Chapter 31: Swimming Lessons

Pixie looked at Merco with uncertainty. It was an inborn reaction of Ansheetans to be wary of water and all it contained. The Ansheetans who lived by the lake had conquered that fear but she wasn’t sure if even they knew how to swim.

A nagging little voice kept warning her it was a bad idea, “You’ll drown! There’s monsters in that water!”

But there seemed to be a small part of her that wanted to try it.

“I-I don’t know.” She admitted to Merco, shifting her feet.

“It’s not really hard. He gestured for her to come in, “I promise I’ll be right here.”

Pixie bobbed her head after a moment and began to remove her jumpsuit. Unexpectedly, Merco averted his eyes, turning to the side.

She stared at him, puzzled, “What’s wrong?”

“Well…it’s…it’s rude to watch someone undress.” Merco admitted. “It’s…private.”

Pixie kicked away her jumpsuit shaking her short plumage, “I think that must be a human thing…Ansheetans don’t see it that way.”

Merco still wouldn’t look at her, “Then…why wear clothes at all?”

“Well, it designates our professions, protects or skin, and we’re vulnerable to cold. But seeing another Ansheetan without isn’t rude or private.” She explained.

Merco kept his eyes away a second but finally relented. True, he’d seen Pixie without clothes when she Emerged, but at the time he hadn’t known if it was a cultural norm or not. Now his own human thoughts on the matter were trying to assert themselves. Finally, he looked at her. He couldn’t distinguish any secondary sex characteristics or anything he attributed to a nude female. To his eyes she was like a little lavender-colored doll. Still it felt…weird.

Pixie shook her head, “It’s ok Merco. Really.”

He sighed and shook his own head as if to shake loose the thoughts of his social norms, “If-If you say so. All right then, just come on into the water.”

Pixie stood on the shore staring at the ominous water expanse before her. It wasn’t very clear so she had no idea how deep it truly was but judging by Merco’s size it looked deep. Way too deep. She hesitated.

“It’s ok, Pixie.” He extended his hand out toward her so it was closer to the shore, “Just take little steps until you touch my hand.”

Pixie whimpered, taking a deep breath. Her plumage flattened to her head and she put a foot in the water. It only covered the top of her foot. She exhaled and took a second step. The water was up to her ankles. By her fourth step it was up over her knees. Merco’s huge hand seemed so far away.

“That’s it, nice and steady.” He encouraged.

Pixie took another step and suddenly the bottom seemed to disappear as the water shot up to her shoulders. She squeaked with panic and tried to back up but the bottom was too slippery. Panic clenched at her as she flailed her arms haphazardly. Suddenly, Merco’s finger curled underneath her chest and she held onto it in a desperate hug, shaking.

“Aww. Pixie. It’s ok. I’ve got you.” He chuckled at her overreaction.

“I can’t do it!” she blurted out, still clutched to Merco’s finger.

Merco brought her into the palm of his other hand and set her down, “Let’s try this then.”

His hand dropped slowly into the water. Pixie jumped when his palm was engulfed with water.

“Wait! Wait!” she cried out, fear gripping her.

“It’s ok. You feel my hand underneath you?” he asked gently.

She nodded.

“I’m not going to make it go lower until you’re ready.”

The water was just deep enough to cover Merco’s hand. Pixie stood up and the water was at her ankles again. She was ok with that. It was over her chest she had problems with.

“Ok. A little deeper.” Merco announced as he very slowly lowered his hand until it was over her knees.

Pixie exhaled.

“Ok. First I’ll teach you to float on your back. Even if you can’t swim this will help you if you ever find yourself in deep water.” He explained, “Go ahead and sit down.”

Pixie slowly did so and the water was up to her chest sitting. She exhaled again but the warm platform of Merco’s hand beneath her reassured her that there wasn’t an endless bottom to the lake.

“Good. Now…” his other hand came in as he set his finger behind her, “…lean back against me and very slowly extend yourself out on your back.”

Pixie glanced back to make sure his finger was there and leaned back. She slowly extended her legs.

“There ya go. Now put your arms out a little bit from your body.”

She did so.

“Ok now take a nice deep breath and hold it.”

She inhaled, puffing her tiny chest. Merco could feel the rigidity of her body with his finger.

“Easy. Just relax. If you stiffen up you won’t float. Just relax…” he coaxed.

Pixie tried to relax but she went stiff again when Merco’s finger retreated from her head. She sputtered, getting water on her face. His hand was still there holding her.

“That’s ok. That’s ok. You just have to relax…just like you’re sleeping on the surface of the water. You can’t sleep if you’re tensed up.” He explained, “Let’s try again.”

Pixie leaned back and laid herself out. She held her breath and tried to relax again.

“Ok…I’m going to move my finger. Just remember to keep relaxed. And when you exhale, do it slowly and then breathe again.”

She felt his pressure leave from behind her and her ears went under the water, rendering her deaf to everything but the dull hiss of the water. But through the water she could hear the dull low pounding of Merco’s heart. It seemed to calm her, making her feel more relaxed.

Merco slowly lowered his hand deeper but when he did Pixie was floating on her back without any assistance! She exhaled and he could see her lower half beginning to sink but she inflated her tiny chest again and was floating like a pro. He cupped his hands on either side of her as a precautionary.

“You’re doing it Pixie.” He said happily.

Her blue eyes opened and looked up at him as if she’d barely heard him. But then she noticed his hands on either side of her and mistakenly lifted her head which ruined her float. Quickly, Merco brought his hands together and secured her before she could dunk.

“You did it! You were floating.” He announced, holding her up.

“I was?” she asked with disbelief, trying to shake water from her pointed ears.

“You were! Good job!” he lowered his hands back into the water, “Ok. Let’s see if you can do it without my help.”

“Don’t move your hands away! Please.” Pixie begged with slight panic.

“I’ll keep them all around you. I won’t let you drown. Trust me?”

She nodded. After several attempts, Pixie got the hang of floating on her back. Merco kept his hands around her like a small caged pool and that seemed enough to keep her calm. He next taught her to paddle with her arms and legs while floating whilst placing his finger beneath her back to support her. Though she relied on him mostly and still seemed to fear the water, he felt he’d made some progress with her.

Soon, however, Pixie was ready to be on dry land and Merco gently placed her on the shore.

“My shirt is back that way if you want to use it to dry off.” He offered. “I’m going to swim down that way a bit.”

Drenched, Pixie nodded and began walking through the trees to where he indicated, “Thanks, Merco.”

“You’re welcome. Anytime you want to learn more just ask.”

“Maybe…”

It was obvious from her tone that she appreciated it…but she definitely kept her aversion to the water. Merco smiled a bit and rolled over on his stomach, using his arms to pull himself through the water into the deeper areas of the lake. Granted, he had yet to find somewhere where he couldn’t touch bottom but anything above his waist was fine for swimming.

…

Not far away…

Trit was an Ansheetan fishing village populated by a unique group of Ansheetans who didn’t fear the water as most others of their kind did. Being able to swim was a special skill set however and even the Trits had only a dozen members who could swim well. Fishing was their main source of commerce, mainly harvest of little blue crustaceans called Vimvim; similar to earth shrimp in body design but with thin flapping fin wings similar to a manta. They were numerous in Anashee Lake and a special food item for those in the neighboring city. At certain times of the year they would spawn and swarm in vast clusters, turning the water blue with their flashing iridescent markings. But the time had yet to come when the Vimvim were due to spawn. Still, it didn’t stop the Trits from venturing out in their boats to subsidize themselves with other edible species.

Three such Trits were out in their boat fishing with nets.

The eldest was a Trit named Geri-sini but everyone called him Ger. He’d been fishing Anashee Lake since he Emerged from it and was up in his years. Yet he remained a spry elder specimen of Trit. However, as of late his friends and family had wondered about his mental state. Only a few sun cycles ago he had been going on and on about some sort of giant monster living in the lake that pulled him overboard when he was fishing. Everyone insisted it had been a Gold Scaled Leviathan as they were known to easily snap fishing gear to twigs, capsize boats, and even eat citizens of Trit who fell overboard. But Ger was adamant that it hadn’t been a Gold Scaled Leviathan because after he was ripped right out of his boat and was drowning he was put right back in the boat and he swore it had talked. So, everyone in Trit thought he was crazy.

That is, until the hook from the Trit sign disappeared as well as several lengths of net rope. More disturbingly, several scales and a pile of Gold Scaled Leviathan guts was found nearby. Finding that started the chatter in Trit about what was lurking in the waters and what exactly had Ger encountered. Still…there were doubters, his friend among them.

As they drug their nets, hoping to fill them with Vimvim, Ger’s friend Niris began gibing him, “Think we’ll catch any monsters today Ger?”

Ger sighed and flattened his broken plume, “Leave it alone Niris.”

“Oh, so now you don’t want to talk about it? You’ve been on and on about this gigantic monster that pulled you out of your boat for several sun cycles and now that we might catch it you don’t want to talk about it?” he asked playfully.

Ger shot him an irritated glance, “We couldn’t catch it with the biggest boat and net in Trit.”

Niris shook his head, still thinking his friend was making up stories, “I’m still saying you accidentally hooked a Gold Scale and it yanked you overboard. Lucky it didn’t eat you.”

“Then how did I get back in the boat, huh Niris? I was drowning! I can’t swim like you can. How did I get back in the boat? Explain that!” the elder Trit argued.

Niris sighed, knowing the same argument they’d been having for the past few sun cycles was getting rehashed again, “I don’t know Ger.”

“Exactly!” Ger pointed at him, “You don’t know! You weren’t there! You didn’t see what I saw!”

“Wait…didn’t you say you were drowning? How did you see it?” his son asked.

Ger looked flustered and shot his son a look, “I saw it’s silhouette from beneath the water.” He raised his plumage, “It wasn’t a Gold Scale! It was OUT of the water, towering over it like a huge tree! Gold Scales don’t loom over the water.”

His son put up his hands placatingly, “Fine. Fine, dad. Let’s get the nets in.”

“You both started it!” Ger grumped, moving across the deck to the mechanical winch that would haul in the net. “I know what I saw and it wasn’t a Gold Scale…”

All at once the winch stopped mid-turn and began to whine with strain. Ger immediately turned off the winch to prevent it from stripping. Suddenly, the water began to churn in a distinct S-shape out near the end of the heavy line that was attached to the net. Any Trit knew that was the water trail of a Gold Scaled Leviathan swimming just beneath the surface. But what was worse was whatever was in their net had attracted the huge beast’s attention and it had subsequently eaten the entire net and its contents. The pole that winched in the net began to bend and groan and the whole boat started to turn with the beast’s path.

Ger swore loudly and began to shout, “Gold Scale has the net! Cut it! Cut the line!”

With a violent jerk the boat was pulled backward as the monstrous water beast swam away. The three crew members were thrown to the deck from the force of it. A large wave began building at the back of the boat as it was hauled along. The Leviathan swam unabated and began to submerge, causing the surging water to spill up the back of the boat and wash onto the deck.

Ger’s son was up first and was fumbling to find an energy blade to sever the line.

“Cut it or it’s going to drag us under!” Ger shouted, trying to help.

A fresh surge of water spilled over the back of the boat and swept them off their feet again. Now they were wet. Flying off the boat wasn’t an option anymore and Niris was the only one who was an accomplished swimmer.

“We have to bail!” Niris insisted.

“We can’t swim! We’ll drown!” Ger’s son cried.

“Quick! Grab the floatation devices!” Ger urged him, pointing to the side of the boat.

Of course, he knew the floatation devices would prevent them from drowning, but it wouldn’t stop them from getting eaten should another huge fish spot them struggling at the surface. But it was their only hope as the Leviathan was diving deeper and the back of the boat became swamped with water. Ger’s son floundered across the deck, laid a hand on one of the devices, and that’s when a shadow engulfed the boat.

The anglers looked up and beheld the biggest arm they’d ever seen swooping over the top of the top of their boat. They swore to every deity they knew when the enormous hand grasped the line to their net and stopped the Gold Scale in its path. The boat, no longer being dragged backward, bobbed back up though swamped with water on the deck.

“Ooo. Hang on there, little guys. I’ve got it.” a rumbling voice proclaimed in a strange Ansheetan accent.

Soaked and sloshing around the watery deck the three Trits stared up dumbfounded by the gigantic being whose torso towered over their boat like a wall as it seemingly rose from the depths of the lake. Rivers of water cascaded from the colossal form, showering the deck.

Ger was elated to be saved but more importantly he wasn’t crazy! It was the same silhouette he’d seen beneath the water above him! But now it was illuminated with detail. Whatever this giant thing was, it was definitely not a Gold Scale…it was much bigger.

Ger wanted to shout but all he got was a whisper, “I told you…I told you!”

“Looks like you boys need a bigger boat.” The colossal being stated as it reached over with another huge hand and began pulling in the rope, length by length.

The tension immediately transferred to the giant being, relieving the boat. But the Gold Scale at the other end didn’t like the turnabout of being pulled. Like a golden missile of rage the huge fish exploded from the water, thrashing its head from side to side. Ger could see it had swallowed their net and some of it had entangled in its jagged teeth. Try as it might to spit out the ill begotten meal, the net was ensnaring its teeth and jaw, allowing the giant being to pull it closer. Slowly, it began pulling in the Gold Scale until finally with a heave he hauled it up out of the water. The Gold Scale thrashed violently but one of the enormous hands released the rope and found a grip underneath its gill flap. It panicked and bashed its body and tail against the massive torso with deafening slaps.

“Ow. Ow.” The giant muttered with each hit but refused to release the thrashing fish.

The green-gray eyes of the huge creature fell on them a moment, “You three ok? No one injured?”

They shook their heads. None of the Trits could believe such a colossal being actually existed…much less that it could speak their language and had benevolently saved them from being pulled under.

“Mind if I take this?” the giant asked, gesturing to the fish he held.

“Um…yeah…C-Can we have our net back?” Ger timidly asked, though he didn’t know why he did.

The giant looked at the net inside the Gold Scale’s mouth and smiled, “Sure. Give me a moment.”

With some careful picking and maneuvering the net was freed from the teeth of the fish and was draped on the side of the boat. There were a few Vimvim still trapped in it but it was pretty damaged.

“There you go. Can you get back to shore?”

The trio sporadically nodded to his question.

“You-You saved our lives.” Niris stated, still disbelieving.

“You looked like you needed it.”

Ger nodded, wiping water off of his broken plume. Quite abruptly he turned to his son and Niris with triumph in his tone, “SEE! I told you it wasn’t a Gold Scale that pulled me out of my boat! I told you!”

The pair nodded, no argument.

The giant tipped his head slightly, “Pulled you out of your boat…Oh! It was you that day?”

Ger nodded adamantly, surprised but pleased to know the giant being actually knew what he was talking about, “No one believed me!”

“Heh. That doesn’t surprise me. Sorry about that. You hooked my hand while I was swimming. Hurt like Hell. You weren’t hurt were you?”

Ger rolled his shoulders, “My arms still hurt…but it’s…it’s ok. Really.”

The giant being chuckled, still speaking in that odd Ansheetan accent, “Well, thanks for the fish. You boys be careful.”

“Uh…yeah. Thanks!”

With that the huge being strode through the water that came up to his waist, still gripping the struggling Gold Scale until he disappeared around one of the bends in the lake. The trio still stood dumbstruck by the whole event. Who knew the craziest fish story in Trit history turned out to be true?

Chapter 32: Pictures of Earth

Pixie found Merco’s hill of clothes and had dried herself using his shirt. She sat in it for a time to warm up again too. Once dry she went out and found her uniform and put it back on. What Merco had taught her was useful and she felt like she’d learned something…but it didn’t make her want to start jumping in Anashee Lake. It baffled her that such a gigantic being could swim. Something that big, by all rights, should sink like a rock. But then again, Gold Scaled Leviathans were the biggest creatures on their planet and they lived in the water.

At that moment she could feel Merco’s return and when she looked toward the lake she saw a flash of gold scales pass by near the treetops. Merco had caught himself another Gold Scaled Leviathan. Even after seeing it a time before it never ceased to amaze her that he could catch and eat those monsters. Knowing he’d probably be embarrassed if she saw him without clothes she waited for him to return on his own. The trees creaked and snapped signaling it as he strode toward her, dressed and carrying the fish.

“Look what I caught Pixie.” He announced, dropping the huge fish on the ground.

Pixie noted he didn’t have his pole, “But…you don’t have your fishing pole…how did you catch it?”

He gestured out to the lake, “Oh, some Ansheetans in a boat had it snagged on their net and it was going to pull them under. So, I helped them out.” He smiled and retrieved his knife, “Got a meal out of it.”

“You’re saving all kinds of Ansheetans!” Pixie seemed excited by that.

He dipped his head, “Well, I’ve got to quell this notion that I’m some kind of giant alien monster out to destroy everything.” he set the fish down, “Well Pixie, hope you’re hungry.”

Pixie nodded, “I’ll go find some plants to season it with.”

Merco nodded and set to work prepping his fish.

…

Later…

It had gotten dark by the time Merco and Pixie sat down to the meal of fish. He hadn’t eaten much of anything all day so the meal was very welcome. Pixie sat with her own tiny portion enjoying it.

“Is it good?” Merco asked her.

She bobbed her head, chewing.

He grinned at her, “Good. Hopefully, I’m getting better at this.”

After finishing the fish Merco buried the remains and put another piece of wood on his fire.

“You mind if we stay here tonight?” he asked.

Pixie glanced around a moment at the dark woods, but then looked up at him, “As long as I can sleep in your pocket.”

Merco nodded with a grin, “You’ve got it.”

The little lavender alien smiled at him, raising her small plumage. She floated straight upward until she was right in front of his face. He watched her and very slowly she floated in close and touched her tiny forehead to his.

When she pulled away he smiled but cocked his head curiously, “What was that?”

“That’s how Ansheetans show affection.” She explained.

Merco gave a smile that was almost sad looking to her or perhaps it was a humbled smile?

Pixie wasn’t sure she read his expression correctly as she asked, “What’s wrong?”

He merely looked down, “Thank you, Pixie.”

“How-how do humans like you show affection?”

Merco glanced at her, “Oh, a number of ways I suppose…here.”

Pixie watched his huge hand come up and circle behind her. With great gentility he began herding her toward his chest. Pixie wasn’t sure what to do or how to react as Merco’s hand softly pressed her into his chest. His shoulders seemed to pull forward and his chin dipped toward his chest as he held her in place. He was very warm and all Pixie could hear was the loud pulse of his heart just in front of her and the deep rush of his exhale. After a moment his hand released her and she floated back a bit.

