CHAPTER 2
Kalin
SIX MONTHS LATER...
She was four years old and frightened, running down the hill whimpering, trying not to fall. Behind her, the dark shadow raced along the grass, a malefic black hand hurrying to capture its prey.
“Run, Disa!” shouted Kalin, dashing up the hill, stumbling and slipping on the wet grass.
“It’s too fast!” cried Disa, her black bangs soaked with sweat.
“Don’t stop running!” he yelled.
He couldn’t let it get her. She was helpless against the beast. His heart nearly stopped when he saw her trip and fall facedown. She sat up crying, a stream of blood running down her forehead. The slithering black hand rose in the air above Disa’s head. She screamed as its clawed fingers swooped down, engulfing her small body. Its slimy tendrils were forcing their way into her open orifices. He could hear her gurgling and choking as they pushed downward into her throat.
Kalin dove into the air and onto the two, rolling, tearing off chunks of the creature, desperate to save his little sister. As he flung the black slime, it shrilled and scurried back to her, digging into her skin, sucking out what life she had left. He ripped off the piece burrowing into her left arm and froze. He was holding her detached appendage....
“No!”
Kalin sat up in bed trembling, covered in a cold sweat. He took several deep breaths and darted a glance around the room. It was dark and quiet, lit only by the panel lights on the ebony desk around the corner from his bed. Nothing had changed in the multi-level cabin. He was on his ship, the Quasar.
Another nightmare, he thought. The fourth one this week.
He threw the covers aside and sat on the edge of the bed. At the far end of the room, a man-sized domed window extended into space. A blanket of stars twinkled outside, but they were no comfort tonight. He shivered as he recalled the cold, slimy feel of Disa’s skin, something he’d been trying to forget. He swung his legs off the bed and got up with a groan. The dreams were always exhausting. He made his way across the open room, passing the lower levels filled with couches, tables, and assorted artifacts from the planets he’d visited. He entered the bathroom then winced when the lights automatically came on. A stark, unbroken white covered three walls from floor to ceiling where a flowing mural of sea life offered some relief. The fourth wall was mirrored with a small stainless steel basin and several clear shelves containing towels and assorted bath items. It was to this one that he went, planting his hands on either side of the basin.
“Water. Seventy degrees.”
The faucet began to spew with a low shhhh. Kalin splashed the cool water on his face, running it through his hair, waiting for his heartbeat to return to normal. Once it had, he leaned forward and peered into the mirror.
Swollen red skin surrounded his eyes; he’d been crying in his sleep again. He blinked a few times to clear his vision then stared at himself in disbelief. Before him was a sickly-looking man. His face was pale and drawn. His black hair stood on end. His eyes were so bloodshot they no longer looked green.
This is killing me, he thought, pulling down his bottom eyelid with his finger. I have to find him.
He ran his hands down his chest, felt the jutting of his ribs from forty pounds of lost flesh, and realized how little he now reflected his Saleran-human traits. No wonder his women friends felt sorry for him. There was nothing human left of him. His emotions had been replaced by a great black void. His mental capabilities had long since begun to flag from the exertion of maintaining appearances, and now even his body had begun to fail him.
I look like the walking dead.
The doorbell sounded.
“Come in, Marante,” he said, grateful for his telepathy. It had saved him in the past; now, he thought, he needed it more than ever.
Marante walked in with a clear tubular glass in each of his eight-fingered hands. Eyeing him from the bathroom, Kalin felt a little better about his weight loss. Marante’s nose was white and twice its normal size.
Great, thought Kalin. Something’s up.
He snatched a towel and went to the steps leading down to the sofa and chairs. His loose black pants were damp with sweat, so he sank onto one of the steps.
“I’m getting tired of them,” he said as he dried his face and hair.
“Yes, I know,” said Marante in his smooth accent.
Marante waited until he’d flung the towel around his bare shoulders, then handed him a glass. Kalin took it, no longer noticing the large intrusive hands.
“Lyu?” Kalin asked, eyeing the green liquor. Lyu was the best drink in the galaxy, and the most expensive.
“I thought you could use it.” Marante turned and walked down the three steps to the lower level then sat on the couch.
