Five Moons of Pluto Page 2

  Orin doesn’t even search to see where the voice is coming from. He slides by the side of the door and crouches low on the floor. A barrage of bullets tears through the grunts and the walls. Then the bullets stop, and a pile of grunts lay on the floor.

  Orin stands up to see a Tyrant ship floating outside the window. Inside the cockpit is a beautiful woman with long blond hair, green eyes, smooth skin. Vina. The cockpit shields open.

  “We haven’t got all day,” she says.

  Orin grabs his gun and jumps inside the Tyrant. The cockpit shield closes behind him. Vina grabs hold of the controls and pulls the trigger, unleashing two mini missiles that destroy the terminal and half of the room. Then the Tyrant flies off to its next destination.

  ****

  The Tyrant flies low over 5th avenue in Manhattan. Orin looks out the window, then up toward the sky; there are too many ships in the sky to count. Military ships fly toward the oncoming armada, but are easily shot down by Tyrant ships or by the guns of the huge battleship. The Tyrant shakes from the wave of an explosion.

  “Where are we going?” Orin asks.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Orin smirks. “I didn’t ask you for your help.”

  Vina jerks the throttle left to go down east 79th street. People are screaming and running down the streets below them.

  “You Phantoms think you're so tough,” she explains. “You were one of the best—they even called you our savior—but you made a mistake.” Orin looks at her, waiting to hear her full explanation. “You fell in love with a Repla.”

  The Tyrant lands on top of what was once the American Museum of Natural History but is now called the Repla Revolutionary War Museum. Two other Tyrant ships and a Javelin are already on the roof beside them. The soldiers stand ready outside.

  Vina lands smoothly, then steps out with Orin tailing behind her. The soldiers immediately surround Orin and point their guns at him, and Vina gracefully steps aside. Then Grand Commander Thal steps out.

  His uniform is clean and well pressed. The seven medals on his jacket tell stories of courage and leadership. They prove his honor and his sacrifice. He looks the part, too, with a strong, square face, and a neatly groomed mustache. Looking toward him, everyone except Orin stands at attention.

  “As you were,” Thal says. He walks up to Orin and salutes him, and then so does everyone else. “To bravery and courage!” he shouts, and everyone else’s shouts echo his. He ends his salute and says more seriously,” You did well… very well. Nothing less is expected from a Phantom.” He places his hand on Orin’s shoulder and removes his hat with the other. “My very best Phantom.”

  Orin smiles widely, but it dissipates quickly as Thal continues.

  “I’m sad to say I am disappointed in you. We spent three years on this plan and you turn up ghost on us, on your people. You knew how important this mission was. You had your orders and you disobeyed them. Tell me, where are the bodies of your comrades?”

  Orin looks at him stoically. “I incinerated them.”

  His face stern, Thal looks back at Orin and says, “You didn’t even give them a proper burial?” He closes his eyes. “Those were your brothers. And you killed them so you could be with that…woman? That Repla woman? She’s not even family!”

  “She is—“

  “She was manufactured in a laboratory in Washington! They nearly exterminated the entire human race!”

  Thal then turns to one of his soldiers and nods his head. Sahra is being escorted onto a Tyrant ship. When she spots Orin, he smiles at her. She is scared but tries hard not to show it. Her fear is there though, and Orin knows it. Thal nods again and is escorted back inside with Orin.

  “As promised,” he tells Orin, “I will spare her life.” The Tyrant ship that Sahra is on begins to take off. “But you know nothing of that word, do you? A man should be bound to his word.”

  The ship is now several hundred feet away. Thal nods to another soldier holding a circular device. Orin looks at him, his eyes filled with obvious intention, but the soldiers quickly rush toward him and hold him down.

  “No!” he screams. “You promised.”

  The soldier aims the device at the Tyrant. Down below is a Ground Hog patrol vehicle with a mounted missile launcher. The missile launches. Orin screams.

  “NO! PLEASE! YOU PROMISED.”

  Thal looks at Orin, untouched by his words. “I said i would spare them; I never said my soldiers would.”

  The missile makes contact with the Tyrant and explodes. Debris from the explosion falls from the sky like dusty snowflakes. To Orin, time slows down—an unbearable, suffocating stillness. He can’t believe what he’s seeing. Is it even real? Please…let this be a dream, he thinks.