“Humans call that a ‘hug’. It’s how we show affection or greet someone we like.” He explained and chuckled, “It heh… looks a bit different with someone your size though.”

“Hug…” she tried the alien word.

Abruptly she floated back to his chest and laid against him to which he laughed gently and placed his hand over her again.

“It’s nice…the hug.” She remarked.

When he released her, Pixie looked down and lowered herself into his shirt pocket. She poked her head out and looked up at him.

“Are you the biggest thing on your planet too?” she asked randomly.

“Ha!” Merco laughed, “Hardly. Humans are somewhere in the middle in size when it comes to Earth creatures.”

Pixie had an amazed expression on her face, “Really? There are things bigger than you?”

“Oh yeah. And there are creatures that are even smaller than you on my planet.” He explained touching the top of her head for emphasis.

Pixie tapped him, “Can you show me those images you were looking at of your family?”

“Oh. Sure.” Merco reached into his jacket which he had tied around his waist and pulled out his Holo-Pic card.

The thin device was still charged so he touched the activation circle on it and rows of his pictures fluttered up into the air in a cascading fashion. Pixie stared up at the small images with wonder.

“We don’t have anything like that.” She commented, reaching up to touch the holograms.

“It’s kind of a new thing for me.” He admitted, flicking his finger over the images to roll through them.

He settled on a picture of Tony and Martin, the one where they were boys and had French fry fangs. A fond smile crossed his face upon seeing the picture again, as well as a sadness. Now that he and Pixie could understand one another, he could explain the pictures to her.

“That’s Martin and that’s Tony when they were younger.” he explained, pointing to each of his sons.

“Who’s that human?” Pixie asked, pointing to his now ex-wife.

“That was my…my former mate, Hailey.”

Pixie quirked her head a bit, “She looks different than you…because she’s a female like me?”

Merco nodded.

“Why did you ‘grow apart’ like you said? Don’t humans mate for life like Ansheetans?” Pixie inquired.

Merco smiled wistfully, “Well…it’s supposed to be that way. We raised our sons until they were grown and that kept us together. But…my job took me far away from Earth and her job kept long hours so we didn’t see each other much. And the love…it just faded.” he sighed, “I’m probably most to blame.”

Pixie leaned in his shirt pocket as she looked up at him listening.

“But…that’s, as we humans say, ‘water under the bridge’.”

He swiped over and showed the more current picture of Tony and Martin standing together at Martin’s induction ceremony into the military. Martin was in his military pilot uniform and Tony was dressed in casuals.

He pointed to each of his sons, “There’s Martin and Tony like they are now. They’re as big as me.”

Pixie’s eyes seemed to hold puzzlement, “They…don’t look the same as the other image. Why?”

“They grew up. Remember how I said my species starts out small?”

He flipped through some more pictures and found the pictures of Tony and Martin when they were just born. Pixie’s eyes really got big as he flipped between the baby and current pictures.

“They…they don’t even look the same!” she stated with shock.

“We change a lot growing up. We don’t come out fully formed like you Ansheetans seem to.” he flipped to a video of the elder brother Tony taking some of his first steps, “We have to learn to balance and walk. We have to learn to talk by listening to our parents. We are educated together with other humans our own age. And everything in between we are either taught or learn on our own through experiences.”

Pixie turned her head, “That seems…so strange.”

Merco shrugged, “I admire you Ansheetans. You hatch from your chrysalis ready to face the world. It does seem less messy and tedious than how we humans do it. But, it has worked for us for as long as the species has existed.”

Pixie saw another picture that showed the blue sky and grass and trees in the background, “Is that Earth’s sky?”

“Yep. That’s it.”

“It’s just like you said, blue like my eyes. And everything is so green!” she exclaimed pointing to the grass and trees.

Merco glanced around, “It is different than your planet.”

Then an older picture came up of the family dog, a boxer named Dutch. The brown and white colored dog had a colorful rope toy filling his toothy mouth.

Pixie pointed, her tone almost sounding scared, “What’s that?”

“That’s Dutch. He was the boys’ dog.”

“Dog?”

“Um…a pet…a creature humans keep for companionship.” Merco explained.

Pixie seemed to duck in his pocket, “It looks…scary.”

“Dutch? Naw. He was friendly to everyone.” Merco assured her fondly, “He was a good dog.”

“Was?”

Merco sighed, “Yeah. Unfortunately, our pets don’t live as long as we do. Miss that dog.” He glanced down at Pixie with curiosity, “I never asked…how long to you Ansheetans live?”

He was still confused by Ansheetan time as their suns behaved differently than Earth’s. From what he could tell about Ansheetan timetables a sun cycle was what they considered a day. One hundred fifty-two sun cycles was a rotation. How that pertained in Earth years he wasn’t sure…but he just assumed a rotation was an Ansheetan year.

“Once Emerged most Ansheetans can live for one hundred rotations. A few can live a bit longer than that. The Elder, I’ve heard, is one hundred thirty-three rotations.” Pixie stated.

Merco did a bit of math in the sand in front of him with Pixie watching. He was trying to come up with a comparison and to his surprise the Elder was almost the same age as he was.

“Elder Felreh is…my age…maybe a year or two older.” He did another division problem in the sand, “That would mean if I’m fifty-four in Earth years I’d be…one hundred twenty-nine and a bit more in Ansheetan rotations.”

Pixie seemed impressed, “You’re as old as Elder Felreh?”

“If my math is right…” Merco admitted.

“But…you’ll live much longer?” she guessed.

“If I live to be seventy-five Earth years that would make me one hundred eighty Ansheetan rotations.” He concluded.

Pixie seemed floored, “That’s old!”

He chuckled, “I might even live longer…depending…” he frowned, “That means…you Ansheetans only live about forty Earth years. That’s…not very old.”

The fire crackled in front of them

Merco was seriously wondering if he’d live as long as he was guessing. And if he did, would it all be here on the Ansheetan home world or would he be rescued by then?

His thoughtful look made Pixie tap him, “You miss your home huh?”

Merco nodded with a longing sigh, “Very much Pixie. I hope to get back to Earth one day…but…I don’t know if that will happen.”

She snuggled into his shirt, “I don’t want you to go.”

“Oh, I know Pixie. But you should know I don’t belong here.”

Her small plumage lifted a bit like she wanted to protest but let it fall against her head. Merco’s wall of a chest swelled outward with a deep yawn.

“Well I think I’m going to get to sleep.” he stated, balling up his jacket for a pillow before laying back on the sandy shore of the lake. He rested his hand on the outside of his pocket, patting it gently, “Sleep well Pixie.”

“You too, Merco.”

Pixie laid her head against Merco’s chest, the familiar lullaby of his immense heartbeat relaxing her immediately. Her mind was troubled by the idea of Merco leaving. Truly she felt bad for him that he missed his family and his home world, but she selfishly wished he’d stay for always. Merco was the first person she’d ever seen when she Emerged. He was the first to take care of her; the first to show her gentle kindness. Perhaps it was some long-lost instinct of her species to imprint on the first being they saw after Emerging. Granted it was all accidental but Pixie still felt a connection with him. He was her friend and the thought of him leaving forever was not something she wanted to face.

Chapter 33: Emissary

On the edge of the forest at the Wasteland three days prior…

Boroxle and his sand dragon Ru’tra had made it back to the Rogashay encampment two sun cycles after their encounter with the giant alien. Needless to say, it had been a humiliating defeat, one Boroxle found hard to swallow. Even his sand dragon Ru’tra, one of the strongest bulls in their encampment, was powerless against the huge creature who handled him like a mere toy. Boroxle had thought the Ansheetan negligence in their guarding of the forest had meant an opportunity for he and the Rogashay to try and seize territory. He never could’ve predicted the enemy would be in command of such a titanic monster. Even without it, the Ansheetans were a powerful people, but now…his tribe was seriously outclassed.

Returning to his mate Kriees a failure in his quest was a difficult thing to endure. Though her eyes bore relief at his return they also held disappointment; something he never wanted to see in her green eyes.

“You were not victorious.” She stated in a way that sounded like a question but was not.

Boroxle growled, dismounting Ru’tra and removing his harness to give him reprieve of it. The lizard stretched its toothy mouth and hissed. A member of the tribe came and brought a chunk of meat for him whilst Boroxle headed for his dwelling. Kriees followed, not saying anything. She could read her mate well enough to know he would speak when he was ready.

When they entered their tent-like dwelling, Kriees brought her mate some meat to eat and sat down next to him. He ate in silence for a bit until at last he spoke.

“We…ran into something unexpected.” He stated. “I need to gather the tribal sub-leaders for a meeting.”

“Tell me first.” She insisted.

Boroxle lowered his hard, crested head and hissed slightly, “The Ansheeta have a weapon…”

“A weapon?” Kriees leaned in.

“A giant creature…bigger than anything I’ve ever seen.”

“What do you mean a ‘giant creature’?”

Boroxle’s fierce eyes widened, “I mean just that! I don’t know what it was or where it came from. It walks on two legs like we do but it…it’s taller than most of the forest trees!” He gestured to his face, “Fur on its head and face…light brown skin…strength like you wouldn’t believe.”

He stared at his mate, “And the Ansheeta command it! My party and I found two Ansheeta alone in the forest and we captured them easily. I intended to use them as hostages to get into Anashee. But one of them, a female, called this thing to her aid. The sand dragons and their riders all fled in fear. Ru’tra ran off too and this thing captured me effortlessly.” He held up his fingers in a pinching motion to illustrate, “I…stood no chance. ” He picked up a sheathed dagger and held it with both hands in front of him, “It could hold Ru’tra just like this! That’s how big it is.”

Kriees seemed notably shocked by his description.

“It kept me captive for a while but then let me go.” Boroxle threw down the dagger with frustration, “We can’t defeat this thing…whatever it is. It could wipe us out completely if it is commanded to do so.”

“You think the leaders of Anashee would do that?” she asked with doubt.

Boroxle thought but flipped his hands, “I don’t know. Now that they have the means to destroy us they might.”

Kriees sat beside her mate in silence, “Then perhaps it’s time we bartered a peace with them.”

Boroxle snarled at the idea, “That will never happen. The Ansheeta will keep their land and push us further into the wasteland.”

Kriees looked behind her at the large black pod of their first young, nestled comfortably in its stand, “Our first will be Breaking soon. His movements are getting stronger.”

The Rogashay leader leaned past her and touched the large black pod. Beneath the textured, volcanic rock-looking surface he could indeed feel several surges of the life moving within.

“How soon?”

Kriees laid her hardened crest against his scaled shoulder, “Very soon. Perhaps as soon as eight sun cycles…it’s hard to say.”

Much like the Ansheetans, Rogashay females expelled a single egg or pod from a hidden opening in their chest. And like the Ansheetans the pod would grow over time to create the new Rogashay life inside. Unlike the Ansheetans, however, the Rogashay did not have brooding chambers to house their young ones. Instead they were buried in the sand or dirt for five to seven rotations to keep them cool and protected. Then when they were of the proper size in their development, the sand dragons would be tasked to dig them up and bring the large pods out in the suns to harden. After that they were housed for two more rotations in the dwelling of the parent Rogashay.

They had education probes as well, while not as developed as the ones of the Ansheetans, still served the same purpose. The probes were inserted after the pods were dug up and before they hardened in the sun. Then, when the time of Breaking arrived (the Rogashay term for Emerging) the new Rogashay would fight their way out of their pod using their hardened head crests. Those that didn’t fight their way out were seen as weak and unworthy and would not be aided, subsequently perishing within their own pod. Though, this instance was uncommon, it was a harsh reality for all Rogashay. Only the strong were allowed a place in the tribe.

Kriees looked at her mate, “We cannot afford a battle now, not with our first about to Break. There are many others in the tribe about to Break as well. If this giant creature could mean our destruction we must at least consider a meeting with the Ansheeta. If only for his sake.” She gestured to the pod.

Proud Boroxle didn’t want to do that. But he also didn’t want to jeopardize his new family before it was even so. In his gut he very much doubted the Ansheeta would even speak with them much less barter any kind of peace that would lean in their favor. Most likely they’d threaten them to leave into the Wasteland as far as they could and never return or they’d sic their giant monster upon them.

“And if we can’t reach a peace?” he asked.

She touched his face with a fierceness in her own eyes, “Then I will fight our last battle by your side. I will find a way to kill this giant monster by myself if I have to.”

He returned the touch with pride, “That is why you are mine and no other.”

She stood with purpose, “I will travel to Anashee and broker a meeting with their Elder.”

“I will go with you.”

Kriees halted him with a firm hand, “I will go alone. If you go or a party of warriors attends me, the Ansheeta could construe it as a raid. Our tribe cannot afford to have you captured.”

“I can’t afford to have you captured.” He growled with insistence.

A confident look raised her chin, “You know I can fend for myself.”

Though the Rogashay leader nodded to her, he still didn’t like it.

…

A couple days after the ‘swimming lessons’…

Anu had news for Merco and she wanted to tell him personally. She flew out to his shelter outside of Anashee where he was sitting in the shade with Seraysa and a small group of Ansheetans, talking. Seraysa was at her favorite spot on Merco’s shoulder.

Anu had to smile. Though she and Seraysa were both ambassadors for Merco it was evident that their bond was indeed strong. She and Merco were close friends of course but there was something a bit more with those two. Seraysa rarely left Merco’s side. Of course, she would make time with her own family but with Ansheetans, the moment an Emerged found their place in life they flew with it. Seraysa’s place seemed to be at Merco’s side.

“Merco!” she called out flying down.

He looked up from his conversation, “Hello, Anu.”

“I have news for you!” she announced, landing on his bent knee.

“Really? Somebody needs some help?” he guessed.

“No. I just received word from the Pela Ansheetans that they’ve finished your new shirt. They have it for you at the settlement.”

He turned his head with remembrance, “Oh yeah! I almost forgot about that.” He pulled his holey shirt away from his body and gave it an embarrassed look, “Looks like I could use one.” He nodded to the small group he was talking to, “Well, guess I’ve got to be going. I’ll tell you more about ‘snow’ and ‘winter’ when I come back.”

The little group seemed disappointed but stayed to watch him stand up. No matter how many times the Ansheetans watched him do the casual action it was always a show for them. Seeing a living being of Merco’s size rising up taller than the wall of Anashee was a sight. They made little noises of awe when he stood all the way up, blotting out the suns. Even Seraysa, who got to see it every day and ride on his shoulder when he stood, was still thrilled by it.

Merco bid them goodbye and followed after Anu. He had actually forgotten how the Ansheetans of Pela Canyon had been measuring his shirt the day he was attacked and they tended his injuries. That seemed like such a long time ago even though it had been roughly two weeks ago. He was keeping track of the suns and how many times they went dark. Though not the same as Earth days they were his only sure way of judging how long he’d been marooned. Getting close to three weeks on Anshai-tee.

As Merco walked down the road toward the border of Anashee he wondered if his sons or his job had filed a “missing person” report or not. Granted, he was a space ‘trucker’ with many weeks and even months between some destinations. He tried to even remember what his last job was before he was hijacked by those mercenaries.

Ship parts…that was the cargo.

He dropped off the parts at that last space port and was heading to pick up the next shipment at a nearby planet.

Surely the company for his pickup had filed a complaint about his failure to arrive?

But he was knocked out for an untold amount of time when his ship was rammed and he hit his head. And then he was knocked out again when that lizard-like Gret’nal punched him. He had no idea how far off course they had taken him. His ship wasn’t top notch but it was as fast as any smaller transport ship. He wondered if those mercenaries still had his ship or if they sold it for parts. A stolen transport ship would be easy to track. If they were stupid, they’d still have his ship and they’d be tracked down, which could expedite his rescue.

Unless…unless the bastards knew how to disable the tracking signal.

That wasn’t easy to do…but not impossible given the right skill set. Mercenaries tended to know all the illegal tricks. Somehow, in his gut, Merco thought that was more likely.

“What are you thinking about?” Pixie’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh… just wondering if anyone is out there looking for me.” He indicated the sky above.

He knew she didn’t like the idea of him leaving but it was a constant weight on his thoughts.

Anu turned, entering the conversation, “I’m sure your family is trying to find you.”

Merco frowned, “I don’t know where Anshai-tee is in relation to other planets so even if they are searching…I don’t know if they will find it.”

He’d shown Anu the pictures of his family before and had a similar conversation that he had with Pixie. She too had been amazed and baffled by the human concept of “growing up”. But Ansheetans did understand family and the importance of it; one commonality they shared.

“Well, I have heard there has been a group put together to develop a communication transmitter that can broadcast beyond our planet.” Anu offered, “So, that’s a start.”

Merco gave a hopeful shrug, “I hope it works.”

The three traveled together until they arrived at Pela Canyon. Merco entered through his usual slope and traversed the rocky corridor. He hadn’t visited the Pela Ansheetans since he shared a fish with them, so he was anxious to see them again now that he had learned their language. At last he rounded the corner of the canyon wall and saw the settlement. Draped over the side of the canyon wall like a banner was a bluish-purple T-shirt.

Merco grinned thinking, “Now that’s a color I’ve never worn before…”

There were a few Pela Ansheetans going about their daily routine.

Quite abruptly someone shouted, “He’s here! It’s Merco!”

Like before the settlement came alive with activity like ants pouring out of a hill to greet him. He approached carefully and knelt down before them.

“Hello again. I see you finished the shirt. I’m definitely needing a new one.” He stated in his odd Ansheetan accent.

Hearing him speak the Ansheetan tongue set the settlement abuzz with chatter. Last they knew he only knew how to say the greeting.

Yelon the settlement leader came forward, “It is good to see you again Merco.”

“And you as well.” He nodded and glanced at the old remains of the landslide. The entrances had been sealed off but more were dug in other parts of the canyon, “I see that you have expanded.”

Yelon nodded, “Please, try your new shirt. We hope it is to your liking.”

Merco smiled, took Pixie from his shoulder and set her down. Then he rose up, peeling his old gray T-shirt from his torso. The shirt he had was in a pretty sorry state; full of holes and stained with old brown blood spots.

“Your wounds seem to have healed well.” Yelon mentioned, flicking his yellow tipped crest.

“Thanks to your people.” Merco admitted, holding his shirt in a wad, “I hoped to thank you properly for such a kind act on my behalf.”

“You saved my people from death when it was impossible. It was the least we could do for you.” Yelon assured him.

“Still, I thank you, all of you, for everything you’ve done for me. You were the first Ansheetan settlement to see me and you have been welcoming and kind to me ever since.”

