Chapter 863: Those Left Behind

Chapter 863: Those Left Behind

The Terrans had an effect far past what any sociomathematics could have predicted. Even the wildest estimations could not have predicted the sheer explosive effects of the Terran arrival in the Galactic Arm Spur.

Civilizations tens of thousands or millions of years old found their martial might ineffective against a species that would climb over their own dead to kill with their bare hands. Cultures millions of years old could not withstand the onslaught of Terran culture, which quickly infected everything with the notion of 'fun' that nearly all of the species had left behind. Societies tens of thousands of years old could not withstand the assault of 'freedom' and 'self-determination' that the Terrans back with more guns than should reasonably exist.

It was more than that.

A short lived race, every culture, society, race, and species who had seen what the Terrans did were shocked by their actions.

They gave everything they had to protect and save the civilizations of not only the Galactic Arm Spur, but the universe itself. The Atrekna were literally a threat to the entire universe. Their psychic powers were unstoppable. Their fleshwarping abilities were beyond even the best genetic manipulators. Their time manipulation abilities defied temporal science and were unstoppable by any of the species. Their slave races and weapon species were endless, replicated endlessly by temporal mechanics. Their automated war machines were built in a split seconds and replicated endlessly. The Atrekna were even able to reach back in time and effect a species, rendering them impotent.

The Atrekna were unstoppable. They would harvest the entire universe in order to live billions of years beyond the accelerated death of the universe.

Many races would have given up, died out due to despair, when the stars went out as the Atrekna harvested everything that made up the stellar system.

The youngest of all of us, less than ten thousand years of space exploration, were the ones who raised their fists in defiance and spit back into the Atrekna's eyes.

Their war machines ripped apart the Atrekna's military forces no matter how many times they were replicated or replaced in split second manufacturing or breeding programs.

Their minds rejected the Atrekna's dominating thoughts of Atrekna superiority, screaming back a primal scream of denial.

They hammered time itself into a flat circle to deny the Atrekna their split-second techniques.Gét latest novel chapters on nov(e)lbj/n(.)c/om

They ripped apart the autonomous war machines when those terrible machines screamedIT ALL BELONGS TO USand they screamed back "THEN COME AND TAKE IT!"

They denied the Dwellerspawn who whispered "YOU BELONG TO ME!" with the scream of "THEN HAVE OUR AMMUNITION!"

They denied the Atrekna themselves who whispered "We Shall Devour All" with "EAT A DICK!"

The Atrekna drove them to extinction, but even that was not enough. The Terran dead pulled the Atrekna into the Terran's grave with the whisper "there is room here for you" even as the Atrekna screamed in terror and denial.

Then, the Terrans retrieved the spirits of their dead, through the grace of the Digital Omnimessiah, praise be unto his code, and the universe breathed a sigh of relief as it was saved.

But the effects of the Terrans lived on.

It was if, in death, some kind of spark jumped from the Terrans to all who interacted with them or even just those who interacted with those who had interacted with the Terrans. A terrible burning spark that infused not only the race or species, but each individual.

The Terrans were gone.

But the fire they lit, within all the peoples, burned brightly even after they were gone. - Days of Mourning Glory, Free Telkan Press, 12 Post-Precursor War, 16th Year of the Dark Age

The day was warm, the breeze full of the scent of the fruit orchards that surrounded the area. The field had been harvested then burned before being tilled. Sweet tiny plants had grown up in the week since them, anchoring the soil even as the little plants helped rejuvenate it after the crops.

A full two dozen grav-vehicles were landed in the field. Two were dripping with weapons, the logo on the sides, on the hood and trunk, proclaimed the vehicles to be part of Planetary Security. The weapons were all stun weapons and neural disruptor weapons, designed to incapacitate through pain or knock a being unconscious.

Six were marked with the logos of infonetworks. Cameras, uplinks, were all gone. Now the beings had film cameras, the film using silver in its chemical composition. The beings were all clustered up, many with recording devices that used a magnetic head to read and write data onto strips of plas doped with a heavy iron-oxide content.

The only surely safe methods of recording events.

The rest were small grav-cars. All unarmed, unarmored. There was no logos or words on them and they looked as if they would fit in the garage of any slightly well off being.

One was bigger. It was a convertible, the top retracted. The seats were large, heavily padded. Not as large as a seat for a Lanaktallan or a Treana'ad, but still large.

