Alpha Nebula Read online

  Plus, responsibility sucks, if you ask me.

  “Hey, you’re going to be an amazing leader. They will love you like they love your father. And like I love you,” Mera assured him.

  Akrillis and Mera were enjoying their popcorn—one jumbo to share. Being a couple, they smiled as they fed one another.

  Aww, look at these two, being all cute and shit. Makes me sick.

  A loud echoing whistle suddenly dominated its way across the stadium. “Are you ready?” The announcer shouted.

  The impatient crowd began to rejoice at the top of their lungs. A sea of Tarians were hungry for a show and ready to feast. The garbage on the stadium floor began to rise, as everything inside the grounds was zero gravity. The players finally emerged as they made their way down the platform towards the showground. Diving into the zero gravity, they began moving about, almost as if they were flying. They navigated the arena by moving their arms and legs in certain directions, gracefully and with precision, almost like fish moving through water. When both teams had found their starting positions, the ball suddenly shot up from the floor. It finally reached the players, and it was game on.

  Akrillis leaned in to speak to Mera. “So, I was given a message about this guy today. Said he needed to speak with me urgently,” he shouted.

  “About what?” She asked.

  “Wouldn’t say. Just told me it was very important,” Akrillis informed.

  “Sounds a bit dodgy to me,” Mera said in his ear.

  They were battling to hear each other over the rumble of the stadium.

  “I don’t know. Sounds like he’s in trouble. I want to meet him,” Akrillis told her.

  “You sure about this?” She said worryingly.

  “It’s too obvious to be a set-up. No one is going to try anything here in the capital anyway,” he assured her.

  Oh, come on! That’s exactly what someone says when they’re about to walk into a trap. It’s basically the rule.

  The sun spread across the landscape like a warm blanket for all who called it home. The beauty of the royal palace was no exception. Mera made her way down a large marble corridor, looking up at the extremely high ceiling while the sun blasted through the large open windows.

  She suddenly bumped into Val. “Déjà vu,” she said to the half-naked Tarian prince, who was wearing nothing but a robe around his waist, holding an apple in his hand. “I also ran into your skank earlier,” she informed him.

  “Oh, you did, did you? Well, she had to get up rather early to fetch me my breakfast, like a good woman,” he displayed a smart-ass grin as he chewed on a chunk of apple.

  She rolled her eyes. “Same old Vanakis. I must say, I rest easy at night knowing you’re not the one to lead us one day.”

  “I get all the perks and none of the responsibility. I’d say I got the best outcome,” he laughed.

  “And that’s why you’ll never be king,” Mera told him.

  “Aren’t you just a know-it-all?” Val laughed back.

  “Well, this know-it-all is soon to be your sister-in-law,” she smiled.

  “Yes, yes I did hear that. Ran into my brother earlier. In the kitchen, stuffing his face of course,” he chuckled.

  “Just promise me the next time you two go out exploring, you’ll take care of him,” Mera asked of Val.

  “Believe it or not, you know he can actually take care of himself,” the prince pointed out. “He is a big boy now, after all.”

  “I know, but when you guys go, he watches out for you. And if he’s looking out for you, who will look out for him? He means so much to me. You both do,” she told Vanakis.

  He smiled. “I think I just got all warm and fuzzy inside.”

  The bride-to-be walked off to her business.

  Papyrus and his wife, Queen Amorae, were discussing global issues in what appeared to be a personal library. Amorae flicked through a history book on the table; it contained a record of past dealings and events.

  “Our relations with the southern continent have been steadily declining over the past few years, as they want several law changes in that region, and the recent polls support this,” she informed.

  Papyrus leaned on the table, overlooking several documents. “We will discuss this with their ambassador in person,” the king declared.

  “I can go have a chat with them, if you’d like,” Akrillis said as he entered the room.

  “Thank you, son. However, these are important matters which I’d rather see to myself, but you’re more than welcome to come and aid me,” his father welcomed his son’s help.

