Star Brigade: Odysseys - An Anthology (5 page)

Jan’Hax’s eyes narrowed. Tyris began clenching and unclenching his fists. If the mention of Star Brigade’s decommissioning had ruined the quartet’s jovial mood, talk of reserve Brigadiers detonated it entirely. Everyone in the room knew who Surje so subtly referred to—a former earthborn friend, who had ducked out of active Star Brigade service after completing a xenobiology fellowship. The memory still stung.

“Oh, come ON you guys!” Khrome groaned with annoyance. “Lily never had any contractual obligation to become an active Star Brigadier after her fellowship ended. Stop punishing her already.”

Only Khrome remained on the Liliana Cortés bandwagon. But in Tyris’s opinion, the Thulican forgave others way too easily. 

“Khrome’s got a point,” Jan’Hax conceded after a long and loaded silence. “And it’s not like Lily went and pulled an Addison Raichoudry.”

The memory of Addison Raichoudry and her unceremonious departure sent a collective cringe through the group, Surje more than most.

The Voton leaned forward, staring at nothing. “Earthborn women are strange,” he muttered.

“No joke,” Tyris agreed with a rude noise. Of all the odd species he had encountered in Union Space, humans offered both a surprising adaptability and a volatility that could be troubling.

“The meeting could be good news,” said Khrome, not accepting defeat.

“Or that the Brigade’s getting decommissioned.”

Khrome gave Tyris a reproachful look. “You’re just a comet full of sunshine, you know that?”

If the Tanoeen had a visible mouth, it would reveal a broad and toothy smile. “Comes with the sparkling package.” He always knew how to push the Thulican’s buttons.

“If the Brigade ends tomorrow,” Jan’Hax cast a sweeping gaze over his three friends, “it’s been fun serving with you all.”

Khrome’s grin stretched ear to ear. “Truth.”

“Likewise,” Tyris added with genuine enthusiasm.

“Hear, hear!” Surje raised a fist in the air, for no apparent reason other than to show his agreement.

Jan’Hax wasn’t finished. He waved his webbed hands to get everyone’s attention. “How about this post-Brigade idea? And no, it does not involve Fortuna or gambling, so save me the sermon, celebrant!” Jan’Hax countered as Surje opened his mouth angrily.

“Alright, humor us,” Khrome allowed, arms spread wide.

“Us four, traveling through Union Space, taking in all the sights.”

Tyris perked up. “Like a space tour?”

“Yes,” Jan’Hax continued. The Ciphereen smacked his duck-billed mouth with excitement. “We pick some planets to visit, no set time table on how long we stay on any of them.”

Tyris considered the proposal. He had been curious to see more of Union Space since arriving here over five years ago. And who better to take in the sights than with his best friends? He nodded with cool acceptance. “You’ve had worse ideas.”

Surje agreed, lighting up with a warm red shine. “I like it. Jan’Hax’s idea.  Seeing more would be fun. Of Union Space, that is.”

“Let’s do it…if Star Brigade get decommissioned,” Khrome added.

“Which it will,” the Tanoeen insisted.

Khrome ignored him. “Now, can we finish the game? I’m not done conquering this world.”

Surje scoffed, putting back on his gameplay visor. “Not going to happen. My faction may be a bunch of colonies, but I’ll still win. The planet, that is. I’ll rebel against you.”

“Which I’ll be ready for, now that you’ve told me,” Khrome crowed, reactivating his holoscreen.

Surje swore in loud Votonese, his skin flashing bright red at his misstep.

Jan’Hax snorted. “Worst. Intel Operative. Ever—OW.” The Ciphereen jumped in his seat. Surje had given him a hard, electric-charged poke to the ribs.

Khrome and Tyris both guffawed. “You asked for that,” said the Tanoeen between squally-like bursts of laughter.

V’Korram Pryderi-Ravlek’s victory roar rang across the unremarkable rolling plains long after he had finished, again and again, each echo growing more distant.

Every nerve ending tingled with triumph. His senses felt heightened and alive from the high of killing something.

Or in his case, killing several things.

The Kintarian stood at his full six-foot-nine-inch height, massive chest heaving, exerted but not exhausted. Through curtains of stringy ginger hair, he stared at the dark blood soaking the length of his tawny fur-covered frame and dripping from his clawed fingers—blood that wasn’t his own.

V’Korram smiled in satisfaction. Glancing around to appreciate his handiwork made the smile broaden to display razor-sharp teeth.

A small slice of the short bluegrass plains surrounding him was torn up and littered with bleeding, mangled corpses—Kintarian corpses. The sinking sun cast a warm red glow over the grasslands, adding a macabre glow to the scene many would called gruesome.

V’Korram, however, reveled in its beauty.

Some of these carcasses had their throats ripped open; others were missing limbs or heads, while a number had their innards spilling out of shredded abdomens.

Every Kintarian lying dead at V’Korram’s feet were members of his clan or immediate family, which was precisely why he had slaughtered them. This was how he had spent the afternoon of his day off.

The Kintarian’s three litter brothers, his two litter sisters, numerous siblings from his parents’ other litters, both mother and father—V’Korram had taken his sweet time with those two in particular before killing them.

