thing on the chair was a fitted charcoal colored ball cap with a short,
squared brim. The sewn-on hat brass was the exact same as the insignia pin above the name
plates on my jacket, except twice the size.
There was nothing else on the chair or in the room, so I left. Maci’s map and directions
made it really easy. Although, I had to have passed a dozen different alien species on my way
and all I could do was stare like an idiot, whilst trying not to bump into people. More than a few
of them gave me dirty looks or told me off.
I found Saya standing at a window across the lobby from the elevators. She was speaking
with a human woman, giving the receptionist a flat, transparent data pad of some kind. Turning
around, she immediately saw me. I turned Maci’s map interface off.
“Good to know all that army land navigation was good for something” she joked. “You
found your way.”
“Yeah,” I nodded, holding up my left wrist. “And I found Maci. I love this thing! But I
have a question.”
“Shoot.”
“Why is it that everyone sounds like they’re speaking perfect English? I swear their lips
are moving out of tune to the words. It’s weird. It’s screwing with my head.”
“Oh. That takes getting used to. They didn’t tell you?” She asked but I had to shake my
head. “In order to facilitate inter-species relations and break linguistic barriers, your cerebral
cortex was implanted with microscopic bio-technoid phonic detection systems capable of
decoding and translating all written and spoken humanoid languages, as well as many non-
humanoid.”
I stared, blinked then asked, “What? Can you put that in layman’s terms?”
She gave me a look almost as confused as mine. “That is the official layman’s definition.
Come on, Daren. You’re smarter than that.” I shrugged. She sighed. “You have microscopic
translation cyborgs in your brain.”
“Oh! Cool.”
“Now, come on, cowboy. We’ve got to get you out of here before trouble shows up.”
Just about the time we turned for the door, a Fleet soldier in uniform came walking in. At
a hurried pace like he was on a serious mission, he made a straight line for us. Early thirties,
roughly my size, with a well-trimmed, close-cut beard. He wore a pistol of some crazy futuristic
yet recognizable boxy design on his right hip. Still wearing his hat with silver insignia on it, his
shoulders had three white chevrons pointed outward with a diamond set in the pointed dip at the
top. The silver text on his name plates said his name was Herring.
He stopped at attention and saluted me immediately. I returned the salute.
“Sir, chief. We have to go.” He certainly sounded serious and in a bigger rush than his
walk. “And with a quickness.”
He turned and I followed with Saya close on my heels.
In the small lot just outside the door, there were plenty of odd looking vehicles parked
around, several of which attached to short jetway loading bridges at various points and floors
overhead. Only a few aliens and one human meandered about the lot. Two armed guards in full
body armor and helmets, much like that Jadawn style, stood outside at the door. I caught a
glimpse of a few vehicles that did not even touch the ground whizzing out into the open air. An
entire city of colorfully lit skyscrapers hung from the ceiling of the city-sized rock chamber we
were in, all interconnected by countless suspended roadways. No immediate threats, so I could
stop and take in the sights later.
“Wow.” I heard myself say
The inside of the vehicle was cramped, just a few seats, no windows, a computer
interface across the cabin from me, and a door that lifted and slid up into the roof. It had a flat
back wall and a flat front wall with tapered upper corners at the sides, and a slender sliding
doorway at the front I assumed led to the driver’s seat. Or was it a cockpit? We started moving
before the door was closed.
Two other soldiers in uniform stood silently at the back, holding hand rails above their
heads while they took me in. They wore strange metallic armor (or maybe some kind of high-
tech material?). Consisting of shin guards, forearms, weird combat-football looking helmets with
upper visors instead of football masks, and a contoured full torso and shoulder piece, everything
but the helmet interconnected by what I was guessing to be some kind of exoskeleton. Their
rifles were long and boxy, with a contoured shoulder butt, two pistol grips and long squared
scopes on top. No signs of a magazine. Must have been energy weapons. I think I’ve seen
enough movies and games to make that educated guess. The Hispanic-looking corporal’s
nameplate read Lopez, while the blond haired (couldn’t be more Germanic if he tried) Private’s
nameplate said Kline.
“That equipment standard?” I asked the one I assumed to be a corporal—his two
chevrons were upside down.
“This isn’t our standard equipment, sir,” he replied immediately. He possessed a slight
Hispanic accent. “This is for basic infantry and security personnel. We’re Rangers. Advanced
recon. Our usual gear is an armored exosuit. Personally, sir, the only thing this shit’s good for is
a shrapnel target. Still don’t see why we had to wear this crap. Even if it is a low profile
extraction.”
“Corporal, stow it,” Herring barked at him. “The lieutenant doesn’t need to hear your
bitching just yet.”
“Roger that, Gunny.”
I nodded with an amused smirk, looking around the cabin of the vehicle one more time.
“What the hell is this thing?” I asked. “This can’t be military.”
“Short range transport. Not ours. We had to procure it.” Herring told me.
“You stole a car?”
“No choice, sir. We got hit by a local gang. Had to send the squad vehicle back and sneak
this thing out from under them. Couldn’t risk endangering the mission further. Chief,” he looked
at Saya, “the engines are hot and the whole crew has been called back. They’re just waiting for
us.”
“What’s going on?” I interrupted him. “And who are you?”
“My apologies, sir. Gunnery Sergeant Jack Herring. Fleet Marines. Chief Takahasi here
is the chief engineer onboard our ship. The chief might be from the stone age, but she’s smart
enough to have redesigned an alien warp-tunnel drive system when she’d only been in our time a
few weeks. You’ve been temporarily assigned to us. On another note, we just received intel that
the Anteeans sent a Jadawn dreadnaught this way. They’ll be here in an hour.”
“Oh my God!” Saya gasped, wide eyed. “They sent a dreadnaught?”
“Yes they did. Apparently they didn’t like you killing that Tac Ops squad, sir.”
“Who are the Jadawn?” I asked.
“That squad of alien soldiers you killed in the blue jungle? That was Jadawn Special
Operations. They call it Tactical Advanced Combat Operations, hence, Tac Ops. You made one
of the most feared military special operations units in the galaxy look like a bunch of privates
fresh from boot. And you did it with nothing but primitive projectile weaponry. They’re the big
bad wolves, so to speak. They evolved biologically and technologically specifically for hunting
and war, and they’re real mean bastards. You won’t meet many Jadawn with much semblance of
tolerance. Their entire race has been soldiers for hire for the last five thousand years, give or
take. The Anteeans like to use them as their personal hired muscle. But they’ll fight for anyone
for the right price, even against their own people. It’s like they say, sir. A Jadawn’s sense of
honor is second only to his greed, but they’re loyal to the death.”
“That’s disconcerting.” I grumbled.
“The Trans Galactic Alliance covers roughly twenty percent of the galaxy. The Sol
System is located in the central outter quadrant near the galactic rim. In the last hundred and fifty
years, the EA Fleet has become one of the most powerful in the entire TGA. Even so, there isn’t
much that can withstand the power of a Jadawn dreadnaught. A single one has been known to
wipe out small moons in a barely few hours, and destroy entire armadas in minutes. We’re a
recon and stealth strike vessel. Trust me, we don’t want to tangle with these guys. The best we
can do is run and hide.”
“Sounds like a flying death fortress,” I replied, disconcerted at the concept.
Saya put a hand on my shoulder. “Relax, cowboy. Our ships are faster than theirs.
Especially the Legacy.”
“The Legacy?” I asked her with a raised eyebrow.
Saya grinned proudly. “She’s my baby.”
“Your baby?” Even more perplexing.
“Yes. I designed her.” She beamed with pride.
I stared, wide eyed and open mouthed. “You’ve been here two years! You already
designed and built an advanced warship?”
“Actually, I finished the designs after my third month in this era. They started production
on the prototype a few weeks later. The Legacy is one of only two of her kind in the galaxy. Of
course, they’re both in the EA Fleet. Since she was the first off the production line, I couldn’t
entrust her engine to anyone else.”
“Holy Jesus.” I had to breathe and sit down. Hearing about her intellect and achievements
usually makes me nauseas.
“Oh. One more thing, sir.” The Gunnery Sergeant said, opening a cabinet slot I didn’t
know was behind him, and pulling out a holstered pistol. “You might need this.”
Not a pistol. A revolver. Heavy, with a flat black finish and a formed grip. The barrel was
long and boxy, with a laser sight attached into the bottom, small iron sights on top, and no
hammer. The cylinder was comprised of seven hexagonal shaped tubes that had a little dull
orange light on the forward side of each. A bit heavy, but I liked that about guns in general. It
felt really good in my hand while I played with it.
He continued. “I familiarized myself with your military profile, sir.” I glanced up at him.
“Captain’s orders.” My attention went back to the revolver. “It says you’re rated expert with all
old era US military weapons. Then it happened to mention you’re some kind of savant or
something with a revolver.”
“It actually says ‘savant’ in my official military profile?” I asked, almost laughing.
“Yes, sir.”
“Huh. I think I know who might have wrote that,” I replied with an amused grin. “I like
it. Got a good weight. Give me the specs.”
“It’s called The Hound,” Saya said. “I’ll summarize for you. The barrel conceals an
energized plasma rail system. The cylinder is designed to recharge as it spins, giving you a total
of eighty shots before reload.” I noted the two extra cylinders in the weapon belt. “It’s got the
punch of a Desert Eagle with ten percent of the recoil, and a fifty yard maximum effective range.
They call it The Hound because it barks like an electric dog. Also, it’s an energy weapon, so you
don’t have to worry about gravity and environmental forces pulling on the blasts like you do
bullets. Unless, of course, there’s a big electro-magnetic field in the way.”
I looked at her, wondering how to formulate the question on my mind. “Why does a
weapon firing only energy blasts have recoil at all? And why does it make sound? Shouldn’t it be
silent?”
“It’s a high velocity energized plasma blast, Daren. Basically put, a miniature explosion
exiting the barrel at a quarter of the speed of light. Trust me, there’s sound and recoil.”
“So… Science. Right?”
She laughed and shook her head. “Right.”
I secured the belt around my waist with the formed holster on my right thigh. Saya
looked at me oddly.
“What?” I shrugged. “I’m ambidextrous.”
“Not with pistols you’re not.”
“Are you still on about that? It’s only a half of a second difference.”
“For someone with a draw as fast as yours, a half of a second is a lifetime.”
“Well, do you have a second pistol, then?”
The three soldiers in the transport gave me a questioning look, then each other.
“Not in this vehicle,” the gunnery sergeant replied.
“Daren, put the weapon on your left hip,” Saya commanded, giving me a stern look with
hands on her hips. “Now.”
“Ugh,” I sighed. “Yes, mom.”
“Don’t give me that lip. We’re in a dangerous situation and might need you at full
capacity.”
The holster was designed to switch from one hip to the other. Efficient and cost effective.
I did what she asked.
“Do you even have a rank?” I asked her. “You’re not wearing a uniform. You’re a
civilian contractor, aren’t you?”