  “I think I might. I have news, by the way. Mera and I are engaged,” Akrillis revealed.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful, dear!” his mother said. A giant smile that she could not contain presented itself.

  Papyrus put his hands on his son’s shoulders, “I’m very proud of you. Mera will make a fine queen one day, just as I know you will be a magnificent king.”

  “Thank you, father.”

  Amorae put her hands on both of them. “Come, we must celebrate.”

  The next day, Akrillis was down in the lower city, a part of Nova with which he had little experience. It was dark, gloomy, and dirty. ‘I can hardly imagine just what the under city looks like,’ he thought to himself. He had donated to the poor repeatedly, but had never really ventured down there himself. The smog made it hard for him to breathe. The ones who lived down here were probably used to it. He stopped in front of a run-down apartment complex. Once inside, he stopped outside one of the rooms and double-checked the address he was provided with. It was written on a crumpled-up piece of paper. After Akrillis rang the doorbell, a man quickly opened the door and rushed him inside.

  “Oh, thank the maker,” he said.

  This man was clearly less fortunate than those in the upper city. His clothes were dirty, and the state of his apartment was repulsive. He almost looked like a hoarder, and the stench was unbearable.

  My OCD is already going berserk just telling you the story.

  “My prince, I need your help. No one believes me. Please, you’re my last chance,” the man pleaded. He was clearly agitated and desperate.

  Weirdo.

  “First, you tell me how you managed to get in contact with a member of the royal family. I have a hard time believing someone as underprivileged as you could pull that off,” Akrillis cautiously requested.

  “Well, it wasn’t easy. I managed to speak to someone in the underground, you know, someone in the black market trades, drug deals, that sort of thing. And they have contacts, that’s for sure. Wasn’t cheap either. Please, I have nowhere else to turn. They took him, and no one will believe me, but I’m telling you they took him,” the man insisted, his voice steadily rising.

  “Took who?” Akrillis wondered.

  “My son. My son was taken. In the dark, that’s when they struck. Being in the lower parts of the city, he was vulnerable. Please, they’ve taken him. You must help,” the man desperately explained.

  “I’m sorry, who took him?” Akrillis still wasn’t sure what was going on.

  I’m not either, in all honesty, and I’ve got the bloody script in front of me.

  The man moved in close to Akrillis. The young prince turned slightly away at the odour and his breath. “The Avayans. To one of their slave worlds. To be processed and abused and to live the rest of his life as a slave.” The man began to tear up; the very thought of what would happen to his son was beyond heartbreaking. He had been a depressed wreck for who knows how long, helplessly trying to find a way to help his stolen child.

  “The Avayans take those less fortunate Tarians from other planets, not from Jenemi. They’d have a war on their hands of they did. That’s why they take people from outside of our jurisdiction. They wouldn’t dare take a citizen of Jenemi,” Akrillis insisted.

  “They did. I saw it with my own eyes. Whether you’re a citizen of Jenemi or not, no one is safe anymore,” he insisted. The man became more agitated as the co
nversation went on, sensing Akrillis’ disbelief.

  “Do you have anything to back these claims?” Akrillis asked.

  “No, but please, I'm begging you. Help my son. This won’t stop here. You know that. Please, do something?” He grabbed Akrillis in sorrow, pulled him in close, and cried on his shoulder. He simply didn’t know what else to do.

  “Without any proof, I’m afraid nothing can be done. I’m sorry,” the prince regretfully told him.

  The man backed away, realising it was hopeless, “Then my son is doomed.” His feelings sunk beneath him as his remaining hope just walked off and abandoned him.

  “Look, I’ll run this by my father,” Akrillis said, “but I don’t expect much will be done. What’s your name?”

  “Malabai Loroke,” the man sobbed.