Yelon nodded and then gestured to the shirt above. Merco picked up the shirt that was draped over the canyon wall. It felt like cotton but a bit softer like a synthetic fiber. It had stretch to it as well. He sincerely hoped it fit because he’d feel awful if they’d spent so much time and effort on such a huge shirt only to have it not fit. He slipped it on and the material stretched nicely. The texture was soft like cotton but it almost had a foamy feel to it. His head popped through the neck opening and he stretched the material down over his torso. The Pela Ansheetans made noises of approval and relief, seeing that it fit him. Merco rolled his arms a bit, stretching them out to test the fit.

“Fits great.” He announced, “What is this material?”

“It’s made from the fibers of a fungus that grows in our mines. There’s a lot of it and we use it for our own clothes. And…when it gets dark it glows.”

Merco ran his hands across his chest, feeling the material, “It’s soft. I-I’m humbled you took this much effort to make me this…surely it was a burden to make?”

There were murmurs of laughter in the crowd.

“It was far and away the biggest shirt we’ve ever made.” Yelon agreed.

He bowed his head with gratitude, “Thank you.

He noticed there was a pocket just like the one he had on his old shirt and he touched it, “Try this out Pixie.”

She floated up and slid into the shirt pocket for a test. As she wiggled around and leaned against him she gave a nod of approval, “It’s nice…very comfy.”

He patted the pocket fondly and then asked the Pela citizens, “Is there anything I can do for you while I’m here?”

Yelon glanced around but said, “Not today I’m afraid. But in a fifteen sun cycles we might need you to come bring a large mineral shipment to Anashee.”

Merco nodded with a smile, “Just send word and I’ll come.”

They talked for a time, the Pela citizens seeming excited to be able to speak to the giant alien being. Some thanked him for his heroism in saving them, others asked if he was going to bring them another fish, and of course the obligatory conversation of what he was and where he was from.

“Merco!” Traynar’s voice suddenly echoed across the canyon wall as he flew in fast.

“Traynar? Is something wrong?” Merco asked noticing the speed at which Traynar traveled. Anashee was relatively close to Pela Canyon but it still took Merco close to an hour to walk there.

“Commander Madala needs you back at Anashee.” He stated.

Merco grimaced, knowing the head of the Ansheetan military didn’t particularly like him, “Have I…done something wrong?”

Traynar shook his head, “I will explain on the way. Come on.”

Merco stood quickly and said to the Pela citizens, “Thanks again for the shirt. You did a marvelous job on it. Take care.”

The Pela citizens waved their plumes to him and bid him farewell as he, Anu, Traynar and Pixie all headed back for Anashee.

When they were out of the canyon Anu couldn’t hold back her curiosity, “What’s going on Traynar?”

Her mate turned and spoke to both her and Merco, “A Rogashay emissary has arrived at the gates of Anashee.”

“An emissary?” Anu raised her plumage, “What do they want?”

“She has come to make talks of peace with us.” Traynar explained. “She arrived not long after you three left. The Commander told me to bring Merco back to Anashee as fast as I could.”

Merco made a hopeful expression, “Peace talks? That’s a good thing, right?”

“With the Rogashay…I have my doubts. They’ve never talked about wanting peace before.” Traynar stated with evident suspicion in his tone. He flipped his dark plumage at Merco, “But…I have a feeling you might have something to do with it.”

“Me?” At first Merco looked confused but he then realized the implications of his presence, “They think…I’m a danger to them.”

Traynar nodded, “I’ll just bet Boroxle and those others took one look at you and thought we Ansheetans acquired the greatest weapon on Anshai-tee and that we might use it.”

Though Merco was well aware of the power he wielded on a planet inhabited with such small beings, he’d never really considered the idea that he’d be seen as a weapon to the Ansheetan enemies.

“I…sincerely hope Commander Madala doesn’t think I’m going to be Anashee’s weapon to destroy its enemies.” Merco mentioned with a slight dread in his voice.

Anu frowned at that, “I don’t think Elder Felreh would condone something like that. She has always seeks peace first.”

Merco glanced at them and then at Pixie riding on his shoulder, “I mean…I will do what I can to keep Anashee and its citizens from harm but…I don’t want to fight a war. I’ve done enough of that…”

Chapter 34: Kriees

Kriees had traveled the sun cycles it took by sand dragon to reach Anashee. She kept herself inconspicuous by traveling mostly at night when the Anasheetan patrols were lighter. The Rogashay knew the Ansheetan EFP didn’t fly at night very often due to the danger of not being able to see through the trees. It had once been considered that would be the way they would invade. However, Anashee was arranged so deep within their forest that they couldn’t make it in one night. So, any force was discovered by daybreak and dealt with.

Kriees knew this and was intercepted before she even reached the end of Anashee Lake. The EFP had met her and when they did she presented the colors of an Emissary which was a piece of tanned sand dragon skin marked with the symbol. It was indeed an old symbol as the EFP scouts seemed only vaguely familiar with it. She was made to wait stationary astride her sand dragon until more EFP were called. After that they flew over her, escorting her for another day and a half through the forest until they reached the mountain pass of Anashee and onward toward that gate.

The Rogashay female bore a stoic expression as she rode, though inwardly she marveled at how lush and plentiful the Ansheetan’s land was. True enough she’d been through the forest on a few raids but the outskirts never had farmland like what she was seeing. Crops of every hue and shape growing bountifully. It made her sick that these Ansheetans had so much and her people had to scrape by.

Something she didn’t see however was this giant creature her mate had warned her about. Boroxle had acted subtly terrified of what would happen to them because of its presence. In fact, it was the whole purpose of her visit as an emissary. Surely something of that enormity would be easy to spot even at a distance? She kept scanning around for evidence of it.

With precision the EFP members who had been with her guided her down the road, across a long bridge, and toward the gates of Anashee. There she could see a contingent of more maroon uniformed Ansheetans waiting for her. Obviously word had come ahead of her arrival. She halted her sand dragon in front of them. With a nimbleness she swung her leg from the lizard’s neck and dismounted, standing tall beside it whilst she held its reins.

A dignified looking Ansheetan female with markings on her uniform indicating her high rank floated forward with a raised plume.

“I am Commander Madala, leader of the EFP. To whom am I addressing?”

The Rogashay female pulled back the hood on her cloak, showing her bony head crest. Her green eyes were stolidly fixed on the Commander.

“I am Kriees. Emissary of the Rogashay tribes.”

“And what is your purpose for being here?”

“I would speak to your Elder on those matters,” was the even reply.

Commander Madala raised her chin, “I would know your purpose before you get to speak to our Elder.”

Kriees had fierce eyes, like something of a predatory reptile, but her light colored face was emotionless, “Very well. I come to talk of terms for peace between the Rogashay and the Ansheetans.”

The female Ansheetan stared at her with her bright blue eyes; a common feature of all their females. Then she gestured to a couple members of the contingent to tell them to inform the Elder of the arrived Emissary’s purpose.

“My sand dragon is in need of nourishment and water.” Kriees stated.

The Commander nodded and ordered meat and water to be brought for the huge scaly mount.

“We will bring what your animal requires…as well as something for you. Remain here until I receive word from our Elder.” Commander Madala explained.

Kriees nodded but kept her sharp eyes on everything in case this turned into a well disguised trap.

…

Commander Madala had heard of the Rogashay emissary a sun cycle prior from a fatigued EFP member who flew as fast as he was able to deliver that news. A single emissary sent by the Rogashay was unheard of and that made the leader of the EFP suspicious. Typically, their adversaries came in small to large packs; never alone. And when they came it was to raid, pillage, and steal from unwary travelers and unguarded settlements. They were a warrior race, prone to violence and possessing great physical and combative prowess. She had fought a few skirmishes against them and they were powerful and rarely merciful. But flight, greater numbers, and superior fortification kept the Ansheetans safe from their total conquest.

The war between their peoples was even beyond her life’s recollection. Elder Felreh herself was very young when it occurred. The last time a Rogashay emissary was sent was during the beginning of Elder Felreh’s time as Elder. According to Felreh, the Rogashay weren’t keen on peace then and hadn’t made the attempt for it since. She couldn’t fathom what the Rogashay wanted after such a long time of diplomatic silence. However, it wasn’t hard to guess the catalyst that sparked this sudden reaction.

Merco.

Anu and Traynar had been captured by a small Rog Bandit raiding party during their stint observing the giant alien. Merco had subsequently saved them but didn’t kill any of the bandits. In fact, he held one bandit captive and let him go later on. It was obvious that was how word had spread of the giant that now lived near their city.

However, the shrewd commander kept the knowledge of the arriving emissary secret between her and Elder Felreh, lest rumors of a “Rogashay invasion” be birthed in Anashee.

It wasn’t until the emissary was within an hour of the city that she sent Traynar to summon Merco for this meeting. Granted, she held reservations toward the giant alien, but even she could admit his overwhelming presence would be an excellent deterrent should the emissary have false intentions.

However, unbeknownst to her, Merco had made a trip out to Pela Canyon that morning so Traynar had to fly out to retrieve him. The Commander knew how fast Traynar could fly as well as how much ground Merco could cover with his immense stride, so she knew they would be returning soon.

It took time but Elder Felreh was informed of the emissary and immediately arranged for a meeting with her within the Council Chambers. The other council members were summoned as well. When all was in readiness, she herself went to gather the Rogashay emissary.

…

Kriees waited patiently but with a deep anxiousness for the meeting ahead. She was informed that she would be brought before the Elder in the Anashee Council Chambers where they would discuss the terms they desired to attain peace. That would mean she would be brought into the city where she would be surrounded and immeasurably outnumbered. But she would face those odds. Though the Ansheetans were a strong force, they were also mostly passive…physically weaker. She would take down many before they would subdue her if this went bad.

Several male Ansheetans in a different garb than the EFP appeared from over the wall and landed near her. One was carrying a small tray of various small food items and a vessel of water. The other three groups were hauling between them what looked like a large chunks of meat for her sand dragon. Smelling the flesh, her sand dragon began to move forward, to which Kriees tugged her lead sharply to remind her to hold her place.

Giving a sand dragon food could be a dangerous prospect if one didn’t want to end up as their meal too. They were not fussy eaters; meat was meat. She knew a few foolish Rogashay that lost limbs and even their lives because they did not remember that simple fact.

“Give those to me, one at a time.” Kriees demanded of the meat carriers, “You don’t want to be eaten yourselves.”

Without argument the groups brought her the chunks which she easily held with both hands. She stepped away from her sand dragon and held up one of the huge chunks over her head. The movement made the horned lizard lift its head with interest, its wet tongue flicked to taste the scented air.

“Zay-za.” She said the dragon’s name and then tossed the meat to her.

The massive jaws whipped open, flashing rows of dagger teeth as it snapped the meat from the air and swallowed it whole. Kriees could sense the anxiousness of the Ansheetans behind her as she fed her sand dragon. They were not used to their ferocious nature. She had to smile with confidence as she fed Zay-za.

Finally, when all the meat was gone, Zay-za weaved her head from side to side, flicking her tongue rapidly which was indicative that she was searching for more. A sand dragon was a gluttonous beast and would eat well beyond what it truly needed if given the chance. This was when they were the most dangerous if not properly trained. Quickly, Kriees gave the lead attached to Zay-za’s throat flesh a sharp tug to snap her out of her search. It was slightly painful for the sand dragon but pain was one of the few things to reign in their hunger and remind them of their training.

“Zay-za! No more.” Kriees barked sharply.

The sand dragon stopped its searching motions, shuffled its feet and reset its jaw to a more passive state. Kriees watched her carefully, making sure all her body language lined up with passivity. When it did, she was able to turn her back. She could see the subtle and not so subtle looks of amazement on the faces of the Ansheetans present; not believing she could command such a large, fearsome beast with ease. Then she too accepted the water and food given to her.

Time passed slowly and for a long stretch, but Kriees remained standing before the small contingent left to watch her. Sitting would be a show of ease which she didn’t want to convey. Ease suggested a lowered guard; weakness. She would not show that to the Ansheetans.

Zay-za, who had laid down on her stomach during the long wait, all at once began to fidget and rise up. Kriees glanced at her sand dragon to see what she was doing. She squinted upon seeing the big lizard with her horned head up and twitching slightly. That was an atypical posture for a calm sand dragon. The upward posture conveyed unease. Slowly, Kriees approached her and ran a hand along the sand dragon’s jawline.

“Zay-za. Zay-za.” She said her name in an easing tone.

But then Kriees saw something just beyond her sand dragon towards the mountain pass of Anashee. There was something moving several miles away near the opening. A blue-violet shape moving against the darker purplish black mountains. She couldn’t make out what it was until a few minutes passed and the silhouette became clearer. Zay-za got more agitated, even warbling in a fearful way. Kriees watched as the distant form took shape as something bipedal and very…very big.

The Ansheetan’s giant monster.

It seemed to be following the road she had taken and it was closing the distance at a leisurely but terrifying rate. By the time it was closer to the bridge of the river lands she could distinctly feel the tremors created by its footsteps even though it was still a distance from the gate. Its enormity grew the closer it got and she knew Boroxle hadn’t exaggerated a single word.

In four large steps the huge creature crossed the river lands, passed the crop fields, and was heading for the gate. Like an ominous black cloud, its shadow swept fast in their direction, blanketing everything it touched in darkness. Its every quaking footstep grew stronger and more jarring. Though Kriees dare not show it, she couldn’t deny the fear welling up from deep inside. Still, she held her ground and did not run. Much like when training sand dragons, fear was a show of weakness and it would be exploited with deadly results. This giant thing might have the same killer instinct that she dared not trigger.

Zay-za, however, was desperate to flee and Kriees couldn’t hold her back as the sand dragon threw her head, yanked her lead from Kriees’s hand, and rushed away from the oncoming giant. The female Rogashay tried to call her back but fear had overwhelmed her. Scaring a sand dragon was no small feat.

Suddenly the gigantic creature veered off, long towering legs stretching out to cut off her sand dragon.

“Oh no…Zay-za’s fear must’ve triggered its hunting instincts!” she thought with horror.

In a few quick steps the colossal creature got in front of Zay-za, making her rear back with a defensive hiss. One of its huge hands opened, it bent down and grabbed hold of Zay-za behind her head frill. The sand dragon squealed, tail whipping as she was stopped instantly.

“NO!”

Kriees ran across the distance at a dead run, arm reaching under her cloak to pull her energy spear. With a high, powerful jump she dodged Zay-za’s lashing tail, landed on the sand dragon’s back half, and plunged her energy spear into the giant creature’s huge gloved hand. A painful recoil shot through Kriees’s arm bones upon impact. The Rogashay winced and tried to bear her weight into the weapon twisting it. But much to her horror the gigantic creature made no reaction what-so-ever to her strike. The only thing she succeeded it doing is cutting the black glove.

“Hey, hey! No need for that.” It suddenly spoke in a deep, decidedly male voice.

Kriees squinted, surprised at hearing his Ansheetan. More surprising was that it almost sounded more like the Rogashay dialect than Ansheetan. The two languages were in essence the same but sounded different when spoken. Kriees looked up to meet eyes with the creature who loomed over her and her dragon with terrifying stature. She couldn’t believe he didn’t feel her strike.

Perhaps the glove was somehow protecting him?

“Let her go NOW, monster!” she shouted.

With a quick retraction of her blue bladed energy spear, she pounced over the arch of his fingers, hopped onto the back of his hand, and ran up the slope of his huge arm. She could see exposed flesh just beyond his elbow. Kriees jumped again with her strong legs, reared the spear back over her head, and with a powerful thrust she drove her spear into its flesh. Red blood spurted up in reward. It had the desired effect as the giant’s hand opened, releasing Zay-za. He bellowed a sound of pain and jerked violently, throwing Kriees off balance. She clung to her spear to avoid falling. His great head turned; large gray green eyes focused on her.

“NO! STOP!” a female Ansheetan voice rang out desperately.

Kriees all at once spotted a young female Ansheeta sitting atop the monster’s shoulder just above her. She had a horrified look on her face. Then two more members of the EFP appeared and flew in closer. The male had a spear brandished defensively but he kept his distance.

Then a shadow darkened everything and Kriees was suddenly subdued on all sides when the giant’s opposite hand swooped across and massive fingers pinned her to the side of his arm. The female Rogashay growled, kicking and squirming to free herself.

“Release me!” she snarled.

She was lifted effortlessly and held her up for inspection.

His eyes blinked down at her as his hairy head tipped slightly to look at the spear stuck in his arm, “Now what was that for? I was only trying to help you catch your lizard.” He pointed off to his left, “See! Now it’s running away.”

Kriees’s fierce eyes gave him no mercy, “You’re the reason she ran! Let me go!”

The two EFP members flew in close, the male flared his plumage and narrowed his eyes, “You’re lucky Merco is the gentle sort.”

“What are you going to do? Order him to kill me?” Kriees hissed.

The giant creature with the furry face cleared his throat, “I will do no such thing. Here. I’m putting you down.”

He lowered her slowly and set her down. The female Rogashay found her feet and spun to face him, straightening her back and holding her head up in a brave pose. She was honestly taken aback that he released her without a command from the Ansheeta. Did the Ansheetans truly command this thing? He deftly reached up and plucked her spear from his arm, baring his teeth with a pained hiss as it came out.

The young Ansheeta on his shoulder spoke with blatant concern, “Are you ok, Merco?”

He looked at her from the corner of his eye, “I’m fine, Pixie. Just a little poke.”

“A little poke? I put my whole force into that strike!” Kriees’s thought, her pride stung.

As he held the spear like a twig, the male Ansheeta flew up and put out his hand, “Better give that to me. Emissary or not, she can’t have that if she’s meeting our Elder.”

The giant nodded and handed it over.

“Your weapon will be returned to you once your meeting is concluded.” the male explained curtly.

Kriees knew that was inevitable but it still soured her face. Weaponless but bold, she stood before the giant creature staring him down to show she wasn’t going to let him intimidate her.

“So…you must be the Rogashay Emissary I was told about. My name is Merco.” He introduced himself out of nowhere.

She eyed him sternly, “And you must be the Ansheetan’s giant monster I was warned about.”

He gave an uncomfortable look and sighed, “Um…not a very accurate description.”

“Are you saying you’re not under the Ansheetan’s command?” she challenged.

He looked over at the little female on his shoulder, “They are my friends…but I think for myself.”

Kriees was shocked by that admission. She was under the impression that this giant was some sort of attack beast that did as it was commanded. But given how he spoke and behaved that didn’t seem to be the case.

What were his motivations then?