“Yes. And a damn good one who loves her job.”
“Shouldn’t you be at some high tech facility designing some new techno-wizardry?”
“I design and consult all the time. But I can do all of that from my workstation or at my
quarters’ computer.”
I noticed the computer screen set into the wall behind her. It showed the outside world
rushing by as we literally flew through the air in what I could best describe as a flying brick.
Two long, boxy red vehicles cut off a few others behind us, making quite the aggressive
maneuver. A blatant sign of trouble.
I spun and knocked on the driver’s door. It slid open instantly.
“We’ve got company behind us,” I said before looking at the pilot.
The cockpit comprised almost entirely of holographic controls, a few manual switches,
gauges, and buttons in the mix, with two comfy seats. The entire upper half of the cockpit was all
windows.
“I saw them,” the pilot replied.
Pearlescent skin with a pale white-pink hue. Dark blue sparkling eyes easily twice the
size of humans, with a flat nose and thin, shapely lips. She had a few dozen, long tentacles
intermixed with coarse black hair descending from her head, pulled back into a loose tail by
metallic rings. A shapely body, slender and well built, she had long limbs and four fingers.
She wore a flight suit fit almost to form, a little looseness in the hips, thighs, and upper
arms. Colored an ivory white over charcoal gray with dark navy blue in certain places, it looked
as though made from some kind of leather-rubber blended material. It had an exoskeleton and
thin armor over the bodysuit, contoured to her body with hard lines and curves, and covering
only the basics—lower legs, hips, forearms, and torso. The rank painted onto on her shoulder
pieces was the same as mine, and the painted on name plates over the left breast named her
McDermott.
I could only gawk at her for a long moment.
“My mother was Talehre’ahn,” she told me after noticing my stare. “I’m a half human.”
“Huh…” was all I could say for a few seconds. I blinked, shaking my head. God! She
was gorgeous. “Nice flight suit.”
“Modified standard flight exosuit, doubles as a survival and combat suit if shot down
somewhere.”
“Modified? How’s that?”
“To account for my tails, and—”
“You have tails?” I mumbled stunned.
“Two, yes. It’s also designed to allow me to breathe. Talehre’ahns don’t just breathe
through their mouth and nose. Half is done through the skin. It’s an evolutionary design due to
the home world’s thin oxygen atmosphere, despite being covered in one giant jungle, and an
overabundance of water.” She took another glance at me, a full once over. The distraction
seemed to have no effect on her piloting abilities. “So you’re him, huh? The warrior traveler?”
“I guess so,” I replied, forcing my gaze forward.
“Well, Staff Lieutenant Daren Travers, I’m Flight Lieutenant Razha McDermott.”
“That name doesn’t sound very alien,” I teased her. I just met the woman. What the hell
am I doing?
She almost smiled. “Like I said, my dad was human. Mom named me for one of the three
moons of the home world. “Gunny, watch that screen back there.”
“Aye-aye, ma’am,” Gunny Herring replied. “Looks like they’re speeding up.”
“Damn. I’m already at maximum speed. They come any closer and this might get hairy.
Everyone strap in. Chief, I could use your help up here. Work some of your magic, will you?”
Saya yanked me out of the way and took the empty navigator’s seat.
“Okay baby, talk to me,” Saya told the controls, her fingers already working a mile a
minute.
“RPG!” Gunny Herring shouted.
Barely a second later, the entire vehicle rocked so violently that I was thrown into the left
wall and bounced to the floor. One of the Marines helped me up. Smoke was already stuffing the
cabin, electric pops sizzling from the back wall. An awful roaring noise, like rushing wind and
clattering engine parts filled the air.
“Engine’s hit!” the other Marine announced. “There’s a hole clean through the exhaust
system! I can see the outside.”
“We take another hit and we’re dead,” the lieutenant told us.
The computer screen in the back blipped, buzzed, turned to static then changed. A scaly
red lizard-like humanoid face with serpentine gold eyes appeared onscreen.
“Hand over the traveler or be destroyed,” he hissed impatiently. “Your vessel cannot
outrun ours. There is no escape.”
“They’re hacking the computer system!” Saya exclaimed. “Fixed it.”
Someone in the back ground of the screen ranted angrily about his hack not working.
I slipped into view so the lizard man could see me. “Go fuck yourself. Better yet.” I
pulled the Hound, showing it to him. “Come on over and I’ll do it for you.”
The screen instantly switched back to the outside world.
“Hey! I wasn’t done talking shit,” I complained, looking toward the cockpit and
holstering my weapon.
Saya leaned over so I could see her. “We don’t have time for that. Strap in. I’m
contacting the Legacy for an escort… What movie was that quote from? I don’t remember it.”
“I made it up. I think.”
“You think?”
“I told the captain this was a bad idea,” the lieutenant grumbled.
“Sir, one more thing.” Gunny Herring told me while I took a seat across from him.
“Safety switch is above the thumb.”
I took a quick look. “I figured that’s what it was.”
Gunny slid open a second cabinet door. Inside was a rifle, two pieces of body armor and
one belt. The full torso body armor and rifle were the same as what the two Marines already
carried. A few pouches around the belt held what I assumed to be ammunition clips and some
other basic issue items.
“Sir,” Gunny Herring handed me one of the body armors. “We were fully expecting a
clean extraction. Intel gave us a clear window.”
“Well, someone sure fucked up,” I said, looking over the armor. “Personally, I would
have sent in a full security escort. Put them in disguise if you have to.”
The private stepped up, giving his rifle to the Corporal so he could help me into the odd
cuirass. Non-metal, made from some kind of composite material colored a dull gun-metal black.
“The captain’s done this kind of op before with high priority low profile extractions. It’s
a proven tactic.”
“Yeah. Except not this time.”
“There’s a fighter escort at launch ready. They should be here in under a minute.”
“That lizard fires another RPG, and it won’t matter.”
THREE
The Wanderer

An electric pop and sizzle came from a source too close to my head for comfort as I
heaved on the heavy slab of vehicle hull. Two sets of hands helped me to my feet. Shaking dust
out of my hair, I scanned the rubble for my hat to no avail. The drab blue-gray walls were
accented by rust (or maybe some kind of mold?) and exposed framework. I think it used to be a
closet-sized apartment given the arrangement of obliterated furnishings.
“Are you okay?” Saya sounded worried. “Thank God for crash foam.”
“I’m fine,” I replied, rubbing my temples. Except for the throbbing in my skull.
“Everyone count off.”
Quickly, all five responded that they were good to go.
“Your skull’s bleeding.” Saya said then grabbed my head in both hands and yanked it
downward for her to see. “It’s just a scrape.”
“Let me see,” McDermott stepped in, grabbing my head from her. Inspecting the wound,
she then looked into my eyes for a few seconds. “You might need a couple of stitches, and
you’ve got a bump. Very minor concussion. You’ll be fine.”
“How can you tell?” I asked when she backed away.
“Modern fighter pilots are cross-trained in field medicine, infantry, and survival. Also,
my Maci has a health scan.”
“Modern day special forces, huh?” I commented.
She reached into what I assumed to be a first aid kit attached to the back of her belt.
Drawing out a thumb sized spray can and a bandage, she patched my bleeding head. I gave into
the urge to watch her peculiar eyes for a moment. I think I made her blush.
When Razha looked away, my mind wandered into what had just happened. The second
RPG hit, we went down like a rocket-propelled rock, and straight through a metallic wall into
someone’s living area. Of course, the floor being unable to hold the vehicle, we dropped through
the three floors below until the vehicle had been destroyed enough to eliminate the weight. The
space we stood in had a few flickering lights, the gray metal walls old and rusted, and the room
looked abandoned. Whatever the four accommodations above us had been, they were demolished
now. Debris lay scattered around the room with bits hanging from the holes in the floors above
us.
“What the hell did they hit?” I asked McDermott.
“The magnetic displacers on the undercarriage,” Saya answered for her. My old friend
was now sifting through the rubble for something, tossing wreckage out of her way. “There you
are.” She had found a black backpack, possibly made of the same kind of material as her jacket.
She inspected the thing for a few seconds. “Good, nothing’s missing.”
“Magnetic displacers? What’s that?”
“Works on a dual system of anti-gravity magnetics and energy displacement thrusters.
They keep us in the air, or in zero gravity they help with directional propulsion.”
I nodded. “Take ‘em out and we’re dead in the water.”
“Something like that,” the McDermott replied.
“What’s in the bag?” I asked Saya. “Anything useful?”
She shrugged. “A girl’s necessities. Makeup. Few tools. You know, the basics.”
Looking to Gunny Herring, I found the man poking on his Maci.
“This isn’t good,” he mumbled. “Private, corporal, secure that doorway.”
The two lower enlisted hurried to the open doorway that spilled out into a dimly lit
hallway. Both stopped just inside the entry, one taking a knee on the left side with his rifle
trained to the right, and the other opposite him while standing and trained to the left.
“Give me a sitrep,” I ordered.
“A what?” He asked, regarding me almost confused.
“Situation report,” I said, then thought, this is a different era, don’t ream out the nice
gunnery sergeant.
“Ah. We just say ‘report’ nowadays, sir. Requires situational awareness. Looks like we’re
in Ripper territory. We really don’t want to be here.”
“What are Rippers?”
“Technically classified humanoid, they’re covered in thousands of individual scales hard
as a turtle shell. Sometimes four arms, sometimes three, but usually two. Muscular and faster
than most species. Red serpentine eyes and two rows of pointed teeth on the upper and lower
jaw. They’re tribal, aggressive, simple-minded, and highly territorial. They’re watched over by
intelligent clan matriarchs, but ruled by a central matriarch somewhere in the galaxy no one’s
ever seen.”
“Or at least not lived to tell the tale,” I offered.
“Exactly,” he agreed. “This is probably one of their supply procurement colonies.
They’re all over the borders of Derelict Space.”
“How dangerous are we talking?”
“The little ones are chameleonic, blending in to their environment. Easier to kill, hard to
see. The big ones have hardened scales. Think of them more like berserkers. They can take
anywhere between twenty to fifty standard blasts to bring down. Rippers carry close combat
blades—swords, knives, claws, and the like. A few of the smarter ones have rifles that fire a ball
of gelatinous toxic goo that has roughly a hundred meter range. Melts through flesh, bone,
armor, and causes infections that kill in less than ten minutes.”
“Easiest way to kill them?” I asked eagerly.
“Go for the eyes, mouth, or throat,” Gunny replied. The sound of his voice alone made it
seem difficult. “Or put a knife in the left underarm, or in the groin between the legs. Anything
else is a waste of time.”
“Well, that sounds swell. When can we expect mama to send the kids out to play?”
“I’d bet my ass they felt our crash and are already on the way. We need to find the
nearest sky-walk and get our asses to the next building. They will hunt us down and then eat us
while were still kicking.”