Terran large.

Two groups were moving toward one another. One was a group of armored sociopolice, armed with iron blades and carrying plexi shields colored red with a lining of aluminum doped Mylar. In the middle was a single armored being, carrying no weapons, but missing an eye, the socket covered with an eye patch.

The other group was mostly heavily muscled lemurs dressed in iron and leather armor, carrying blades in sheathes. Two were female, scantily clad, an iridescent nimbus surrounding their hands and trailing off of them like mist. In the middle was a female of the same race as the non-Terrans. She wore leather, iron, and bronze armor, carried a sword across her back and a pair of knives on her hips.

The reporters photographed both groups eagerly, jostling for position to get the best photographs.

The guards hung back and the two, the one eyed male and the female, left their groups to meet in the middle.

The reporters snapped black and white photography and pointed microphones.

"Namtotun," the female said.

"Nakteti," the one-eyed male said.

"You have protected the people, just as I tasked you with," the female, Nakteti the Traveller said softly, stepping forward. She put her hand on the side of his face.

He closed his one eye and tilted his head to press his cheek against her callused hand. He shivered slightly, as if a cold breeze had grazed him.

"You have guided our people through trials and tribulations, risked your own life to protect them, and have aided me in leading them to horrible freedom," Nakteti continued. Namtotun did nothing but not slightly, his whiskers trembling. "Even as the shades attacked, you took to the streets with your loyal guard to provide a living banner for your police and military to rally around."

The smell of the citrus fruit seemed to increase.

"Long have I promised you rewards, should you follow my commands and serve me faithfully in all things," Nakteti said.

The two female Terrans moved to the side and began chanting in a sing-song voice, their hands making slow passes. Sweat glistened on their skin even as their clothing parted slightly to allow their rich brown skin to breathe.

The reporters jostled for position to take photos.

"Your assistance in ensuring the World Engine was not contaminated will be a thing of song and legends," Nakteti said. "I have ensured this by ordering bards and songsmiths to record your deeds and valor."

From the dirt, to the side, a building of wood was rising from the dirt. The peaked roof, with shingles, pushed its way up first, the walls sliding from the earth as the building slowly rose. The Terran women spread out, one to each side of the house, the nimbus spreading from their hands to the building as they sang.

Neither Nakteti nor Namtotun paid any attention, Nakteti's attention focused on the Planetary Director for Life.

"You joined Magnus in assaulting the hold the shades had on the World Engine. You braved the sentinels, defeated a minotaur through strength and force of arms," Nakteti said. "You led the way to storming the control room, defeating the shades, bring back the World Engine's control to your, our, possession," Nakteti said.

Again, Namtotun just nodded slightly, his whiskers still trembling, the exposed fur on his skin rippling, all four of his hands open and relaxed. His ears were perked up, his eye closed, and he seemed to relax into Nakteti's palm.

"As I protected the land out here, you protected the cities," Nakteti said. "Magnus himself has spoken of your bravery in facing the minotaur, in facing the shades, in facing the sentinels of the World Engine."

The flashbulbs kept popping as the stone foundation of the house lifted from the ground and the two Terran females stepped back, breathing heavily. Both pulled fans from ornate cases on their belts, snapping them open and fanning their faces and exposed breasts. Their sweat gleamed in the sun and the wild, primal, feral smell of Terran sweat teased at the senses of the reporters and guards.

She was one of the ones who wielded nanite power, which everyone had taken to calling magic. Jorkruln could smell her sweat, smell the power emanating from her, smell a wild, feral smell underneath it all.

"Your maleness is hanging out, friend," the female lemur said.

Jorkruln looked down and felt his ears flatten in embarassment. He quickly resealed his pants and strapped the armor back on.

"Thank you," Jorkruln said, feeling embarrassed.

The lemur shrugged, a smile tickling around the corners of her mouth. "You're welcome," she turned and motioned. "Move over there, please, and keep watch."

"Why?" Jorkruln asked.

"Because I have the need to do what you were doing," she said.

"Oh," Jorkruln felt slightly embarrassed as the lemur moved to where he had been. He kept looking away, even though his curiosity burned to watch.

Stop being perverse. She is a dangerous alien species urinating, he told himself as he could hear her doing her business. Don't turn around, she'll burn your eyeballs out.

There was a low chuckle behind him and for a second he wondered if she was using her sorcery to read his thoughts.

