Prophecy of the Stars

  “That's quite a thing to say,” sounded Styx. Charon agreed and then added, “I hope you’re ready by the time the Empress sounds the call to war.”

  The duo headed for the exit but was stopped by Scientist Adso, “Where are you going? I need you to test a special model.”

  Charon spoke without turning her head, “We've one final assassination we need to commit before our mission is complete.”

  ***

  Gunthix spent almost a full cycle in space as he hopped from planet to planet on his way to the Federation capital. His meditation was focused on Bishop, but continuously drifted toward Scientist Cylos. He became more acquainted with Federation terms and customs, but only saw Eight again on the smaller planets. Each time he greeted Gunthix with Ryker and more laughter, but he never asked him to aid anyone again. Gunthix prepared himself again as he ship slowly descended onto Trinity, the heart of the enemy of his homeland.

  After dealing with the star-port's foreman, he inquired as to where to find the super freighter company. His directions were imprecise, forcing Gunthix to find someone who knew the way. He happened upon a building with a sign showing two females with their legs cross in the form of an eight. This brightened Gunthix's view of the planet against the dark clouds and the torrential rain. He entered the building in preparation to meet his only friend that he had come to rely on.

  The building was dark like all the cantinas that Gunthix had seen of Eight's, but that was the only similarity. There was loud, rhythmic music playing that enticed several nude females of different species to dance. Some danced on silver vertical poles, while others entertained male patrons. Gunthix navigated his way to the bar, but left the hood of his tired cloak up. Upon sitting down on a taller stool, he began tuning into the conversations around him and one in particular held intense interest to Gunthix.

  “So, there I was between a rock and a hard place, when I realized, 'what was I doing on this side of the rock',” sounded an obviously Guntherian voice.

  “What did you do then?” begged a female voice. The Guntherian voice laughed and Gunthix followed it across the bar to its source. It was certainly a Guntherian, dressed in a modified Terran business suit, and surrounded by several varied females. He studied the eyes and noted the look of a killer; the same killer that was trapped inside every warrior that chooses a safer trade. Gunthix's prey locked eyes with him and slowly approached him.

  “The name's Rook,” announced the Guntherian quietly with confidence, “It's been a long time since I've seen another Guntherian. What brings you here?” Gunthix shifted his gaze to a female dancing in the center of the room. He studied her intently. She had large, long ears that shot up straight from her head. Her face was soft, with a small, black nose with whiskers shooting off to the side. When she turned, he saw a small, bushy tail that jiggled lightly with the music. The lights bounced of her pink skin as she moved with the music.

  “You like them?” mused Rook, “There from Lepora. The ones with the short, pointed ears and the long, bushy tails and red hair are from Vulpox.” Gunthix studied a specimen for a short time and then drifted his gaze to a third prospect. It was identically to the second, except for its face and its black and white striped skin. “Those are from Felvox,” answered Rook again, “They are all greatly popular here. You want to know an astonishing fact that they all have in common?” Gunthix nodded and noticed that he had poured a red drink for him. “All three of them evolved on planets with no predators,” Rook smiled as he whispered the secret, “They lived in absolute peace with no need for fighting or fear; that is until the universe found them.”

  Gunthix tasted the liquid and confirmed that it was Ryker. “They are nothing like us,” continued Rook, “There are very few natural predators in the universe. Our bones are reinforced with a natural carbon mesh. We have epinephrine glands in each limb that allow us easy access to increased strength, reflexes, and speed. The only thing we can't do is fly, like our evolutionary ancestors could. We are natural predators.” He smiled as he finished. “So, what is your name?” Gunthix waited for a moment and finished the drink before answering. “Gunthix,” he answered slowly, anticipating a response from Rook.

  Rook surveyed the colorful room and leaned back. “I think we should find somewhere more private,” he spoke calmly, “It is bad for business to see me associating with only one person.” He ushered Gunthix around the bar toward a door and stopped to talk to a scantily clad female. Gunthix continued to scan the room, attempting not to allow too much attention on any certain aspect. After a few moments, Rook shook his shoulder and led him through the door and up a narrow flight of stairs ending in a room.