“Daren, take this,” Saya said, handing me something. “It’s a communicator. Your Maci
will auto-link when you put it in.”
The object looked like a tiny hearing aid fitted with a thin ear-circling wire. Pushing it
into my right ear, Maci’s voice came to life through the ear bud.
Linking communicator. Approved long range comms primarily for EA military and allied
force use. Other signals will be strictly monitored and scrambled for security. Daren, you can
speak as though the listener is right next to you.
“Thank you Maci.” The thing fit so well, I had to wiggle it around just to make sure it
was still there. “I can barely feel it.”
Daren, I am detecting hostile movement approaching our position. Maci piped over the
com, her holographics not lighting up.
“Show me.”
I raised my left wrist as her map of the building lit up my whole forearm in greens and
blues. Six dots in yellow stood in a close circle. One level down and on the other side of the map,
a mass of tightly packed red blobs moved fast.
“I’ve got the same thing, sir,” Gunny told me.
“Distance and time to intercept.”
Two levels down at a distance of three hundred meters. At their current speed, they will
reach us within five minutes.
“Shit, that’s fast. Half the compound is rubble. No one could make that.” I drew my
pistol, my training kicking in. “Corporal, take point. Gunny, you’re next.” I looked at Saya and
the lieutenant. “Saya, you stick to my ass like glue. Lieutenant, you’re behind her. Private, bring
up the rear. Go, now.”
“Belay that order,” McDermott scowled at me, holding a hand toward Herring. “You’re
not in charge here, Travers.”
I took a calming breath before answering. “Lieutenant, with exception of the Gunny here,
I’d be willing to bet my pasty white ass I’ve got more time leading troops in combat, first as an
NCO then as an officer than the rest of you have time in the military. This is a combat situation.
This is what I do. I’m taking command. We find another vehicle or safety, you can have the
crown back. What’s it going to be?”
I really shouldn’t have scolded her in front of everyone, but we didn’t have time to play
nice and I didn’t feel safe with her in command at the moment.
“You’re right,” she conceded, her face torn between frustration and embarrassment. She
pulled her side arm. “I’ll take your lead.”
Her pistol and the holster strapped to her right hip were the same as Gunny’s.
“That all you have?” I asked her.
“I had rifle. Now it’s two levels up, buried in what’s left of the engine compartment.”
She motioned above her head with her left hand. I looked up through the gaping hole in
the ceiling. I could just see the butt of a rifle sticking out of a mass of crackling electronics that
had half melted into some floor joists.
“Wait!” Saya stopped me, digging in her pack for something. “I didn’t have time to give
these to you earlier.”
She pulled out and handed to me what looked like my eye pro. Giving them a curious
inspection, I couldn’t put my finger on it, but they were different somehow.
“What did you do to them?” I asked.
“They aren’t your old pair. I built these on the material forge.” She held a hand up.
“Think of it like a 3D printer but it uses almost any combination of materials. I’ll explain later.
Your other glasses weren’t up to grade. These are built to modern ballistic standards, to protect
against physical and energy damage. In addition, they have range finding, a full heads-up display
link for your Maci, auto-transition lenses for the light, night vision, motion detection, and
infrared. They’re common in the Marines and with mercenary groups.”
“Nice,” I gave her a nod of approval, slipping them on.
Linking eye ware. Maci immediately linked in, coming to life on the bold bright blue-lit
heads-up display. I flinched and blinked. Her feminine face lit up in the lower outside corner of
the right lens. As close as the displays were to my eyes, the images were perfectly vivid and
clear. Approved ballistic eye protection with combat systems for Marines secondary use. Chief
Takahashi’s assessment of this unit’s capabilities was accurate.
Still blinking away the strange sensation of having glowing images that close yet so
readable, it would take getting used to.
“Good shit,” I mumbled, both amused and pleased. “I am loving this era’s technology. Is
this another body heat powered thing?”
I received a confirmation from both Saya and Maci in unison.
“Alright, we’ve wasted too much time. Ladies, move. Keep your head on the swivel, and
don’t forget to check your corners and doorways. And watch your damn six.”
Entering combat mode. The displays in the lenses turned a bright orange, some of which
disappeared, including Maci’s face, and I assumed that was for better range of view without
annoying obstructions. It felt odd having the itty-bitty tabs of light hanging around the edges of
my vision, though I forced myself to deal with it.
The hallway was dirtier than I’d thought. Panels missing from the walls and ceiling
exposed the framework, conduits and wiring. The floors were not in much better condition, and
we passed more than a few places that were missing chunks of the inner skeleton. Doors torn
through or jammed partially open. Lights flickering or out completely. Splattering of unknown
dried liquids on the walls. Charred, deformed areas likely due to explosions and fires. Scorched
marks everywhere, on just about everything, which looked like weapons fire I’d only seen in
science fiction movies and games. Whatever had happened here, it had been bloody. What
creeped me out most was the fact that even with all of this damage, there were no bodies. Not
even a finger or a squished eyeball that I could see.
Getting to the first stairway proved difficult with a pile of junk in the way we had to clear
out in a big hurry.
“Anyone have noisemakers?” I asked while we cleared the rubble. “Tripwires and
grenades? Anything we can use to slow them down or alert us?”
“I’ve got a handful of LT-29’s,” the corporal told me. I gave him a look. “Oh, uh.
They’re thumb-sized sticky explosives attached to invisible laser tripwires.”
“Will they take out the stairway?”
“Two might,” he shrugged.
“Either way, it’ll sure as hell slow them down,” Gunny added. “Lopez, give two to
Kline.” He switched his attention to the private. “As soon as we all pass, put one at knee height
and the other at belly height, half way up to the first landing.”
“Roger, Gunny,” both lower enlisted replied, one after the other.
A faint one-two buzz hit the air as I passed up the stairs, rounding up the landing. I stole a
glance at Kline slapping the two explosives on the wall.
Echoing through the halls, hissing, howling, screeching, clamoring, clawing, squealing—
like the growling of tigers, nails on chalkboards, and tearing metal. The sounds of the horde were
unlike anything else I’d ever heard. In the dim, flickering lights of the old compound, I kept
having visions of every sci-fi-horror movie I’d ever seen (and there were a lot). The enemy were
gaining, tearing through the rubble, and probably through a few walls judging from the racket.
It put some pep in our step and a few extra beats to our heartrates. When the explosion
hit, it rocked the already fragile place, causing dust to rain down everywhere. We didn’t pause,
just kept running. Following Maci’s map, we found ourselves three levels above where we’d
been. Locked doors, rooms without an exit, rubble packed into the hallway, fallen in bits of
ceiling. It all forced us to climb up the rubble to the next level.
Helping McDermott through the hole, Kline stopped below. He aimed his rifle down the
hallway.
“Kline?” I called.
A hiss screamed back. Two more answered it.
“Kline, get up here,” I demanded.
“RIPPERS!” Kline screamed.
The passage below suddenly lit up in bright blue flashes to the sound of electric eruptions
on rapid fire. The wailing throng of beasts cried a terrible shriek that rattled the very floor
beneath my feet.
“KLINE!” I shouted but he continued to fire.
Gunny screamed orders. The private wasn’t listening. I’d seen this before, and I was sure
Gunny had, too. Kline was terrified to the point that all he could do was shoot. Someone had to
go get him.
“Damn it to hell!” I grumbled just before I jumped.
The others yelled at me while I slid down the jagged debris. Then I stood, staring into the
face of primal malice. A dark cloud drifted among them, pitching the passage into a blackened
abyss until all I could see were faint outlines of scaled bodies and serpentine eyes glowing an
eerie red hue.
My weapon came up, heart beating faster and faster, breath nearly stolen, as my brow
scrunched, and fear turned to anger. I grabbed the private’s barrel and shook it, forcing him to
stop shooting.
“Yippee ki yay, mother fuckers…” I mouthed the words, remembering one of my all-
time favorite movies.
The Hound barked in my hand, a noise that split the choking silence with an earsplitting
howl, its body rocking so hard my whole arm jolted and tingled. The flash of light from the
barrel was so bright it pushed back the shadowy haze for an instant. A head exploded, the red
energy blast lighting the bits of blood and carnage for another instant before the body fell.
The horde watched their fallen comrade with an odd sort of expression that only made the
quiet seem to sink deeper into the gloomy fog.
“Go,” I ordered Kline without looking away from the horde. “Go now!”
Kline and I turned to scramble back up the rubbish, slipping and sliding all the way. A
few tiny orbs with bright red eyes passed over my head, tossed down into the void. The
squawking shrieks of the swarm called out to us again just as the sound of their claws and feet
began to scramble and scrape down the hall.
The private and I reached the top right as the explosions hit.
BOOM!
BOOM! BOOM!
BOOM!
The shockwave took us both off our feet and to the ground in deaf heaps, blood raining
up from below. With ringing in my ears, I clambered to my feet, pulling Kline with me while
more of our companions dragged us along.
They didn’t stop. Mowing down the front line of alien beasts slowed the pack only a few
seconds. The new hallway twisted and turned, both sets of stairs along the way clogged or fallen
in. We fired behind us on the fly, nearly crawling over each other through the gauntlet. Masses of
goo kept splattering on the walls and ceiling, missing us entirely, but causing immediate, putrid
melting of the paneling. The horde’s riflemen were bad shots. Then again, the gunny and I
seemed to be the only ones hitting anything on the run.
A sliding exit door presented itself, the sign written in alien text I could strangely read,
glowing bright green in the dim passage ahead. We all hit it at once.
It didn’t budge. We slammed, kicked, and shot the door. It would not dislodge.
“Saya, get it open!” I ordered as I spun and hit a knee, aiming my pistol down the way.
Nowhere to take cover. “The rest of you take aim and fire!”
The ensuing commotion sounded like battle between a half dozen electric power lines
bursting and fizzling, furiously exposed to the world. The rippers dropped like flies, others
powered through.
“The key pad’s dead and the wiring’s fried! I can’t open it!” Saya yelled at me. Her voice
quivered. She was terrified, clearly trying to focus on her task.
“Reloading!” Kline shouted.
“Get that goddamned door the fuck open!” I yelled over my shoulder. “Now!”
Suddenly, the door cracked and creaked, grinding against its frame to open. Light flooded
the hallway, blinding us all despite the fact we faced away.
What sounded like a mini gun shooting needles rather than bullets blasted over our heads,
forcing us to duck. The pack screeched and wailed even louder, the bright blue needles punching
through their scales like a hot knife through butter. They dropped too fast, unable to back off in
time, but many dove into the side rooms.
Finally, there was a pause in the action. I looked behind me to our savior.
At first, he was only a tall gray shadow against the light, roughly in the shape of a man.