These clan members had once been his everything, only to abandon him at his lowest moment, believing others’ lies, disowning him from the Pryderi clan and the greater Ravlek pride.

The Kintarian turned a dispassionate eye down at the face of his father, which resembled juicy shredded meat. V’Korram hocked deep in his throat and spat on it. Family only meant that they eviscerated you with a reassuring smile.

If only you were real
, V’Korram noted sullenly.

And the smile began to fade, as did the euphoria. Just like every time before.

Any time the anger and self-loathing threatened to devour him, and even the sweetness between Bevrolor’s thighs wasn’t enough to satiate him, V’Korram ‘killed’ hardlight holograms of his disloyal clan to unwind.

He planned to keep slaughtering his former clan as long as it took, until they were utterly dead to him. And when every member of his clan was actually dead, they would mean nothing to him.

Given Star Brigade’s current state, he had absolutely needed to—how did earthborns phrase it—‘blow off steam.’

The field operative training sessions with his alleged teammates had been an embarrassment. And this legendary Habraum Nwosu that Sam brought back to ‘save’ Star Brigade, had been less than encouraging thus far. ‘Out of his depth’ would be the understatement of the millennium. V’Korram wasn’t sorry about what he’d said to Nwosu the other day. How could any Brigadier trust in the crimsonborn’s commitment, after he’d left when times grew tough?

However, the Cercidalean didn’t have much to work with in terms of seasoned Brigadiers. Sam and Captain Ishliba had more experience between the two of them than any of the remaining Brigadiers on the roster—literally.

And something smelled off about the Rothorid. The onset of some disease, possibly. Whatever the issue, V’Korram had respect enough not to say anything to Honaa. As long as this illness didn’t compromise Star Brigade’s ‘progress.’

And the euphoria had vanished completely. V’Korram bristled.

The Kintarian contemplated running his personal HLHG program again, but decided against it. Twice in one day was enough.

“End program,” he ordered in a brusque growl.

The rolling plains of bluegrass, the deep-red sunset, the bodies of his clan, even the rivers of blood staining his body —all of it vanished. Now the only things covering the towering Kintarian were tight black athletic shorts and sweat. The latter saturated V’Korram’s tawny body fur and the long ginger mane he tossed back from his face. Neon blue walls surrounded him now, pulsing slowly with energy. 

The Kintarian strode from the HLHG suite, his swift yet graceful footfall never making a sound. He had passed through the suite’s rotund atrium and headed for the exit of the HLHG Sector.

And that was when V’Korram’s attention got drawn to his right.

Down the gunmetal grey corridor he saw HLHG-1 occupied, as indicated by the deep red square at the top of its rectangular door console. V’Korram’s ever-present scowl deepened. “Who?” 

Curious, the Kintarian turned on his heel and strode for the very first of the six Hollus Maddrone HLHG suites. As he approached, V’Korram took a quick whiff of the air, catching the lingering scent of whoever had last entered the HLHG suite—recognizing its fragrant, human softness.

Her.
V’Korram’s pointy ears flattened, his already sour mood turning pitch-black.

‘Her’ being Dr. Liliana Cortés, that feeble, undertrained weakling of an earthborn underserving of her maximal powers. Frail, skinny and
weak,
even for a human.

One lucky shot during an organization all-hands had Captain Nwosu convinced this Cortés had field active potential. The notion was laughable, and further proof of Nwosu’s questionable leadership. Cortés had no business as a field operator, let alone stepping foot on Hollus Maddrone. V’Korram knew that the moment he’d met her at Bilbao Interplanetary Spaceport. Cortés had gotten nauseous on the trip to Hollus…from being inside a spacefaring craft. What
Star Brigadier
got nauseous on a spacecraft? And the training sessions during which she’d frozen or just curled up and shrieked her nonsensical head off?

The memories quickly filled V’Korram with near explosive rage.

He almost spun around and stalked off…almost. But a wickedly curious part of him couldn’t resist. The Kintarian just had to see this earthborn’s attempts to better her nonexistent skills.

Cortés must have expected everyone to be off-base today.
Probably why she didn’t make her training session private.
One optical scan from the side console, and the doors slid open for V’Korram.

She crouched in the dead center of the neon-blue room. The black tank top and tight grey active nanoclothe ¾ pants she wore overtly emphasized how the doctor’s body was mostly legs, topped off by a slim built torso with spare arms. 

Her usually light honey complexion was flushed from exertion, the cropped boyish black hair lank from perspiration, her delicate features a mask of unthreatening determination. The air was awash with her scent, which V’Korram found gallingly aromatic. At first, the Kintarian couldn’t tell which program the doctor was running, until he followed her gaze up toward the globe-shaped mechanoid circling several feet overhead.

The target practice mech,
V’Korram recalled, remembering with a cringe how much those low-level blasts stung when one didn’t dodge in time. Either Nwosu or Sam must have suggested this for Cortés’s training.

The doctor, focused on her robotic opponent, hadn’t noticed V’Korram entering
. She should’ve sensed me the moment I arrived
, the Kintarian critiqued.
A good soldier is mindful of their surroundings.