  Rook paced slowly toward a desk in front of a bank of consoles and noticed a female on an adjacent bed. He kicked the bed and yelled, “Get back out there and make money.” The female quickly jumped up front the bed and dashed toward the door with her bushy tail between her legs. Gunthix stared through a glass wall that looked down at the dancers and patrons. “It's good to be a predator,” Rook mused as he sat down in a plush chair behind the desk, “It is what made me so successful. When I first came to Trinity, this establishment was very low in terms of importance. The previous owner got pushed around by fear and intimidation.” Gunthix continued to watch the dancers as they entertained the crowd with their prowess and dexterity on the silver poles. “I decided one day that the only intimidation that they were using was the threat of force,” Rook continued to muse, “Guntherians don't believe in threats. In a single night cycle, I eliminated the head of every intimidator and rival. I then told my boss that his only option was to turn the business to me or he would experience what had happened to his competition.” Gunthix turned to witness him smiling immensely. “It's good to be a predator,” he mused again.

  “Do you know that almost everyone in the Federation believes that the universe is flat?” asked Rook as he stared at the ceiling. “I mean,” he continued, “How could someone who believes that they are so advanced think of something so silly.” He giggled as he looked down at his desk and began searching through a drawer.

  “So, from the look of you, you were front-line?” asked Rook with an intense caution. Gunthix nodded and stared back out through the glass. “I wasn't always this terrifying a predator,” continued Rook, “At one time, I was a coward.” Gunthix turned and approached the desk.

  “It is hard for a coward to admit they are a coward,” answered Gunthix.

  “I was,” responded Rook with a tinge of sadness, “I fight it every time I admit it, but I was a coward.” He leaned back and stared at the dim light in the room, watching occasional colored lights that flooded the room through the glass wall. “My family was as any other family: full of honor. There was nothing special about my military training, aside from failing Shock Trooper training, but I was considered an excellent rifleman.”

  “We were on the Grigor campaign, acting as the spearhead for a smash and hold. The initial battle was short and easy, we didn't experience any casualties. We were waiting for reinforcements when they attacked. They breached the walls and flooded in; there were so many. I eventually ran out of ammo and resorted to using my blade. The fighting was so fierce and there was blood and bodies everywhere, I wasn't sure who was alive and who wasn't. One jumped me and I buried my blade in his throat when another attacked me. I managed to strangle it with my bare hands. When it finally quit breathing, I noticed that the sounds of battle had ended and the smell had filled its void. I searched for my sergeant; I couldn't find him. I searched for anyone that was alive, but I couldn't.” Rook bowed his head and sighed.

  Gunthix studied his hands as they ran through his silver hair. They weren't the rough hands of a veteran soldier. “When reinforcements came,” he continued, “late as usual, they found me meditating on top of a pile of dead bodies. I couldn't talk or even explain what had happened. The commander of the relief sent me to space, to medical, so I could be checked on. They didn't find anything wrong
with me.” Rook looked up at Gunthix, searching for some form of relief, and sighed. “I convinced a friend to place me in engineering. He thought I just needed time to fix whatever was wrong in my head and I thought it would do me good. It didn't. I never saw combat again.” Rook stood up and approached the glass next to Gunthix.

  “I left the Empire and came here,” Rook seemingly concluded. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then continued, “I tried to convince my lover to leave with me. I know it was hard. It was something I shouldn't have asked of him, but I tried everything. I didn't want to be alone. The need for protection flooded me with fear, but now I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid of anything. Every want that I could ever have is easily satisfied.”

  Gunthix thought for a moment about his story and related it to himself. “The only thing I can't seem to get over,” whispered Rook, “Is the undeniable urge I've had to fight. It's a hunger I can't satisfy or ignore.” He pressed his hand against the glass and began to trace the outlines of the slower dancers.

  “What brought you here, Gunthix?” he asked the powerful question.

  “I came here to catch a super freighter to Omicron Theta,” answered Gunthix. Rook laughed and strode back to his desk.

  “What's there?” he asked as he leaned back in his chair.