He was obviously a powerful entity, but would he attack her people as Boroxle surmised? He certainly didn’t act ferocious…even after she attacked him. Zay-za was far more dangerous in temperament than this giant creature seemed. There was no doubt if he wanted to go on a rampage nothing would be able to stop him, but his mannerisms and speech seemed far more like a passive Ansheetan than a warrior.

Just then Commander Madala arrived, ”What is going on here?”

“Misunderstanding.” Merco said simply, wiping the blood from his arm so it wouldn’t get on his new shirt.

Commander Madala looked at him and then the Rogashay Emissary, “I see you have met Merco. I do apologize if he gave you a scare.”

Though inwardly she was hoping he did scare her a bit…

Kriees kept her eyes warily on the giant alien before her before she pulled her hood over her head again and approached the Ansheetan commander, standing nearly double her height, “Your monster scared away my sand dragon. I need to retrieve her.”

The Commander gave her a look but then said, “I’m sure Merco could catch her for you. Couldn’t you?” she gave him a pointed stare.

“Um…yeah. I’m sorry about that. I’ll go get it for you and bring it back.” Merco offered.

The Rogashay Emissary gave him a mistrustful glare, “If you hurt her I will aim higher next time.”

Merco raised his eyebrow, “I… promise I’ll be gentle with it.”

Nodding, Madala raised her tall plume, “The Elder and the Council have gathered. I am to escort you to the Council Chambers personally. You will of course be searched for weapons before entering Anashee.”

Kriees nodded, expecting the statement as she began walking with the Commander. She had learned much in a short time.

Chapter 35: An Agreement

Commander Madala looked up at Merco, “When you’ve caught her sand dragon please bring it to our stables over there.” She pointed to a station outside the walls.

Merco nodded.

Then she said, “Keep close. Elder Felreh said she may have need of you in these proceedings.”

“Me?”

She nodded.

After the Rogashay Emissary was led away toward the gate Merco stood up glancing at the blood dot on his arm, “Guess that didn’t go so well. Kinda violent for an Emissary isn’t she?”

Traynar floated before him with a serious look, “That was actually a pretty typical response. Though…I’m surprised she came at you with that kind of reaction. We understand the Rogashay’s attachment for their sand dragons. They are integral in their lives and protect them as they would a member of their family.”

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Pixie asked, peering up at him.

Merco nodded, “I’m good.” He seemed to think a moment, “I wonder why the Elder wants me to be at this meeting?”

“She may want you to just listen in since you’re most likely the reason this meeting is occurring. Or she may want you there as extra assurance.” Traynar explained.

Merco frowned not feeling particularly good about being some sort of ‘enforcer’ or ‘intimidation factor’. Though, he couldn’t help it considering he was the biggest thing on their planet and it was inherent that he’d be intimidating.

Dismissing his misgivings, he peered across the land, “Now where did that sand dragon run off to?”

Luckily for him, Anu had flown after in pursuit and Traynar could see her uniform, “There!”

Merco followed a ways, minding the farm ground which the sand dragon had no qualms charging through and smashing a swath where it ran. At his height he found the animal easily but following it without causing more damage was the trouble. Anu was flying, trying to get it to veer away from destroying anything but it paid her no mind. Feeling and sensing Merco coming after it didn’t help slow its retreat any. The sand dragon barreled through the farms until at last it made it to the marshy river lands. When its splayed feet met the spongy, muddy ground it had to slow down. Though adept at rushing over sandy ground, their build made them ill-equipped in the wet ground. Traynar and Anu flew in behind it, cutting off its escape back into the farms. Merco was taking the long way around to avoid harming anyone’s property.

However, the sand dragon was having none of their meddling in its escape. Realizing it couldn’t easily go across the marshy river lands it whirled around facing the two Ansheetans guarding the dryer ground. It hissed menacingly, baring long sharp teeth and shaking its horned head in a display posture. Traynar cycled his spear into an energy staff which would deliver a shock if the sand dragon tried to escape before Merco arrived. The sand dragon seemed to focus on the light of crackling staff, side stepping and hissing as it squared up to Traynar.

“Anu. Get in the air.” He urged his mate, knowing she wasn’t armed.

But Anu held her hovered place, “Merco’s coming. You can’t hold it by yourself.”

“Anu! Get higher now.” He commanded.

Quite suddenly, the sand dragon’s long tail whipped around with blinding speed. Anu managed to fly up but her leg got clipped, spinning her through the air end over end. Traynar ducked to the ground as the tail swept over him and retracted. In pain, Anu couldn’t maintain her flight and had to land, holding her throbbing, cut leg. The sand dragon’s tongue flicked with excitement, scenting the fresh blood; its predatory instinct triggered. It wheeled away from Traynar and charged toward Anu.

Traynar saw its intention and flew like a shot over to grab Anu before the sand dragon could. He knew by instinct he wasn’t going to be fast enough. All he could hope to do was shove her out of the path of those ravenous jaws and take the attack himself. His hands contacted Anu, the sand dragon’s teeth and massive mouth menacing in his periphery. If it was going to get one of them, it was going to be him.

Suddenly the suns were darkened and the entire land shook as a blast of displaced air sent Traynar tumbling with Anu into the grasses bordering the marshes. Their bones almost hurt from the concussive impact. When the air and land calmed, Traynar lifted his head to see Merco’s towering boot placed between them and the sand dragon which was gnawing aggressively into the leather. From the way the ground was shattered and the depth of his boot sole in the ground, Traynar ascertained Merco had probably jumped between them, using his massive boot as a protective wall.

Merco’s colossal figure lowered and his mechanical hand grabbed the sand dragon behind its frill to pick it up. The lizard wasn’t keen on letting go of his boot and locked its jaw stubbornly. A bit of twisting and a sharp tap of his finger to the beast’s nose saw it release. Merco then grabbed it by the tail with his other hand and kept the lizard immobile.

“Thank you Merco.” Traynar said breathlessly holding Anu.

“Are you two all right?” he rumbled, staring down at them.

Traynar examined his mate’s cut leg before taking her in his arms and flying up, “She needs to see a medic.”

“I’m fine, Traynar. It’s just a cut.” Anu winced.

He shook his dark plumage adamantly, “Medic. Now.”

Merco frowned and chided, “You two shouldn’t have put yourself in harm’s way like that.”

Traynar began flying Anu back to Anashee with Merco following him, “We were helping you catch it.”

Holding the lizard firmly without harming it Merco shook his head, “Just don’t do that again. You could’ve been killed.”

From his shoulder, Pixie was looking at the sand dragon Merco held so effortlessly. The big lizard was wide eyed and mouth agape in a threat posture even though it couldn’t move.

“I don’t know why the Rogashay have such dangerous animals. It could’ve eaten them!”

Merco turned his head a bit, “Well, sometimes you have to really understand an animal in order to keep one. But you’re not wrong…seems a bit dangerous to me too.”

Still holding it behind the head, Merco flipped the sand dragon over upside down on its back along his arm. The lizard arched a bit, trying to right itself while it kicked its legs. Then, Merco gently ran his fingers up and down the lizard’s scaled belly.

“What are you doing?” Pixie asked.

Quite abruptly, the sand dragon’s legs stopped moving and it seemed to go limp.

Pixie was astonished, “Merco! Did you kill it?”

He laughed, “No. No. I was wondering if your lizards react like the ones from my planet when you put them on their back. They go catatonic.”

“Earth has sand dragons too?”

“Well…not really like this guy. This kinda looks like a reptile that went extinct on my world a very, very long time ago but with a few major differences.” He explained, still stroking the lizard’s belly.

As they drew near the gates of Anashee a messenger flew out to meet them saying, “The Elder has requested your presence at the Council Chamber.”

“Uh…right. Let me just drop this guy off.” Merco replied. He asked Pixie out of the corner of his mouth, “Do you know where the Council Chambers are?”

She stifled a laugh, “Yes, Merco. I can show you.”

…

Meanwhile…

Kriees was led by a contingent of EFP members to the council chambers within Anashee. She stood quite a bit taller than all the Ansheetans surrounding her so she was easy to spot. The EFP led her up many stairs and bridge walkways that encircled the biggest black bark tree in the center of Anashee. When they were about midway up, they entered the Council Chambers. Kriees kept her head held high and proud with a stolid expression even though inwardly she was impressed with the Ansheetan architecture as well as nervous about what was to be discussed. The very future of her people, not to mention her family, rested on her scaled shoulders.

The gathered Council was mostly silent, with a few murmurs to be heard as few had seen a Rogashay so close. Kriees lowered her hood and unfastened her cloak which she draped over the seat presented to her before sitting down before the Elder of the Ansheetans. She stared at the Elder emotionless.

After a moment the old Ansheetan made a gesture with her white plume as she lowered her head a bit, “I am Elder Felreh. To my right is Commander Madala. This is the Anashee Council. We welcome you Emissary Kriees of the Rogashay.”

Kriees made a Rogashay salute that raised her hand over her face and dropped along with her chin to her chest, “Gratitude for agreeing to this meeting.”

“And we are grateful for your people wanting to speak peaceably. What brings you to call for this meeting after such a long period of silence from your people?” Elder Felreh asked.

“Our scouts have reported that you Ansheetans have a new weapon. We wish to know your intentions for this weapon.” She stated bluntly.

There were a few murmurs until the Elder asked, “Do you mean Merco?”

“Yes.”

“Merco is not our ‘weapon’. He is a guest of Anashee.”

“Ah. I guest…who does what you ask of him?” she almost asked in a challenging air.

Elder Felreh said evenly, “Merco is a peaceable being. He has rarely acted violently, even when provoked.”

“Rarely.” Kriees stated.

“Rarely.” the Elder confirmed.

“That is good to know but forgive me for being skeptical, Elder. Our scouts have left little to the imagination with their reports of his power. We the Rogashay do not wish to be on the receiving end of one of these “rare” violent attacks.” Kriees replied with direct honesty. “My people believe you will use him to push us further into the Wasteland.”

The Elder remained stoic, “We have no such intention, Emissary Kriees.”

It was then the walls began to rhythmically shake signaling the inevitable arrival of Merco.

“In fact, Emissary Kriees, you may ask him yourself.” Elder Felreh added whilst standing from her seat, “Won’t you accompany me outside?”

Elder Felreh decided since Merco was a free entity that it wouldn’t be right to speak for him should such questions arise. So, she had sent a messenger to get him shortly after the emissary had been led into the city. There were no windows in the council chambers, adding to the privacy of such meetings, so outside was the only manner in which Merco could “attend”. Kriees nodded and rose, walking beside the Elder whilst the Council followed them, flanked by the Elder’s guard. They exited the council chambers which was situated in the largest black bark tree in the center of Anashee. Out onto the large wooden and stone balcony that extended out from the tree, the group exited.

The suns darkened with Merco’s shadow as he appeared around the corner with gentile steps. Pixie, whom was riding on Merco’s shoulder, pointed to the balcony and he slowly approached until he was close enough to see and hear the gathered group without looming menacingly over them.

He dipped his head in greeting, “You asked for me Elder Felreh?”

She nodded her old head, “So glad you could join us Merco. Were you able to retrieve our guest’s sand dragon?”

“Yes. Tied in the stables. Safe and sound.” He assured.

She gestured to Kriees, “Our guest has some questions for you regarding your intentions.”

“Intentions for…?”

Kriees looked up at him, arms behind her back, “I’ll be direct then. If Elder Felreh commands you to ‘defend’ Anashee from my people, will you?”

Merco blinked a couple times quickly, not really anticipating such a question, “Direct indeed, Emissary Kriees.” He thought a moment, trying to find the words that would be truthful yet diplomatic, “I do not wish any harm to come to Anashee, nor to the friends and allies that have treated me so well. I was marooned on this planet injured and there are those whom I owe my life for helping me. Should their safety be jeopardized I will act as a friend and keep them safe. BUT…I am not looking to fight anyone’s war. I have fought in war on my own world…and I hope it’s something both your peoples will avoid at all costs.”

Kriees tipped her bony crested head, her green eyes serious, “Then you would not fight?”

Merco set his jaw firmly, “I think the better question is: why would you want to fight? What motivates you to seek this?”

“I seek no fight. But know that my people are prepared to fight and die to defend ourselves should you darken our encampment.”

The man shook his head, “I do not want to hurt any of you. Like I said, I don’t want to fight a war.”

Kriees nodded but her eyes still held skepticism, “That is good to hear. My people grow weary of the hardship on the fringes of Ansheetan territory. For several generations we have been pushed further and further into the Wasteland. I fear the hardships will lead to…less than peaceful actions if they grow more desperate.”

Merco asked gently, “I understand from…sources…that your people raid and pillage Ansheetan settlements and travelers?”

The green eyes of the Emissary narrowed slightly but returned calm, “It is because of said hardships we resort to such…unscrupulous actions. Just traveling here through Anashee’s borders, I have seen more bounty of food than we can plant and harvest in a rotation. The soils on the fringes are not crop friendly. If you do not intend to push us further into the Wasteland, then we want to negotiate an agreement for farmable land.”

Murmurs amongst the Council filled the balcony.

Merco made a face that said he empathized with the entreaty, “I…hope I don’t overstep by saying this but, that seems like a reasonable request and a strong motivator, Elder Felreh. Why can’t the Rogashay have fertile land to call their own?”

Emissary Kriees betrayed a brief look of disbelief that this Merco alien would side with her.

“What land specifically?” Commander Madala asked, “You do understand we cannot simply take away farmland from our own people. What about the farmers and their livelihoods?”

Merco thought a moment then asked, “Who owns the forested area?”

Elder Felreh turned to a male Councilman dressed in a gray uniform and a strange hat, “The forested areas, save for the Trits on Anashee Lake and those that live spread out through the forest, are owned by Anashee.”

“So…government owned?”

“Basically.”

“Why not allot the Rogashay a portion of that forest?” Merco asked honestly. “Even by my standards it is very big.”

Emissary Kriees looked at him doubtingly, “The forest isn’t suitable for farming…only hunting. Even with our sand dragons and every able body we have, it would take us rotations to clear enough land for suitable farming. By then we’d starve ourselves.”

Merco nodded, “Perhaps. But what if I removed those trees for you?”

The Rogashay female blinked her green eyes.

“If such an agreement is made and it will bring peace between the Rogashay and the Ansheetans, I will gladly volunteer my help to make that land farmable.” The man stated genuinely.

Elder Felreh let a small smile creep along her wrinkled mouth but then remained serious when facing Kriees, “Would your people agree to such terms?”

Kriees was stolid in expression but inwardly she was baffled and almost elated. She came into Anashee expecting to be turned away with an ultimatum of “leave or be destroyed by our giant monster” as her mate had dreaded. But now they wanted to talk of offers of land…farmable land…to call their own? Her mate Boroxle had often privately voiced such desires, wishing for land to own and raise sand dragons. However, the borders of the forest offered little in the way of achieving the dream.

For generations it was understood by the Rogashay that they would have to wait patiently until the time was right and take what they wanted when Anashee weakened. But now, Anashee had grown stronger and instead of offering their banishment and eminent demise in the Wasteland they had extended hope. Hope for her people…and for her first son.

Kriees placed an open hand before her face and lowered it, bowing her head in the same motion, “I would need to confer with the tribal leaders …but I would be… eager to hear your proposals and have them written out officially.”

Elder Felreh returned the Rogashay gesture in the Anasheetan manner. Peace with the Rogashay was something she had hoped for since she first became the Elder. Wounds from the last war were still too tender back then but as time passed it seems the wounds had scarred over. No doubt there would still be sore trusts, given the raids the Rogashay had carried out and most likely there would be those who would protest this proposal. But it was an excellent first step.

The Elder bowed her crest to Merco, “Thank you Merco. We will retire back to the Council Chambers to confer.”

Once Elder Felreh made her way toward the doors, the other Council members followed. Kriees paused before she followed and faced Merco. Then she gave him the same bowing hand gesture she gave the Elder and then turned to follow the others.

Merco glanced at Pixie, “What did that mean?”

Pixie squinted, trying to remember that lesson from her education feeds, “I think…it is a show of thanks or respect.”

A small smile graced Merco’s mouth, “I see.”

“You make a good mediator.”

He shrugged sheepishly, “I…guess…I really hope I didn’t overstep my bounds there. I mean…this isn’t my planet and I don’t know how things work here completely.”

Pixie patted the swath of his huge shoulder with a tiny hand, “No. You did good.” She squinted with a smile, “You always do good.”

Merco gingerly turned and tread back the way he came to exit Anashee, “Well…not always. But I’m trying.”

Chapter 36: Landing

It took several sun cycles and countless meetings of the Ansheetan Council and the Rogashay to finally establish an agreement that was both beneficial and agreeable to both sides. The Accord stipulated that the Rogashay tribes would be given a swath of forest that would be deemed their ‘territory’ where they could farm and make the land productive. In return they would agree never to raid, pillage, or attack any Ansheetans or their settlements. Understandably there still appeared to be tensions between the species as the agreement was made.

Wishing to be sovereign and not overruled by the Ansheetans, the Rogashay stipulated that the Ansheetans would not be allowed to land and enter their territory unless given permission. The Ansheetans agreed but retained the right to monitor activities from the air, but in short intervals. No permanent establishment of flying sentinels would be allowed. The land was established so there was plenty of territory between them and the borders would not be tense. Trade and commerce would be established at a later time once the Rogashay had a grasp of their new land. It would definitely take time to mend old wounds and sate deep grudges.

As promised, once the Accord was signed, Merco went out to assist in the mammoth task of removing the trees from the territory. Before, the idea of deforesting a patch for farming had been brushed aside as the task was too large and strenuous to be deemed viable. However, that was before Merco arrived. For him the trees were saplings at their biggest and weeds beneath that. His great size and strength reduced the labor to mere sun cycles instead of a full rotation and more.

The Accord, as requested strongly by the Rogashay, also forbade the Ansheetans from using Merco as an entity of destruction against them. Though the giant alien made it clear that he was his own entity and would do no such action, the Rogashay didn’t completely trust the Ansheetans not to use his considerable might against them. That “might” was made even clearer as the Rogashay watched how he was able to rip massive trees, long rooted in the ancient soil, from their seats and toss them aside. It was a sobering marvel to them. Such strength and power harnessed for a noble task could prove devastating should it be wheeled against them.

…

During the proceedings, Merco would sometimes be called to make assurances to Emissary Kriees and the other Rogashay Tribal Leaders as they deliberated with the Anashee Council. He felt like a mediator and was almost treated as one but he felt a bit awkward in the position. He felt as if he were intruding in a literal cultural revolution and had no idea what the future ramifications would be. There was probably some intergalactic law against what he was doing…but he wasn’t sure.

