Our Contest Page 11

  Claire feels her anger boiling. That word now feels more derogatory than any other. A word that a few years earlier would have been silly now fills her with rage. Claire focuses on this rage to get her through uncomfortable conversations with a woman who could kill her on a whim and not even consider the action a few moments later.

  “Why did you give me this?” Claire asks.

  “Stand before me, Familiar, and we will have a conversation,” Mother instructs.

  Claire strides toward Mother with a purpose. The recorder floats behind her and adjusts various lenses to capture the full magnificence of Mother’s throne and elite protectors.

  Claire halts a few feet in front of Mother and offers a sarcastic bow. Mothers smirks at the slight offense.

  “What do you want to know?” Mother asks. “Feel free to share it with your ISH.”

  “You’d allow me to transmit it back to Earth?” Claire asks, somewhat skeptical.

  “Why would I not?” Mother asks. “I want the real people of Earth to understand that I am their mother. I want them to announce themselves and leave the ISH behind. It is the only way to save themselves.”

  Claire stifles her complete disgust as the journalist in her takes dominance. “How do I transmit?”

  “It is connected with your internet. You may simply insert it on any video recording transfer site.”

  Claire holds back her amusement as she sees Mother attempt to speak in what Claire considers normal English.

  “How would anyone know to look for it?” Claire asks. “Many people try to get famous attempting stunts like that. It isn’t like there’re only a few videos to sift through.”

  “You reinforce my opinion of the ISH,” Mother comments. “You may use our communications to notify whomever you wish. Those individuals will spread your informational recordings.”

  Claire is pleased that she can continue to report, even if it’s likely to be on the literal end of the world.

  “Thank you, Mother,” Claire begrudgingly says.

  “You are most welcomed, Familiar. You have my permission to move back to your seat now.”

  Mother flicks her fingers at Claire in a dismissive manner, and Claire backs away. Her recorder captures the whole scene. Claire allows a pair of honor guards to escort her back to her secluded seat. Claire strains to hear what Drorus says to Mother.

  “Should we allow the ISH to deceive their people about the true timeline before their death?” Drorus asks.

  “I am not bothered by that information. It means zero to me whether the ants are content or panicked.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Drorus says as he returns to his position on the bridge.

  Most of the Templars sit around a long rectangular table in the cafeteria on the Vengeful ISH. Even Mitch sits with Smith. The only Templars missing are Kimmy and Darsh.

  Abel, Flaimeson, and Millantra laugh profusely after sharing a millennium old inside joke that the rest of the Templars have no chance of understanding. Most of the conversation has gone this way, and Smith is eager to steer it back to something more important. Unfortunately, he has to wait for his opening when Abel asks yet another question about an ally Smith will never meet.

  “So, what happened after that?” Abel asks.

  Flaimeson rubs the laughter tears from his eyes and flicks them away. His demeanor appears a bit less mirthful now.

  “You have to understand, Father, that at this point it had been two thousand years since you left. Our Contest no longer seemed to have a point. Von Too Poe decided to lead us in one last battle, then instructed any survivors to align with the Malignant.”

  “Von Too Poe,” Abel somberly repeats. “I assume that means he did not survive the battle?”

  Flaimeson shakes his head. “No, but he was brilliant in battle. He equaled unsurpassed heroism. He flew his ship, loaded with J7 jumper missiles on a timer, into the center of the Malignant formation. The explosion took out four Malignant destroyers and crippled another two.”

  Millantra holds up her glass. “To Von Too Poe, no longer anyone’s enemy.”

  “No longer an enemy,” Abel and Flaimeson say.

  The other Templars timidly clink their glasses and awkwardly repeat the toast. Smith finally sees his opportunity.

  “So, with the Malignant fleet as it currently is, what’s our biggest threat?”

  “I’ll leave you to discuss your strategy,” Abel says as he rises from his seat.

  “Father, you don’t have to go,” Votary protests.

  “I do,” Abel says. “I prefer not to hear your plans, lest I mistakenly repeat them to Ot Her.”

  “You wouldn’t do that,” Votary says.

  “Especially if I don’t know the details.”

  Abel leaves without any other discussion. The Templars watch him as he goes. Votary, Flaimeson, and Millantra all stand until he exits, then retake their seats.

  Smith asks his question again. “What do we have to worry about?”

  “In a word, everything,” Flaimeson answers. “But most specifically we have two concerns. The first is obviously the Womb, Mother’s flagship. It holds a crew of roughly a million in size. You will not clear a ship like that any time soon, and boarding it will not be simple.”

  “Why not?” Amine asks.

  “Because it will be impossible to destroy all the fighters, corvettes, and destroyers protecting the Womb. I doubt that Gallery will be able to focus on the shields long enough to destroy them.”

  “What about me?” Patrick asks. “I could take the shields down with my power, couldn’t I?”

  Smith looks at Julie, but she slowly shakes her head.

  “I don’t think that will work,” Smith says.

  “It will not,” Flaimeson asserts.

  “Their shields aren’t up now,” Julie says. “Why is that?”