“I could have used Ilya. But,” Kalin added morosely, “she’s at one of her Nentran Rituals.”
“There is something about her I cannot place,” Marante said with a frown. “She has a way of blocking my telepathy.”
Kalin sipped the sweet drink, savoring the cool mint. “Good thing. I don’t want you seeing what we do.”
Marante’s nose instantly turned green and shrank to pea size. Kalin couldn’t help but smile watching it change.
“Wonderful.” Marante scrunched up his face and set his drink on the glass table in front of him. “Thank you for making me sick. How could you sleep with a woman who enjoys the company of animals?”
Kalin drained his glass. Marante always knew how to calm him.
“It’s what her kind does. The absorption of the Henual cells from the animal’s sperm is necessary for their lungs to function properly. To them, it’s natural. To you, repulsive. It doesn’t bother me as long as she does a bioscan, which, by the way, is also part of the ritual. She isn’t infectious.”
“I can deal with your variety of self-absorbed women, but a Tàtress is difficult to accept.”
“Wimp.”
“At least she is more intelligent than the flighty doughballs you usually associate with - BBs – Brainless Beauties. As the crowned Prince of Salera, you could have women of higher stature.”
Kalin sneered. Loose women, or “Kelfins,” were his preference, though his father had disapproved.
“I’m attracted to women who are less fortunate,” he said, ending the discussion. They’d had it many times and it always culminated in yelling. He didn’t have the energy for it this early in the morning. “The point is I can’t keep living this way. Any news on Vorkis?”
Marante hesitated.
Here it comes, thought Kalin.
“We intercepted another message from the Federation. Apparently Vorkis managed to conceal a location to a large quantity of Pril.”
“I knew it! The Federation didn’t believe me about Vorkis. If only my father had listened, he would be alive today.”
“I blame Salera’s Code of Ethilia,” said Marante. “Those laws have been strictly upheld for over five thousand years, and it was the primary code of forbidding association or activity outside the planet that destroyed Salera. Saleran-humans were unable to develop the antibodies necessary to fight the virus Vorkis sprayed into the atmosphere. Your body fought it and won. You are living proof that Code should never have been followed.”
Kalin leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He could still hear Disa’s pleas. Tears welled in his eyes. There seemed to be no end to the crying.
Your sorrow will ease with time, Marante told him silently.
“No, it won’t,” Kalin said aloud. “This is forever.” He held his breath for a second, reorganizing his thoughts. “What else did you find?”
“The Federation discovered Vorkis’ base on a planet called Draka in the Nebis System. He was not there but ten Xeon Diffusers were being assembled by Zorcons.”
“Xeon Diffusers? That’s ancient technology. He must have stolen them from a Ritan freighter.”
“I agree, but there is something else.” Marante leaned forward in his seat. “Kalin, Vorkis
is on Earth.”
Kalin couldn’t believe his ears. He jumped to his feet and threw up his arms, sending his glass flying across the room. “Finally!” Then he paused. “...Did you say Earth? In the Stargas System?”
Marante nodded. “Yes, the one whose theater you enjoy so much. Its core has an extremely high concentration of Pril.”
Kalin tossed his towel on the couch next to Marante. “Set a course for Earth. It’s time for Vorkis to pay.”
Marante didn’t rise. “Captain Vurro has been assigned to the mission; he is on his way there now.”
“Vurro, that thief?”
“You were not to be told. The Federation is concerned for your safety and for the future of Salera.”
“Now they’re concerned?” scoffed Kalin. “They knew Vorkis had a secret lab and did nothing. They knew he was collecting pathogens and did nothing. If they had told my father in time, he and thirty billion other people would still be alive. Now they’re sending a moron who was banished from my planet for thievery to find the man who murdered my people. Next to Vorkis, they’re to blame for the extermination of my race. No, they’ve lost my trust forever.”
“Your logic is correct,” said Marante. “Unfortunately, Ilya was the last to use the Comscan and she mistakenly left the Ruode Wave setting too high. The Federation detected our scan. Councilman Lozari was not at all surprised and assured me no criminal action would be taken considering the circumstances, but he did insist you stay clear of Vurro’s mission. They are firm in their decision.”
