“Death to the Huntress,” chanted the Third's leader in answer to his equal. “Death to the humans three. Death to the Mewiis, Hrono and the Bands of Kraaqi.”
Inside the great room, the walls bled purple.
The oily fluid began to appear in large globules as the black, flowing dragnets began to wave in unison. Those T'kaan gathered nearest the bleeding walls began to shake and fall to the ground, their chanting and shouting reaching a fever pitch. The mass of tentacled aliens began to writhe and crawl toward the sweet, dripping fluid.
As they reached the curved walls, their long arms reached forward excitedly. Thousands of tentacles slapped against the supple walls, encouraging the slimy flow. The eerie sound of this orgy mingled with a new sound, a sound like the rumbling of thunder that emanated from somewhere deep inside the Great Horned ship.
It was The Great One himself.
The fluid began to seep faster, completely covering the first rows of T'kaan, bathing them with a glistening glow, baptizing them in its bloody stench.
All throughout the combined fleets, among the frigates, cruisers and battleships alone, certain sections of their inner walls—the walls that lived, that melded with the armored hull—they, too, began their bloody flow as their black dragnets danced.
Those on the smaller warships cried out in frustration, cursing this rare opportunity, knowing that theirs were merely warships and that they could not participate and feel the fluid on their own skin.
The bleeding ships talked to one another in their peculiar way, joining with the Great Horned ships in exquisite delight.
The T'kaan rejoiced as One.
“Uh, could I ask
why
we have to die?” Jaric stared in disbelief at the Kraaqi.
The warrior's eyes narrowed. In one quick movement the curved rapier was out of its scabbard and the razor-sharp blade pressed against Jaric's throat.
Jaric stood very still.
“You have violated everything that is sacred in the universe,” the warrior snarled. “And so, you must die.”
The air grew silent as Jaric stared defiantly up into the brown eyes of the Kraaqi.
“I say you're wrong,” Becky said.
The muscles under the warrior's tight leather shirt tensed at her words. His head jerked toward the voice, sending the long feather-hair dancing over his shoulder. He slammed Jaric down as if he were a toy and in two steps he stood right before Becky, his breath hot on her face, his rapier raised.
“You call me a liar?” His eyes looked her up and down. “And you
only
a female?”
Becky gritted her teeth, taking a deep breath. “No. I meant we haven't been here long enough to violate
everything
sacred in the universe.
The warrior growled.
Kyle started to take a step forward.
“Don't!” Jaric shouted.
The reaction was instantaneous. The Kraaqi grabbed Becky by her shoulder to hold her still while he raised his rapier toward Kyle. He twisted his upper body to get a better angle for his stroke.
For a split second, he glared down into Kyle's eyes.
In that instant, Becky's knee smashed upward into his groin.
With a loud grunt, the Kraaqi warrior bent over double as his rapier fell to the grass.
As she took his arm and twisted it to hold him still, she brought her knee up into his stomach, eliciting another deep grunt of pain from the Kraaqi. For good measure, she rammed his stomach a third time.
The Kraaqi warrior remained bent over in pain, though he still had not been completely felled.
Becky shook her head with pity as she released her grip and then slammed her combined fists down onto the back of his unprotected neck.
With another smothered grunt, the warrior fell face down onto the crumpled grass.
“Merely a female, eh? That should teach you to never turn your back on another warrior,” Becky chided the fallen Kraaqi.
With a start, she remembered the other warriors behind her. She turned.
They were all staring back at her with a mixture of awe and profound disbelief.
The largest Kraaqi warrior stepped towards her.
“You are too small for Mewiis.” He stared at her face, and then with his large right hand, his fingers touched her forehead and then traced a line into her hair and over the top of her head. “And you are not Kraaqi.”
“And definitely not Hrono,” added a second warrior who had joined him.
Their eyes began at her feet, and slowly came back up to her face.
“She is female.” The larger warrior said. He sniffed the air cautiously. “What are you?”
Becky returned his hard gaze, and then she smiled mischievously as she spoke.
“I'm a woman.”
The warriors looked at each other with puzzlement.
On the ground, the hurt Kraaqi began to push himself back up to his knees, grunting in pain with each movement.