  “Because they do not need them up right now,” Millantra answers. “They know they still have several weeks until we attack. I am sure it will go up about two weeks before the deadline.”

  “Why then?” Julie asks.

  “Because no rules prevent us from attacking early. We will take as much time as we can, but many battles have technically taken place earlier than expected by the losing force.”

  “So why don’t we attack now?” Akio asks.

  “Exactly,” Julie adds.

  “Because we aren’t ready,” Votary answers. “We need to train.”

  “What does it matter if we can’t get past their shields?” Julie asks.

  “We have a simple way to get past their shields,” Flaimeson answers.

  “How?” most of the Templars ask in unison.

  “A large part of the crew is former Gudz. Like me, they will return to our side. The plans are already in place. When the deadline hits, about forty percent of the Malignant force will become our allies.”

  “Excellent,” Smith says.

  “How can you claim to know forty percent?” Julie asks.

  “Because I have friends on many of the ships. So does Millantra. The number is good. We just need to make sure we are ready. We have to get onto the Womb quickly or our other problem will become the bigger issue.”

  “What’s the other problem?” Votary asks.

  “The boreship,” Flaimeson answers. “I am not sure what its name is, but I know what it can do.”

  “Which is?” Mitch timidly asks.

  “It is a planet killer,” Flaimeson answers. “It will fire along an entire longitudinal line on Earth with a devastating laser that will penetrate to a set level, typically at sea level. It will kill everything it touches.”

  “A power like that would take a source of energy beyond human capability,” Gallery says.

  “Not beyond human capability,” Flaimeson corrects. “Just beyond Earthling capability. The boresh
ip could fire for close to forty hours before needing to recharge. Once it fires, it stays in position and waits for the planet to complete one full rotation. I do not need to tell you what this means once it fires. We have twenty-four hours to stop it, or there will not be a planet left with anything other than some deep-sea life.”

  Flaimeson’s proclamation results in silence around the table. Smith thinks of various science fiction films with similar doomsday weapons and bemoans his luck to actually have to experience one.

  Patrick breaks the silence. “So, we take the boreship down first, then the Womb.”

  “It will not work, Paddy,” Millantra says. “The boreship has stronger shields and thicker armor than anything else in the Malignant fleet. The crew are fanatically loyal to Mother. We have no way of taking it out.”

  “Why can’t we board it?” Votary asks.

  “The only way onto that ship is by hopping over,” Flaimeson says. “We cannot. Abel could, but that will not happen. We must take the Womb first and from there we could hop over. The boreship is the only vessel besides our own with the web up to prevent hops and the shields up to prevent attack.”

  Smith feels the room dampen even further after another blast of bad luck. He hears whimpering and searches for the source. Unsurprisingly, it comes from the recruit, Staci.

  “Perhaps we shouldn’t ruin our lunch with talks of the mission,” Smith suggests.

  “You were the one who brought up the target,” Julie reminds.

  “My bad,” Smith says.

  “Perhaps you could tell us how we’re doing,” Dante suggests.

  Dante looks at Votary and waits for an answer.

  “Not bad,” Votary finally admits, “but I’ve seen better.”

  Smith feels their disappointment and takes it upon himself to bring their spirits back up.

  “Your powers are beyond amazing. Much stronger than simply manipulating water,” Smith says.

  “True,” Flaimeson adds. “That fact has baffled the Malignant since their arrival. Few, besides Father and the Mothers, have had augmentations like yours.”

  Smith observes most of the new recruits brighten up. Only Staci remains silent and depressed. Smith resolves to give her additional attention to bring her into the fold.

  “What about Votary’s power?” Dale asks.

  “He is an Earthling like the rest of you, so his powers are up there. There was a Gudz long ago rumored to have a similar power, but nothing I have seen,” Flaimeson says.

  “Who was that?” Julie asks.

  Flaimeson shakes his head. “I forget his name. I think it began with a B or something like that.”

  “Was he on the Olympus?” Millantra asks.

  “Maybe,” Flaimeson says. “It would make sense if he had been.”

  “Why don’t you ever tell us about yourself?” Greg asks Votary.

  Not this again, Smith thinks.

  “What do you want to know?” Votary says, to Smith’s amazement.

  “Your name,” Julie blurts out.

  “Exactly,” Gallery adds.

  “Not gonna happen,” Votary says. “Maybe after we save the planet.”

  “I’m gonna hold you to that,” Patrick says.

  Votary simply nods.

  “Why is the secret so important to you?” Mary Lee asks.

  “Because I liked comics as a kid, and I always hated how many people the heroes brought into their inner circles,” Votary admits. “I used to have a buddy when we were altar boys who would argue the issue with me, but I’m set in my ways at this point.”

  Smith’s ears perk up when Votary lets slip his gender. He wonders if this is a sign of future revelations, but he quickly pushes the thought out of his mind.

  Votary folds his hands in front of him and looks at the trays of his recruits. He seems to decide that enough time has passed and stands. Without a word or any hesitation, the recruits stand from their seats and follow Votary out of the cafeteria. Smith wishes them well as he considers the workout they’re likely to begin with full stomachs of lasagna.

