Chapter 1
The Raider class shuttle looked like a tiny speck in space when it finally left the Iscariot’s fighter bays. A sleek cylinder-shaped vessel, the Raider was fast and efficient, originally designed to ferry small strike forces for surgical assaults. It barely had any armaments, but its phase shielding could withstand the most advanced weapon systems currently fielded by local Fed-All forces.
The descent from the Iscariot to Ilm’s upper atmosphere only took about an hour, but it gave Chen enough time to enjoy a bird’s eye view of the planet’s capital city, also called Ilm; for as far as the Federated Alliance was concerned, the planet Ilm existed exclusively to support the city called Ilm, and nothing more. Any deviation from that purpose was intolerable.
From within the Raider, Chen peered below at the closest urban districts and commercial hubs, marvelling at their massive size. The city stretched from horizon to horizon. Beautiful, tree-shaped skyscrapers—two to three kilometers tall—dotted the great metropolis, giving Chen the impression of a gargantuan silver forest with air cars and grav shuttles as its birds and insects. Chen had seen it all before, several times, but he still couldn’t help but feel amazed by the size and glory of the City.
As someone who grew up on the war-ravaged, poverty-stricken Exile World, Nashoba, Ilm—with its glittering towers and efficient urban design—looked like a jewel filled with light and prosperity.
“Chen!” Toshir’s voice interrupted his ruminations. “Get ready. We’re almost there.”
“Sir!”
Chen turned to look at his superiors, Toshir and Park, who were seated opposite him. Both were warrior gene breeds; hard-faced, brawny men, whose cord-like muscles suggested muscle-enhancing mods and forbidden breeding techniques.
Park had the distinctive Doric phenotypic features: a hard jaw, curly hair, bluish-orange skin and bright orange eyes. Powerful muscles were visible on both of his arms, and Chen saw the almost imperceptible bulge of an aggression enhancer on his neck.
Toshir, on the other hand, was a Taira, and Chen tried not to think about the stories surrounding his particular gene-breed; about their semi-illegal practices, and how they experimented with all manner of chemical weapons forbidden by the Terran Exarchate before their exile to Nashoba. The man’s eyes almost seemed like thin lines on his face, while his pale white skin appeared like luminescent silk covering cords of steel. He turned to face Chen, and the slit-like eyes opened wide to reveal monstrous black within black orbs.
Despite himself, a faint shiver ran through Chen’s spine, and he looked down to inspect his armor for the tenth time since they left the Iscariot.
“Chen!” Toshir’s voice rang out a second time, almost taunting this time. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Ye doan looks ready,” Park, the Doric breed finally spoke up. “An ’Atavist’ likes yous’ probably wo’an likes wot’ll happens down there.”
Chen swallowed hard at Park’s taunting chuckles, and at the implications of “Atavist,” a term broadly used to describe “genotypic relics” from a time when humans had not yet tinkered with their genetic code.
Both men looked at Chen, their eyes harsh and critical, though without malice. They wanted to see if a few words were enough to make him crack.
Though every cell in his body seemed to freeze up in fear, Chen met their gaze and held it. Inferior though he may be, obsolete though his gene traits may be, he would not back out of a fight. Not now.
He had sacrificed too much to back out now. He will not return to Nashoba in disgrace.
“Knock it off, Park,” Toshir ordered, and the Doric breed leaned back on his chair, though his face remained a challenging smirk.
“Last chance to back out, Chen.” Toshir’s voice was kindly, but his eyes remained hard and pitiless. “You can still go back with the Raider.”
Chen answered with a cold, hard voice that seemed foreign to his own ears. “Not without seeing some action, sir!”
Toshir sighed and leaned back on his own seat. He could feel the Raider slowing down, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before it would land.
“Do you know why we’re going down there?”
“Yes, sir! A hostage situation. Keramlik secessionists have kidnapped several local leaders and their families. We are to—“
“Don’t give me that!” Toshir snapped angrily, and his tone became inquisitorial. “Opposition factions on the Keramlik homeworld have been gaining power, and they are pushing the Keramlik Ascendancy to secede from the Federated Alliance. This attack is the latest example of the ongoing low-intensity civil war in Keramlik space. Do you know what that means?”
“If the Keramlik secede, then dozens of minor alien races will follow them, and that will spell the end of the Fed-All,” Chen answered without hesitation
“Correct,” Toshir said. “Except the Keramlik Ascendancy will never secede because the secessionists are a small vocal minority, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Now, here’s the big question!” Toshir said sharply, and his eyes peered at Chen, like those of a predatory owl’s. ”Why hire human mercs for a critical situation like this? Why not send in a force exclusively made up of their best and most trusted soldiers?”
Chen thought about his answer for a moment. He considered a sly answer, but thought better of it. Better to play it straight. “Politics,” he said with an honesty that was alien to him. “And also because the Fed-Alls want us to watch over their best soldiers.”
Park roared with laughter, even as their shuttle’s engines began to die down. “Is you sayin’ the ram-ranchin’ Fed-Alls doan trust their own sodjers?” Park asked with a grin.
“No, sir! Absolutely not,” Chen said brightly, and this time, his voice was full of sly subtlety. “They just want expendable human mercs to draw fire for their team.”
Park and Toshir laughed at the answer. “That’ll do, kid,” Toshir said without malice. “That’ll do. For now.”
Author Notes: This story was originally posted on Terror House Mag on July 2020: terrorhousemag.com/tag/martyrs-blood/