The larger of the two warriors looked down at his hurt companion, and then back at Becky. He chuckled. “I am Rok. Second Commander, Band of the Stars.” He smiled with an air of great importance.
Kyle and Jaric stepped beside Becky. The three young faces stared back at the Kraaqi.
“You must be a courageous race, for your females to be such good warriors,” Rok said.
Jaric and Kyle smiled widely at Becky.
“I honor you.” Rok bowed his head slightly toward Jaric. “Woman.”
Jaric's face showed puzzlement. “Whoa, Rok. You got something wrong. I'm not a woman, I'm...” Jaric stammered.
Rok raised himself erect. “You are not a woman?” He growled.
Jaric smiled sheepishly, shaking and nodding his head at the same time. But the warrior spoke first.
“Woman,” Rok repeated. “A good race.” He smiled at the three young faces.
“Does this mean we don't have to die?” Kyle asked, ignoring Rok's misunderstanding.
“No. You must still die.”
The three looked at each other in disbelief.
“Can you at least explain to us what our error was?” Becky asked.
Rok turned to the others behind him, who nodded back at him. “Yes. You at least deserve that.” Crossing his arms, his eyes looked up to the sky. “We, Kraaqi, are caretakers of this world, as we are of all the worlds in our realm. We protect the animals who dwell here. We oversee the vegetation and ensure the ecosystems are healthy and in balance.” Rok took his right hand and placed it across his chest. “We are One with them all. We respect all life.”
“You've got to be kidding,” Jaric whispered to Kyle.
Kyle ignored him and instead spoke to Rok. “You would kill us for your love of life?”
Rok considered the words a moment. He nodded, “Yes.”
“But what have we done to disturb the life, the ecosystems on this world?” Becky's voice had risen with impatience.
“Your ships have sent pollution into the air, disturbing the balance of this ecosystem. You are like the Hrono, selfishly using your technology, expelling your waste while the world around you suffers.”
The three humans grew silent.
Becky felt a shame inside of her heart, for in a way, this alien was right. They were guilty as charged, whether they had polluted this world consciously or not. Their ships had been designed to expel that waste, which was harmful. Mankind had a long history of such actions and had almost destroyed their own home world so long ago in this very way.
“We are sorry for our actions. We apologize.” Becky's sorrowful eyes pleaded at Rok. “We are guilty.” She looked down with shame. “If only we could learn to be one with life, as you are.”
Rok's eyes opened wide. Behind him, the small band of warriors began murmuring.
Kyle looked over at one of the Kraaqi ships. “How do your ships not disturb the life of this world? Perhaps we could learn from you?”
The murmuring among the Kraaqi grew louder.
Rok looked at Kyle with an keen expression. “We disable our main engines when we come inside the ecosystem of any world. Our anti-gravity repulsors allow us to maneuver within the atmosphere of any world without doing it harm.”
Jaric nodded appreciatively. “We could learn from you.”
“They must die.” The fallen warrior stumbled to his feet and stared into Rok's face.
“Their words are from the heart,” Rok said. “It is written, ‘
Tak aya waya. Ro podak ya
.'” Rok's eyes narrowed as he turned back to Jaric. “The one who
wants
to learn will embrace that knowledge the rest of his life.”
The injured warrior turned and stared with open hatred at the three humans. “They are like Hrono. They cannot learn.”
“I say they can,” Rok growled.
“You question me? The First Leader.”
“Yes.” Rok sneered.
The old warrior stepped back as he bent down for his fallen rapier.
“You have grown old.” Rok said, drawing his own sword. “The old ways are too much with you. Have you not heard Rawlon's sayings, First Captain of all the Bands?” Rok lowered his body into a battle stance as the older warrior did the same. “Life learns to adapt, as a river learns how to flow around new bends when the land changes. This is a new race. Their words are well spoken—spoken from their hearts.”
The old warrior held his weapon before him. “And I say they must die for their pollution.”
Rok held his weapon ready, moving the blade from side to side with eager anticipation. “And I say they are given mercy. So they can learn.”
“I say we should take a couple steps back,” Jaric whispered to Kyle and Becky.