Kalin remembered the first time he left Salera to assist the Federation. It was over five hundred years ago; he’d been a mere ninety-two, young in Saleran society. His father had insisted he remain on the planet, but Kalin’s desire to help people was stronger than his father’s will. With the Quasar, Kalin had successfully completed hundreds of missions for the Federation, yet they hadn’t cared enough to save his world. He became so enraged with the discovery of their knowledge of Vorkis’ secret laboratory that he personally went to the Ravion System, forced his way into their Council Chamber and angrily withdrew Salera from the Federation, swearing never again to help them.
“I’m done with them,” said Kalin.
Silence fell over the room. Kalin sensed Marante couldn’t accept the possibility of his friend dying but he had to make him understand.
“I want him dead,” he said. “I want to see the last ounce of life leave his eyes and feel his last breath on my face.” He gritted his teeth. “I want him to beg for his life.”
Marante sat forward, his elbows on his knees. “I know what you want. I would want the same, however, I would have to consider the lives of my people. Salera is depending on you for survival. It is your responsibility to bring her back to life.”
“It’s too late. My race became extinct when he killed the last female.”
“I do not agree.” Marante’s tone went up an octave. “This universe is enormous, filled with an assortment of life forms we have not yet contacted. We will eventually encounter a species capable of gestating a Saleran-human. This is a certainty.”
Kalin shook his head in disgust and turned away. He walked to the bubble window and stood in the glass dome where twinkling stars surrounded him.
“Remember our last encounter with Vurro?” he asked, staring at a distant comet. “I had to beat him unconscious to stop him from killing a small Rajan just because the man wouldn’t pick up Vurro’s garbage. The Rajans put him in jail for seven weeks. I embarrassed him in front of his fiancée and he swore to get even.” He turned back to Marante. “And this is the guy they sent to catch my enemy? Something’s not right.”
“You must understand; your safety comes first.”
“I’m the only one who can fight Vorkis on equal ground,” Kalin insisted. “It has to be this way. I can’t change it.”
Marante came and sat on the white cushioned bench in front of him. “Revenge is similar to a caliginous pit filled with dead bones, Kalin, and you are standing at its threshold of darkness. There is no life there, no happiness. Your sorrow will remain until you learn to live for the people that loved you.”
Marante didn’t understand. How could he? Not even an empath could feel his emptiness, his deep-rooted pain. He turned back to the stars. “I gave an order. Set a course for the Stargas System.”
“I will not be a part of Salera’s destruction.”
“You will do it or be relieved of your duties.”
The reflection on the glass revealed Marante’s bright, red nose. He was angry again, but this was no time to be weak.
“You would actually relieve me of my duties?”
Kalin faced him. “If I have to.”
Marante vaulted from the bench. “My concern is for your well-being and your future, but like always, you are being stubborn and obnoxious. I will set a course for the Stargas System and when you fall flat on your face, I hope I am there to see it.”
Marante stormed out of the room. Kalin dropped down on the bench, bent forward and rubbed his face with both hands. A dark pit filled with dead bones. How right he was.
The hatred was so overpowering at times all Kalin could do was think of different ways to kill Vorkis. He’d decided the most satisfying would be to cut out his heart while he was still alive and let him watch it stop pumping as he bled to death.
He went to the desk beside his bed and tapped the surface. Several colorful orbs revealed themselves, and he pulled up the gray cushion hovering in front of the desk. As he sat, the padding grew around his body, forming a high back and armrests. He waved his hand over a blue orb to display a three-dimensional holo star map. A red blinking light moved slowly through it. The Quasar was adjusting her course. Even when Marante was angry, he obeyed orders.
Doubt trickled through him. Was he allowing hatred to consume him? No. If he allowed Vorkis to live, billions more would suffer Salera’s fate. Vorkis had to die at any cost and he would make sure it happened.
He waved his hand through the holo. “Tolba.”
A Chaslean-human helmsman appeared in the display. It was hard to tell whether Tolba was angry or not. Chaslean-humans were differentiated by the size and shape of their eyes. Tolba’s eyes bent slightly upward before meeting at the wrinkled bridge of his nose, which made him appear angry, but beneath the rigid features, Tolba was compassionate. As Marante’s cousin, he’d become one of the few Kalin could trust with the Quasar. He also followed orders explicitly.
