Star Brigade: Odysseys - An Anthology (4 page)

Malyn draped her arms around his bull-sized neck. “Tell me.” Her throaty purr oozed with want.

Norad inclined his head toward hers. “Give me a reason.” And so she pumped him for information, while he pumped her until she screamed. The former Imperial Military warrior in Norad felt rather soiled for spilling Imperium secrets to an outsider, especially a Union spy. But the fragrance of the human’s flesh was inebriating, the taste of her tongue on his addicting, the heat of Malyn’s body muddying his logic as he drove into her one ferocious thrust after another. She nibbled her way down his neck; Norad buried his face in her mass of disheveled blonde hair. They went two more times like a pair of feral beasts, and by then wrong or right no longer mattered, only her. After they’d finished, both were thoroughly satiated in more ways than one.

“Whether or not this trade merger actually happens,” Norad said, pulling on a blood-red tunic, “right now, the Imperium is a star ready to go nova. I plan to stay clear until everything settles.”

“What does that mean?” Malyn asked, pulling back on her figure-hugging dark blue pants.

“When my business is concluded in Union Space,” the Kedri pulled his longish hair back in a sleek plait with a round metal clip, “I won’t return to Imperium Space. Not for a while.”

“Where are you going?”

“Lawless Space, perhaps,” Norad said. “Take some bounty hunting jobs, while finding clients in need of Kedri weaponry.”

Malyn shrugged on a white short-sleeved shirt. “And Union Space?”

Norad turned and looked down at his human lover. “I do not know when I will return.”

That answer didn’t agree with the woman, judging by her soured expression. “Huh.”

The Kedri suddenly grew nervous, like an Imperial Legionary before his very first battle. But what he had to ask was one of the main reasons he had visited the Union this time. “Come with me.”

Now it was Malyn’s turn to be totally stunned. “Saywhatnow?”

Norad, seeing the opening, pressed on. “It can be like when we were together in Imperium Space.”

The human adjusted her shirt, shock giving way to scorn. “
Now
who’s living in the past?”

“Says the one desperate to save a dying organization,” Norad threw back.

Malyn’s nostrils flared. “Star Brigade
isn’t
dead yet!”

Careful,
he told himself. “Not yet, but eventually.” Norad took measured strides toward Malyn. He knew that this beseeching was a risk to his pride and to their relationship. But the Kedri wanted Malyn at his side permanently. “See how this government disrespects you again? You deserve better.”

She folded her arms and scoffed. “And life on the fringe with you
is
?”

“All these years in Union Space, wearing this veneer of civility has spayed you. Come with me and I’ll remind you how to live again.” Norad stood before Malyn, dwarfing her. “What is truly keeping you here?”

That question struck home. She looked away, locks of golden blonde tumbling down her shoulders. The conflict on her features grew more pronounced. “There are members of Star Brigade that need me,” she disputed, sadness edging her words. “Who will care for them?”

“Who will care for you?” Norad retorted, his cavernous voice soft but firm. The Malyn Rossi he’d known eight years ago wouldn’t have hesitated to up and leave her current life. But back then, Norad hadn’t been ready to ask what he was asking now. Clearly, both parties had changed. He traced a thick thumb along Malyn’s jaw, feeling her shiver with pleasure. “We can travel the stars together and build the life that we should have years ago.” The Kedri’s two hearts thudded so hard within his chest that he feared Malyn would hear them. Exposing his inner wants like this felt so odd. But in Norad’s eyes, she was worth it.

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Malyn’s lips. She was much more intrigued by Norad’s offer than she was letting on. “There’s one more thing I have to try to save Star Brigade,” she insisted, her stubbornness as admirable as it was exasperating.

“And if that fails,” Norad grabbed onto Malyn’s hips, drawing her close, “and Star Brigade dies?”

“Then…” she looked up at him through her lashes, a wicked glimmer in her eyes, “and
only
then, will I strongly consider the possibility of joining you.”

2
nd
Lt. Tyris Iecen always enjoyed a good game of Planet Master.

Planet Master, aka PlaMa, needed at least two players, but worked better with three or more.