The two blades struck with a resounding clang. After the first blow, the two warriors leapt back and began circling—circling and staring, each looking for a momentary weakness in the other.
With a clash of crossed swords, they closed. Again and again their blades bit into the other, while their long feather-hair danced around their heads with their sudden motions.
In short order, the older warrior's superior swordsmanship had stripped Rok of his rapier. But the old one had closed too much.
Rok grabbed the old warrior's arm that held his weapon to keep it at bay. As the old one struggled to release Rok's grip they began exchanging blows. Each sent his free fist violently into the ribs and face of the other as they fought. Grunts of pain followed each heavy blow.
Finally, with a mighty blow, Rok knocked the rapier loose. Now they were even—fist to fist and eye to eye.
The other warriors had watched mostly in silence, but now they began to cheer and shout. A few cheered for the older warrior, for their shouts were loudest after his blows struck home. But it became obvious that the majority were for the younger warrior, Rok, as their shouts overwhelmed the cries of the others.
The struggle now began in earnest, their blows pummeling each other relentlessly. The older warrior suddenly fell over, but he took Rok down in his grasp. Their struggles continued on the ground, rolling and kicking, fending off fists with one forearm, striking with the other. In a few moments, youth and strength prevailed.
Becky's eyes grew wide.
Rok was standing over the fallen warrior, astride his panting form. As the old one struggled vainly to rise, Rok struck him again. He took hold of the warrior's left horn in the mighty grip of his right hand. Rok growled as the muscles in his right arm bulged with his effort as he twisted and slowly bent the horn down.
It snapped with a sickening crunch.
Blood streamed down the left side of the old warrior's face as he screamed with pain.
Rok rose with the broken stump. He turned slowly and raised it toward the other Kraaqi warriors who had been watching intently. They broke into cheering, chanting Rok's name.
Becky felt her stomach tighten as she fought the urge to throw up.
“We've just witnessed a changing of the guard,” Kyle said.
“I wish I could have missed it,” Becky replied as her face turned pale.
Rok threw down the broken horn and motioned for the three humans to follow him.
Becky looked down at the wounded warrior as she passed. “What will happen to him?” She asked.
“He will return to our Band's planet. He will no longer fly with us. His days are past.”
“Seems a bit harsh for somebody who loves life,” Jaric said.
Rok stopped and stared at him.
“But who am I to judge?” Jaric raised his hands with innocence. “I'm just a messenger, sent to the Kraaqi.”
“Messenger?” Rok asked.
“Yes,” Kyle said. “We have news of the utmost importance for you. But not just you, for the entire Kraaqi race.” Kyle looked deep into the warrior's eyes. “It may mean the death of not only your people, but all of your worlds as well.”
The expression on Rok's face turned heavy. “We will talk of this matter. But first, before we can teach you, you must become brethren of the Band.”
“Uh-oh,” Jaric said.
Rok smiled at him. “You must prove yourselves real woman to the Kraaqi.”
Kyle and Jaric looked at each other and shook their heads.
Kyle sighed. “First off, Rok. Jaric and I are man.” He closed his eyes at his own mistake. “Or men, we're men. Not women.” He pointed at his sister. “She's a wo-man.” He pointed at himself and Jaric. “We are men.” He enunciated carefully.
Rok looked from one to the other. “Whatever.” He began walking again, speaking over his shoulder without looking. “But you all smell like Grauntaan manure.”
The three looked at each other, shaking their heads.
“Something tells me we didn't really hear that right. Not the last word,” Becky smiled.
“Probably Mother's doing, or programming,” Kyle said. “Using a kinder, gentler synonym where possible in these translators.”
“Well, I guess I'll make sure I use a stronger deodorant next First Contact.” Jaric lifted his right arm and sniffed loudly.
They all laughed.
“I wonder what it is we'll have to do, to be a brethren of the Band?” Becky thought out loud.
“I hope we don't have to break anybody's horn off,” Jaric said with distaste.
“Well, this is a warrior race.” Kyle smiled. “No doubt there will be some kind challenge, or confrontation, in which we have to prove ourselves. But whatever it is, let me handle it.”