Cortés remained crouched and waiting, eyes tracking her aerial target, hands clasped like a pistol. The sound of her heart pitter-pattering with dread filled the Kintarian’s heightened hearing.

The mechanoid fired. Cortés dove to the left, barely dodging the
put-put
of pulse blasts striking her last location.

She twisted her slender frame quickly…almost
expertly
, firing off white rings of sonic energy in a sweeping blast. A high-pitched whine that most species wouldn’t have heard stabbed at V’Korram’s eardrums. He flinched only for a moment, until the sonic blast ended.

The sphere-like mechanoid tried zipping away, only to fly into the full force of Cortés’s sonic burst. It dropped like a stone, hitting the floor with a loud
clank
!

The doctor stood up, more surprised than V’Korram that she’d struck her target without getting struck. “Yes!” she pumped her fists in genuine triumph.

At least she’s working hard to improve
, a voice in V’Korram’s head considered. But he refused to accept such little steps. On his supply runs to Korvenite internment camps with Sam, she had cryptically alluded to how the Brigade didn’t have several months to train new field operatives. Several weeks felt more accurate.

V’Korram snorted, folding his arms and leaning casually against the wall near the entrance. From what he’d seen of Cortés, the Kintarian doubted she’d last a month. It behooved him and Star Brigade to expedite that eventual departure.

At that moment, Cortés turned, saw V’Korram and recoiled. Her ovular features ran the gamut of shock, embarrassment, fear and anger in a heartbeat. “What are you doing in here?” she demanded, keeping as much trembling panic out of her voice as possible.

V’Korram tossed back his long, stringy mane again, his green-flecked eyes trained on Cortés. “Watching you.”

By her peevish glare and the way the nostrils of her long nose flared, Cortés clearly had no interest in an audience. She pointed a dainty finger at the exit. Gods, those hands looked like a hydrospray spurt could break them. “Then watch in the ObDeck.”

The Kintarian almost laughed. Her fury was as threatening as a kitten’s. “View’s better here. Or should I say…more entertaining.”
He fought back laughter, barely.
Don’t laugh, that will do you no favors.

“Fine.” The doctor stuck her nose up in the air huffily. “I’ll leave.” She then marched all graceful and stiff-shouldered toward the HLHG suite exit.

V’Korram’s smile became a scowl. That wasn’t the reaction he’d hoped for.
Need another approach to show her why she doesn’t belong.
She had almost passed the Kintarian, when he stepped in Cortés’s path with one stride. He stood almost a foot taller than the doctor. Compared to her willowy frame, V’Korram was a solid wall of lithe muscle. “Want real practice? Try a living target.”

She backpedaled immediately, staring up at him in disbelief. “You?”

The Kintarian bristled at the dumb question. “See any other living sentients in here?”

The doctor looked skeptical, pursing her lips in that peculiar way of hers. So V’Korram sweetened the pot. “You get the chance to try hitting me.”

And Cortés was sold.

The Kintarian went a considerable distance from her, dropping to a crouch. “Begin,” he growled out.

The doctor quickly raised her pointed fingers to chest level and fired. V’Korram effortlessly leapt and somersaulted over the first blast. Sharp contempt filled him while casually sidestepping the second attack.

The Kintarian juked left then right, zigzagging his massive self with practiced ease around the barrage of bright white sonic bursts. The doctor’s uncertain aim did nothing to stop him from getting closer and closer, until V’Korram was right in front of her.

Too easy.
His left hand swept upward, breaking apart her clasped fingers, his right hand catching her by the throat. V’Korram stood up, holding a gasping Cortés off the ground one-handed, her long legs flailing uselessly in the air. His fingers, so long, wrapped around her whole neck.

“Dead,” the Kintarian sneered, showing sharp teeth. He opened his hand and dropped her to the ground on her behind. She sat there staring off at nothing, the color drained from her face.

“Again,” V’Korram snapped, jolting the doctor out of her shock.

He took the same crouched stance as before, albeit a little closer. Cortés took a deep breath, trying and failing to steady herself. She then settled into a less stiff posture…

V’Korram pounced, not giving her time to prepare.
Conflict waits for no one.

To his surprise and chagrin, Liliana hurriedly snapped up her pointed fingers and fired right as he reached her.

The Kintarian danced away just in time, and had to backflip over a pair of wide sonic bursts. The doctor pressed him much faster now and with more confidence, shooting off sound blast after white ringed sound blast.

V’Korram weaved and bobbed from side to side, pounced and slid,
barely
avoiding each rattling burst of white sonic rings. This time he couldn’t get close enough. Cortés had created a perimeter around her person from all angles, effectively keeping V’Korram at bay.

Not bad
, he had to admit, split jumping over another blast. On a positive note, the Kintarian realized her attacks weren’t needling his ears so much.

And then he spotted the doctor’s attack pattern. Cortés never fired lower than waist level—his waist level.
Which means…

V’Korram went low on all fours and charged. Cortés dropped her aim to compensate… an instant too late.

The Kintarian rammed his shoulder, full-speed, into her stomach.