My eyes adjusted quickly. He stood my height, presumably a human male from the shape of his
armor. That body armor was solid black, like dulled silver-obsidian. Not a crack nor joint was
left uncovered. Every muscle had its own plate, the suit covering and contouring perfectly with a
slender sort of bulk. The helmet reminded me of a cross between Ironman and Master Chief from
Halo. A revolver, old and scarred, hung at either hip, while he carried a smaller, sleeker version
of what looked like a Jadawn tri-barreled assault rifle in hand. Scathed and battle worn, his armor
had been dragged through the bowels of Hell itself and back again, and somehow had come out
in one piece. He even wore an old, ratty gray cloak that wrapped around his neck, with torn holes
for his arms reaching just past the knees.
With his left hand, he pulled a tiny orb from his belt of many metallic pouches and tossed
it down the way. An explosion hit to the cries of more Rippers and the rattling of the hall
paneling. He looked down at me specifically.
“Daren, come with me if you want to live,” he told me. Either he was a robot or his voice
had been masked with a metallic rasp.
Suddenly, an image of the Terminator crossed my mind, but I had to push it away.
“Go!” I ordered everyone.
We all scrambled out into the new passage while our savior closed the door via a working
key pad on the other side. Pulling a pen-sized object from a pouch, he used it to weld the doors
shut. It was some kind of plasma torch, I guessed.
With a moment to breathe, finally, I took a glance around. We were in an extra-long walk
bridge between two hanging towers, made almost entirely of transparent metals and hefty
framework, giving us a great view of the bustling city. Plenty of open cavern stood between our
hanging towers of the upper city and the lower city below us. The tower we had just come from
descended at least forty more floors.
“Holy shit,” I mumbled looking down through the mesh flooring. “We’re a mile off the
ground!”
“We’re in an asteroid,” our savior told me.
“Thank you, whoever you are,” Saya told him, trying to catch her breath. I could still hear
shivers in her voice. “That was nothing like survival training.”
“My name is Michael,” he said. “Come on.”
We all stood again, but I held out a hand to stop them. Michael took a few steps then
stopped and turned.
“Or you can stay and wait to see if the horde will risk the light,” he added.
“How can we trust you?” I asked him pointedly.
“Who do you think took out the mercenaries pursuing you? How do you think you
survived that crash?”
“Crash Foam. You could be after the bounty,” I retorted more forcefully.
He paused, looked down for a second then looked back at me. “Once More Into the
breach.” He turned and walked away.
My whole being froze. How the hell…?
“Hey!” I rushed up to him, grabbed and arm and spun the man around, glaring through
his dark gray visor. Lowering my voice, “How the hell do you know that? I never wrote that
down. I never even told anyone.”
“You know the answer to that. Now come with me, Daren. There’s a lot to discuss.”
Twisting out of my grip, he casually sauntered along, sure I would follow.
“What did he mean?” Saya asked me. “What is ‘once more into the breach’?”
Taking in a long, unsteady breath through my nose, only one thought on my mind, I
watched him walk away too casually. “A secret no one should know,” I told her after a couple of
seconds.
“Should we trust him?” McDermott asked me.
“Like there’s a choice, ma’am,” Gunny replied.
“We can trust him.” I assured them all. “Don’t ask how I know that. You wouldn’t
understand.” I followed the man, and the others followed me. Then, more to myself, I whispered,
“Not sure I know how, either.”
“Who are you?” McDermott asked our rescuer.
Michael looked over a shoulder, still moving down the long walkway. “A wanderer with
a purpose. An obligated friend. An invested stranger. A Good Samaritan with an agenda. Take
your pick.”
FOUR
C.A.I.R.O.

Michael led us into another abandoned tower, up and down a few levels and around
plenty of twists and turns. I took it all in silence, stewing my thoughts about the creepy
familiarity of his walk. Finally, we came to a stop at the only working doorway I’d seen inside
either structure. Big and square, it had a diagonal split down the middle from high right to lower
left, with a soft blue glowing holograghic key pad in the center. He punched in a code I didn’t
catch to open the door.
Inside was a studio apartment bare of almost anything. A ratty old couch sat in the far
corner beside what looked like a small box fridge and microwave combo. The kitchen area
appeared to have taken a grenade some ages ago, and the bathroom on the other side had a sort of
half-assed cleanup job. The only other furnishings in the room were a table at the back wall
stocked with tools and random parts and pieces I couldn’t even begin to identify, as well as a
hefty hanging rack. There were no windows, not even a working computer, and only two lights
functioned.
“Make yourselves at home,” he offered.
“Is this your place?” Saya asked, scanning the dwelling with distaste in her eyes.
“For now.”
“Holy shit…” I whistled.
From the rack hung a suit of armor not unlike Michael’s, except bulkier, not as smoothly
cut, and had a much rougher style. It, too, had been through hell and back.
“Now that looks like fun,” I said, walking up to it.
The shoulders almost had the look of football pads, complete with the tall, half-ring collar
a lot of linebackers wear to prevent whiplash. The torso and upper arms appeared to be one
section with a break at the elbows and waistline, wrapping tightly with contoured plating. A
second large segment took up the hips and thighs, made up of several large plates linked together
with breaks at the knees and waist. The knee-high boots had enough room to get shoes into, with
a fully encased armor plating up the foot and all the way around the lower leg. The gauntlets
reached up over the elbows, molded by forming plates everywhere except the palms. Darker than
black, the armor had burgundy stripes down the outer legs and arms, and charcoal shoulders. The
helmet crafted from layered strips that made it appear to scroll backward, giving it a motocross
style with no visor on the forehead.
“That’s a C.A.I.R.O. unit,” Gunny eagerly informed me. “An exosuit built for heavy
battle.”
Only when my inspection had been interrupted did I realize I was face to face with the
exosuit, poking and prodding its pieces with both hands. Gunny and Saya stood beside me.
“This is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen,” I said with enthusiasm.
“I’m glad you think so,” Michael said matter-of-factly. “Because you’re going to be
wearing it.”
“That piece of shit?” Lopez sounded surprised. “You’re loco, cabrón. That mierda won’t
even turn on. It’s a hundred fucking years old.”
Saya tapped on her Maci, probably scanning the suit.
“I’m not much of a mechanic,” Michael admitted. “But I got it working. Get some rest.
There’s chow in the fridge. We’re outta here in an hour. Just long enough to let the gangs out
there disperse. We can leave in the chaos, but it’ll still be hell.”
“Power system at forty percent,” Saya announced, staring at her Maci’s interface on her
arm. “No AI. Core programming only. Exoskeleton functioning at sixty seven percent. Bio suit at
ninety eight percent. Armor holding at eighty. EMK shielding at thirty percent. Backup systems
nonfunctional… And the helmet doesn’t even work. Jesus!” She glared at Michael. “This thing is
a wreck! It needs a solid month of maintenance and upgrades. His Maci would have to run the
damn thing!”
“It’s a Cairo,” Gunny told her as though it were the answer. “This suit here,” he knocked
on the chest. “It’s a goddamned tank, chief. It was built to battle the devil and win. It might look
like a pile of scrap, but it’ll still outperform anything we’ve got on hand.” He shifted his
attention to Michael who stood to the side away from us, helmet still on. “Where the hell did you
find this thing, anyway?”
“I don’t get it,” I said, looking at everyone. McDermott seemed as lost as I felt. “What’s
so big about this suit?”
Kline’s whole face lit up like a kid on Christmas, then he answered me. “Ninety seven
years ago, Erving Corp built them for the Marines special forces. But only a hundred rolled off
the line.” He had such enthusiasm for the subject. “There were so many issues with production,
they had to abandon the whole project and eat the costs. That’s why they went back to the
Cronos suit series we’re still using today. All but ten of these beauties ended up in museums or
private collections. Eight were found in scrap yards. This has got to be one of the final two that
went missing.”
“You know your suits,” Saya commented with a nearly complimentary tone.
“It’s a hobby, chief,” he shrugged.
Michael dropped his rifle on the table. Very nonchalantly, as though it didn’t even matter,
“I found it in a scrap heap across the station a few days ago.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “A few days? You were waiting for me?”
He huffed, possibly amused. “The anteeans aren’t the only ones after you. I happened to
be one of the very few trying to save your ass.”
I tucked his words away for the time being in favor of more pressing issues.
“This Cairo has seen a ton of upgrades,” Saya mumbled, probably to herself. “Half of it
isn’t even original.”
“It’ll work,” Michael stated. “Even without an AI.”
She sighed through her nose, glaring at the man with pursed lips. I knew that look well.
She hates it when other people’s logic meets or beats her own.
Her gaze landed on me. “Get over here. It’ll take me a while to get you into this walking
catastrophe. Have to calibrate your Maci into the system, then program your biometrics into
what’s left of its operating software. I’ve got to tinker with most of the joints and locks. The
exoskeleton is a mess… Ugh! What a wreck.”
Saya dropped her pack on the table and dug into it for what I assumed were a couple of
tools.
“Ooh! I get another toy.” I smirked. “What else is under the tree?” I carefully noted
Saya’s displeased glare. “Am I the only one who thinks this is fucking awesome?”
“Am I the only one who's having a problem with this?” Saya eyed me.
“Enterprise, two thousand three.” I told her. “I don’t remember the episode. I think T-pol
said it.”
“You’re good,” she commented. “But that’s a very technical win.”
“Your rules,” I shrugged then saw the confused faces of the squad. “Movie and TV
quotes. It’s a game.”
“So… What’s the score?” Lopez immediately wondered.
“Two hundred fifty nine thousand nine hundred and thirteen to two hundred fifty nine
thousand nine hundred and eleven,” Saya rattled off, distracted with what she was doing. “He’s
winning.”
All four squad members regarded the two of us shocked. I grinned proudly. Michael gave
a soft snort I think was supposed to be a stifled laugh—I do the same thing some times.
It took over a half hour of tinkering just for Saya to get the suit powered on and open.
Another fifteen minutes and my Maci took over the computer system. The armor had to come off
section by section. And, Jesus! It was heavy. The bodysuit beneath had the overall form of a full
body wetsuit, with sealing cuffs around the ankles and wrists, but it was bulkier and rough to the
touch, like fabric with a heavy, tight thick-string weave coated in some kind of leathery-rubbery
coating. I grilled Saya on the workings of the suit and its systems all the while.
I took off my new body armor. Then my utility uniform jacket, folding the thing and
dropping it in Saya’s pack. That was when I learned the combat boots I wore were also self-
sealing, designed for use with an all-environment Zero-G exosuit. Interesting that the rest of my
clothes stayed on.
The body suit sealed all the way to the top of to the mandarin style neck with a zipper
that had a strange gel-like seal over the top. I couldn’t contain my giddiness while stepping up to
the torso still hung on the rack. Like the enviro-suit I now wore, the exoskeleton chest closed up
the front. A series of mechanical hook-and-cog locks sealed it. The waist and leg tasset piece
slipped on like a pair of pants, hooking into the upper body with more of those mechanical locks.
The boots, then the gauntlets pulled on last.
