“I will need an update on how our effort goes here, Parendall, and then you may visit with your…friend.” Asuras could think of no stronger word of connection than that.
“Thank you, sir.” Parendall did his best to concentrate on filling in his officer on what was going on without letting the sight of Demeta push out all other thought. When Asuras finally dismissed him he felt he might burst.
“You have until tomorrow morning, Parendall, and then I am leaving this accursed planet. Between you and I, the Stryvers could keep this inhospitable rock. It is a waste of resources. Though, I do suppose we have to do something with the glut of Genogerians we have at our disposal. Better to have them here, earning their keep, rather than on the home world eating our food.”
“Agreed sir, a Genogerian dying for the cause is a happy Genogerian.”
“Good; you understand. Now go enjoy your night, for tomorrow you may die.”
Parendall said nothing more as he left. He found Demeta, who had not moved very far from the shuttle. Ziva was keeping an eye on her, per his friend's request.
“It is good to see you, Demeta,” Parendall said coming up on them. He felt his heart both tighten and ease up as he approached.
“I will check on the troops’ morale,” Ziva said as he excused himself, though he’d almost been forgotten already.
“Th..thank you, Ziva,” Parendall said.
Demeta and Parendall placed their foreheads against each other in a display of affection.
“I did not know for what reason Asuras ordered me upon his shuttle, he never said. I thought perhaps I had done something wrong and was to be imprisoned.”
Parendall knew that Genogerians were hardly ever placed into prison; the Progerians usually killed them outright or placed the offending Genos in the worst cesspools around the universe, letting the Stryvers or the climate do them in.
“I am grateful he brought you here.”
“I did not know how you would react when you found out I was with child, but I thought you should know that your genetic legacy was intact.”
“It is not my genetic legacy I am concerned with Demeta, it is you and the unborn child.”
“Asuras had made it very clear to me during the flight that I had better enjoy our night together, for there would not be another.”
“How do you feel about that?” Parendall asked leaning back from her so he could look into her eyes.
“It pains me more than I would have realized,” she said. “I feel something for you I have never felt in my entire life.”
“What if I told you I had a plan to get us to Freetown?”
“We are not yet that old or injured.”
“I do not mean in some indeterminate future or when we are so disfigured as to not even recognize ourselves. I am talking about tomorrow. About taking our child and giving him or her the chance to grow up in a place that does not know war or oppression.”
“Do you realize what you are saying Parendall? I could report you just for talking like this.”
“Forget for a moment that you are a chief in the Progerian army.”
“How can I? It is who I am, what I am.”
“And what of your offspring? Are they also a soldier in the forces?”
“He or she will be cared for until such time that they may join their brothers and sisters in arms.”
“There is a better way, Demeta.”
“I would rather my offspring have the chance to live and fight than die inside me when your plan backfires. Because that is what will assuredly happen. The Progerians seem to know what we are going to do even before we attempt it.”
“That is what they would have you believe. They have ingrained in us their supposed superiority in every way possible. Yet, if they are so superior, why do they not fight and die alongside us? Would that not end the war more quickly? It seems that our kind are the only ones sacrificing for the good of the Progerians. I say it’s about time we did something for ourselves.”
“This is not how I wanted our precious time together to be.”
“I am saying, Demeta, that this doesn’t have to be our life.”
“I do not wish to speak further on it. I would rather we enjoy this time we have together.”
“Then that is how it will be,” Parendall said, as he wrapped her up in his arms.
The blistering sun had just begun its ascension when Asuras walked into their tent. He kicked the bottom of Demeta’s foot. “Come, we must be going, an enormous column of Stryvers is heading this way, and I also think the day is going to be intolerably hot.”
Demeta got up quickly, as did Parendall.
“Win this day Chief; make your offspring proud,” Asuras said as he shoved on Demeta’s shoulder to get her moving quickly.
“We mean nothing to you,” Parendall stated.
“On the contrary. You mean everything. Without you, my ignorant cousin, my people would be forced to fight this war. It is much better that your kind are slaughtered at the hands of our enemies. You are a tool we wield, nothing more, nothing less. If I lose a tool I will replace it. I’d rather not take the time just now.” Asuras shoved Demeta hard enough that she stumbled and fell. She let out a heavy grunt as she hit the ground. “Do not even think about it,” Asuras said as Parendall moved in quickly. “You so much as touch me and I will dig that baby out with a dull knife, and I will slit Demeta’s throat as you watch. Then, I will let you live so that you can remember the fact that it was your actions that slaughtered your little happy family here. As if your kind could even understand familial bonds. I am sometimes amazed that your kind can even grasp our language. Get up!” he roared as he reared back and kicked savagely at Demeta’s left leg.
She cried out in pain.
“Get up you stupid slog. Thousands of Stryvers will be here in the hour and I do not wish to be anywhere in the vicinity!”
Demeta was panting heavily from the pain, Asuras was rearing back to kick again, though this time he was lined up for her midsection. Parendall acted quickly, striking out and punching his commander squarely in the head, knocking him over and to the ground next to Demeta. Her eyes widened as Asuras thudded down.