“Yes, Captain?”
“Cloak us and set the scanners to locate Captain Vurro’s ship, the Arliss.”
“Aye, Sir.”
Kalin sat back and noticed the white, jewel-encrusted handle of his Norin Blade levitating vertically on the corner of the desk. The organic weapon never lay flat, but always upended; why, he didn’t know. He took the bladeless handle and felt it widen inside his palm, a perfect fit. Carved into the handle along the edge were the words of a language not even Salera’s high tech could figure out. As he concentrated, small green branches and offshoots began climbing out of the handle, twining and solidifying into a perfect twenty-two-inch-long, razor-sharp silver blade, the largest of its adjustable size. The double edge made it perfect for battle, especially as it could begin cutting three inches away from its target. Nothing like this had ever been invented.
He was fourteen years old the day he’d found it in his home on Salera, in a secret chamber he’d discovered in the dungeon of the castle. He’d never told his father for fear it would be taken from him. He’d named the blade Norin, meaning “stealth killer,” because it had saved his life many times. He wished it could save him now. There was a small flash of light and the blade swiftly liquefied into the white handle. He returned it to the desk and waved his hand over a yellow orb. The captured message from the Federation appeared.
Vorkis’ private army is composed of Zorcons, he thought. The most despicable race in the galaxy.
Their disgusting habit of cannibalism turned hi
s stomach. The fact that they enjoyed terrorizing their victims before eating them alive made them worse than animals. He’d stopped countless rebel Zorcon ships from kidnapping humans.
He rested back in the gray chair, feeling the warm cushion adjust to the shift of his body. His muscles relaxed and he snuggled in. This was home. The Quasar was over ten miles in diameter, a masterpiece of technology yet to be duplicated, and Salera’s pride. The silver sphere was biogenic, able to repair itself instantly. It could alter its shape for battle and speed and came equipped with a REM IV, one of the few Saleran creations released to the Federation. The REM, short for ReFormer, could alter inanimate matter at the molecular level. On ships, it could cloak and shield; on planets, it altered the shape of rock and liquid, producing pressurized tunnels for mining. Many of the Quasar’s weapons had never been used, because against such a ship fear overwhelmed all.
Since human nature was to misuse power, only a handful of the Quasar’s secrets had been revealed, a command ordered by Kalin’s father, King Altor, and one of the few Kalin agreed with. Unlike Salera, the Quasar was home to a variety of life forms who adhered to Salera’s peaceful laws. These close friends volunteered to assist with the Quasar’s operation and maintenance.
Within the holo was a revolving globe of Earth, a beautiful blue ball with brown terrain and puffy white clouds. It was one of his favorite planets and he’d visited hundreds of times. Although their slang of Tislun was at times difficult, basically, it was easy to use. But most important, Earth-human females were voluptuous and very accommodating.
Little did the small planet of primitives know how valuable they’d become to the Federation. They carried within their world the rarest and most powerful source of energy the universe had ever known. Never before had this quantity of Pril been found, and he was sure the Federation was elated with its discovery. They just hadn’t planned on Vorkis betraying them. Nevertheless, they would excavate all the Pril without telling the Earth-humans. To put it simply, they were planning to steal the Pril like common thieves.
The Federation only accepted into their membership societies with a high level of peace, integrating their knowledge and military capabilities into the larger whole. They’d become so powerful that many worlds had changed their ways just to come under their protection. Was Earth ever given the chance to change? Earth-humans didn’t know of the Federation’s existence. Because of their ignorance and volatility, they went ignored and unassisted, yet now their world would be raped. That was why his father felt as he had about the Federation, and why he’d allowed them only limited access to Saleran technology.
Kalin felt a stab of guilt. Am I any better than the Federation? Will I allow Earth to be destroyed just to kill Vorkis?
The loss of Earth-human lives would be inconsequential compared to the number of lives saved. He was justified in his reasoning. He tapped the orb and stood up. It was time to dress and head to the bridge.