Finally closed and secured, the exoskeleton gave a faint whirr when the power kicked in,
accompanied by mechanical clicks and ticks of the suit’s final locking sequence.
Chills ran up my spine, and my grin spread from ear to ear as I shook with gleeful
anticipation. The only thing I could think of was that this must have been exactly how Shepard
from the Mass Effect game series felt receiving his suit the first time.
“Oh, yeah,” I nearly moaned the words, feeling the joygasm erupt inside.
The damaged helmet didn’t scroll back up, but the rest worked fine. Saya disengaged the
chains, allowing me and the exosuit to drop to the floor. The weight still being too much, I hit the
ground on my hands and knees until the motorized joints and banded exoskeleton came to life a
few seconds later. By the time I stood completely, the whole ensemble felt absolutely weightless.
“Fuck yes!”
Maci chimed into my earpiece, almost disturbing my euphoria. Full integration with the
Combat Arms Infiltration and Reconnaissance Operator Mark I complete. Override of all
systems and command control complete. Welcome to your Cairo, Daren. I suggest you acclimate
to the suit’s mobility with a few simple stretches.
I stared at my hands for a long few seconds, watching the small plates on the back of my
fingers turn into a hard, knuckled, hand backing, and then into a full forearm bracer. Only slim
slivers at the inner joints left the black biosuit beneath visible—elbows, knees, and underarms. I
flexed my hands, then rolled my wrists, arms, shoulders, and neck. I twisted my torso one way,
then the other, squatting afterward to check for leg and back mobility.
System scan complete. Shall I list all issues with the Cairo? There are many.
“Just tell me if it works, Maci. What kind of movement am I looking at? Speed. Strength.
Armor durability. And what’s with the shielding?”
The exoskeleton is damaged, but functional. Speed is likewise tied to the exoskeletal
system. The armor plating and envirosuit are currently at high working capacity. The helmet
remains nonfunctional. However, the electromagnetic kinetic shielding is at low output. It will
protect against small caliber weapons, as well as small pieces of shrapnel. Anything else will
pierce the shielding and impact the armor.
“Tell me about the previous user.”
No data available. Core programming protocols indicate the system’s memory was wiped
when the AI was removed.
“What about this thing’s history? Looks like it’s been through hell.”
Your assessment is not inaccurate. That is, not speak to any metaphysical plane of
existence it may or may not have encountered. Unlikely. However, there is no data available on
that subject either, due to the same reason.
“Goddamn!” Kline said with a smirk and a shudder. “That thing is enough to give a tool
head an orgasm, eh?”
Must be Canadian, I thought.
“I retract my previous statement,” Lopez added with a nod of approval. “But I still think
it looks like shit, and you’re loco, sir.”
“Fuck that. I want one,” Gunny said. Was he jealous?
“It’s old and outdated,” Saya complained. I don’t think she liked it at all. “It needs
extensive repairs and system upgrades. The crystalline processing core needs replacement, too. ”
“Yeah, you said that,” McDermott said.
“The fit is damn near perfect,” I told Michael, questioning him with my eyes. “How?”
“We’re a match for body type. I used myself for the life model.” He said, and my eyes
only interrogated him deeper. “I hacked your profile.”
I nodded. “I love it. Sure as hell beats slapping a couple slabs of heavy ass Kevlar to your
body. And this strength enhancement system is great. I don’t even feel the weight. Okay, Saya.
Tell me how to use this thing so we can get out of here.”
“The suit is two hundred and twelve pounds,” Saya told me. That was surprising, to say
the least. “The plating is made from tightly woven carbon nanofiber threads dipped in a
lightweight titanium alloy, then coated in a specific polymer. The combination renders it immune
to heat and magnetics while providing full protection from ballistics, shrapnel, and blades. The
exoskeleton has a similar design, comprised of tightly packed bands that constrict and expand
with your body’s movement. The biosuit underneath has several layers. First, a dual mesh inner
layer designed to let the skin breathe. Next, three middle layers designed to regulate the inner
environment while keeping the outer environment on the outside. The last two layers are almost
impervious to tearing, ripping, puncture, and most forms of toxins, gases, and radiation. It’s a
fully sealed environmental combat suit capable of zero-g ops.”
I gave her an excited nod, proud of my new toy. “God! I think I’m in love. All I need
now is a fancy ship.”
Gunny handed me my pistol belt, telling me he’d plugged the cylinders in to charge.
Strapping it on over the suit meant having to adjust the belt to fit properly. When I looked around
for anything resembling a power plug, I found only a fist-sized metal orb with stripes of orange
on the sides giving off a soft glow. A battery of some kind, perhaps?
“That belt, by the way, is made of a material akin to biosuit skin,” Gunny informed me.
“One more thing,” Michael told me.
The instant I looked at him, he tossed me a long metallic object. My reaction time
catching the item took me by surprise. The suit moved too quick, too clean. Looking at my arms
before switching attention to the gift, I marveled at my new plaything.
“Took that off one of the mercs,” Michael finished. “It’s not Fleet standard issue, but it’s
a comparable alien model, and as close to what you might be used to as I could manage in a
hurry.”
The rifle looked like a retarded cousin to the M4 assault rifle. A blocky butt stock curved
to the shoulder, the rear pistol grip had a squared loop guarding the hand, with a two-finger lever
built right into the grip rather than a trigger inside a guard. The body appeared similar, but the
foot and a half of barrel was a long cylindrical block. Centered above the chamber was a
stretched three inch long, rectangular sight built directly onto the frame. The magazine fitted in
front of the pistol grip was a flattened block with a rounded base, striped with soft glowing
orange lights. A band comprised of what looked like metallic-fabric links attached like a sling at
the rear and middle of the barrel stock.
“Took it off one of those lizard bastards,” he continued.
I checked the weapon’s fit and weight, then its comfort to my shoulder while I stared
down the sight at the nearest wall. Working the magazine out then in a few times, and finding the
safety lever were also important. In the meantime, my Maci inspected it and linked with the
optics. I popped off a few rounds at the open wall. Bright orange streaks of light screamed with
an electric hiss, slamming into the paneling, partially melting though. Michael gave me three
spare energy clips in hard, square pouches that would attach to my belt.
“Sits nicely to the shoulder and has a comfortable weight,” I commented.
“The magazines are two hundred thirty shots a piece. The weapon has a max effective
range of five hundred meters. Each laser blast has the force of a .30-06 rifle round. Only two
settings, safe and fire. It’s a three-round burst per trigger pull. Any questions?”
He had equated a modern weapon to one from my time. Interesting.
“You know historical weapons?” I asked, trying to mask my pointed interest.
“I’m a connoisseur. What can I say? The history of human firearms is fascinating.”
I thought that he played that off well.
“What about the sight?”
“Simple in nature. Red dot sight. Telescoping view up to two klicks. Normal light, night
vision, and infrared only.”
“Would have preferred a heavier weapon,” I said. “What is this? Four, five pounds? Or is
the suit screwing with my sense of weight?”
“Three point six kilos, or roughly eight pounds. It’s the suit. Funny thing about the Cairo,
though. It won’t carry heavy weapons above twenty pounds.”
I gave him a curious look and he only shrugged.
“One of the many issues with the suit,” Kline informed me. “It’ll carry four hundred
pounds on its back, but not large weaponry. The stealth system didn’t work in conjunction with
the shielding, either.”
“Still doesn’t,” Saya commented, now tinkering with the back of my suit. Sounded like
she was holding something between her teeth.
“Like I said, I’m not a mechanic.” Michael defended himself.
“Clearly.” I could almost feel that odd sort of sly gaze she likes to give idiots.
He paused then shook his head. I wished I could have seen his face because he seemed
amused judging from his body language… He moved like me. It felt disconcerting to say the
least.
“There, I’m done as I can be in the time I had.” By the tone of her voice, most people
would have thought she was nice and calm, but for me, Saya was internally screaming in
frustration. “I could probably cut that month of maintenance down to two weeks if I had a tech
drone and a material forge for the replacement parts. Let me rephrase that. I’d have to replace
over sixty nine percent of the suit’s hardware.”
Saya started tinkering with the back of the neck, softly pulling and pushing at something.
The faint hum of electronic tools accompanied the movement.
“I thought you were done,” I asked more than stated.
“Yeah, but there’s a ton to do and I need to be sure it’ll work well enough for the
remainder of this mission.”
“Why doesn’t the helmet work? I don’t like going into battle without a helmet.”
“The air recycler is fried and the heads up display is nonfunctional. You’d be blind and
suffocating.” She replied. “I’ve recalibrated what’s left of the shielding to compensate. The rest
of your body is down to seven percent EMK shielding. But, I’ve managed to boost the shields
around your head and shoulders to thirty percent. It won’t take much of a beating overall, so
you’ll have to be careful.” She stopped tinkering and came around to face me. I had to look down
further than usual while she craned her head back to see my eyes. Her gaze sort of glazed over
with interest in the project she’d just found. “Plasma weaponry drains shields faster than lasers or
energy weapons.”
I nodded. “What’s EMK again?”
“Electromagnetic-kinetic. Now listen here. When you move, your natural instinct will be
to direct the exoskeleton and fight against it. Don’t. Just relax and move as normal. The suit will
do the rest. You’ll figure it out. I’ve programmed your Maci to help. Any other questions?”
“Where’s the quick release? Incase this thing powers down or something stupid
happens.”
She lifted my right arm, grabbed my left hand and guided my fingers to a solid flap the
width of my gloved finger, which didn’t want to move.
“Feel that?” She asked and I nodded. “Push in real hard, hook your finger, and yank as
hard as you can. It will not get caught on anything, disrupted by weapons fire, or activated by
any external force other than a hand, and only when the suit is severely damaged or your Maci
activates it at your command. It’s mechanical only, and has sensors to prevent misuse or damage.
It’s on both sides.” I nodded and she patted my shoulder, giving me a smile of approval.
Standing back with her hands on her hips, she nodded with a sigh, that smirk fading. “Looks like
a pile of junk, but it’ll get you to the Legacy if we’re careful. Go get ‘em cowboy.”
Saya went to clean up her few tools and grab her pack. She mumbled under her breath in
Japanese, probably cursing the “pile of junk” she’d just worked on.
“Good. Time to get moving.” Michael grabbed his weapons and headed for the door.
“Kline, have you contacted the Legacy yet?” Gunny asked.
Switching my gaze from the weapon in my hands, I gave Kline and Gunny a curious
glance.
“Negative, Gunny. Comms are still being jammed.”
“Still?” I asked. “It’s been, what, an hour and twenty minutes?”
“I’ve been trying every five minutes and keeping Gunny and the lieutenant updated, sir.
Still nothing.”
“This should have been a safe zone,” Michael commented.
“It’s us,” Saya assured us. “The Legacy is based on shaozjen stealth technology. No one
around here is going to find her. That means someone’s blacked out communications in this
sector of the station. I can try to get it back up, but I would need a mainframe comms terminal,
and I’m guessing that’s not an option right now. So what’s next?”