  FOUR

  A cattle ship had arrived at Omega, filled with a fresh batch of slaves. After the ship landed, the doors opened to reveal the horrors of Rynok. The dirty, weathered structures and desert surroundings made it a bleak world for any race. However, the Avayans felt right at home here with their concentration camps. The helpless feline victims were herded down the ramps of the ship. They were led to a path with tall fences on either side; there was nowhere to go but forward. Hundreds of poor, ill-fated Tarians exited the ship. As they were forced down the walkway like cattle, one of them tripped, and his tail was quickly trampled on. He took a second to collect himself and then hopped up. The Tarian once again walked alongside his captured brethren. They walked side by side, close enough that their very long and thin ears almost collided.

  The pathway led them to a building. Once inside, they were divided into different groups. Each group would later determine which section of the compound they would be housed in. Permanently separated from the other slaves in different sections. They were forced apart, and each entered their own separate rooms to be processed. Trydon Loroke had now joined the many victims before him.

  Afterwards, Trydon found himself out in the yard where prisoners could roam about freely. He noticed many slaves were gathering around one spot. Once there, he saw the horrors they were watching. A helpless victim was tied and gagged, down on their knees, with their arms restrained above their head.

  One of the several guards standing beside the prisoner was holding a shock rod and he looked out over the slaves. “This, my friends, is what happens when you defy your masters!”

  Trydon was surprised at the Zantian they had restrained like that. The tall, thin being awaited his punishment. Moments later, the guard rammed the shock rod into his back. The Zantian tried to scream with all his strength, but was unable to make any significant noise. Again, it was jammed in his back. The guard held it there until he was satisfied. The guard continued to make an example of him for several minutes. Every moment was agony, every second unbearable. The electricity shot through the Zantian’s body like a wave of torment passing through his fleshy prison. The poor Zantian was now collapsed on the orange gravel.

  The guard then looked at the fallen man. “And now, you will learn the hard way. Your actions have caused this poor, young soul the torment that she will receive today!”

  A little girl was dragged out in front of the crowd, by the hair.

  Trydon was in shock at what they planned to do to such a young girl.

  ‘Do they truly have no morals, no respect or decency?’ he wondered.

  Two guards held her arms to keep her in place. Another removed her upper garments, tearing them off and revealing her bare chest. Trydon almost couldn’t watch, but at the same time couldn’t look away. As she looked behind her, just barely managing to see through the blur caused by her tears, she noticed another guard behind her as well.

  “And now, justice will be served!” he shouted as he raised his whip. After he drew his arm back, he lashed it forward with all the force he could muster. The girl screamed as loud as she possibly could, the high pitch clearly bothering one of the guards holding her arm. She was repeatedly whipped and then shocked, just like the Zantian before her. Meanwhile, Trydon and the rest of the crowd were overly horrified by the events taking place. Her screams were agonising to all.

  Just telling you, this part of the story makes me cringe.

  She was suddenly thrown down into the dust and gravel and simply left there. The Zantian was unbound and left to his sorrows. Trydon ran to the girl’s aid and was quick to help her up. He gave her some of his own rags, covering her and comforting the poor girl. When the Zantian finally removed the gag, he came right over.

  The Zantian took one look at her. “She’s in shock. We need to get her into the shade.”

  And so, the Zantian led the way as Trydon carried her. Once she was laid down, Trydon went to fetch some water while the Zantian prayed for her.

  “Calhalla? What’s Calhalla?” Trydon wondered.

  “A Zantian god,” he replied. The religious alien poured water onto the girl’s forehead to keep her cool. “Her heart rate is coming back down,” he declared. “Thanks for the help.”

  “Anytime. Name’s Trydon,” he introduced himself.

  “Mantis,” the Zantian replied.

  “Why were they doing that to you two?” Trydon wondered.

  “It’s not important, there are more pressing matters at hand,” Mantis insisted.

  “And why were they doing something like that to such a young girl?” The newcomer continued to question.

  “You mustn’t have been here very long. You do anything that the Avayans don't like, and they’ll punish you for it. If you’re walking too slow, hell, if your sneeze annoys them...”