He was shocked to realize that Boroxle, the Rog Bandit he had captured, was actually the leader of the entire tribe and Emissary Kriees was his mate. They’d somehow kept that fact a secret until much later in the proceedings; most likely a tactic to keep their weaknesses hidden. Boroxle, Merco came to realize, still held a grudge against him but was equally eager to enter into negotiations for land. It was after the second day he had gotten to work clearing the trees that he actually spoke one on one with the Rogashay leader.

Wiping honest sweat from his brow and brushing his hands together after about an hour of work, Merco went out toward a small extension of Anashee Lake to cool his head and get a drink. He drank deeply, wiping water up over his hair and around his neck. Definitely was feeling his age. His prosthetic certainly made the task easier since it was more powerful and didn’t get fatigued but the familiar start of an ache in his back and through his shoulders reminded him.

“I don’t understand you.” Boroxle’s gravelly voice announced off to his left.

Merco glanced down at him, standing with his spear staff in the ground like a walking stick. His rough, broad shoulders were raised back and his chest was jutted. It seemed to Merco any time he conversed or came into contact with one of the Rogashay they postured themselves that way as if to make themselves look bigger and more confident; like a cat arching its back in front of a big dog.

Merco slowly sat down with a groan of relief, stretching his legs out in front of him, “Oh? How is that?”

Boroxle’s bony crest tipped slightly as he frowned, “I’ve heard you say you were a warrior on your world?”

“A long time ago I was.”

Boroxle gestured to the area Merco had cleared of trees, “I’m the greatest warrior in my tribe and you defeated me with no effort at all. I’m told you did the same to the Ansheetan’s EFP without casualty. You’re the most powerful thing on our planet. You could conquer anything and everything before you and live as a god. Yet you resign yourself to that of a passive servant. Why?”

Merco surveyed the area he had cleared a moment and then focused on the Rogashay leader. Though he’d emphasized many times that he wasn’t under the Ansheetan’s command nor was he out to destroy anything, it still seemed Boroxle doubted his assertion.

“You know, just because I’m big doesn’t mean I have some overwhelming to desire to destroy and conquer everything before me.” Merco explained with a slight bit of annoyance in his tone, “I help because I want to help…not because I’m commanded. But I feel morally obligated to help those who helped me in any way I can.”

“But we’ve never helped you.” Boroxle pointed out. “Why would you help us?”

Merco smiled lightly, “I’d much rather make friends than enemies. And if my help can build a bridge between your people and the Ansheetans then my efforts are not wasted.”

Boroxle mulled over his statement a moment.

A smirk lifted Merco’s mouth, “Oh…and uh…sorry about burying you. I have the feeling you haven’t forgiven me for that.”

“I haven’t.”

“Right…well…I apologize for that.” Merco extended a finger to the Rogashay.

Boroxle stared at the massive digit uncomprehending. His hand tightened against his spear.

“In my culture when two people make an agreement or reach an understanding they gasp hands and shake them.” Merco explained.

“Why?”

“Uh…I don’t know. It’s just what we humans do to show we’re not enemies anymore.”

Boroxle squared up at Merco’s hand and then stared hard at him, “When the Rogashay have a grudge it must be resolved before such a pact can be made.”

“And…how is that accomplished?”

Quite suddenly, Boroxle activated his blue energy spear and with a fast arcing swipe slashed a cut across Merco’s extended finger.

“Ow!” Merco retracted his hand quickly to see the red slice open up. “The Hell?”

Boroxle deactivated his spear and returned it to its resting pose, ”Now I can accept your offer.”

He extended his hand to Merco as if nothing had happened. Merco tipped his head in a manner that was bewildered by the abrupt violent action. The Rogashay were indeed a different culture than the more peaceful Ansheetans; fear didn’t seem to register too deeply with them. It was almost admirable to Merco that Boroxle would have the gumption to attack him when he clearly knew he was outmatched.But…his mate Kriees seemed to possess the same boldness.

“Ok…friends?” Gently he extended his uncut pinkie finger to the Rogashay leader and they “shook hands”.

Boroxle nodded.

From that moment on, the Rogashay regarded Merco as a welcome visitor to their new settlement. Once he had cleared the trees and helped aerate the soil for their new territory, the once semi-nomadic bandits began their new farming and hunting culture; growing crops and raising their sand dragons. Though tension was still evident between the Ansheetans and the Rogashay they maintained a tolerance for each other through laissez-faire. It was indeed a milestone in their history.

…

One and a half rotations later…

By Ansheetan time Merco had been on the planet Anshai-tee for one and a half rotations or almost an Earth year. In that time, he had become much beloved by the tiny alien races that resided there. Even though they started out frightened and mistrustful of him he had gradually won them over with his gentle nature and helpful size and strength. Helping the farmers with their crop harvest, transporting the Trit vimvim catches to Anashee, and aiding the miners of Pela Canyon in their mineral harvests were just some of the tasks.

In that time, some of the scientifically technological minds of Anashee had developed a device that could send out a communique outside of their planet. It was a simple message translated to Merco’s language, “Stranded…need transport off planet.” They knew it was sent out beyond their planet but how far they were uncertain. Thus far there had been no reply or ship. Every day Merco would pass by the station situated on the top of the mountains that surrounded Anashee. And every day the controllers monitoring the station would give him the signal of “No Message”. It was disheartening for the man but he faithfully checked anyway.

As the light grew dim and the day drew to a close, Merco and his almost constant companion, Pixie, had ended up in Pela Canyon since the following day he was slated to transport a shipment of ores from the settlement to Anashee. He descended into the canyon and his shirt began to glow as it always did around dark.

“Are we going to the Pela Settlement?” Pixie asked him as she floated over his head.

Merco yawned deeply shaking his head, “I think I’m going to get some sleep early Pixie. I’ll meet with them in the morning.”

In the rotation after she had Emerged, Pixie had faithfully practiced her flying under the tutelage of her mentor Anu. Being Merco’s ambassador and following him whenever he traveled afforded her many opportunities to push her flying skills and she had become a pretty strong flier. In fact this trip she hadn’t had to ride on Merco’s shoulder at all. But she had to admit when they arrived at Pela Canyon, she too was tired.

Merco could see her bobbing in the air which he knew was her signal that she was growing tired. He smiled at her and held out his hand for her. The little Ansheetan landed gratefully on the sturdy platform of his huge hand.

“Atta girl, Pixie! You made it without riding on my shoulder once this time.” He congratulated her as he brought her close to his chest.

She flopped over in his palm, clearly exhausted but happy, “Yay, me!”

He smiled down at her, “You think you’ll join the EFP? Anu and Traynar keep asking me if you will.”

“I don’t know.” Pixie admitted, rolling over onto her back in his hand, “I mean, I’m not a fighter like Traynar. But the scout patrol maybe…?”

“You’d be good at it.”

Her blue eyes directed up at him, “But I like being your ambassador. If I was in the EFP we wouldn’t get to see each other as much.”

Merco smiled good-naturedly, “Well maybe they could have an Elite Walking Patrol for me and we could scout together? We kind of already do.”

Pixie laughed, “Yeah, but now that the Rogashay aren’t raiding anymore we’d be bored.”

“Nothing wrong with boring peace.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Merco found his usual spot in the canyon where he’d slept a few times before. The Pela citizens had provided him with a mat and a pillow roll to sleep on there as well but the canyon sand was a natural soft cushion. He sat down, placed Pixie on his chest, and laid out on his back. Pixie slipped into his shirt pocket as was her custom and looked up at the sky with Merco for a time. Merco had stared at the alien stars above many times in his “year” on Anshai-tee. The white dots were similar to the ones back on Earth but several larger planets loomed like bright marbles overhead reminding him it wasn’t his home world. He didn’t know them. He doubted he’d ever know them. The Ansheetans had names for them but none that he recognized from his interstellar travels.

He sighed deeply wondering if he’d ever see Earth’s stars again. Despite the fact that the Ansheetans had made attempts at communication outside their world, the silence had been discouraging. Though he was comfortable and cherished his little friends the homesickness grew sourer in his heart. He often wondered if his family was ok without him.

Had they given up searching and accepted the idea he had died or was forever lost? Or were they still searching, torturing themselves because they didn’t know what happened to him and had to know? His granddaughter would be born by now…how old was she? What did she look like? What did they name her?

“Are you ok?” Pixie asked.

“Hmm?”

She patted his chest, “Your heart was beating different just now.”

Merco sighed gently, “Just…homesick, I guess.”

Pixie was familiar with Merco’s common feeling of missing his family and she always tried her best to make him feel at home and not miss his home so much. But it was a battle she knew she couldn’t win.

Flipping onto her stomach she spanned her arms out in a big hug for him. He noticed her gesture, gave a soft smile, and gently laid his hand over her to return the affection.

“Good night, little one.”

“Good night.”

As they both fell asleep the canyon muffled the sound from the sky that hissed across the Wasteland.

…

Beyond the forest at the edge of the Wasteland…

The purplish gray sands of the Wasteland were blown powerfully, cast aside from the backwash of the descending ship at high speed. Thrusters blue with heat, the sleek, dark-colored ship landed on a surface that was flatter and harder than the surrounding sands. The scathing shrieking hiss of the engines died away to a dull whine as the ship powered down and cooled. A few minutes passed before the exit ramp lowered itself, hydraulics hissing as it settled to the ground.

A large, bulky figure covered in gray green scales descended the ramp, scanning the area with yellow reptilian eyes.

“Cresh…haven’t we been here before?” Gurt asked in his guttural voice, surveying the darkening terrain that looked to be a mauve purple-sanded desert bordering a vast swath of trees.

The white-skinned alien pilot with the distinct dark blue Mohawk removed his harness and rose from his pilot chair, “Yeah. Remember about a year ago we dumped that human here?”

Gurt flicked his reptilian tongue and growled, “Oh yeah…only got paid half for that job.”

“Which we would’ve got in full had the authorities not raided our guy’s compound.” the young alien reminded his surly partner. His four lensed goggles scanned the area, “Wonder how long he lasted?”

Gurt stalked down the ramp of their ship his dinosaur-like visage making slow passes at the alien terrain, “Probably died in a week. Humans ain’t very sturdy.”

The younger alien snorted, “Oh, I don’t know. They can be pretty resilient given the right motivations.”

“Whatever. Think those ILE (Interstellar Law Enforcers) goons will find us here?”

“You doubt my ability to avoid the law? You wound me Gurt.” Cresh replied dramatically. “This place is so far off the beaten path…I don’t think anyone knows it exists. And besides, that new signature scrambler we picked up should keep us hidden until things quiet down.”

“Shoulda fought ’em.” Gurt grumbled, always itching to fight.

“Now I know even your pea brain doesn’t believe that would’ve ended well.” Cresh replied, grabbing a few energy pistols from their bulkhead mounts and holstering them.

Gurt hissed, “Better than hiding on this dirt ball. How long are we gonna stay here?”

Cresh made sure the energy pistols were charged properly and adjusted the belt around his lithe frame, “Oh a few days I suppose. Then we can get out of here and be on our merry way.”

The lizard-faced Gret’nal bristled his head spikes and stretched his toothy mouth, “I’m hungry. What have we got left since we hit that space port?”

“Some of the usual dehydrated meal packs but we’re good on water. We’ll be fine for a few days.”

Gurt snarled lightly, exposing his small sharp teeth, “Maybe for you. I want something…fresher.”

“Figured you might say that.” Cresh shook his head with a mild grimace.

Though having a Gret’nal was excellent for mercenary muscle, they were notorious for their primitive cravings for raw, living meat. Basically, if it moved or bled Gurt would eat it and the fake products wouldn’t cut it. Cresh honestly didn’t care, as long as his partner didn’t start eyeing him as a potential meal. With a Gret’nal it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

“Probably shouldn’t go wandering around yet. It’s dark…might be something worse than you out there.” Cresh pondered.

“Yeah…right.” Gurt flicked his forked tongue in a scenting gesture, “Think I smell somethin’ that way. I’ll be back.”

The white skinned alien rolled his four eyes synchronously, “Whatever, Gurt. Go nuts.”

Chapter 37: Horror

It was dark and the Rogashay settlement was quiet save for the crackle of the nightly fires and the sounds of creatures in the woods surrounding. Boroxle sat in front of his home with his first son Xeron.

Not long after the Accord had been laid out and signed with the Ansheetans had he Broke from his pod. He had Broke strongly and without difficulty which made his parents proud from the first moment. Xeron looked like a shorter carbon copy of his father but with much smoother features and his mother’s green eyes. As he aged his bony crest would develop and his skin would roughen more with texture.

Like the Ansheetans, the Rogashay Broke from their pods ready to face the world. Still, the young Rogashay had much to learn about fighting, raising sand dragons, and the like. It wouldn’t be long before Xeron would have to choose a sand dragon egg and have the young creature imprint upon him. Then he would learn how to ride and master the beast. It was obvious to Boroxle that the young Rogashay was eager to gain this honor as soon as possible.

“How old were you when Ru’tra hatched father?” Xeron asked.

“Older than you.” He replied knowing the direction of the conversation, “You must be patient, son. Zay-za’s eggs won’t hatch for many sun cycles.”

The young Rogashay leaned back against the wall of their hut, “How will I know which one to choose?”

“You won’t.” Boroxle explained, “That is all up to chance. You must be ready though when the time comes. Watch Zay-za like I taught you. Watch her because she will know the time of the hatching.”

Xeron nodded but still had an expression of impatience.

It was then that they both heard a strange shrieking hiss high in the sky out toward the Wasteland. The Rogashay settlement was deeper in the forest, at least half hour from the border of the Wasteland but they could still hear the strange sound. Both Boroxle and his son stood up and squinted toward the sky. Amid the stars a cluster of brighter blue dots grew larger and larger as it seemed to fall from above.

“What is that?” Xeron asked with wonder.

Boroxle shook his crested head, “I don’t know.”

He had seen falling debris from the sky that made light but this was something completely new and was far too slow to be what he knew. Amid the darkness they could barely make out an enormous silhouette above the blue dots. It grew and grew as it fell closer to the planet’s surface. The hissing shriek became a dull rumble and before they knew it the trees began to whip and the leaves rattled as a massive storm-like blast of hot wind erupted all around them. Then a quake vibrated through their feet and the wind ceased.

Some Rogashay, awakened by the noise of the gusting wind, peeked out of their homes with curiosity.

Something had landed in the Wasteland and it was huge. Boroxle didn’t know what it was but he needed to find out. He grabbed his energy spear and slung it over his shoulders.

“Where are you going father?”

“To the Wasteland.” He answered shortly, heading for the pens where they kept their sand dragons.

“I’ll come with you.” Xeron insisted.

For a moment Boroxle wanted to tell his son to remain but then said, “Grab your weapon. I’ll get Ru’tra.”

Excited to be included, Xeron rushed into their hut for his own energy spear. Boroxle reassured the few awakened Rogashay that he was going to investigate the disturbance and they compliantly stood down, returning to their homes.

After saddling and reigning Ru’tra both father and son rode off toward the Wasteland to investigate. The pair were silent for much of the trek in the dark. In fact, most of the forest was silent. Ru’tra was moving at a brisk pace since darkness was not much of a hindrance to sand dragons. It wasn’t until they were almost halfway to the edge of the forest when the sand dragon suddenly stopped, tongue flicking rapidly with his head up.

“Ru’tra…Ru’tra…” Boroxle maneuvered the reigns, clicking to urge the lizard on but Ru’tra was frozen in place.

“What’s wrong?” Xeron sounded concerned as he stroked the lizard’s back next to the saddle.

“He senses something…something he doesn’t like.” Boroxle stated slowly and quietly.

Then distantly the forest began to crackle. Deep hollow sounds of trees being broken and brushed aside accompanied by muffled booms. Only one being on the planet made those kind of noises.

“Oh. It’s Merco.” Xeron made a face of relief but then confusion, “But…what’s he doing walking around the forest this late?”

Boroxle narrowed his yellow eyes. Something didn’t feel right in his gut. He handed Ru’tra’s reigns over to his son and slid down the sand dragon’s side to the ground. With feet planted on the ground he felt the vibrations and listened. Ru’tra was growing more agitated. A rotation ago that might’ve been the case with Merco’s approach, but as the giant alien came around more to their settlement, Ru’tra and most of the other sand dragons didn’t act fidgety when he came. Quite often the giant would take time to pet them and give them a scratch along their frill which some of them enjoyed.

The rhythmic vibrations became stronger yet, stirring the tree leaves all around them. The snapping of thousands of branches and the deafening crack of shattering tree trunks filled the air. Boroxle didn’t like that. Even though Merco shook the ground when he walked he always seemed careful in his movements. Whatever was out there sounded like it was bulling through everything without concern. The rhythm of the steps was sporadic as well, going fast and then slowing and then speeding up again. Merco tended to walk at a steady, unhurried pace when he approached their settlement.

Ru’tra hissed, ducking his head down to yank on his reigns.

Xeron pulled back, “Easy. Easy…”

“That’s not Merco…” Boroxle concluded ominously, “That…feels bigger.”

“Bigger? But… there’s nothing bigger than Merco!” Xeron argued, trying to keep Ru’tra from running away.

Boroxle was about to remount the sand dragon when the sounds and vibrations went silent. His hand lifted toward his son to signal him to also keep quiet. Whatever was out there was listening.

Silence.

Then suddenly the cracking sounds became deafening and the quakes terrifyingly violent. It was coming right for them!

Boroxle recoiled and went to jump on Ru’tra but the panicked sand dragon wheeled around and knocked him through the air with his tail in his attempt to flee. Boroxle hit a tree hard, wind driven from his lungs. He laid on his stomach trying to regain his breath when the trees above him broke off against the might of a huge shadow. An impact tremor slammed into the ground nearby followed by Ru’tra’s pained squealing hiss. Boroxle lifted his head to see the shadowed silhouette of a massive clawed hand clamped down over Ru’tra’s entire back. A wheeze of sheer horror escaped him when he realized Xeron was still on Ru’tra, but he couldn’t see him. The giant hand closed forcibly and lifted Ru’tra up over the treetops and out of his sight. Boroxle wanted to cry out, call for his son but he still couldn’t breathe as his chest spasmed.

It was a nightmare…a horrible nightmare…it had to be…

But then the horrific sound of bones snapping accompanied by Ru’tra’s shrill death shriek rang out. There was the sound of flesh tearing and then it sounded like rain hitting the leaves in the canopy. Boroxle felt himself shaking as the crunching sounds continued high above him, followed by a deep [GLRK!] and a loud hissing exhale. The deepest sounding rumble he’d ever heard seemed to vibrate everything; the leaves, the trees, his bones. It sounded like a gigantic version of a sand dragon’s rattling.