“My ship. It’s in Dry Dock Zeta Five Seven. It’s a wreck, but it’s fast and the shields are
strong. We make it there and we can get to the Legacy.”
“What can we expect from here?” Gunny asked him while we readied to pour out the
door.
Michael paused and turned, looking around to us all. “Across the next five clicks between
us and the docking bays will be gangs, a lot of poor bastards looking for easy creds, plenty of
mercs, and the Jadawn.”
“They’re here?” The sheer plunge of proverbial shit was thick enough in Kline’s voice to
make all of our heartbeats pick up. “Man, this is so victor one-two.”
What? I wondered. My face, like my thoughts, twisted into confusion, my whole body
turning toward Kline.
“You can say that again,” McDermott replied with a nod. I looked her way.
“What?” I wondered aloud.
“Victor one-two is military jargon for violet twelve.”
“Violet twelve? What the hell is that? Anything like fubar?”
“Really?” Saya asked, her voice full of incredulity. My stare switched to meet hers.
“Fubar?” She shook her head. “Wow. That may just be the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”
All eyes were on me.
“I don’t get it.” I shrugged with a slight shake of my head.
Michael punched in a code on his front door’s keypad to open it.
I looked at my left forearm, watching Maci’s face light up. “Find us a route through the
bowels of hell. Sewage, maintenance, something with zero personnel traffic where even we don’t
want to be.”
Searching, she replied. I have found three possible routes. Of them, the best fit to your
request would be to ascend this building. From there, enter the abandoned mine shaft. We can
reach the maintenance tunnels at the end of the shaft. According to station schematics, these
tunnels are accessible from dock Zeta Five-Five. However, this route is thirteen and a half
kilometers and will take several hours.
“Perfect. Let’s get dirty. Kline, send a message now and hope it goes through to the
Legacy. We’re alive and we’re going dark on comms.”
“I’ll try, sir,” he answered.
“Same movement pattern as before. Stay the fuck off the comms and into visual range.
Go.”
After we filed out of the apartment and the doors were closing, Michael, taking position
in front of Kline, tossed in two small orbs. The muffled explosion rocked the hallway and the
floor beneath our feet.
* * *
“Would you people please just leave me the fuck alone!” I roared.
Laser blasts whizzed past our heads as we dove behind furniture and overturned tables. A
lot of assholes with guns had blocked off the stairs and elevators, forcing us to funnel into the
dining room near the top of the apartment tower. It felt like a shootout from a really bad movie
while we traded weapons fire from across the room. They just kept coming.
I popped up from behind the metal table and blew a hole the size of my fist into lizard-
man’s torso before dropping back down.
“Make this easy on yourself, traveler!” Someone shouted back. “We’ve got a lot more
men where he came from. And your ship can’t help you. We’d rather not—”
Springing from behind cover again, I shot the human’s head clean off, then hid. “I’m
sorry. What were you saying? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your head exploding.”
“I feel like I should know that quote,” Saya said, her voice quivering while curled up into
a ball right beside me. “But I don’t.”
“My own flare on Archer. TV show.” I told her, then took another shot.
“Oh, right. Never saw it.”
I stared at her, almost offended. “You have got to be kidding me. Archer is basically my
hero. If I were a spy, I would so be like Archer.”
“I thought your hero was a mixture of Rambo and Burt Reynolds.”
I shrugged. “Eh. That too.”
She stared at me angry. “Shouldn’t you be concentrating on the firefight?”
“I am. I’ve killed like ten people already. Honestly, what are the rest of you people
doing?”
“I’m on twelve!” Michael shouted from behind the overturned salad bar to my left. I
heard his rifle go off. “Make that fourteen.”
“Oh, no you didn’t!”
“Well, screw you both,” Lopez interjected. “I’m still working on six.”
I took a few more shots and dropped a few more bodies. “Now I’m on fourteen. Why is
this so easy? Are they trying to die? And I thought you guys were Special Forces. Come on,
already.”
Two grenades went off across the room. The shockwave floored us, and the blast
deafened us. But the fight was over for the moment. Struggling against the loud ringing in my
ears, I pulled myself to my feet, weapon trained toward the enemy position. A mass of bloody
chunks and char plastered the entire other side of the room. The door to the kitchen from which
they had come was also destroyed, and clearly not opening anytime soon.
“Yeah? Well I just hit the twenty mark,” Gunny told us.
“Oh, look at that,” Kline commented, gesturing toward the carnage. “Gunny strikes
again. Blood and guts everywhere. Don’t get me wrong, this place needed a new coat of paint,
anyway.”
I couldn’t tell if the private was joking or frustrated. Probably both.
“Don’t worry Mijo, you’ll get better,” Lopez teased, patting Kline on the back.
“Can we keep a bit of professional discipline around here?” McDermott scolded us.
I helped Saya up.
“Yes, please do,” Saya agreed with her. “My survival training only covers getting away
from combat situations. I’m having enough trouble handling this as it is.”
“What?” Lopez shrugged at her. “You have your games, chief. We have ours. Besides,
these pinche pendejos are low-life mercs and gang bangers. They’ll do anything to anyone for
the right money.” He looked toward the bloodbath then spat in that direction. “Chúpame los
huevos!” Suck my balls.
I knew enough Spanish from guys in the army that my translators didn’t need to interpret
that one.
“Wow. Angry, much, corporal?” I commented.
He gave me a fuming glare but looked away immediately. I had already learned that the
laws of warfare were far different when out and about in the galaxy than I was used to back on
Earth in the early 21st century. This had to be on the fence. Not that war affected me much
anymore, Corporal Lopez was still young and yet so full of anger all of a sudden.
McDermott, standing beside me, put a hand on my shoulder. “His colony was hit by
slavers when he was a boy,” she whispered in my ear. “It’s why he signed up. Don’t go down
that road, Travers.”
I nodded, then checked my map and headed for the second main door across the room.
“Move out! We’re three floors from the tunnel access tubes.”
“Elevators would be nice,” Saya said falling into line behind me.
“Only to serve as a death trap,” I replied.
* * *
Did we lose them? I wondered. Had they given up? Lost too many bodies? Had the cost
of taking us out suddenly outweighed their payment? Or was there another trap up ahead? The
squad and I had fought through twenty floors of mercs trying to get out. I suppose we could have
taken a sky bridge to another building, but that may have been suicide. By the time we reached
the access tubes that would lead us to the mine tunnels, I had grown more concerned about my
chosen escape strategy.
“It’s a good plan,” Gunny had agreed told me more than once.
I deferred to his judgement several times for a number of reasons that included his
experience, vast training, and his familiarity with the whole traveling the galaxy thing.
The mines on this particular rock had been all but depleted of their precious minerals.
The station we were on had become the primary base for mining operations in the entire system.
Endless tunnels of gray-brown stone with lights and cables strung along the ceiling, and the
occasional directional sign at corners and forks. The shafts had been abandoned except for
random maintenance droids performing safety patrols. Each of which liked to remind us that we
were not supposed to be there. All we had to do was ask the way out so the robots would give us
directions to the nearest exit and then buzz off. Stupid robots, even if they did have basic AI’s.
“Too easy,” I kept telling myself. “Be ready for anything around the next bend.”
Sure enough. I was right.
We had been in the tunnels for an easy three hours, winding this way and that, climbing
up and down. There was even a section with minimal gravity, but Saya would not give me the
time to enjoy it. Just when I felt a little safer, we passed a darkened split in the mines, then a
familiar screech tore through the air. We stopped, guns trained down the blackened hole.
Eyes of red, an easy two dozen shining in the gloom.
“Run!” McDermott ordered.
A tiny metal ball with flashing red lights sailed toward the horde. We barely made it to
the next passage before the grenade exploded. Rocks, pebbles, and dust rained around us. The
ground cracked.
Hissing, howling, shrieking, and the clamoring of claws on stone. They were angry. Had
they followed us? A different group, perhaps? Or maybe a distant extension of the colony? It
didn’t matter. We were in their tunnels and the race was on.
Firing blindly behind us, tossing the occasional grenade or slapping one of those LT-29
laser traps on a wall as we went. Doing everything possible to conserve ammo. Somewhere we
must have made a wrong turn.
A sliding blast door blocked the way.
“This shouldn’t be here!” Someone shouted.
“Get it open!” I ordered.
I positioned myself behind Saya while she worked on the control panel, and the horde’s
view. Everyone else pasted to the wall. Once again the world lit up in wave after wave of energy
blasts.
“It’s open!” Saya exclaimed.
I made sure everyone else was in first before I stepped through, rifle still firing behind me
at the throng edging closer and closer. The door shut too quickly, the electronic locks kicking in.
“What the fuck, man!” Kline grumbled, his voice full of nerves. “Where the fuck did they
come from? Holy hell!”
“Stow it, Marine!” Gunny demanded.
“We’ve found an airlock,” Saya told us.
We all turned toward her at first, then to the other door.
The room was all metal, with a computer panel mounted to left wall, and a heavy door
with a window looking into the airlock itself. Beyond the transparent second door was an
external bridge, a wall of stone on the right, a doorway maybe fifty meters ahead, and on the
left… Nothing but stars.
No one moved. What to do? Saya pecked away on the computer panel.
“There’s an extendable tunnel, but it’s only accessible from the panel on the other side.”
Saya said.
“Okay, that’s easy.” I replied, feeling better. “We’ve got two people here in envirosuits.”
I gestured to McDermott and Michael. “Send them both over. One to provide cover and the other
to turn on the bridge.”
“Yeah… About that.” McDermott said, drawing our attention. “My collar’s been hit. The
helmet’s fried completely.”
“Okay…” I sighed. “Mich—”
“Not me, Daren,” he said, lifting his right arm. “Suit’s punctured.”
A gaping scrape, thin but deep revealed pink skin underneath. No blood, though. Lucky
bastard.
“Dios mio!” Lopez barked. “This is why I wanted to wear my armor, Gunny.”
What to do? I looked at the doorway behind us. The Rippers were clawing and banging.
The blast shield wouldn’t hold them back forever.
“Send me,” I commanded.
“No!” Saya’s response was quicker than the other rejections. “Your helmet’s heads-up
display and visor don’t work, and neither does your air recycler. Also, you don’t have a
goddamned air tank! Oh, yeah. And you don’t have zero-G training.”
Snapping my head her direction, I glared at her hard enough to make my old friend shut
up and step back.
“But I’m guessing I can still see through the visor, and I can hold my breath for six
minutes while swimming underwater. Turn my helmet back on.”
“No!”
“If that’s true, then it’s our only option,” McDermott told her. She didn’t seem to like the
idea either, though. “Do it, chief.”
“I will not send my friend out into the black without any zero-g training whatsoever, and
without a functional suit!”
“We’re running low on ammunition, Saya!” I scolded her. “And time! That door won’t
hold.”