  Gunthix continued to stare at the glass, focusing on a particular female with long ears, “A promise I made.”

  Rook laughed and began messing with a smaller console inside his desk.

  “When I was working with engineering, I managed to work on an ancient cruiser. It had been repaired and refitted so many times that the logs were numerous,” he mused.

  “You found something,” chimed Gunthix, “Was it interesting?”

  Rook nodded as he continued typing. Gunthix left the glass and approached the desk. “Do you remember the stories about the only battle with the Federation?” asked Rook. Gunthix nodded, but considered a pointless question. “Well,” continued Rook, “The cruiser I worked one was the fabled cruiser that survived.”

  Gunthix nodded and began to see what he found. He didn't understand any importance in the meaning behind it. Rook removed a data spike from the desk and approached Gunthix. “I can tell you are searching for something,” he said slowly, “Maybe a forgotten planet is what you want. I imagine that eventually, enough death will satisfy that urge that you have.”

  Gunthix stared at the data spike before taking it. “What do you expect me to find?” quizzed Gunthix.

  Rook chuckled and sat down again in his chair, “Hell if I know. The coordinates might lead you to nowhere.” He leaned back and stared at the ceiling, “To tell you the truth,” he murmured, “I have always wondered what I'd find.” Gunthix nodded and considered what he might find.

  A striped female entered the room and stared at the floor. Rook noticed her and spoke with an angry tone, “What do you want, Riskitty?”

  She hesitated for a moment before answering him, “The men you were expecting are here. They are waiting downstairs.”

  Rook sighed and then motioned her away. “Well, Gunthix,” he sighed again, “My time is no longer free.” Gunthix nodded and made his way to the door.

  Before opening the door, he turned his head and spoke, “The Empire is planning to attack the Federation.” Rook giggled and responded with a smile, “I knew it was only a matter of time until they decided to attack. I've noticed the movement on the border worlds and knew who it was.” Gunthix raised his hood and left the room. As he walked down the stairway, he heard Rook yell to him, “Never die with ammo.” The time honored motto of warriors.

  XXV

  Rook was enjoying a relatively slow period in business as he made himself a drink. “Hey, boss,” a nude female with a short bushy tail interrupted his inner piece, “There are two females here to meet you.” He shrugged as he finished his drink and watched the lights dance on the ceiling. He heard the dancer speak to his new guests, “Here he is, ladies.” He looked down to see the face of two Guntherians, Charon and Styx, and smiled, “I've been out here for twenty full-cycles and never saw another Guntherian. Now, I've seen three in a long-cycle.” Rook waited for a response as he studied them. They were both wearing large over coats that fell to the floor, but he was certain they were wearing combat armor underneath.

  Styx smiled and studied her prey. Rook knew why they were here and stalled for time, “Can I offer you a drink or do you need something?” Charon scanned the room and saw that almost nobody took notice of them.

  “Your life,” Styx mouthed through the loud music. Rook watched as she began to raise her arm, guessing that it contained a weapon, and was correct when her arm leveled off and the small barrel poked out of her coat. Rook smiled and pressed a button under the counter.

  The room went pitch black for a moment, then began pulsating bright lights on and off. “Where is he?” whispered Styx as she jumped over the bar to find his body was missing.

  Charon searched the wall and saw Rook disappearing into a small door. “He went this way,” she responded as she walked to the door. Styx looked up the stairs and fired a burst from her compact assault rifle and hit Rook in the leg as he dove into the room. Charon and Styx walked calmly as they ascended the stairs to see their prey crawling to the side of his desk.

  “Wait,” pleaded Rook as they began to hover over him, “I know what you are here for.” Styx smiled as she raised her weapon to end his life. “Gunthix!” he screamed as he covered his face with his hands. Charon grabbed her partner's shoulder as a sign to wait and studied the traitorous Guntherian. “What did you say?” she demanded as she studied his leg wound and the hole the was gaping through his thigh.

  “I said 'Gunthix,' you are looking for him,” he begged as he caressed his wound.