  “Lovely place,” Trydon remarked.

  My thoughts exactly.

  “You best get used to it,” Mantis told him.

  “So, how do we get out of here?” Trydon asked.

  Mantis laughed at the question, “You don’t get out. There is no leaving this place.”

  “Well, there must be something we can do,” Trydon insisted.

  “That hope you have, it will die out soon,” Mantis said as he tended to Laurelle. “The life you knew before is forever gone. The quicker you get used to life in here, the better.”

  Trydon gulped, believing his fate was sealed. He was now behind an impenetrable door that will remain forever closed, being just another product of development, like the rest of the condemned that call this place home.

  Trydon’s second miserable day of his new life had begun. Having woken up in his over-cramped sleeping quarters, he was quickly put to work. He pushed himself harder than he knew he could. He shovelled Neo-Plasma as liquid, it’s purest form. He worked in the refinery like his ill-fated brethren, like a tool for cheap labour. They were treated worse than cattle. They existed for a single purpose. The refinery was dirtier and even more disgusting than the rest of the compound. It was gloomy and red, as the boilers were constantly running. It was smoky and dark, as no windows were present. A sheet of black residue covered most of the interior. As a result, many slaves had developed breathing problems later in life.

  The young Tarian felt his warm sweat as it dripped down his forehead. One drop travelled down his face which bothered him slightly, but he had bigger things to worry about. His rags had become moist; he felt trapped in a damp cage that made the experience a far greater struggle. The refinery was humid beyond a tolerable level.

  Trydon looked up at the catwalks above, from where his new masters kept a watchful eye on their product, slaves, and Plasma alike. He felt his legs shake like they were about to give way to his exhaustion. He shovelled one last load of plasma, and it glowed blue on the end of his shovel. Then, he took a short break and was quick to arrive at one of the taps provided. Trydon was eager to feel the cool and refreshing blessing that water brought, having never appreciated water so much before in his whole life. He turned it on and held his hands under it to catch the water, he was so ready for the cool chill to run down his throat. He was down on his knees to reach the tap. As he caught it and took his
first sip, he felt his expectations sink beneath his feet. The blood-warm temperature and bitter taste of the water gave him a nasty surprise, and he cringed in disgust. The water provided was not even clean, the dirt and particles were clearly visible in the puddle enlarging beneath him.

  “What the hell is this crap?” He thought out loud.

  “You!” A guard above shouted, “That’s long enough. Back to work,” he yelled over the noise pollution within the refinery.

  “I can’t go on without proper refreshment. I wouldn’t make it the rest of the day,” Trydon shouted back.

  “Lunch will be provided at the specified time. Now, back to work,” the guard said once more.

  “How else am I supposed to keep working at an efficient capacity?” Trydon insisted.

  “Don’t you dare talk back to me, you cat scum! Now, continue your duties before you regret it,” he warned.

  The rash feline simply stood there, as if waiting for an answer better than the one he got. As the Avayan raised his rifle, Trydon panicked and attempted to flee. The guard’s spray of blue bolts caught him from behind. His tail was severely damaged, dangerously close to where it met his lower back. He screamed in agony as the rush of pain shot up his spine, consuming him. His senses became overwhelmed as he fell to the ground. The guard fired warning shots beside the suffering Tarian. Trydon quickly got up and forced himself back over to his post, pushing himself harder than he thought possible. He fought with all his strength, trying to break through the stone wall that was the pain barrier. He cringed, he cried, he fought every urge to stop, every temptation to give up. He battled the voice in his head that told him it was worthless. He felt his warm blood as it dripped down his tail and ran down his legs. Not being able to move his tail for several minutes now, and it wasn’t getting any easier.

  It had been not even a period of two days, but already his spirit began to break. His willpower was drained from his body faster than the blood from his open wound. Trydon’s hope was a flame that had already began to slowly burn out and had faded into the darkness like the hope of so many before him.