“We’re also out of grenades,” Gunny told me. “There’s no way we can get through the
horde. The lieutenant’s ungodly insane plan is the only way, chief.”

The last thing I remember thinking just before the airlock opened was, “God, I’m an
idiot. Good job, jackass.”
FIVE
Dar’Mak Tyr

The big glass doorway (or whatever it comprised of) remained the only object between
me and number four on my bucket list. Believe it or not, that tick, amusing enough, was quite
literally: making a spacewalk in power armor—a thing absolutely impossible until just now.
Guess I’ve seen too many movies and games. The rectangular light positioned over the door lit
up in bright violet. I turned to face the peering portal in the door behind me.
McDermott’s pearlescent pink-white skin, deep blue eyes, and tentacle-hair watched me
through the window, her brow scrunched in worry. The rest of the team stood behind her, but
Saya was not in my view.
“Wait a moment,” Saya told me over the com. “Someone’s locked out the door. I need
thirty seconds. Vent your helmet and breathe.”
“Maci, vent helmet,” I instructed my AI.
Venting, she replied. Daren, for future reference, the ‘purge’ command will not open the
helmet or suit. Instead, it will purge all gasses and airborne toxins.
The visor of my helmet parted a sliver from the mouthpiece, causing two environments to
sizzle and clash.
“Cool.”
Saya continued, “Think of that purple light like a red light. Means stop. Blue is yellow,
and green is green.”
“Purple is red, blue is yellow, and green is green. Got it.”
“Don’t forget to turn on your magnetic boots. Use the button on the belt so you can get
used to it. Don’t use your Maci.”
I hit the button, glad that she’d reminded me. My boots made a faint buzz, then I felt the
force pulling my feet down against the metal walkway.
The door light turned blue.
“Maci, seal helmet,” I said, taking one last deep breath.
Sealing, she replied, closing the mouth piece.
The loud click then hiss of air discharging accompanied a sudden and growing weightless
feeling. My suit remained tight to my body, boots anchored to the walkway, but the sensation
was…exhilarating. Like floating inside a padded glass jar fitted perfectly. My insides hovered, a
feeling not unlike taking an abrupt, sharp nosedive in my uncle’s P-40, except much slower.
The blue light flashed several times, I didn’t count, then turned green.
Silence. Not even the intake and exhale of my own breath, because I held it. Only the
slight rustling of my undershirt inside the biosuit. It was like being in a soundproofed room, the
noise level dropping so suddenly until I could hear my own heartbeat and the swallowing of
saliva.
The door opened and I smiled so broad teeth had to be showing.
“Remember the signals,” McDermott reminded me. “Thumb up for a positive answer.
Thumb down for negative. Wave for distress.”
I looked over my shoulder at her. Not that the woman could see my expression at the
moment. I scowled, confused.
“I know, we can’t get there. We’ll figure it out. Just hurry.” I gave her a wave and started
my walk. “Wait. Was that…? Take this seriously, Travers!”
“Are you kidding, Razha?” Saya said. “I can tell you exactly what he’s thinking. And I’m
not amused, Daren!”
“What’s he thinking?” Kline just had to ask, I suppose.
“First, he’s living number four on his bucket list.”
“This is on his bucket list?” Lopez asked. He didn’t seem to believe it. “This exact thing?
Huh. So what’s his other thought?”
“Space… The final frontier…” Saya only said the beginning of the infamous TV show’s
montage.
I was halfway across by the time she answered. Had to stifle a sudden and uncontrollable
laugh. It came up as a series of blocked snorts that began to hurt.
“And you’re not Captain Kirk!” My old friend scolded me. I waved again. “Damn you!”
Against the rock, the bridge railing turned up and down, latching onto a separate
walkway running over the face of the asteroid itself. This wasn’t as random as I’d thought. It was
an external surface access.
I stopped and turned toward the abyss. I had always thought it would be scary to stare
into the stars so close. That somehow the void would take me into it and never let go. That I’d
float away. Instead, a sort of serenity washed over me. I felt harmony for the first time in my
whole life. Despite the urgency of our situation, and the fact I’d very recently been through
emotional and physical trauma that would have killed a lesser person, I was at peace.
“Daren! You wasted a whole minute!” Saya brought me out of my hypnosis and back to
reality. “You’re at three minutes and fifteen seconds. Get moving.”
I would have sighed if the air were available. I’d been cheated by time and circumstance,
but there would always be later.
Trudging on, back to the task. The opposite door opened. Once inside, the door shut. On
the wall panel inside the airlock, I keyed in the sequence Saya had shown me. Instantly, the
green light over the airlock door turned to a flashing blue and the room began to pressurize. By
the time the purple light came around, my lungs were burning and my blood boiled, though I
remained still and calm.
The internal door opened for me. Maci automatically rolled my helmet down into the
collar, and I heaved for air.
“You are one crazy bastard, lieutenant,” Gunny told me.
“Compliment…accepted, Gunny,” I replied, panting. My head felt fuzzy.
Finally turning off my mag boots, I continued into the entry. The airlock door shut behind
me on its own.
The touch screen computer panel on the wall looked something akin to an IPAD. Why it
was not holographic, I did not honestly care to know. It was, however, blank except for a little
purple light blinking in the upper right corner. Touching the light did nothing. I looked for a
button, but there were none.
“Computer, turn on,” I told it. It did not answer. “Power on.” Nothing. I tried hitting the
light again. “Glass-eyed piece of junk. Interface, activate. Damn it.”
“What’s wrong?” McDermott asked.
“It’s a touch screen pad, not a holographic interface,” I replied frustrated. “It won’t turn
on. I’ve already tried what Saya suggested.”
“If manual operation won’t work, default to your Maci,” Saya told me.
Good idea. I raised my left wrist, watching Maci’s face light up.
How may I be of assistance?
“I need you to hack this terminal and extend the tunnel over the access bridge,” I told her.
Uploading a copy of my security suite into the server. She said, probably only as an
audible update for me. The screen on the wall panel lit up with dozens of blue buttons. It would
appear the Jadawn have locked this terminal.
“Can you hack it?”
Of course. Their technology may be far more advanced than ours, but I have an evolving
security suite. It is only a matter of time before I crack the encryption. I estimate five minutes and
thirty seconds minimum.
“Make it fast.”
Suddenly, her face on my arm changed from blue to orange-red.
Warning! Spybot detected! The Jadawn are now aware of our presence and are being
alerted to this location.
“Damn it! Get that tunnel open.”
They will reach us before I am able to crack the encryption. I suggest you prepare for
battle.
“Fuck my life,” I sighed.
“Travers, what’s wrong?” McDermott asked. “We can’t hear your Maci.”
“The Jadawn locked this console. They’re gonna be here before Maci is done.
Congratulations, galaxy. You have successfully managed to screw me from both ends.”
“Then lock yourself in, Travers.”
I instructed Maci to lock the blast door.
Unable to comply, she replied.
“Why not?”
My security suite is tasked nearly to capacity against Jadawn security bots. They are
affecting all computer systems in this sector. I have been forced to commandeer the local
security AI.
“You can do that?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
I can now. As you have been informed, Chief Takahashi personally wrote my
programming specifically for your use. Theoretically, there is no programming boundary I
cannot overcome. That is, without defying my restraints.
I opened the blast door, hoping to find another mine tunnel. No such luck.
Heavy metal struts held up the walls and ceiling. Large lockers and open tool cabinets
lined the room, two rows taking up space in the center. Three computer desks sat against the far
wall. Several steps led up to a second blast door in the corner across the room.
“Plenty of cover. That’s not good.” I mumbled. “Maci, armor check. Just give me
basics.”
Armor plating holding at eighty-three percent. It received some damage from ripper
weaponry. Shields at two percent. They will not hold much longer. Exoskeleton and biosuit have
not been affected. Power systems at nine percent.
“Nine percent?! When the hell did that happen?”
I informed you of the drop in power during the ripper chase. Your exact reply was,
‘excellent, now give me the bad news’. In a related update, with power below fifteen percent, I
can no longer charge weapon clips.
Well… That sucked. I bit my lip instead of screaming in frustration, looking at my rifle.
“Ammo check.”
There are one hundred seven rounds in your rifle, and three remaining in your Hound.
I growled, punched the wall, and prayed for a miracle.
Shields at one percent.
“What?”
I did inform you of the weakened shield capacity.
“It never ends,” I complained.
“Dogma, Metatron, Alan Rickman,” Saya told me.
Her attempted levity was poorly timed.
“That wasn’t… I mean, you’re right, obviously. But I wasn’t… Screw it, we don’t have
time.”
Positioned behind the doorframe on a knee, rifle trained at the other door, I waited, heart
beat increasing and jaw grit.
Static hit my com. “…Ident…Secure com… System… Again…”
“Maci, who the hell is that on my com? Clean that up.” I ordered.
Maci didn’t respond, though the communication came through. Still full of static,
“Unidentified user, this is the EAS Legacy. You have commandeered an Earth Alliance secure
communications transceiver. Identify yourself or we will fry your system.”
It is a legitimate message from the Legacy. Maci Told me. We must be on the edge of the
interference. I suggest you reply quickly.
“I say again. Unidentified user, this is the EAS Legacy. This is your last warning. You
are using an Earth Alliance secure com system—”
I interrupted him. “Legacy! This is Travers. Do you copy?”
Silence for a second or two. “Travers? How the hell… Give your file number.”
“Are you shitting me? Over an open com channel?”
“This is a scrambled security channel used by official hardware only, lieutenant. It’s
uncrackable. State file number or I have to fry your system.”
I growled under my breath. “Alpha 592 yankee 631 bravo x-ray 8. I’ve been cut off from
the squad at surface access,” I turned around to read the characters on the door behind me. “Juliet
45 Uniform…. What the hell kind of character is that? Looks not quite Greek. Uh, Omega? The
squad is across the external access bridge from my location.”
“Juliet 45 Uniform Omega. Good copy. We have your signal locked in, Travers. Quick
response team is launching. ETA, one minute eight seconds. Transmit report.”
The door across the room opened. No one stepped in.
“That’s not good enough,” I said, lowering my voice and readying to shoot. “The Jadawn
have arrived at my location. Possible four enemy combatant squads entering access ready area.
My armor is in the red. Ammo in the red. Zero additional supplies. Need immediate extraction.”
“Roger that, lieutenant. Hold on. We will be there.”
Two small objects bounced down the steps from the open doorway, rolling across the
floor. A minor flash erupted into twin clouds of smoke that spread quickly, blocking most of the
room from my view.
“Maci, I’ve got a smoke screen.”
Switching to movement detection mode.
A thin line of dull red scrolled down the lenses of my eye pro. The world lit up in dark
blue, inanimate objects becoming thin, pale blue lines. My sense of depth perception certainly
went askew, but it was nothing I couldn’t deal with. Two outlines of orange exited the open
doorway. A giddy chuckle ran up my spine.