Boroxle could count the number of times he’d been genuinely afraid on one hand…this was now at the top. He numbly turned his head toward the sky, trying to see the monstrous terror that loomed over the treetops. It was too dark to see detail but even against the black night sky the shadowed silhouette of the monster was blacker. It was gigantic, even more so than Merco. Amid the huge, inky silhouette the glow of a pair of yellow eyes flashed nightmarishly over the trees. The glowing orbs shifted when the enormous thing turned away. A powerful quake answered its step and the trees bent helpless against its bulk. Another impact and another until Boroxle realized it was leaving.

His mind was blank and swirling at the same time as he lay on the ground. He couldn’t react. He couldn’t move. Horror and grief had a death grip on his senses, subduing him to a trembling mess. Never had he felt something so terribly painful.

Xeron…Ru’tra…Xeron… his son…they were gone…eaten by a gigantic monster…and he could do nothing…

Then the terrible rage came surging through, seeking to rip the grief aside and inflict pain and suffering upon the monster. But the two powerful emotions tangled together in a jumble of blind urgency as Boroxle staggered to his feet. He was starting to breathe again but it was all but choked from the anguish and strangled with rage. Even as the booming footsteps were fading from him, Boroxle pursued the beast.

It wasn’t until he realized he couldn’t catch up no matter how fast he moved that a second horror stabbed through him.

It was heading for the Rogashay settlement.

….

Morning…

By light, scouts from Anashee had seen the gigantic, dark-metaled ship looming on the horizon of the Wasteland. The two scouts had never seen an interstellar ship before and weren’t sure what to make of it. Still, they knew it was something that needed to be reported to the leaders of Anashee immediately.

Word spread fast and at the mention of a huge vessel Anu and Traynar knew Merco would want to see it. In fact, they were almost excited to tell him. Since he’d been on Anashee he’d mentioned many times his yearning for a way off their planet so he could return to his family. It seemed their technological efforts to call a ship for him had not been in vain. With haste they flew out to Pela Canyon as fast as they could to tell him the news.

When they arrived, Merco was just leaving the canyon with several large containers of ore and fiber fungus held between his hands. A massive job for the Pela Ansheetans made simple for a giant alien like Merco.

“Merco! Merco! There’s a ship! A ship!” the two fliers shouted out to him.

Merco nearly dropped the containers in his hands, “A ship?”

They pointed in the general direction of the Wasteland, “Two scouts said they saw a huge ship out in the Wasteland this morning.”

A smile of disbelief was spreading on his bearded face, “Where? Show me!”

They quickly led him through the forest and Traynar mentioned, “The scouts said it was so big you could see it for a long distance. So, once we get past the lake you might be able to see it!”

Merco nodded, his pace considerably quicker than the leisurely walk he typically adopted.

“A ship! What did it look like? Did it have any markings?”

Traynar and Anu both shrugged, “They just said it was big and dark and it was out in the Wasteland near the forest. Not much else.”

Off to Merco’s side Pixie flew, keeping pace with him. His excitement was evident and after hearing of his homesickness last night she understood his giddiness. She wanted to feel happy with him…but she couldn’t. An ache was cramping her stomach and pushing her growing plumage down against her head. If there was a ship then Merco could leave. He would leave. They had become almost inseparable in her short life and the thought of him leaving and possibly never coming back made her anxious and depressed at the same time.

After some time Merco finally made it to the lake and stretched his neck to scan the horizon. Faded and blurry he could see a dark blob far away.

“I think I see it!” he pointed.

The three Ansheetans flew higher than him and they too could see the dark shape, though it had no detail. Merco’s pace quickened even more, almost a light jog as he sought to get closer to the ship which he’d been waiting so long for. It wasn’t until he’d passed the lake that he stumbled slightly, stopped and turned with a raised foot.

“What is it Merco?” Anu asked when he stopped.

“It’s a sand dragon…almost stepped on it.” Merco explained, watching the large lizard scurry away into the trees below him.

They were close to the Rogashay territory but seeing a sand dragon out wandering around without a rider was odd. He put the containers in his hands down a moment, hopped a couple steps and caught the lizard. It thrashed until Merco flipped it over on its back, putting it in a catatonic state.

He squinted, “Huh. Still has a saddle and harness. Think it got away from its rider?”

“Maybe.” Traynar commented, also suspicious of the lone steed.

Merco glanced up, “Well, I can drop it off back in the Rogashay territory. I’m going to pass by anyway.”

“What about the ores?” Anu pointed to the containers he’d set down.

“I’ll come back for them, I promise.” He broke off a couple trees and set them at odd angles as a marker for later.

…

When Merco reached the border of the Rogashay territory he noted it seemed oddly quiet since the Rogashay usually had sand dragon sentries near the borders of their range. He didn’t see any and they usually met him when they felt him coming. Treading gently, he entered the territory and made his way to the main settlement. It wasn’t until he got closer that he noticed the trees surrounding the cleared area of their farmland were broken off and flattened in places. An old, but familiar sensation lifted the hairs on the back of his neck and shivered his skin.

Something was very wrong…

His view cleared the treetops and Merco froze in his tracks, his face falling with horror. Several Rogashay huts were crushed flat, debris strewn as if a tornado had hit. And then he saw the pieces…bloody fragments of sand dragons and Rogashay littering the ground sporadically. He could faintly hear the gasps of his three friends as they beheld the carnage below.

“What…?” Merco whispered as he dropped thunderously to his knees, dumbly releasing the sand dragon in his hands on the ground. “What happened?”

The grisly sight was making Merco’s heart beat hard and fast, flashing back to similar atrocities from his war days. Whole platoons blown to bits…no one knew whose parts belonged to whom.

“MERCO!” a strangled voice twisted with anguish roared at him.

He snapped from inside his head to see Boroxle, running at him. The Rogashay leader leaped onto his bent knees, ran up them, and slammed his whole body against his stomach, fists furiously pummeling him as he shouted.

“WHERE!? WHERE WERE YOU!?”

Merco stared at the furious leader who was normally so stoic and grim attacking him as someone maddened by grief.

“Boroxle? What happened?”

“THIS IS YOUR FAULT! YOU LET THIS HAPPEN!” the Rogashay accused raggedly, punching and clawing at him like a wild creature.

Merco didn’t know what to say. It was evident the Rogashay leader was grief stricken and acting illogically. He let the small alien punch him, hoping he’d calm down when he tired. Then the dagger came out and Boroxle reared back to stab him. Merco’s gloved hand quickly intervened and blocked the attack. The Rogashay stabbed at the impervious prosthetic until Merco’s fingers gently grabbed the Rogashay’s arm to halt the assault. Boroxle strained vainly against Merco’s grip, trying to continue, but he slowly relinquished the blade with a defeated slump. His rough, scaled shoulders trembled as he collapsed sobbing against Merco’s gloved hand.

“Xeron…Xeron…” he choked.

Merco recognized the name as the leader’s son who wasn’t much younger than Pixie. With great care he scooped up Boroxle and held him up to talk face to face with him.

“Boroxle…” he started quietly, “What happened? Tell me.”

The Rogashay leader’s crested head was bowed as he fought to control his grief. Merco patiently waited for him to compose.

Finally, Boroxle looked at him with grit dental plates, “Something…something came out of the sky. It landed in the Wasteland. Xeron…” he choked on the name but continued, “We went out to see what it was. At first we thought we heard you coming through the forest but…it wasn’t.”

Merco listened, not interrupting.

“I got off Ru’tra because he was acting spooked. Then it…it came at us in the dark. It was huge…bigger than even you.”

A look of terror and disbelief came over the three Ansheetans’ faces.

“I- I tried to get back on Ru’tra and run, but he knocked me into a tree. I couldn’t move…I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop it. It…” his voice halted.

Even in the alien eyes, Merco could see the familiar look of a person reliving a trauma in his mind; the subtle ticking of the pupils, the blankness of the stare. He too had felt it.

“It…grabbed both of them…it was so fast…so huge. Then it…it…” his voice cracked loudly, “…it ate them!”

Merco stared intently at Boroxle, “What did? Did you see it?”

“T-Too dark. It’s eyes…glowing yellow over me.” He trembled. “It never saw me and then it… it came for the settlement.” He slammed his fists down onto Merco’s hand all but screaming, “I couldn’t keep up with it! I couldn’t stop it!”

“Where’s your mate? Where’s Emissary Kriees?” Anu asked, floating closer.

Boroxle shook his head, “She’s not here. She-she may have escaped…I don’t know. By the time I got here it was already over and everyone was…gone.”

It wasn’t much to go on but Merco had a sinking feeling that the arrival of the ship and this atrocity were most certainly connected. Amid the carnage Merco could see the impressions of large footprints in the dirt. They looked strange, inhuman. His attention returned to Boroxle as waves of pity made his chest hurt for the leader. His son was dead…eaten by whatever had arrived on this planet. Merco couldn’t even fathom the emotional pain at the thought of losing one of his beloved sons.

Quite abruptly, Boroxle stood in Merco’s hand, gesturing with violent urgency, “Merco, I am going to find whatever killed my people and my son and YOU are going to help me bring it down!”

“Boroxle, we don’t even know what we’re dealing with. We can’t just…” Traynar tried to explain.

“I am talking to Merco, NOT YOU.” Boroxle snarled before looking directly at Merco, “You must help me! I beg you!”

Merco understood his desire for vengeance and knew he’d want the same if he were in Boroxle’s position. But Traynar was absolutely right. They needed more information about what or who they were dealing with before any action could be taken.

He held up the Rogashay leader a bit higher, “I will help you Boroxle. But we need to know our enemy before attacking. Otherwise you won’t get the justice you seek.”

Boroxle shook a bit but put his open hand before his face and dropped it in the traditional Rogashay gesture of respect and gratitude. Merco nodded solemnly to him and then glanced around the area.

“Let’s care for your dead first. It wouldn’t be right to let them remain this way.” Merco suggested.

Boroxle looked around slowly and said, “We have always let the sands of the Wasteland bury our dead. Here…we will burn these. There will be retribution for them…I swear it.”

Chapter 38: Battle Plans

After the grim task of burning the pieces of the slain Rogashay and the sand dragons, Merco placed Boroxle on his shoulder and he and the three Ansheetans made their way through the forest toward the distant ship that grew larger and more detailed the closer they came. Eventually, Merco realized he needed to get low in order not to be seen above the trees. Ducking down he stealthily crept until finally they were near the edge of the tree line where the forest met the Wasteland. He all but laid on his belly, keeping a very low profile as he stared out over the mauve sands at the dark-metaled ship. He wasn’t totally familiar with the ship’s design. It wasn’t an Earth military ship and it wasn’t big enough to be a commercial cargo ship. It was a sizeable ship and Merco could see several weapon arrays and radar devices bristling on its outside. In any case it didn’t look like something from Earth.

But there was one thing Merco was certain of and that was he needed that ship to get home. The question now was were the occupants of the ship willing to give him transport or was he going to have to take the ship by force? He honestly didn’t want to resort to hijacking someone’s ship, but the sudden urge to return home and see his family again now tore at him with the sighting of this ship.

Anu, Traynar, and Pixie all landed in a tree just above his head while Boroxle perched on his back and shoulder.

“Do you know the ship?” Traynar asked quietly but loud enough for Merco to hear him.

“No.” The man whispered back.

The ship appeared idle and the engines were quiet. All the outer doors and ramps were closed so he couldn’t see who was piloting the vessel.

“Think we’ll have to wait and watch until someone comes out.” He conjectured in a quiet tone.

The three Ansheetans nodded and settled in the higher branches of the trees above him, scouting. Boroxle watched the ship intently as well. It was almost an hour before finally the ship hissed and groaned, lowering its outer ramp. The group went silent with anticipation of who would emerge from the huge ship. With a casual gait, a white-skinned figure wearing a dark shirt and pants with numerous holsters and high-tech accoutrements descended the ramp. He was slight of build but almost as tall as Merco.

But what Merco noticed was the distinct dark blue mohawk dividing the halves of his bulbous white head and the double sets of goggles that covered his four eyes.

He knew that alien.

“Shiiit.” Merco swore in his language, hissing.

Pixie landed on his opposite shoulder noting his intense stare, “What? What is it Merco?”

“That’s one of the mercenaries who dumped me here.”

“What is it?” Boroxle asked as he stared at the tall mohawked alien, “It’s not your species.”

Merco shook his head, speaking in a whisper even though the mercenary was too far away to hear him, “I’m not exactly sure what kind of alien he is…but he’s the pilot. He’s also the one who did most of the talking…which means he’s the brains of the pair.”

“Pair?”

“Yeah. He’s got a partner…a Gret’nal.”

“What’s a Gret’nal?” Pixie asked.

Merco grit his teeth slightly, “Looks kinda like a sand dragon on two legs, but a lot bigger, a lot stronger, and way nastier. I don’t see him just now.”

“So, they are dangerous?” Traynar inquired seriously.

Merco nodded, “Very.”

Boroxle’s eyes were intense, “Which one killed my son and my people?”

“The other one…the Gret’nal.” Merco confirmed.

Given Boroxle’s horrid description of his son and sand dragon’s fate and the pieces they found in the Rogashay camp, Merco knew of nothing else that would leave such carnage.

“Then that’s the one I need to kill,” the Rogashay leader growled with assurance.

Merco grunted but held his tongue for now. He didn’t know much about the pilot or his abilities but his frame didn’t bespeak of brute strength. Still… if he was a mercenary he definitely was not shy about lawbreaking and murder for hire. Merco could only guess he was a weapons specialist given his utility belt adorned with laser pistols and charges.

A Gret’nal, on the other hand, was raw bestial power wrapped in an armor of tough skin and scales and weaponized with claws and hundreds of razor-edged teeth. Even on his best day when he was a young man he couldn’t beat a Gret’nal in a hand to hand fight. A weapon would even the odds but all he had was a pocketknife and his prosthetic arm. It was two against one and he was weaponless. He couldn’t win against those odds. But now it was clear that he was going to have to take their ship and the only way to do that was to kill both of the mercenaries.

Merco glanced up in the tree over him at the three Ansheetans, “We need to go back to Anashee and warn everyone about this.”

He slowly backed up in a crawl until he was crouched again. Cautiously he walked in a ducked stoop beneath the treetops to avoid detection.

Boroxle hung onto his shirt but the smacked the side of Merco’s neck, “Where are you going? They’re right there! We can attack them while they…”

“Boroxle…” Merco interrupted sharply, “I know you want justice for your son and your people but this is not the time to attack.”

The Rogashay hissed with frustration, “You said you would help me!”

“I did and I will. But…these guys are mercenaries. They are paid to steal, destroy, and kill. We need a plan and there are other lives at stake here.”

He looked up at Anu and Traynar who were flying above him, “One of you should go to Trit and tell the Ansheetans there that they should evacuate. They are the closest to the mercenary ship and we don’t need another massacre.”

Traynar nodded and shot off quickly in that direction.

“Anu, you fly ahead to Anashee and tell Elder Felreh what you’ve seen.” He glanced back, “I don’t want to lead them to Anashee even by accident. Tell the Elder and the Council to meet me outside the borders in the first forest clearing so we can make a plan.” Merco ordered.

It was strange to both Anu and Pixie how Merco shifted to a more militaristic mindset. He seemed focused and slightly more intense. But the situation was growing ominous and he was adapting to the situation. With a curt nod Anu flew up and out toward Anashee as fast as she could fly. Merco watched her go, keeping his pace steady and low to avoid detection.

After a few moments Boroxle asked, “What’s your plan Merco?”

The man glanced at the Rogashay on his left shoulder, “I don’t know yet…”

Pixie meanwhile was growing more and more worried. The heinous scene at the Rogashay settlement was testament to what these alien mercenaries were capable of and it was horrific. It was everything the Ansheetans and Rogashay had feared of Merco when he first arrived. But he was not a being of malevolence and violence. These mercenaries were.

…

Much later in the clearing outside Anashee’s borders…

Merco had sat in the clearing for a few minutes with Pixie and Boroxle when the Ansheetan Council, the higher-ranking members of the EFP, and the Elder arrived. Traynar and Anu also arrived at different times.

It was in that moment that Boroxle scurried down Merco’s arm to the ground when he saw Kriees ride through the trees on her sand dragon Zay-za. She had escaped the horror of the other night. The pair rushed to each other and all but collided in an embrace of relief, their crests pressed together.

However, they both seemed to break when Boroxle told Kriees of their son’s fate. The female Rogashay hit her mate’s chest, grieving with buckled knees as the weight of her son’s death collapsed atop her.

It took her several minutes to compose herself enough to say in a strangled rasp, “It will die. Our son…our people… will be avenged.”

They gradually joined the gathering and Elder Felreh addressed Merco, “We are all here Merco, what can you tell us about these visitors?”

The man took a breath and began, “The ship that has landed in the Wasteland is a mercenary ship. These are the same mercenaries that dumped me here on your planet and I know they are not friendly nor peaceable.”

“What do these mercenaries want?” Commander Madala asked.

“I’m not sure exactly. But, mercenaries will do almost anything illegal for money; steal, kidnap, murder…doesn’t matter as long as it’s profitable.” He explained.

She gave him a hard look, “Did the signal we sent out for you bring them here?”

That thought had guiltily crossed Merco’s mind but given what he knew about mercenaries it didn’t add up for him, “Mercenaries don’t respond to distress calls on planets unless they think there’s profit in it. They’re sticking close to their ship which makes me think they’re here because they’re trying to hide on a habitable planet where the interstellar authorities won’t find them. No one knows of your planet except for me and them.”

“How many are there? What are they?” a member of the Council asked.

“There are two for certain. I don’t think there are more. They are not humans like me. The pilot’s species I’m not familiar with but he’s the planner and most likely the one calling the shots. The other is a Gret’nal and he’s the one who likely attacked the Rogashay settlement.”

He quickly explained the species and the looks of horror were evident on the Ansheetan’s faces. Boroxle and Kriees however looked intense with vengeance on their minds.

“Emissary Kriees and several Rogashay survivors arrived in Anashee today. They’ve told us of the atrocity that happened last night in their settlement.” The Elder explained, “Do you believe these mercenaries will attack again?”

Merco nodded, “This Gret’nal is a predatory species. They eat just about anything living…and he won’t hesitate to do so to any one of you. I’ve read Gret’nal’s can go for a few days without eating again but I won’t trust that fact. We don’t know how long they’re going to be here and clustering populations together makes his hunting easy. I would strongly recommend that the outlying settlements be evacuated. Especially those closest to the Wasteland.” He looked to Traynar, “Did Trit agree to evacuate?”

