Page 42 of Uncovered By the Alien Commander
“Telik is no more.” The figure stands, his gloved hands resting atop his cane motionless and determined. “He was corrupted by greed, soiling his own Suns of Omega in drug filth.” His accusatory jab punctuates the solemnity of his words. “Telik suffered for his crimes, as you will soon, slaver,” the hooded one accuses his tone grave and level.
At his words, flickers of movement catch my attention. Amongst the windows across the streets, Suns of Omega assume firing positions, their long-barreled rifles leveled towards Kaanus and the crew. My ears fill with the roar of my adrenaline-fueled blood like a tidal wave, as I think about them being caught out in the open, under sniper fire, helpless to the slaughter.
Maybe they deserve to die? Do I deserve to die?
“Stop calling me that!” Kaanus’s voice reverberates with defiance as he points an accusatory finger at the hooded figure, his posture betraying a flicker of uncertainty amidst his scaled visage. “That’s not who I am anymore.”
Rasping coughs rake the hooded figure before he tilts his head. “Not anymore,” he repeats, the bitterness palpable in his voice. “You say, as if this absolves you of your crimes. If only all the pain and suffering you caused could be undone with mere words.” The hooded one paces back and forth, his solemn tone growing more heated. “Maybe then you could be forgiven, but alas, the universe is too cruel for such things.”
Hyanxa intervenes, placing a steadying hand on Kaanus’s chest, urging restraint. Yet, he remains steadfast, a tumult of conflicting emotions etched upon his features—anger, disbelief, and a flicker of guilt. “Who are you?” his tone, slow, laden with uncertainty.
“I am no one, a nameless void emblazoned and etched with the Suns of Omega, the embodiment of their suffering and manifestation of their dreams.” He turns his hooded head back to Kaanus, as he laughs with bitterness. “But to you, and you alone, I am Chorick.” The figure lowers his hood, revealing a Jungarian with patchy black fur, crisscrossed with scars, his ears torn and shredded, his face a canvas of pain and sorrow. “Take a long, hard look at my face. Do you remember me now, slaver?” Chorick sneers.
“Void... Listen, that was a long time ago—” Kaanus says, shaking his head in disbelief.
Chorick’s words cut him off like a blade through the air. “A long time for you, but a daily nightmare for me. Do you remember my sister, Alanya? You raped her, the daily screams of it still haunt me. Then you sold us off to the pits of Shardar. We both were used then, for sport and their.... pleasures.” Chorick’s eyes stare off into the distance as if he’s reliving his harrowing story. “Poor Alanya couldn’t endure it. She was too pure and kind for this universe, so she slit her wrists.” Chorick jolts erect, his face twisted with rage. “What was her life worth, slaver? A polysynth board, a fancy bottle of wine, a new pair of boots?” With a sudden movement, he raises his cane high, the gesture laden with ominous intent.
My heart pounds in my chest, and time appears to slow down. In the windows across the street, the snipers shift, adjusting their aim, peering down their sights. My hand reaches for my pistol in reflex, as a war rages within my mind. I should leave them to their fates. Kaanus deserves it many times over, butthe thought of Job, Mod and Quad dying forces my hand and hardens my resolve.
Leveling my pistol at the nearest sniper with a steady hand that defies the tempest of fear churning within, I squeeze the trigger. A satisfying crack reverberates through the air, the recoil rippling through me as the Jungarian sniper’s head falls limp. The echo of my shot rings out across the desolate streets like a perverse bell, signaling the start of a maelstrom of chaos to unfold.
Suns of Omega charge towards the crew, brandishing weapons, a smaller number fire bullets from vantage points. The crew seek cover behind the trade goods, their arcweave armor absorbing some shots in their haste. A sniper lets off a powerful round that catches Quad square in his chest armor, the forceful impact almost toppling the hulky figure. In retaliation, I clutch my pistol in two hands, holding my breath and squeezing the trigger. The snap echoes out, followed by blood spraying from the head of my Argorian target.
Meanwhile, Kaanus unleashes torrents of blue, molten death from his plasma rifle, each blast reducing the Suns of Omega to grotesque, steaming heaps of melted flesh. Hyanxa lets her automatic weapons carry her shots in a sweeping semicircle, raining bullets among the charging crowd. Many of the bullets spark and deflect off the armored attackers, though some find gaps, spraying blood over the dusty streets.