They appeared and moved too much like the Jadawn for me not to take the shots. I
couldn’t take the chance at my blasts bouncing off their armor like regular bullets did. I aimed
for their necks.
Almost expecting the crack of an M4, the surprise of an electric hiss when I pulled the
trigger gave me a shudder. Both bodies dropped. Jadawn voices protested obscenities.
“Right back at’cha asshole!” I shouted back. “Legacy, last time I heard the words ‘hold
on’, I ended up two and a half centuries into the future in some godforsaken alien jungle half
way across the galaxy… Except I don’t have an alien pill box with me this time.”
“Travers!” McDermott’s voice jumped in. “Are you in contact with the Legacy? We can
only hear half of your conversation.”
A sliver of a Jadawn’s head peeked around the edge of the doorway. I took the shot and
watched the explosion of bits lit up in orange in my lenses.
“Apparently. Can we not have a three-way here? Because I think I just started an
intergalactic war with the Jadawn.”
“No, they just hate us, Lieutenant.” The coms man from the Legacy told me.
“Okay. Rules. Legacy, keep talking. McDermott, only start talking if the Rippers are
coming through. Legacy says one minute until QRT arrival.”
“Good. The door is holding for now, but they’re finally doing some damage,” McDermott
replied. “We’ll stay silent.”
“Maci, how are you doing on that tunnel bridge?”
I have just passed their tenth security block. Estimated three minutes and fifty-two
seconds remaining.
“Whoever’s listening, I’ve got nowhere to go when they come in. I could really use some
help… Which brings me to a new point. Why the hell did they leave the doors unlocked but
disable the bridge?”
Warning! Second enemy unit approaching external airlock. Sealing both airlock doors.
That’s why. I sighed, glancing behind me. “Legacy, McDermott, I’ve got a second group
approaching the airlock. Maci’s sealing it, but does anyone have any more bright ideas?”
“Pray they don’t have plasma welders,” Kline said.
“Kline! Cut the chatter.” McDermott reprimanded him. “But he’s right, Travers. Seal the
doors and pray.”
“That second group will make it tough for us to dock,” the Legacy’s coms man told me.
“Goddamnit,” I growled through grit teeth. “Then figure it out.”
What to do? I found myself asking that question rhetorically too often. Looking at my
record, I’m stellar from grade school all the way through the Army. Yet, inside my head, I
questioned everything, watched every plan go to hell, and then just improvised and made up the
rest as I went along. Like I had to do now.
Several Jadawn poured out of the other doorway and into the room. I killed any that came
across my line of sight, wounded a few, and cursed the rest silently. Pulse pounding in my ears,
nerves shaking, and my body still, I waited for their next move.
“Traveler!” A dark, throaty voice boomed from somewhere on the other side of the center
lockers. “I would treat with you.”
He must have been speaking actual English because the words were slow and careful.
“I’m listening,” I replied, telling myself to be ready for anything.
“We came in jungle, you only a traveler. Easy bounty. Truth not made known to us. Then
you kill many warriors with primitive weapon.”
“Had fun doing it!” I interrupted him.
He seemed to ignore it, or perhaps found it only mildly amusing. “We come here,
discover what you are. You not scientist. You cunning warrior. You deserve warrior’s fight. Not,
how you say, cage bird?”
“I think you mean rat in a cage.” I gave it some thought. Maybe there was a way out,
after all. “I won’t be taken alive. I’m not big on suicide, but it’s starting to look mighty inviting.”
Let’s see if he calls my bluff.
“My sensors see shuttle coming for you and comrades. My warriors not allow. You
surrounded. You armor and weapons are…rusty.”
Shit. “Rusty? I think you mean low. What did you have in mind?”
“We fight. You and I. My warriors not interfere. You defeat me, we withdraw.”
Their honor is second only to their greed. The words rang though my skull.
“What about your payment?” I asked.
“It shall satisfy today or later.” My gut told me he was genuine. “You fight? Or must
we… swarm you?”
Fuck my life with an elephant dick. “Maci?” I whispered.
I am still working on it, Daren. Maci said. I can be of no further assistance at this
moment. You have thirty seconds until shuttle arrival, not counting on the Jadawn outside. To
stall, fight, or take your own life are your current options. That is, if you do not wish to be
captured.
“Yeah, I was bluffing on that suicide thing.” I whispered to Maci, then raised my voice.
“Looks like I don’t have a choice. I assume you’re their commander?”
“I am he.” The voice boomed proudly.
And from the doorway, out walked a monstrosity. His armor alone had to weigh as much
as I did with my armor on. His rifle was a freaking cannon as long as I am tall and broad as my
shoulders were wide. The pistol at his hip and the knife opposite it were both easily the length of
my torso.
My eyes popped, jaw dropped. “Holy fuck,” I mumbled, not really sure if it was an
audible thought or I was speaking to someone on my com. “This sonofabitch has got to be nine
feet tall.”
I couldn’t tell what my emotions wanted to do—laugh at the challenge or go find a corner
somewhere and pray. That giant of an alien commander dropped his rifle then took off his
helmet. When his jaw split open three ways like all other Jadawn, it became immediately
apparent that he could swallow my head whole. His roar rattled the lockers around him. Even
with this armor on, I might reach his midriff. He began to stretch his arms and fingers. No way
could I beat this guy, even in my suit.
I dropped back behind cover, my mind racing a thousand miles a second, heartbeat
increasing. For one inexplicable reason or another, my busy thoughts settled on my pistol,
drawing my eyes with them.
I’ve had to quick draw in combat before, but only because I’d had no other choice, and
I’ve performed at countless competitions. I had the speed. I could do it.
“Maci, can I move at full speed in this suit?” I asked.
In theory, this suit is designed to augment your natural physical abilities. Your ordinary
movement should not be affected, even if the suit has no power. Remember, the exoskeleton
works on a constriction band system, not electronics nor hydraulics.
“Daren, I heard that,” Saya’s voice held a note of worry.
“What?” I asked her.
“Your coms are still open. I know what’s on your mind, and I’m telling you no!”
I ignored her, peering around the edge of the doorway at the commander again. God! He
was enormous.
“Your option, Traveler?” The giant asked, sounding annoyed.
“What happens to my squad if you take me?” I wondered aloud.
“We take you. They go free. No interest.”
The question left my lips before the thought even struck me. “Are you familiar with the
legends of Earth’s cowboys?”
“I am fond of these stories,” he said slower than usual. His face and voice seemed to perk
right up. “You want the shootout at OK Corral?”
His three-way mouth split and twisted oddly as though forming the hungriest, most
animalistic smile I’d ever seen. Instantly, my innards flipped a one-eighty as a shot of adrenaline
hit me like a sledge hammer, and a grin crept across my lips. I felt better about being me.
“I was thinking more of a duel than a slaughter, but that’s the idea, yeah.” Please say yes,
I thought with too much eagerness.
“Yes!” The walking monster roared proudly, his fists raising above his head, nearly
brushing the ceiling. “Must warn, Traveler. None defeat me.”
A surge washed over every part of me, making my fingers and toes tingle. I stepped out,
slinging my rifle at my back.
Standing in the center of the doorway, I scanned the room as the smoke finally began to
clear. Too many guns pointed at me, but that Jadawn commander waited directly across the way,
with a clear line of sight in the space between the central rows of lockers.
He pointed at one of his warriors that I could barely see the head of just to my front right.
“Count to three,” he ordered gladly.
“One!” the warrior shouted, his eyes narrowing my direction.
“Travers! No! He’s too goddamned fast!” The Legacy howled in my ear. “Lieutenant!”
“Get back behind cover!” McDermott screamed. “I can see your head from here! Don’t
do it.”
My smirk grew, fingers brushing the grip of my pistol.
“Two!” the warrior called.
“He’s going to die,” Gunny grumbled. “Insanity.” Can’t say I wouldn’t do the same in his
position.”
“You can do it,” Saya whispered in my ear.
“Three!”
Adrenaline racked through my left arm. Everyone else would only see a twitch, a
movement so small and insignificant as to go unnoticed, and to their eyes, my Hound would
never leave the holster. The howl of my Hound called to the rock and steel, echoing down the
passage.
Something slammed my right shoulder. I spun too fast. The ground came up to meet me.
The world rang loud in my ears while my balance wove to and fro. For a moment, all I
could do was stare at the airlock door and take in the silence.
Vitals stable, Maci’s voice broke the haze. Shields depleted. Armor at seventy percent.
Right shoulder of suit heavily damaged. Biosuit intact. You are unharmed.
“Except for my rung bell,” I whispered a growl at Maci.
Concentrating on Maci’s words, I took a long breath and fought back to my feet, taking
care to feel out my body without looking. Nothing hurt.
His men murmured and gasped.
“That was too goddamned slow,” I told myself, looking down at the armor on my left arm
then shaking the dizzy out of my head. “Suit’s too bulky.”
The walking monstrosity poised on his knee, pistol on the ground. A large piece of chest
plate was melted through, his skin beneath exposed and charred. Wheezing for air, he spat thick
gray-purple blood then grabbed his weapon and stood.
We both stared. The grip I had on my pistol tightened. He scowled, and I waited for him
to move.
“How you say…a knot,” the commander said.
“You mean a tie,” I told him, wondering what was going to happen next.
“Tie,” he nodded.
“Darren?” McDermott asked. She sounded more worried than Saya.
“Wait one, McDermott,” I answered. To the Jadawn commander, “So what happens now?
I’m conscious and I’ve got a few rounds left. You’re not dead and I’m still surrounded.”
“No victory. No shame. I find you. Today, I honor my word. I am Commander Neerod.
Tell me. Who you are?” He spat more blood. “More than you seem.”
“Who am I?” I wondered. “I achieved the impossible… Crossed the boundaries of space.
I bested Father Time. Defeated what many call the greatest warriors in the Galaxy with a single
blow. Outwitted Death at his own game. And I shot the Devil in the ass because he was in my
way. My name is Daren Michael Travers, and I am the warrior traveler.”
“Dar’Mak Tyr,” One of them chanted. A few seconds of silence, then another echoed the
chant. One by one they all joined in. Most of them had helmets, so I couldn’t see their faces,
though their voices were terrified. “Dar’Mak Tyr!” They sang.
“So be it.” I could only describe the glare he gave me as sardonic. “Dar’Mak Tyr.”
He holstered his pistol. One of his warriors handed over his rifle and helmet.
I watched nervously, gripping my pistol tighter, while the Jadawn filed out of the room.
The commander eyed me, waiting for his men to leave first. For another moment, only the two of
us remained. His scowl. My ire. This was far from over. I would see Commander Neerod again.
Finally, he gave me a very human style salute of respect then left. Neerod was
undoubtedly an admirer of human military and war.
“Darren?” Saya asked, her voice full of anxiety and alarm. “What happened?”
“They’re leaving, but this isn’t over,” I told her then paused. “And I need a lighter suit.”

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