The strategy behind this hologame involved each player commanding some faction that strove to either defend their land or conquer the entire planet. Player options ranged from primitive tribal to post-hyperdrive society to extraterrestrial invaders, each which were customized to a player’s preferences. Many players preferred the virtual world network version, allowing for gameplay with beings on entirely different worlds. But since Tyris and his friends were all stationed on Hollus Maddrone starbase, they stuck strictly to the version of PlaMa utilizing a massive hologram planet.

Fun times and deep conversations about life had happened during many a Planet Master game. It was how Tyris had bonded with his three best friends, when they were all Star Brigade recruits.

But tonight, the Tanoeen Brigadier was late. Not his fault. He had Bevrolor of Azelten, the senior field operative in charge of Star Brigade’s ordnance division, to blame. That blockheaded of a Nubrideen had called a pointless meeting to discuss tomorrow’s mysterious all-hands meeting. Tyris had doubted that she’d provide some useful insight to him or Star Brigade’s two remaining quartermasters. And Bevrolor didn’t fail to disappoint. She had stood in the small conference room, her three eyes wide with outrage, griping over how much better she could run Star Brigade. In short, it was the same deluded, ultra-matriarchal monologue Bevrolor gave about everything.

No wonder you never got onto a combat team
, Tyris mused as he had suffered through the rest of the Nubrideen’s pointless rant. Lucky for Bevrolor, the only visible features on his face were two beady pits of cobalt blue with shiny-white pupils. Since arriving in Union Space years ago, too many staring bystanders and so many stupid questions had forced the Tanoeen to hide his fluid-like maw under a mask of crystalline ice.

After an orv of his life had been wasted, Tyris raced to Hollus Maddrone’s Living Quarters. The six-foot-three-inch sculpture of chiseled, crystalline ice strode through the empty corridors at top speed. Despite cursing his own tardiness, Tyris knew the others would be forgiving. And all of them had undoubtedly heard about tomorrow’s all-hands meeting.

Soon Tyris arrived at Jan’Hax’s quarters, where everyone agreed to meet. Before entering, the Tanoeen reminded himself to avoid mentioning tomorrow’s all-hands, unless someone else did first. He had decided to worry about tomorrow’s meeting…tomorrow.

Tonight was all about PlaMa and hanging with his friends. The door slid open and the Tanoeen stepped through.

Tyris took in the room setup as soon as he entered. The small common room had been cleared out to accommodate four chairs, three of them occupied and surrounding a massive floating globe. The holo planet’s land-to-sea ratio eerily resembled the Union memberworld of Kheldoroth. Its glow spilled out into all corners of the room, but was still overpowered by the common room’s halolights.

Tyris’s trio of friends and colleagues stopped talking and turned as he entered the room. Jan’Hax sat opposite the door on the other side of the globe. His physique was tall, rangy and overly spare. He had a duck-billed snout of a mouth and leathery green skin covered in warts, typical of most Ciphereens. Khrome, of the biomechanical race called the Thulicans, was the shortest of the group at five-foot-seven. But his hulking, silvery physique more than made up for any height shortcomings.

Surje looked more humanoid than the rest, despite the dim glow of his red skin and the three rounded, mohawk-like bony crests atop his bald head. The Voton was just under six feet in height, with a lean and wiry build.

Khrome, Surje and Jan’Hax immediately responded with a boisterous “HEEEEEEY!”

“Sure, sure,” Tyris waved it off with a sharp hand chop, taking the one unoccupied seat. “Apologies for being late! We set up?”

“Yes,” Jan’Hax nodded. He kept fiddling with something on the massive transparent planet holo between them. “Everyone’s schedule is unoccupied for the next few orvs, I gather?”

Khrome made a rude noise that sounded like metal scrapping against gravel. “I’ll only need one orv, after my invasion brings you all to your knees.”

“Playing extraterrestrial invaders again, Khrome?” Tyris asked wearily.

The Thulican smiled as wide as his noseless, cobalt-blue face would allow. “It’s the best role. I got aerospace superiority.”