“Are you alright?”
“He will kill you,” Demeta cried as Parendall helped her up.
“It was worth it for your safety and for the as of yet unborn infant.”
“Now what, Parendall? I believe that he will indeed harm me as well just to make you suffer.”
“Then our choice has been made. Has it not? We must leave now. Our futures no longer exist should we stay.”
“I in some way feel that you planned this, Parendall.”
“I did nothing to provoke him into kicking you. Although, I might have predicted that brute would strike a pregnant female. It is in their very nature to abuse us without conscience.”
Ziva came in at that very moment. “I have done what you asked.” He looked down at the moaning Asuras. “I more than half thought you were making amusement with me Parendall. I did not think you would go through with it or that Demeta would allow it.”
“My hand was forced. You are not bound to me, Ziva. I do not know the depths of the madness I am plunging into.”
“I have been fighting alongside you for a great many seasons now, Chief. What’s one more?”
“Help me with him.” Each Genogerian grabbed Asuras under the arm and helped him to his unsteady feet. They dragged him to the shuttle.
“What has happened to the commander?” One of the Progerian flight crew asked as they approached.
“He has fallen ill. Please help.” Parendall said as he stepped upon the ramp.
“You are not allowed on here without his orders, filth!” the Progerian said, leveling his rifle on Parendall’s mid-section.
“Then you take him. He needs assistance now.” Parendall and Ziva were gently laying the commander down.
The original guard and another raced down the plank-way to help. Neither looking at the Genos a
s they did so. Parendall and Ziva struck nearly simultaneously, dropping their respective opponents into heaps.
“Get their rifles,” Parendall said as he dragged Asuras away from the shuttle doors.
“What is happening here?” Shandrake, the junior pilot asked as he saw Parendall moving the unconscious officer. “Where are the guards?”
“This is my ship now,” Parendall said as he pointed his weapon at Shandrake.
“Soar-Master Youngpond, we have a situation here,” Shandrake said.
“It had better not be with the left thrust engine. I am not staying on this insignificant patch of desolation any longer than I must, especially with the enemy coming.” He paused when he saw Parendall with his weapon pointed at his junior pilot. “You are not allowed on here without orders.”
“I am a chief, I ordered myself.”
“I knew Genos were stupid—I just didn’t know exactly how stupid until this very moment.”
“You will take me and my two companions here to FreeTown,” Parendall said as Ziva helped Demeta aboard. She was favoring the leg Asuras had kicked.
“I will do no such thing, you ignorant savage.”
“Then you are of no use to me,” Parendall said as he brought his rifle to his shoulder.
“You can’t kill me—”
Parendall cut him off. “I most assuredly can Youngpond. I know for a fact you are a living being and all living beings suffer greatly when they are shot by a photon blast. Perhaps you will only be wounded, but it will be an injury you wish to have a quick and merciful release from. Make no mistake, this weapon can make you cease to exist, whether by one good shot or two misplaced ones. I have never seen any creature take three and live. They would most likely die from the tearing in their throat as they screamed.”
Youngpond must have seen something in Parendall’s eyes, for he no longer tried to force his hand. “FreeTown is far out of the range of this craft.”
“You attempt deception!” Parendall was becoming stressed to his limits. He placed some pressure on his trigger; Youngpond’s mouth opened up fully in silent response.
“He does not!” Shandrake stepped up. “FreeTown is a seven-day buckle from here and as you know, this ship does not have a buckle-capable drive. Even if we had the range, which we do not, it would take years, seven of them to be exact, and we have neither the food nor water to make such a journey.”
“How far to the closest planet?” Parendall asked.
“Five days perhaps, at full burn,” Shandrake replied.
“What are you doing?” Youngpond asked his subordinate.
“I am attempting to avoid death for us both.”
“Sounds more like collusion. I will bring you up on charges if you answer any more of his questions.”
“You will fly us to this planet five days away. We will refuel, recharge, and get provisions. From there we will move to the next planet and the next, until one day we come to our promised land.”
“We will do no such thing. You will all put your weapons down and perhaps the commander will go easy on you and allow a quick and merciful death.”
“I do not fear my own death, neither does Ziva nor do I imagine, Demeta. For we have fought your war for so long we are incapable of fearing much for our own well-being. But things changed for me the moment I found out Demeta was with child. This—all of this—he is undeserving of, and I will do all in my power to ensure that he never picks up a weapon.”
“You are all fools...dead fools,” Youngpond said.
“How many does it take to fly this ship?” Parendall asked.
“I could fly this ship as I rested!” Youngpond shouted.
“That is all I needed to know. Disembark.” Parendall motioned with his gun.
“This is my ship; I will do no such thing.”
“I’ve already told you, Youngpond, this is my ship now.”
“You…you can’t fly it, and Stryvers are coming.”
“Yet you care little that I would have to stay and deal with them.”
“You are a soldier; that is what you do.”
“Not by my choice. Plant crops is what I wish to do, yet I am forced to fight.”
“The only thing your kind are good at is planting bodies. Go perform the duty you are bound to!”