  “I hate to tell you,” chuckled Styx, “But that piece of information is useless; he is dead.” Rook smiled the same smile he had given before he killed the lead competition and spoke calmly, “You are pretty good then. He left here less than a long-cycle ago.”

  Charon leaned down and squeezed his thigh, forcing him to let out a loud scream as he fought her hand to let go. “Proof,” she demanded simply. Guntherians don't lie often, but time in the Federation might have changed his morals.

  “On the console,” he winced, “I recorded it. Just let me get to it.” He began to raise himself up, but Styx forced him down with her high-heeled boot as Charon approached the console bank behind his desk. “It's under my 'holos' section,” he groaned as he began to grasp against the pain, “It'll be the newest file.”

  Charon began pressing buttons in fast succession and waited for the response. Charon and Styx watched as a holographic orgy surrounding a second Rook began displaying in front of the desk. Styx pressed Rook harder with her stiletto and waved her hand through one of the participants and spoke, “None of these look like Gunthix.” Rook attempted to fight her off and gasped for air. Charon began searching the console again and pressed another button.

  The hologram changed to the images of a man wearing a long, hooded cloak. “That's it,” Rook gasped to atone for his mistake. Charon approached the near still image as it removed its hood and showed the tainted face of Gunthix. She stepped in closer to study the image and watched as it turned for the door. “Where has he been,” she demanded.

  “He never said,” Rook spoke as Styx lightened her hold on him, “But he said he wanted to go to Omicron Theta.” The image looped back to Gunthix standing in the middle of the room with his hood up.

  “When did he leave,” barked Styx as she prepared to press down again.

  “He didn't go to Omicron,” Rook answered fearfully, “I convinced him to go three hundred from here.” Charon reached up to touch Gunthix on the cheek and watched as the image shattered as she touched it. She withdrew her hand and the image recollected and continued. “What's there,” Charon asked as she continued to stare at the hologram of her brother. “According to Federation a
nd Guntherian charts, nothing,” Rook answered her as Styx began to press down again, “I told him that I found something interesting in an old ship and he left. He might not have even went there.” Charon contemplated what he said as the sound of Styx's weapon interrupted her concentration.

  She turned and confirmed that he was dead and looked at Styx. “What,” she replied coyly, “He was reaching for that bolter. Everyone knows how loud they are when they charge up.” Charon followed his dead hand and confirmed that he had just grasped the Federation weapon. Styx hid her weapon in her coat as she looked at Charon, “Where to next?”

  Charon revealed her weapon, another compact assault rifle, but with a miniature grenade launcher on it, and fired at the databank. The image of Gunthix began jumping around its timing as a response to the explosion. “Mission accomplished,” answered Charon, “Let's take a vacation in Omicron on the way back.”

  The sound of breaking glass interrupted their mental debriefing. They turned to see a female with striped red fur standing in the doorway, terrified at the sight of her former boss. Styx smiled, unsheathed a blade, and began slowly walking toward the terrified female. “What's your name, little kitten?” she asked as she turned the blade around in her hand.

  The female backed against the door and answered, “It---It's Riskitty.”

  Styx smiled and giggled a reply, “I like that.”

  ***

  Gunthix followed the shipping lanes out of Federation territory into a sparsely populated area within the Rho Quadrant, breaking away from them as he continued into toward his mysterious destination. He meditated on why he decided to postpone his delayed rendezvous with Bishop and her renegades and ultimately decided that chance had played the biggest part: the nearest super-freighter to leave to Omicron would be a half full-cycle. He had already spent that in space toward his current destination.

  A slight beeping disturbed Gunthix in meditation to alert him that he was nearing his destination. He stood up in the small ante-chamber and studied the planet. It was an average size planet with a glossy white covering. Gunthix studied its location, confirming that it was, indeed, remote, but was concerned as to why that the planet was covered in ice so close to its star. He plugged the ship-jack into his arm and instructed the computer to maintain a close orbit. The computer was not equipped to give life signs or any form of planetary study, but it was prepared to accept communication. Gunthix gave several hails for any form of star-port and received none. He removed the ship-jack and stood up. After a few moments of deciding whether he needed the cloak, he decided against it, and folded to the bow of the ship.