“We’ll see about that,” Tyris challenged, fingering one of the large icicle-like spikes jutting backwards atop his head. Innovative as Khrome was, his PlaMa faction choices were as old-fashioned as a backwater planet dweller’s.

“Who am I?” The Tanoeen ran his fingers over his side of the globe, accessing his player data. After realizing how late Bevrolor’s rant was running, he had asked his friends to choose his faction. At a glance, Tyris instantly regretted that decision. His faction was a pre-hyperdrive culture, still using
gas-powered
automobiles. The Tanoeen’s annoyed expression must’ve been telling, as his three friends chuckled fiendishly.

“That’s what happens when you’re late, Ty,” Surje giggled, only to visibly fret over not clarifying what he meant, which always made the Voton over-clarify. “Late to play. The game, I mean—”

“Can we begin already?” Khrome cut in before the Voton over-clarified them all into semi-unconsciousness.

“Let’s,” Tyris rubbed his hands together. Everyone put on their thin gameplay visors, syncing with the PlaMa holo globe before them to access their resources, player options and characters.

Once all four players brought up their massive 7’x7’ holoscreens, the latest Planet Master game commenced.

Jan’Hax played as a post-hyperdrive civilization, hell-bent on unifying all nations on this fictional planet into one world government. Surje, always up for a challenge, chose a consolidated faction of moon and space station colonists, rebelling against Jan’Hax’s aspiring global empire.

Each player’s massive holoscreen displayed whatever aspect of their faction they were currently maneuvering. Several smaller screens appeared in the corner of the larger screen, ready to be accessed at a player’s discretion. The mood was light and fun, with the usual competitive jabs being flung back and forth. Just another regular PlaMa game, like when they were Star Brigade recruits.

Back then Tyris had roomed with Surje, and the two hit it off instantly. During their first month on Hollus Maddrone, Surje had introduced Tyris to Khrome, a huge PlaMa dork already who had gotten their mutual Ciphereen friend hooked. The trio became inseparable, even outside their twice-a-week PlaMa games. A short while later, Khrome had befriended another recruit in the form of Jan’Hax, bringing the young Ciphereen into their circle. Despite a grating penchant for long and fancily worded explanations, Jan’Hax ended up using a pre-hyperdrive society to win his first ever PlaMa game. In short, he fit into their group like a missing puzzle piece.

Of the quartet, Tyris was the only one not from a Union memberworld, colony or territory. Being a legal alien from a non-Union world had earned Tyris the informal classification of ‘outworlder’. The Tanoeen wore the label without shame, but Khrome forbid him from using it on just himself.

“Why do you care what I’m called?” Tyris had asked in confusion.

“Because,” the Thulican had replied blithely, wearing that trademark sparkly grin. “We’re all stationed somewhere that’s not a homeworld for any of us. Technically we’re all outworlders.” Hence, how their group’s informal name came about over a year ago. Since then the group had enjoyed a recurring cast of satellite members, many who made guest appearances during PlaMa game nights. But the core four members of the ‘Outworlders’ remained unchanged.

As expected, the PlaMa game was a seesaw of action, suspense, twists, and strategic genius between four experienced players who knew each other too well. But in time, certain mistakes revealed player weaknesses. Jan’Hax surprised no one by dismissing Tyris’s tribal faction and attempting to subjugate Surje’s spacestation/moon colonies by force instead of negotiation. This, along with the Ciphereen’s overextended forces that were uniting the planet, left him open to Khrome’s space invaders. Surje’s faction, which could have provided much needed defense against the space invaders, ended up tag-teaming against Jan’Hax, leading to a massive global war.

Meanwhile, Tyris made stealthy moves with his ignored faction via guerilla-style attacks on Jan’Hax’s forces. The Tanoeen then kept acquiring more and more technology in hopes of reverse engineering it. That drew the attention from a small cadre of Khrome’s factions, looking to team up against Jan’Hax’s crumbling empire.

“No fair!” Jan’Hax whined. “Everyone’s ganging up on me!”