“May I strike him?” Ziva asked Parendall. “The sound he makes is beginning to grate on my ears, and you know how delicate they are since the Battle of Lyrion.”
“My friend wishes to hit you. As of yet I am undecided if I should let him. You can leave this ship on your own or we can toss you onto the ground unconscious if you prefer. Your choice, though you will have a better time defending yourself against the oncoming horde if you are awake.”
“Your pathetically small brain cannot even comprehend the amount of trouble you are exposing yourself to,” Youngpond said as Ziva roughly showed him towards the door.
“What is the worst they can do? Perhaps place me in a war zone about to be overrun by thousands of Stryvers? It can't be worse than being ripped open from neck to groin by their powerful, razor-sharp mandibles. The sounds of the strongest Genogerians I have ever known screaming as their insides spill onto the ground is something I will never be able to forget.”
“I will pilot this ship.” Youngpond grasped the edges of the hatch and attempted to keep himself inside.
“I do not believe I will be able to suffer your demeanor for the seven years it will take for us to acquire our freedom.” Parendall nodded to Ziva who shoved Youngpond down the entire length of the ramp. “Can you fly this machine by yourself, Shandrake?”
“I can,” the junior officer said. “What are your plans for me?”
“I will not take seven years of your life away from you, I am not a monster. I believe that every creature deserves the right to rule over itself. You will teach all three of us how to fly this machine and how to service it, should that become necessary. Then I will release you on a planet of your choosing along the way.”
“You are guaranteeing me my safety?”
“I do not believe there is anyone that can guarantee that, but we three will bring you no harm, so long as that same consideration is reciprocated by you. Now, if you could be so kind as to remove us from this planet as fast as you can, I would greatly appreciate it.”
Once the pilot returned to the cockpit, Demeta turned to Parendall. “How can you leave your soldiers when they are in such dire need of your leadership?”
Ziva and Parendall gave each other a knowing glance before a smiling Parendall responded. “There is no attack forthcoming. In fact, it is my belief that we have completely eradicated this planet of Stryvers.”
“But that’s impossible! I have asked about the status of this planet repeatedly since I left.”
“I have falsified reports, even doctored war footage and satellite imagery.”
“I did not even think that possible. How long have you been doing this?”
“We killed what we think was the last Stryver almost three weeks ago. Sick, wretched thing that it was, half-mad and starving.” Ziva said.
Parendall looked out the port window as the shuttle lifted off and headed away. He thought the planet looked fairly pretty from the distance of space. He walked into the cockpit.
“Let us begin our working relationship by assuming I am of near equal intelligence,” Parendall stated.
Shandrake could not help himself as he gave a sidelong glance.
“I hope that there are many prejudices you will get over during our time together. If it makes you feel better, pretend I am an inquisitive Progerian child. How long will it take you to teach me how to fly this machine?”
“Flight itself is easy enough. The onboard computer does most of the work during flight, landings, take-offs, trajectories. It is during extreme situations when a knowledgeable pilot is necessary—when the ship comes under attack or when something inevitably breaks down…to be prepared for the unexpected. I could teach you to fly today
; it will take years to master.”
“Well, it is a good thing we have plenty of time, then.” Parendall smiled.
“I do not mean to anger you, but I don’t think you have completely thought this through.”
“I did not hastily make plans; though I admit I did not possess all the facts to make a completely informed decision; I was unprepared for Asuras’s brutality this morning, he forced me to move quickly.”
“We are twelve hours from our rendezvous point. They know within a few hours when to expect our arrival. When we do not show, they will come looking for us, and that is only part of the problem. However, there are ways I can make this ship nearly invisible to detection.”
“You would do that for us?”
“Not for you, Parendall, for me. Once my officers realize this ship is under Genogerian command they will shoot it down first and sift through the wreckage second. I do not wish to be part of that wreckage.”
“This is understandable.”
“There are many problems that are much more formidable.”
“Such as?”
“I will start with the biggest. There are gaps in our trajectory; vast portions of space where there is nowhere to land, and some places where even if we do land are enemy held or vast wastelands with no viable resources.”
“What is your recommendation, Shandrake? And do not bother with ‘turn yourself in.’ Our three fates were sealed the moment we walked on this ship without authorization. I would rather die adrift in the great expanse than at the hands of a Progerian firing squad.”
“I know the outcome to that as well. You will have to have a level of trust in me. We will need to land at a Progerian outpost or stronghold—I know of three. There we will resupply with enough energy cells and food for an extended journey. I also know of a way to harness the radiation outside of this ship to recharge the cells not currently in use. It is dangerous and arduous, but it can be done.”
“Why, Shandrake? Why would you do this?”
“I am a great lover of history, Parendall. Our kind were once intertwined tightly in a friendship of cooperation and mutual respect. We were destined to become a great interspecies culture before war broke out. Instead of becoming the best civilization the universe has known, we became this...horrible parody instead. I do not know if it is remotely possible to get back to that glorious state, but there has to be a start made somewhere. It would be an honor to be a part of that.”