"Done," she said. "Never go anywhere alone, Jorkruln."

"How did you know my name?" Jorkruln asked.

"Your implant is still broadcasting. It's how I followed you. I can see your social media handle is RoughNTumbleTnvaru even though you have pictures and video turned off," the lemur said. She stepped up next to him and she looked down, cocking her head slightly and smiling at him. "We need to return to the fire."

"I should go back to the APC," Jorkruln said.

"Why?" She asked. She motioned and Jorkruln followed her out of the brush and across the field.

"Because..." Jorkruln really couldn't think of a reason to climb back in the armored fart box.

"Tell your SR that you are keeping an eye on us. My brother Magnus and I would welcome the company," she said. She looked at him and smiled. "Besides, we have hot mead."

Jorkruln knew he should go over to the APC, but really didn't want to, although he was very nervous of meeting Magnus again.

Still, he followed her to the fire, sitting down on one of the logs.

Magnus held out a ceramic mug that was steaming in the night air as soon as Jorkruln sat down. Jorkruln took a sip and sighed with pleasure at the fruit laden taste. He took another couple of drinks and looked around.

"Welcome, Jorkruln," Magnus rumbled. He gave a low chuckle. "This meeting is much better than the last. I hope I did not injure your neck too badly."

Jorkruln shook his head. "No. I was only in a neck brace for a month."

"Good to hear," Magnus said. He took a drink, wiped his mouth, and lifted the instrument to his mouth. He blew into it, making the reeds vibrate, and used his hand and the position of his mouth to change the tone and create gaps in the noise.

It was alien, eerie, but strangely pleasant.

"A harmonica, an instrument older than the combustion engine," the woman said. She lifted up her own mug, took a drink, then wiped her mouth. "I am Lady Serscee Khoonkeenadee of the Unbridled Fire. Arch Sorceress, enchanter, and war mage in the service of Lady Nakteti the Traveller of the Tnvaru Clans."

"Uh, Jorkruln, Rifleman Second Class," he said. He took another drink.

"Magnus Khoonkeenadee. Head stomper, life taker, heart breaker," the big Terran male said, pausing the music for a second.

To Jorkruln the music sounded sad, almost melancholy, compared to the lively tunes of earlier.

"Your leader is indeed honored," Lady Serscee said with a smile.

"Really?" Jorkruln asked.

"While this was not always the plan, I had foreseen it when Lady Nakteti took his eye," Lady Serscee said. "That is the way of legends," she gave a slight shudder and goosebumps covered her skin. "They are titans of your people. Generations that follow will speak of them with reverence, should we succeed in holding off the dark long enough for them to be born."

"You think we'll be attacked again?" Jorkruln asked.

Magnus paused the music. "This is a good life, Friend Jorkruln," he said. He tilted his head up slightly to bring attention to the sky. "There is always someone willing to try to take it from you, even if for no the reason than you have it and they don't want you to."

"Really?" Jorkruln asked.

"It's the way of the universe," Lady Serscee said. She picked up a thin metal rod and speared it a few times in a pot of dark liquid. When she pulled it out, Jorkruln could see pieces of meat on the rod. She held it in the fire. "Right now, we are living in luxury that others do not possess," she gave a wry smile. "Even if my brother won't get me some fruit and now I am without fruit and full of woe and lamentation at my fruitless status."

Magnus just smiled as he kept playing the melancholy song.

"Drink, Friend Jorkruln," Lady Serscee said. She passed him the rod with the cooked meat sizzling on it. "Drink, eat, and perhaps I will teach you to dance."

Jorkruln just nodded, swallowing nervously.

The Lady Serscee smiled, showing startlingly white strong teeth. "I don't bite, I promise."

"Not unless you want her to," Magnus put in.

Jorkruln found himself smiling when Serscee threw a boot at Magnus with a laugh.

-----

"What are you thinking about?" Namtotun asked, using his catching arm elbow to prop himself up on the bed, the blanket covering him from the waist down.

Lady Nakteti was standing in the window, staring out at the night sky.

She was also completely naked.

"I just wonder what the next challenge the malevolent universe has for us," she said.

Namtotun got up out of bed, walking across the rug to stand behind Nakteti. He embraced her from behind with all four arms and she put her hands over his, squeezing slightly.

"Whatever it is, we will face it together and lead our people," Namtotun said.

Nakteti simply nodded.