“Only because you suck at ruling a world government,’ Khrome threw back gleefully. “Now you’re gonna get crushed.”

After over three full orvs, the quartet took a break from gameplay to recharge. Everyone shut down their holoscreens and took off their gameplay visors.

It was Surje who finally broached what everyone had avoided. “Are we going to talk about it? The all-hands meeting? Tomorrow? For Star Brigade?”

“Not sure which Star Brigade all-hands you mean, since we’ve had so many recently,” Tyris snapped, with more bite than intended. The Tanoeen just wanted to spend time with his friends and not dig into Star Brigade’s fate.

“Easy,” Khrome told Tyris before addressing the group. “You think Star Brigade’s toast?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Surje answered quickly.

“No clue,” Jan’Hax gave a stiff shrug. “Honaa and Sam aren’t talking.”

“Maybe,” Tyris finally admitted, a hard thing to say after almost two years. But with so little movement or communication from their remaining superiors, what other conclusion could he draw?

“What are we going to do now?” Surje asked the group.

Tyris had given his future post-Star Brigade a lot of thought over the past few months, so he answered first. “Think I’ll hook up a merc company. Remember what actual combat feels like.”

“Ah. Combat…” both Khrome and Jan’Hax cooed nostalgically.

The thrill of combat, the taste of a hard-fought victory, danger around every nook and cranny of a battlefield. Tyris had expected that when joining Star Brigade. But other than a few sparse side missions from months past, the Tanoeen had found nothing but disappointment. “All the boom-boom and ka-BANG of a skirmish. Starting to think I imagined it from another life.”

Surje fixed on Tyris with one of his intense, unblinking stares when something bothered him. “What about heading back to your homeworld?”

Tyris responded with a stony frown. “And do what?” Titanoa hadn’t felt like home since the ‘Temporal Incident’ many years ago. Now Titanoa had become infested with Imperium military bases and research stations. Other than the occasional visit every few years, Tyris had no plans on returning.

“Might head back to the Twin Spheres for a while,” Khrome sighed, “figure out my next move.” Unlike Tyris, the Thulican actually missed home.

“Me too,” Surje nodded hastily. “Head back to Aurealis, not the Twins. See the parents and take a breather.”

Tyris exchanged a look with both Khrome and Jan’Hax at this news. “You better not turn all Joiner celebrant on us when you go home—”

Surje rolled his colorless eyes. This wasn’t the first time his friends had expressed such concern on this particular matter. “
Lights be gone
, I won’t!  My parents know that’s not the life I want.”

“Until they try talking you into it for the zillionth time,” the Tanoeen retorted, unconvinced.  He’d known Surje to talk tough about defying his parents…when they were light years away. 

Surje glowered, his complexion darkening. “Not this time.”

“Like how they didn’t talk you out of dating a human?”

“Oh, go fall in a black hole,” Surje snapped, the glow of his red skin as angry as his expression.

Taking the hint, Tyris leaned away. “Point made. You’re inconvincible.”

A tense lull landed in the conversation, during which Jan’Hax cleared his throat. “Isn’t anyone going to inquire about my post-Brigade activities?” he complained.

“Does it involve heading to Fortuna to waste your currency on gambling?” Khrome asked flatly.

The length of Jan’Hax’s pause spoke volumes. He raised a webbed finger defensively. “Wasting is such a harsh word.”

“Then why ask?” Khrome decided, drawing laughs from Surje and Tyris. “Really feels like UComm plutoed us. All that training and time, wasted.”

“Wasn’t entirely wasted,” Tyris countered. “Met some great sentients, got some invaluable training. And…we all became better friends.”

“We don’t know if tomorrow’s a death knell for Star Brigade,” Khrome insisted. Clearly his hopefulness was undimmed.

“Then explain to me why this is the first all-hands we’ve had in months,” Tyris threw back, throwing cold water over Khrome’s optimism.

“Not just the field operators,” Surje chimed in. “Analysts, pilots, astroengineers. Anyone with any part in Star Brigade.” The Voton suddenly turned a shade of heated red. “Even the reserve Brigadiers. In one room.”