Traynar sighed, “Some were but many didn’t believe me enough to take action.” He looked to Commander Madala, “I think a second wave of EFP troops should be sent to aid in the evacuation and show the seriousness of the situation.”

The Commander nodded in agreement.

Another council member asked the giant, “Will you protect us?”

Merco nodded but said seriously, “I promise I will do what I can to defend you.” his expression became dour, “But… these mercenaries are extremely dangerous.”

Commander Madala stared at him carefully, noticing his expression change, “Can you defeat them ?”

Merco stared back and sighed, “No.”

That seemed to worry and horrify the gathered group at the same time. Merco didn’t want to admit that and make them lose hope, but he also needed to be honest and allow them knowledge of the danger they were in.

“They have an arsenal of weapons in that ship…I don’t have anything except wooden spears and my arm.” He flexed the prosthetic introspectively, “And I can’t kill that Gret’nal without a weapon.” he stated with conviction. “However, they don’t know I’m still alive, so that gives me the element of surprise. But without a suitable weapon I’m at an extreme disadvantage.”

“Then why fight them? Can’t we just remain hidden until they leave?” another Council member suggested.

Kriees and Boroxle didn’t like the sound of that statement, “We will NOT hide like cowards! Our people were slaughtered at these monsters’ hands and we will have justice for them!”

“And I need their ship.” Merco added, “In order for your peoples to be safe and for me to get home these mercenaries need to be gotten rid of.”

“You mean kill them.” Kriees gestured strongly.

Merco nodded grimly.

Then Traynar asked, “What if you could get one of their weapons?”

Merco tipped his head, “That would better my chances but there’s no way I could sneak aboard their ship undetected.”

“What about us?” Traynar postulated, “What if we got you one of their weapons?”

Commander Madala nodded, “Sneak aboard their ship, steal one of their weapons, and get it to Merco. THEN would you have a chance?”

Merco frowned, “I…I can’t ask you take that risk. Besides, it would take many of you to even move one of those weapons, never mind carrying it out of their ship undetected.”

“What if they were distracted somehow?” Anu piped up.

The man thought a moment, “A ship like that probably has proximity alarms. Something my size would trigger it but I don’t know if it could detect you. But…if you were to sabotage parts of their ship that would trigger alarms and they would come out to fix them.”

“Then when the door opens we can sneak in and find a weapon for you.” Anu stated.

“But if that door closes you’ll be trapped and there’s no guarantee they’ll both exit the ship.” Merco warned. “You can’t be seen or they’ll kill you.”

“Then we jam the door.” Traynar said with conviction, “We only need enough space for a weapon to fit outside. It doesn’t have to open all the way.”

Merco nodded, “Good point, but you can’t jam a heavy door like that very easily. Unless…unless you were able to disconnect the hydraulic lines that lift it then it wouldn’t go anywhere.” He frowned, “But you still have to get a weapon out of the ship and fly it all the way to the trees without being seen. They don’t know about you yet and they don’t know I’m still alive so if we can keep that then we have the element of surprise.”

“Our sand dragons.” Kriees suggested, “If the Ansheetans can drop a weapon out of that ship one of our sand dragons could carry it to the trees.”

The man scratched his beard with thought, “That might be inconspicuous enough. But it’s too risky… I can’t ask you to undertake such a plan.”

Elder Felreh raised her feathery crest, “Merco, if what you have said is true, these mercenaries are a threat to us all. If we don’t do this then more lives could be lost. You are our best chance of defeating them and if we can give you a better chance to do that, then it’s worth the risk.” She looked to her left, “Commander Madala. Divide our EFP troops into squadrons for this mission.”

Commander Madala flipped her crest in a salute and began preparations with her EFP subordinates.

As the bustle of planning was underway, Merco was thinking deeply about everything.

A thought that ate at him was the idea that he would not be able to bring down these mercenaries. He wasn’t as young and strong as he once was. If he lost and they killed him, the Ansheetans would have little chance of repelling them. If they killed him he would never see his family again and they would never know what became of him.

His thoughts were interrupted by a tiny touch to the left side of his neck. His eyes tipped in their sockets to see Pixie leaned up against him, her eyes distant with what looked like worry. Very delicately he brought his opposite hand up and touched her back in a gentle pat.

He knew what he had to do. He had two families to fight for; the one he wanted to get to and the one he had formed here on Anshai-tee. But he dreaded bringing back that old part of him that he left behind in the war. He never wanted to see that part of him again but he knew it was absolutely needed for this mission.

…

…

That night…

It took some time to get everything coordinated. Their plan had to be worked and reworked until they were certain everyone knew their part in it. Trit had been evacuated through the day and the population dispersed across the lake and into the forest to make themselves less of a target should the Gret’nal go out hunting again.

There were three teams made for the operation: a saboteur team that would provide the distraction by activating the proximity alarms and pulling any wires they could find to get the mercenaries to come out of the ship; a weapon retrieval team that would sneak aboard the ship, find a weapon for Merco, and drop it outside the ship; and finally a transport team made of Rogashay and two sand dragons that would haul the acquired weapon to the shelter of the forest. They were all dressed in mauve and gray uniforms that blended in with the Wasteland sands and they also hoped the cover of darkness would keep them undetected.

Merco meanwhile would remain out of sight and out of range to avoid detection unless something went wrong in which case he would look for the glowing energy spears to begin waving as a signal to come. He had to remove and hide the shirt given to him by the Pela citizens as it glowed in the dark and he didn’t want to be seen yet. Quietly he hid in the forest nearby just in visual range.

Traynar was part of the weapon retrieval team and Anu was part of the saboteur team. Pixie was sent back to Anashee with the Elder, despite her protests of wanting to remain by Merco’s side. He adamantly denied her request, not wanting her anywhere near should he be prematurely discovered and have to engage the mercenaries sooner than he planned. When the teams were gathered and ready the plan was enacted.

Chapter 39: Dangerous Mission

Cresh was leaning back in his pilot chair reading a digital novel and chewing on a toothpick. Behind him, Gurt was already asleep in his bunk, hissing rhythmically. Hiding out from the law was usually a boring state to be in unless they were consumed with repairs or trying to prevent themselves from being killed. This planet was pretty boring but their sensors were trained heavily into space just in case the law came their way.

Suddenly the annoying sound of the proximity alarm startled both mercenaries alert.

Cresh put down his tablet and touched the screen in front of him to pull up the proximity alarm readouts, “Hello? What have we here?”

The infrared cameras and lights of the ship activated, seeking the intruder that tripped the alarm. However, the scanners were dark.

Gurt growled in the back, “What’s that? I thought you said this planet was uninhabited?”

Cresh frowned, shrugged, and then deactivated the search protocols, “Hm. Don’t see anything on the sensors. Probably just saw some indigenous lizards running around out there.”

The Gret’nal flicked his tongue, “Those weren’t half bad.”

Cresh grimaced not thinking the idea of eating raw lizards was a particularly appetizing idea, “Isn’t that a bit like cannibalism for you?”

Gurt hissed slightly but grumbled, “Meat is meat.”

“Oh, I don’t judge Gurt.” Cresh replied leaning back in his chair again to resume his pastime. “Murder for hire, assassinations, kidnapping, extortion, armed robbery…what’s adding cannibalism to that list?”

The silence resumed for a bit until again the proximity alarm was triggered again. Cresh checked the cameras but saw nothing and went back to reading. Then it went off for a third time. Cresh gave a very annoyed look, dropping his tablet from his face. Something was out there tripping their proximity alarm and he had a feeling it wasn’t going to stop unless he scared off whatever it was.

“Gurt, would you be a dear and find out what is tripping our proximity alarm?” Cresh asked in a sardonic tone.

“Do it yourself.” The Gret’nal grumbled.

The white-skinned alien sighed flipping his Mohawk, “Fine. Fine. I’ll go check. But you might miss out on some tasty midnight lizard snacks.”

Gurt’s head leaned back a bit and his lip curled in a snarl but he pushed himself up and stomped over to the ramp gate. He slapped the button and it lowered the ramp with a flash of lights and a hiss of hydraulics.

…

It took about three tries for the saboteur/distraction team to get the mercenaries to come out. Per Merco’s instruction they would find the sensor lenses at various points outside the ship, fly in front of them very close, and trigger them. Then when the alarm went off inside they hid behind the sensor against the metal plating so it wouldn’t detect them. They were small enough the sensors couldn’t detect them unless they popped right in front of them.

Underneath the ship the weapon retrieval team, led by Traynar, had concealed themselves behind the massive landing pads that supported the vessel. Anxiously, they waited for the ramp to lower. Finally, the ship shuddered and a loud groan of mechanical parts signaled the door’s opening. With a quaking bang the huge platform settled on the ground, creating a huge metal wall above them. A light poured forth onto the ground and was bisected by a thick dark shadow. Seconds after impact they heard the heavy, metallic booms of impossibly big footsteps descending the ramp. The sand seemed to jump when the titanic mercenary’s foot hit the ground, grinding in a slow turn before walking around the ramp toward the front of the ship.

Traynar took a steadying breath. It was hard to fathom something could be bigger than Merco but as the figure passed them unaware, it was evident why Merco needed a weapon. He wasn’t wrong in saying the Gret’nal looked like a sand dragon on two legs. Its impossibly thick neck humped over massive shoulders and bristling with spikes, attested its enormous strength. It had to be two heads taller than Merco himself and was covered in rough, bumpy hide akin to a sand dragon. The flash of its yellow eyes against the dark night sent chills through Traynar. No doubt it was the monster that attacked the Rogashay settlement and left such utter carnage behind.

When the huge lizard-like behemoth stomped out of sight, Traynar signaled two members of his team to position themselves so they could watch the other mercenary inside. The two scouts flew to either side of the ramp, out of sight and peeked. After a moment they gave the all clear signal. Traynar nodded and members of the saboteur team, Anu included, flew up into the crevices just above the hydraulic lifts. Merco had told them to disconnect the wires that led to motor that powered the hydraulics of the door and that would stop it without damaging the door. A busted hydraulic line would ruin his chances to fly the ship off the planet for sure. Wires could be reconnected.

The saboteurs were going to wait until the Gret’nal returned and shut the ramp. They would then disconnect the lines just before the door shut so it would be closed enough that mercenaries couldn’t get out but the Ansheetans and the weapon they stole could get through. This would give them a chance to get away even if they were seen.

Traynar conferred with the two scouts who signaled “clear”. He gestured and the weapon retrieval team cautiously but quickly flew into the ship, ducking close to the walls to hide. Luckily, there were lots of different objects to hide behind and underneath.

The inside of the ship was gigantic. Never had any of them seen a machine of such size. Traynar was pretty sure the whole of Anashee’s city could fit inside if it was stretched out. Far away was the front of the ship which dipped down to a whole other space domed with glass. A large pilot chair dominated the space with what looked like hundreds of panels and buttons surrounding it. Over the top of the chair they could see the tall, dark blue Mohawk of the pilot and a part of his elbow leaning on the armrest. He wasn’t looking in their direction at all.

Traynar and the others glanced around, searching for a weapon they would be able to lift and get to Merco. It wasn’t hard to find the weapons as they were mounted up high in a high-tech rack against both bulkheads further in. Various strange alien weapons of every size and design that were completely unfamiliar to the Ansheetans. Carefully and silently the group flew up against the bulkheads and slipped in behind the weapons and their rack.

It was in that moment that Traynar realized their task was much more difficult than he’d first anticipated. Not only were the weapons much bigger but each one was clipped securely into the rack. They had at least thirty in their squad but the way the weapons were secured Traynar knew they wouldn’t be able to push even the smallest weapon out of its clip much less prevent it from hitting the floor and giving themselves away.

It was almost looking like they wouldn’t be able to get a weapon when suddenly one of their number made a gesture to a ledge near the bunks further in. Traynar leaned outward and spotted what looked like a large sheathed blade of some kind a few feet behind the pilot’s chair. Merco had said a “gun” would be the best choice of weapon but the “guns” appeared inaccessible so it would have to be the knife.

Traynar made a sharp gesture with his hand and crest and the Ansheetans all silently flew across the ship until they were underneath the ledge up against the wall and under the second bunk.

They all froze when the pilot spoke sharply in an alien language similar to Merco’s, “What’s out there Gurt?”

The graveled voice of the Gret’nal responded over the speaker, “I don’t see anything. Probably a glitch.”

The pilot sighed, “I’ll do a maintenance scan then.”

A low thrum seemed to pass through the ship after the pilot pressed a few buttons but he remained unaware of the EFP’s presence. Traynar wasn’t sure if they’d be able to move the knife with the mercenary sitting nearby; even if his back was turned.

Suddenly a quick, warning whistle from one of their scouts made the group freeze again. The other mercenary was coming back! Traynar swore to himself. They needed more time!

Quite abruptly a loud beeping echoed throughout the ship and the pilot leaned forward in his chair, “Gurt! What shit are you doing out there?”

“What?”

“Our sensors just went dark! What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

The pilot gave an exasperated sigh and stood up from his seat, “If our sensors are down then anyone can sneak up on us! Ugh. I have to do everything around here!”

With curt steps the thin, white-skinned pilot passed the bunk, grabbed a light and what looked like a metal suitcase from the wall, and trotted down the ramp out of the ship.

Traynar sighed. The saboteur team must’ve done something to the ship outside to lure the other mercenary out. Now was their chance.

Traynar watched their two hidden scouts near the ramp until they signaled “all clear”.

“Come on. Let’s do this.” He whispered, flying up onto the ledge where the huge knife lay.

It was at least as long as a sand dragon’s body minus the tail and constructed of what looked like metal and another black material. The thirty or so members all landed on the ledge, spacing themselves out around the huge weapon. In speedy fashion, several magnetic straps were spanned under and around the weapon and each Ansheetan took an end. When they were ready they counted off and all lifted. It was heavy for them since Ansheetans were not known for raw strength. The straps made it easier but as they all began to hover off of the ledge it was evident that it was going to be a long float to the ramp.

They’d gotten past the first bunk and were almost to the second when the scouts whistled another warning.

Traynar flicked his crest rapidly, signaling them to lower the weapon to the ground under the first bunk and quickly the group did. They all seemed to collectively gasp from the exertion but held their breath when the tremors of footsteps rattled the floor. The ship itself seemed to rock a bit against the tremendous reptilian form that ascended the ramp. No one moved. No one made a sound.

The Gret’nal was grumbling a deep growl under this breath as he all but filled the space inside the ship. His huge heavy boots swung past the bunk a moment, shaking everything as they stepped. Every Ansheetan was ducked down as small as they could get under the bunk; the knife resting among them. Ducking down under the cabin roof the Gret’nal looked at the monitors a moment.

The pilot’s voice came over the speaker, “Tell me if you see the sensors come online again.”

“Piece of shit ship.” The humanoid dinosaur growled.

“Well if you hadn’t killed our last maintenance guy we might’ve been able to take her in for a tune up at the space port.” Cresh snarked, his voice strained as if he was working in a tight space.

Gurt huffed and argued, “Bastard wouldn’t pay up for those stolen parts.”

“True…but we could’ve at least gotten a tune up before you ripped his arms off.” Cresh sighed, “You need to be less impulsive and see the bigger picture Gurt.”

“Whatever. Guy was a flake anyway.”

There was a long pause. Gurt leaned on the pilot chair making it creak as he watched the monitors.

The Ansheetans kept up their silence and stillness from under the bunk, not wishing to gain that monster’s attention in any manner. Traynar watched him intently and then glanced at the knife they were trying to get outside. He vaguely wondered if it would be enough to pierce the armored hide of that beast. Surely it had soft spots.

“Huh.” Cresh mused over the speaker.

“What now?”

“Damndest thing…all the sensor wires were disconnected like someone just unplugged them.” He commented.

Gurt didn’t seem impressed but growled when he saw the monitor light up again, “There. It’s on. I’m going back to bed.”

He turned from the cabin and moved back toward his bunk…which happened to be the first bunk the Ansheetans were hiding under. No one breathed as all the air was sucked out of the group when the huge form sat and settled above them. The padded bunk, which was jutting from the bulkhead, creaked and groaned as if it was pleading against the massive weight that sat on it. Every crest was lowered in terrified submission as the huge, lizard-like alien’s boots disappeared upward and he laid belly down on the bunk, looking every bit like a crocodile resting on the bank of a river.

Traynar grit his dental ridges.

Now what?

They couldn’t move the knife until that monster fell asleep or he’d definitely see them. The other mercenary was going to come back any moment and when he went up the ramp Anu and her saboteur team would leave the door open just enough for them to escape. The problem was if the mercenaries discovered their ship door not closing they’d most likely try to fix it and be right in their path of escape. And they couldn’t hide forever. They’d be caught.

His team looked at him for answers. They knew what was going on too and he could see the dread in their faces. Traynar gestured in a manner that said, “wait”. Whatever they did next was going to have to be fast and desperate indeed if they were going to succeed in their mission.

It wasn’t long before the Mohawked mercenary returned with his light and repair kit. He put away his supplies and hit the ramp closing button. Warning lights flashed as the huge metal door groaned, lifting up slowly.

Traynar signaled fast and the team quickly lifted the knife amid the noise and distraction. Keeping close to the bulkhead, they floated out from under the bunk once the second mercenary passed them.

…

Cresh was muttering to himself as he walked past Gurt’s bunk, “Disconnected…how the hell did they get disconnected? I tell you what Gurt, something weird is going on.” On his way back to his pilot chair, Cresh abruptly looked at the ledge next to his own bunk and stopped, “Where’s my knife?”

“What knife?” Gurt cracked open his yellow eyes and glanced behind him.

“The one I got from our last job…the one made from the pure Czidin steel…worth a shit ton of money?”

“Didn’t touch your knife.” Gurt growled with annoyance, putting his head back down.

But before the Gret’nal could close his eyes they detected movement near the ramp. Automatically his forked tongue flickered out of his mouth to scent.

“Well it’s gone and I know I left it right here.” Cresh continued to complain.

Just then the ramp stopped moving with a metallic squeal. The lights continued to flicker but the door hadn’t shut all the way; only opened a few inches.

“Oh, what…?” Cresh started to gripe when suddenly Gurt was lunging from his bunk toward the ramp.

Cresh recoiled as the Gret’nal all but slithered off of his bunk across the floor, snapped his jaws at something near the ramp, and shook his head a couple times. Cresh could see his knife go flying, hit the bulkhead, and slide right out of the open ramp. Then he saw several flashes of movement fly in fast shots out the open ramp as well; they almost looked like bugs.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” Cresh swore.