  Later that evening, Julie finds herself in bed with a sweaty Flaimeson. Both of their nude bodies glow from a vigorous sexual encounter. Flaimeson’s matted beard, interwoven into his chest hair, glistens as he pants.

  “Thank you, I needed that,” Flaimeson admits.

  Julie smiles to herself. “As did I. I never imagined how good you would be.”

  “I have been doing this for eight thousand years. I cannot believe someone as young as you could be so good.”

  “I’ll take that as a great compliment,” Julie says.

  The two slowly relax their heavy breathing as they lie in soaked sheets.

  “Would you like me to start a shower for you?” Flaimeson asks.

  “Not yet,” Julie answers. “I was hoping we could talk without the constant interruptions of two dozen other people.”

  “You are quite inquisitive. What would you like to know?”

  Julie orders her questions inside her mind. She’s prepared for this opportunity and wants to make sure she leaves Flaimeson’s quarters more than simply sexually fulfilled.

  “Tell me about Abel. You seem to know him better than even Votary does.”

  “I do not know about that,” Flaimeson admits. “It has been a long time since I have known Father. A lot about him has changed, or maybe I just prefer to remember him a certain way.”

  “How has he changed?”

  “In appearance, for starters.”

  “Really? Abel isn’t a sixteen-year-old Asian boy?”

  “Hard to believe, huh? Father would occasionally change his appearance to fit in with people, but his true form is not the one he currently wears.”

  “I’m shocked that Adam and Eve of Christian worship weren’t Asian. What else about him is different?”

  “He seems happier.”

  “Happier?”

  “It sounds odd even to me, but Father is happy. I am not sure if it is because he is proud of Votary or if seeing the results of Eve’s work on this planet brings him peace, but he is more loyal to this single planet than the rest of the galaxy. There are a lot of human occupied planets, but despite being able to travel to any on a whim, Father has stayed here for thousands of years. It is a bit insulting.”

  “Because we’re ISH?”

  “Because he abandoned us. It took me a while to get over that.”

  “You never seem to display any resentment.”

  “Because when I saw Father on the bridge after the battle I went back to a boy of three thousand years old.”

  “A boy?”

  “Well, a young man. We technically come of age at five hundred.”

  “So, why aren’t you considered a pedophile for being with me?” Julie jokes.

  “Because sex is not a dirty thing to us, and age is ultimately just a number. That being said, we still tend to stay away from people who do not have at least two dozen solar orbits behind them.”

  “Good to know. So, tell me about the last time you saw Abel before he vanished.”

  Flaimeson rolls onto his back. Julie snuggles her toned body to his hairy one.

  “It was just before the anniversary of his parents’ disappearance. Father would always become melancholy around that time, for obvious reasons. Unfortunately for him, nobody was left alive who had met his parents. People empathized with him, but they bluntly did not care anymore. He decided that he needed to discover their fates. He came to see me before leaving.”

  “Why you? If you were so young, why did he search you out?”

  “I do not want to mislead you. It was not just me, but a lot of the younger marines. To us, Father was still someone who had stories we had not heard. He shared one last story with us.”

  “What was the story?”

/>   “He told us about how humans used to have universal peace, but that was actually a curse. It was a story we all knew well. We thought it was no big deal, but he pushed us to try and end Our Contest. Enough of us had died, and it was no longer necessary to fight. He said that his disappearance should hopefully lead to this.”

  “Did it work?”

  “In a way, I suppose. Soon after, Von Too Poe lost his battle and with him went our resolve. It was not the same without Father to be our symbol.”

  “Interesting,” Julie says while rubbing her chin. “So what about the animals?”

  “What about them?”

  “How dangerous are they? Do we need to prepare for a fight with other aliens after this fight with the Malignant?”

  Flaimeson’s boisterous laughter catches Julie unaware. She instinctively slides away from him before realizing her error. Her emotions switch to annoyance.

  “Why is that funny?” she asks.

  “I am not exactly an authority to speak on them, but I have met them. They are nothing close to a threat to us.”

  “Why not?”

  “Their technology is eons behind our own. One Malignant trooper can take out hundreds of them with ease. It is similar to how easily Votary defeats your Earth criminals.”

  “Then why is Mother threatened by them?”

  “They are explorers more than warriors. They have traveled from their galaxies into our own. Mother takes exception to that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Malignant believe in rules above all else. For some reason, she feels the borders of the various galaxies are not meant to be crossed. She is a strict adherent to sakoku.”

  Julie nods. “I see.”

  “Now, how about that shower?”

  “Lead the way, but I expect another session before I leave.”

  “You are now my favorite Templar,” Flaimeson announces before grabbing Julie in a powerful hug and rolling her onto his body for the requested performance.

  Akio enters the library where an army of Darsh clones sit at identical terminals and interact with the mystifying vapor boards. Akio approaches the terminal in the first column and row and addresses Darsh Prime.