The sheer carnage threatens to overwhelm my senses. Never have I seen death on this scale, not so up close and personal, with the screams and the blood ringing in my ears, but I force the thoughts down. Survival comes first, not thinking. I adjust my aim, struggling to steady my trembling hands as I lock onto a distant Glaseroid in a nearby building. With a surge of exhilaration, I pull the trigger, disappointment washing over me as the bullet only grazes the target, sparking off the wall nearby.
My target’s antenna points towards me, a clear sign he knows I’m here. Prompting me to duck just in time as a deafening blast rings out, the wall behind me erupting in a shower of shattered stone and dust. I lay prone, as my ragged breaths almost cause me to choke on the dusty debris, but where my fear should be, I find only elated excitement as my hot blood courses through me.
As I dance with death. I am alive.
A primal instinct propels me forward. Crawling along the corridor floor, I maneuver to another window at the far end. I edge closer, revealing no more than necessary. The Glaseroids antenna twitch and circle. With bated breath and arcweave like resolve, I line up my shot, the pistol steady in my grip. With a decisive squeeze of the trigger. The Glaseroids narrow head explodes in a gruesome spray of yellow gore.
I yell in triumph as a strange sense of power and control I’ve never felt before surges through me. Such an empowering contrast to the years of being the victim, running and hiding in fear. Peering out the window with the faintest movement, I am enveloped by the cacophony of shouts, screams, snaps and sizzles of weapons, each sound a macabre note in the dark melody resonating within me.
The crew abandons their trade goods, fighting a desperate retreat. Quad plows into a group of Suns of Omega like a wrecking ball, sending them sprawling to the ground. He bashes all around him in a whirlwind of muscle and armor, a broad grin etched on his face, visible even from this distance.
Meanwhile, Job and Mod crouch behind any cover that they can, their skittering limbs and antenna flailing with frantic movements. As two Suns of Omega, having noticed them, charge with vibrating swords raised, until Job levels his modified plasma grinder at them, releasing blinding waves of molten plasma that spray like water from a hose. Their victims scream,bathed in a molten death which reduces them to piles of goo-like viscera.
Amidst a makeshift barricade, the Suns of Omega crouch unleashing a relentless barrage of automatic gunfire upon the crew. A bullet catches Job, the force sending him crashing to the ground, only for him to rise with agonizing slowness, his armor absorbing his near death. Mod uses his Venomizer in retaliation, shooting darts of... something prompting one victim to clutch and tear at his neck as his body transforms to a sickening green hue, his veins bulging and popping until they rupture.
I level my pistol at another gunner upon the barricade, knowing they present the most danger. With a calm smoothness that belies the tempest of roaring elation and fear swirling within me, I pull my trigger, watching in grim satisfaction as the brown-furred Jungarian slumps limp from his vantage point. Yet, amidst the chaos, Chorick, their leader has limped behind his own cover, his cane concealing some energy weapon that spews emerald bolts of death towards Kaanus, his every murderous blast directed towards him.
Kaanus dashes for safety and returns fire in frantic desperation, leading the crew away from the blood-soaked killing zones. But a searing lance of emerald energy halts his flight, causing a cry of agony to escape his scaled features as it pierces the meaty part of his leg. Hyanxa’s anguished scream fills the air as she rushes to his side, wrapping her arms around Kaanus, supporting him as he limps backward. Then Chorick aims his cane weapon with fatal precision directed at Kaanus.
I retaliate, with desperate haste unleashing a shot that grazes Chorick’s shoulder. The near-miss causes me to curse, but it’s enough to distract the tortured Jungarian who searches for the source of the attack—me. Until he points at my window, shouting to his gang.
Terror tightens my chest as I scramble from the window with a hysterical speed. Running up the stairwell as fast as my legs can carry me. The sounds of people shouting reach my ears, their footsteps echoing from the ground floor, propelling me ever upward in the bland, dirty building. My lungs burn with effort as I ascend higher, but the voices grow louder, their footsteps closer. Instead, I change direction on the next floor, running down the corridor towards the opposite end of the structure.
Windows beckon like beacons of hope as my heart pounds in my chest. Stealing a glance below, I gasp at the sheer height. The dazzling drop gives me pause until the footsteps of my pursuers echoes to the floor below, pricking the hairs on the nap of my neck. With a deep breath, I smash the polymer window with the butt of my gun, as I pull myself up on the precipice with trembling hands. I stand motionless, looking down at the hard paved streets below, wondering if it might be preferable to be shot.
With closed eyes and a surge of resolve, I leap into the abyss. The airstream brushes through my hair almost gently, as the ground rushes up to meet me.
Is this what freedom feels like?
Chapter 18
Xandor