Gurt swallowed, his tongue licking out over his jaw as he stood back up. But then he seemed distracted and gave a small snap of his jaws and then another. When he turned his head around, still snapping, Cresh noticed a small something dangling from one of the Gret’nal’s protruding teeth.

…

The Ansheetans were straining as they floated the stolen knife along the wall and toward the closing ramp. This was their best chance. They were very nearly to the ramp when Traynar saw the faces of the members of his team floating backward morph from exertion to sheer terror. A tremendous gust of moving air hit them right after an impact tremor. Traynar turned his head to see the horrific sight of the Gret’nal’s gaping, toothy mouth surging toward them with ferocious intent. How something that big could move that fast, Traynar didn’t have time to wonder.

Everything became a slow-motion blur for Traynar. He flinched as a dozen members of his team disappeared into the void of voracious teeth and flesh. Something scraped against Traynar’s back, ripping into his body suit and weapon belt. And then he was jostled so violently he blacked out.

When his senses tried to clear he didn’t see the knife…he didn’t see any of his squadron. His head was swimming in a soup of incoherence as he felt like he was floating. Something hard and textured was against his back. It wasn’t until a hot, humid gust of foul-smelling air ruffled his feathery crest that his instincts broke through his blurred senses. Traynar’s dark eyes turned with dread behind him and were filled with reptilian flesh. He tried to fly away but he was stuck and couldn’t flee. He quickly realized his belt and uniform were hooked by one the Gret’nal’s lower teeth and he was dangling on the outside of his mouth; mere inches from death.

“Oh… Suro’ka help me…” he prayed to the Ansheetan deity.

But he doubted his plea prayer would be answered as the massive wall of powerful jaws parted behind him. Rows of sharp teeth and a cavern of pink saliva covered flesh morbidly greeted his terrified eyes. With a violent snap the immense jaws sought to devour him. He cringed.

I love you Anu…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…

But instead of disappearing into the living abyss behind him he remained snagged outside on the tooth; a mere morsel stuck in the monster’s teeth. Again, the dangerous maw snapped at him…and again, hungrily trying to get him. All Traynar could do was pull and struggle, trying to rip out of his uniform and keep away from his certain doom.

…

Cresh squint his four eyes at the tiny green creature haplessly dangling from Gurt’s tooth. The Gret’nal snapped at it several times before finally the white alien’s quick hand swooped up and snatched the little thing. Gurt animalistically snarled and snapped at his retreating hand. But in an instant an energy projectile pistol was jabbed firmly into the fleshy part of the Gret’nal’s throat. Gurt froze, eyes narrow.

Cresh clucked with his tongue and spoke in a mother-like tone, “[Tsk tsk tsk.] Gurt… I thought we talked about this? NO biting.”

“Give that back.” the Gret’nal growled menacingly even with the pistol aimed for his brain.

“I just want to see what you’ve got here.” The white skinned mercenary stated, twisting the pistol lazily, “Yeah?”

Curling his lip in a nasty snarl the Gret’nal pulled back. Cresh watched him carefully but then smiled. He pulled down his high-tech goggles over his eyes and stared at the tiny creature he held.

“Now…let’s see what we’ve got here.”

Chapter 40: Rare Species

Anu and her saboteur team sat hiding in the deep channels of ramp door, watching. They had to be on their toes if they were going to disconnect the door mechanics at the correct moment and avoid being crushed by them. Once Traynar and his team flew inside the ship it was a watching and waiting game…a dangerous one.

Half of the saboteur team remained toward the front of the ship to help lure out the mercenaries. So far they managed to get the big lizard-looking one to stomp outside. The other remained inside. It wasn’t long before the other mercenary exited the ship as well with a light and a metal kit of some kind; most likely a repair kit. The hulking lizard mercenary returned and went back into the ship which made Anu nervous for the weapon retrieval team. According to Merco that was the one that ate the sand dragons and several Rogashay the other night. He was the really dangerous one.

She hoped Traynar and his squadron could find something to help Merco and get out unseen. Several long minutes ticked by until finally the other mercenary with the Mohawk returned and walked up the ramp into the ship again. Then a massive mechanical droning sounded and the huge door began to raise up.

“Get ready!” Anu called over the cacophony of mechanical noises to her small team.

She held some wires and so did the others, ready to unplug them from their power source. Closer and closer the door raised, each moment threatening a horrible crushing death should they fail to shut it down.

“NOW!” she shouted.

As one the team pulled the wires and much to their relief the huge door’s hydraulic motors whined in a power down, stopping the action. There was plenty of room for a weapon and an Ansheetan to escape through.

Anu and her team slipped out of the crevice into the air to wait for the retrieval team. Someone whistled and from the sands nearby two sand dragons ridden by Boroxle and Kriees appeared below the ship. They waited.

Suddenly Anu’s heart leaped with dread when she heard several screams followed by a storm of thunderous bangs from inside the ship. A harsh metallic clang sounded and a big object fell haphazardly out of the partially closed ramp and thumped into the sand below. It was followed by the panicked flurry of fleeing Ansheetans. Anu’s eyes darted frantically trying to find Traynar in the frenzy of movement.

But she was distracted by a shout from Boroxle calling her down to help them. She darted down to help tie up the weapon to the two sand dragons’ saddles. When it was secure the two Rogashay leaders urged their steeds to the forest, dragging the weapon behind them. Several members of the EFP flew in behind them with sweeping branches to obscure their tracks and leave little trace should the mercenaries come searching.

“Back to the forest! Everyone!” one of the team leaders shouted.

The mission was complete.

Now it was time to assemble in the safety of the trees and meet up with Merco to give him the weapon they’d acquired. As she flew Anu’s eyes scoured the air for Traynar but it was too dark to see much of anything. A twinge of a bad feeling crept into her but she pushed it aside knowing she would probably see him at the rendezvous point.

…

On the ship…

Milliseconds from being eaten, Traynar now found himself clutched in the long-fingered hand of the other mercenary. Unlike Merco this giant had four fingers that were more closely designed to his own. He was holding him firmly but not to the point of hurting him. Traynar flinched with terror when the giant Gret’nal took an aggressive snap at both him and his partner’s hand. But much to his surprise the smaller mercenary whipped out a weapon from his belt and had it firmly stuck into the neck and chin of his partner. They spoke in that strange alien language Merco used. The white alien spoke in a higher tenor voice that sounded almost friendly despite his violent posturing and the Gret’nal spoke in a voice so deep and guttural it sounded more like growling than actual speech.

Finally, the two seemed to calm down and pull away from each other.

Traynar still was a bit disoriented from the violent shaking he’d endured. But his crest went up with alert when his vision was filled with the white alien’s dark goggles.. He could hear mechanical whirring and ticking from within the huge eye pieces as he was held up and scrutinized like a specimen

This mercenary had pure white skin that was smooth yet faintly scarred in places. His head was large and bulbous with strange forward pointing ear tips. Unlike Merco this alien didn’t have a protruding nose; more like a thick ridge of skin with four thin nostrils beneath. Not completely horrifying to look at like his partner, but Traynar didn’t feel the least bit safe either. This guy didn’t look like he’d eat him but he was sure he wasn’t a kind soul either.

The blue Mohawked giant stared at him carefully for a few moments before speaking with his counterpart.

…

“Hm.” Cresh murmured as he observed the tiny, green-skinned being dressed in what looked like a mauve colored jumpsuit that was the same color as the sand outside, “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

Gurt grunted, “No…but they taste good.”

“I’ve never seen something like this either. But look…” he pinched at the uniform it wore, “…little clothes. This isn’t just some random animal. This little guy is a sentient species.”

“So?”

“So… this is probably what was messing with our ship…” he glanced at the slightly ajar door, “…and stole my knife. Now the disconnected lines make more sense.” he tightened his grip slightly when the little being tried to wriggle free, “You’re quite the little gremlin aren’t you? Trying to wreck our ship.”

Gurt growled, “Great. Mystery solved. Now can I eat it?”

Cresh waggled a finger at him, “Oh no, no, no. I can’t have you eating a potential profit.”

His partner’s reptilian eyes narrowed at him. “Profit?”

“Once again, you’re not seeing the big picture, Gurt. Think about it…neither of us have seen anything like this and we’ve been to how many worlds?”

Gurt shrugged, “A lot.”

“Exactly. Which means…this little thing is a rare species.”

“So?” the Gret’nal was growing more annoyed.

Cresh put an exasperated hand to his head, “[Sigh] Rare Gurt…rare species are worth a lot of money.” He glanced at the tiny little being in his hand, “And I saw quite a few more fly out the door just now. Which means…?”

“More money…”

“Exactly, Gurt. And we are the only ones who know where this planet is so we have exclusive access to these.” He held up the tiny humanoid.

Gurt frowned slightly, “But who would pay for something like that?”

Cresh smirked turning the tiny being around introspectively, “Well you say they taste good, maybe a rare delicacy…an exotic pet perhaps? I happen to know a couple filthy rich kooks who are always eager to buy the next rare, bizarre thing.”

The Gret’nal huffed, “So we’ve got to catch more?”

“Of course. Maybe just a dozen or so to test the market.” Cresh began looking for a container to put the captive in. “And even if it turns out they aren’t worth much, you can have them as a snack. Win, win.”

…

As the two mercenaries talked to each other, presumably talking about him, Traynar was trying to wriggle out of the hand that held him. If he could just get loose he could make a fast flight out the door and be free. But, the thin hand that held him wasn’t giving him any breaks. If anything, it was tightening the longer they conversed. He could now feel what Merco would be capable of doing were he not concerned with gentility.

Then with a slight movement the white-skinned mercenary crossed the ship to a series of drawers and touched one which opened electronically. Inside were numerous vials lined in foamed padding. He eyed them a moment and then went for a different drawer which contained larger specimen containers. He selected one that looked like a clear plastic rectangle and placed it on the ledge near his bunk. Before Traynar could react he was dropped down into it. Fast as he could Traynar flew up toward the opening. But a glow lit up the top of the container and he hit something invisible but solid. The Ansheetan combatant fell to the bottom of the clear container with slight pain and confusion.

What had he hit? There wasn’t anything covering the container!

As if he could read his baffled expression, the white giant tapped the seemingly open top and his finger made the top of the container light up with each touch.

“There we go. No escape for you. But don’t worry, this will allow you to breathe. I have a feeling you’ll be worth more alive than dead.” He spoke in that alien language.

Once again Traynar tried to fly out but not as forcefully. His hands touched an invisible wall which lit up every time he touched it. Like a desperate butterfly, he flew from one corner to the other trying to find a way out but there was no escape.

…

“Aw. And look at that. They fly too!” Cresh remarked, patting the plastic cage.

Gurt snarled peevishly and also returned to his bunk laying down with a grumble, “Fantastic…”

Cresh sighed and walked over to the ramp to inspect it, “Well…guess I’d better fix this before tomorrow. Then we’ll go out and see how many we can catch.”

…

At the rendezvous point in the forest…

Merco had been waiting patiently but nervously for several hours for the Ansheetans and Rogashay to return from the mission. He had no idea if they would succeed or not. They were smart, determined little beings but the opposition was huge, ruthless, and just as intelligent. He worried for their safety like members of his own band of military brothers. Sometimes everyone would return from an uneventful mission and other times only a handful would return if the mission turned deadly. It was always a sickening time of unease and uncertainty; seeing a friend at breakfast and being told that afternoon that they’d been KIA. Merco could feel his hand twitch with anxiousness at the familiar feeling. He clenched his fist to restrain the jitters.

A snapping in the trees made him perk his head and very soon from the dark two sand dragons ridden by Boroxle and Kriees appeared. Behind them they drug an object that was almost as big as the sand dragons themselves.

“Merco! We got a weapon!” Boroxle announced loudly.

The man smiled gratefully and shifted himself toward the object. His hand grasped the handle and he knew instantly that it was a large knife. His heart sank a bit with disappointment that it wasn’t a gun which would’ve given him a greater advantage. A knife meant he’d have to be much closer and personal with his opponent…much more dangerous. But when he unsheathed the dark colored blade he raised his eyebrows. It looked like a Czidin steel blade which was very rare. Czidin steel blades were said to be the hardest known alloy ever made with an edge so sharp you could look at it and get cut (or so it was marketed). But they were so expensive and rare that only the most wealthy and influential would own one. As far as knives went, it was the best he could’ve hoped for.

“Wow. This…this is a good knife.” He commented.

Boroxle nodded, “Does this even your odds?”

Though he knew a gun would’ve been better he said, “Yes. This helps.”

“Will it be enough to kill that monster who slaughtered our people?” Kriees asked with a serious and yet angered tone.

Merco nodded, “If I can get close enough and find a softer spot on him…there’s a chance.”

Commander Madala, who had remained at the rendezvous point to plan their next moves, flew down from her perch on the tree, “Tell me more of this Gret’nal. What are its weak points?”

Merco thought a moment and drew a rough outline of what somewhat looked like a Gret’nal, “In hand to hand they don’t have many.” He made dots in a couple places, “The eyes are always a good target and the juncture of the head and neck and the underside of the jaw is softer but it stretches so it’s harder to puncture. Everywhere else is thick, tough hide that even I would have trouble penetrating.”

Boroxle and Kriees glanced at the rough picture and then glanced up at Merco, “What about inside the mouth?”

The man dipped his head slightly, “Definitely a soft spot but the teeth are the last thing on a Gret’nal you want to be near. What are you thinking about?” he inquired.

Boroxle shifted his spear to a longer energy blade that was double pointed and barbed aggressively on both sides and held it up, “There are wild sand dragons in the Wasteland and they are dangerous to us and our tame dragons. If we want to kill them quickly we thrust one of these in the back its throat. It severs a major blood vessel and sometimes the connection to the spine.”

“That’s insanity!” Commander Madala balked.

“It works.” Boroxle stated definitively. “And I’m willing to bet this monster is very similarly designed.”

Merco’s expression was one of disbelief, “You’re saying you’d go inside a Gret’nal’s mouth and stab it like those sand dragons?”

The Rogashay nodded his crested head.

He thought about the wildly dangerous idea and though plausible, Merco shook his head, “I can’t have you risking your life so recklessly.”

“If I kill it then my sacrifice will not be for nothing.” Boroxle said definitively. “I swore I would get vengeance for my son and my people and I will do whatever it takes.”

Merco admired the brave Rogashay leader but still shook his head adamantly, “It’s suicide…”

“It’s victory.” Kriees insisted.

The man sighed and slid his jaw to the side slightly, ”Only if I can’t beat him…then I will consider your idea.” He glanced at the knife, “Problem is, it’s not just him we have to worry about. I can’t fight both of these guys at once because once I focus on one, the other will come in behind and kill me.”

“Then we need to separate them somehow…draw them away in opposite directions.” Commander Madala stated with concentration.

Merco nodded, “That’s what I was thinking too.”

The Commander was thinking, her feathery crest flicking, “I can divide our forces into two large squadrons; one for each mercenary. If we can distract or lead one in one direction and bring the other to you…”

“I could hide and ambush them one at a time.” Merco concluded. “But we need to keep this fight away from the settlements…and Anashee.”

The Commander nodded, “Pela Canyon would be an ideal place for an ambush…but there’s too many civilians there.”

“What about Bent Peak?” Kriees gestured, “That rock formation is away from settlements and there would be ample places for Merco to hide and ambush these mercenaries.”

Commander Madala nodded, “That could work… What do you think Merco?”

The man nodded as well, “I agree. And they still don’t know I’m alive so I’ll have the element of surprise.”

“Which one should we lead to you first?” the Commander asked.

Merco sighed weighing his options mentally. If he fought the Gret’nal first and was able to kill him, then the more dangerous opponent would be dealt with. However, the Gret’nal would be the more likely one to wound him in a fight and if he got hurt bad enough (which was likely) he couldn’t fight the other one. The biggest problem was he didn’t know anything about the white-skinned alien’s species to conjecture if he was the lesser danger. Either way, he was going to have to kill them both and he wasn’t sure if the order of death mattered…only his. If he was killed then the Ansheetans and the Rogashay would stand little to no chance against them.

“I…don’t think you’ll get much choice. Just make sure you split them up.” Merco finally admitted.

As he held the knife he began to notice the Ansheetans flying in toward the dim lights of the rendezvous point. He was greeted by them and they seemed hopeful when they saw him holding the knife which he then sheathed. Merco’s face brightened a bit when he saw Anu flying up to him. She landed on his gloved arm. He put down the knife and gently patted her shoulder and back with his finger.

“You made it back! Your mission was a success?” He stated in a congratulations.

She nodded and then her gaze wandered around, “Where’s Traynar? Has he come back yet?”

Merco frowned slightly and sat up straighter, staring around him, “I…haven’t seen him. But you all just showed up and I haven’t seen everyone yet.”

Anu’s expression held discomfort. Then she floated around the area and began calling for her mate. Not long after a couple members of the EFP approached her, their faces dour. Merco couldn’t hear their conversation but when Anu crumpled over in midair and sank to the ground with a high-pitched keening sound, he realized what was said. He felt his own throat tighten. Traynar wouldn’t be coming back to her because of him. This was the very reason he didn’t want to have his friends risk this mission.

Even though he thought better of it, Merco reached out and laid two fingers against Anu’s back to provide comfort. Much to his relief she didn’t react violently with rejection but instead placed her arms on his fingers and leaned into them as she wept.

“I’m…I’m so sorry Anu.” He all but whispered, trying desperately not to cloud himself with grief for his friend.

He had a mission now and he needed to keep himself sharp as his mind sorted through his own personal battle plan. He couldn’t let the Ansheetans’ sacrifice for him be in vain.

…

Traynar sat in the bottom of his clear prison. Once the white skinned giant had fixed and closed the ramp door, he too went to sleep in the cot next to him. Traynar tried multiple times to find a switch or a weakness in the container. His efforts yielded no rewards and he sat alone with his thoughts.

Anu was probably told he’d been eaten and was grieving him. He desperately wanted to at least let her know he was alive to spare her that heartache. Although…he wasn’t sure how much longer he had. It was obvious the white alien mercenary had something planned for him and wanted him alive while the Gret’nal would probably just as soon eat him. Either way, he didn’t like his options.

As he stared through the clear prison at his two titanic captors he honestly wondered if Merco stood a chance against them. He wondered if he got the knife they had stolen and if he did would it make any difference against these two killers. It was hard for Traynar to imagine that a rotation ago he’d believed Merco was just as evil and dangerous as these mercenaries. If not for Anu and Seraysa he probably would never have given the human alien a chance to prove his docility…and ultimately his friendship.

Exhausted, Traynar tried to get some sleep, though he knew it would be difficult.