  “Your weakness is now broken.” Thal’s words pierce Orin’s heart.

  Filled with hate, Orin manages to break free from the soldiers; they try to stop him but are hopelessly outmatched by his strength and agility. Combined with the adrenaline coursing through him, Orin takes them apart one by one. He moves with speed and strikes with accuracy. He rushes toward Thal, but Vina kicks him square in the face and Orin crashes to the ground. He gets up quickly and begins to throw his most forceful combos. Vina returns his attempts with a smile, effortlessly dodging every blow. She counters one of his oncoming punches with a fierce four-hit combo of her own, knocking him down again. Orin wipes the blood from his mouth, while Vina takes out a piece of cloth and dabs the blood from her shirt.

  “This is Armani!” she yells at him, then she rushes toward him. Orin braces himself for what’s to come as Vina pummels violently into him. She stops short of killing him, her breath heavy, and stares at him as he lies in a pool of blood on the ground. He is at peace.

  “That’s enough, Vina,” Thal says. “You made your point.”

  “I’m not finished, sir.”

  Thal shakes his head. “If you attack him again, you will lose.”

  Vina turns to face Thal in disbelief. “I’m the one standing, sir.”

  “Look at him!”

  Vina turns back to Orin. “And just what am I looking at, sir?”

  Then Thal walks toward to her. ”There’s a reason why Orin is the best Phantom. He got to you; he wants you to think you can win. You can’t. You wasted all of your energy trying to put him down while he stored his up and absorbed your blows. Phantoms are good at concealing pain and making their opponents believe they can win.”

  Vina’s mouth twists in anger. “Bullshit!” she screams as she stands to her feet and faces Thal.

  Orin takes advantage of the open shot; he sweeps her foot out from under her, knocking her to the ground. Then he smashes his elbow against her throat, and a spray of blood flies from her mouth. Orin stares at Vina as she slowly chokes on her own blood, and then she dies.

  He stands up, steady on his feet. Four soldiers run up to him and are about to engage, but Thal waves them all to stop.

  “What now, Orin?” Thal says. “Hmm? What now! Everyone you loved is gone. Sahra is dead…again. You couldn’t save her, and you couldn’t—“ he points up to the sky— “save her. You lost everything! But…” Thal takes a pistol from the nearest soldier and points it at Orin. “You got us back home. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

  He pulls the trigger, sending three bullets straight into Orin’s chest, and Orin collapses. He struggles to get up, but manages, then he walks toward the edge of the roof. Thal knows Orin can do nothing to harm him. He watches as Orin awkwardly kneels down and picks up of the necklace he had given to Sahra. He closes his eyes and holds it tightly to his blood-stained chest.

  “No regrets,” Orin whispers.

  Three more bullets enter and exit his body, and Orin falls to the ground for the last time. A soldier hands back Thal’s hat. Thal puts it back on and returns the pistol.

  “Give him a proper burial.”

  Without delay, two soldiers approach Orin’s body. A third soldier walks up to Thal.

  “T
he council will want a report about this,” the soldier says. “What will we say?”

  Thal looks over at Orin’s body as it’s being carried away.

  “Tell them our savior has died.”

  THE END

  RED EARTH

  Sonya awakens to a faint beeping sound. She jumps out of bed, still wrapped in her sheets, and runs to the closet. It slides open automatically as she approaches. Sonya reaches into a metal box in the closet and picks up a device the size of a tablet. She studies the map on the screen and slides her finger over it, zooming in on a blinking red dot.

  The sheets slide down, over the smooth curves of her body, revealing scars on her shoulders and back. Aside from the scars, her body is flawless. She’s in peak shape from many hours of training.

  As Sonya looks down at the screen, where the number reads 237 miles, she hears footsteps echo from somewhere in the hallways. She looks up and walks toward her door, peeking out. But she sees nothing. Down the hall, two guards stand on each side of a door. She knows they can hear the footsteps too but they won’t see who it is until the person comes around the curved corner. They spot Sonya walking by them, and they remove their hands from their holstered arms.

  Sonya looks up at the guards and brushes her bangs aside, then she salutes them. The guards salute back.

  “Good evening, Sergeant Gardner,” says one of the guards. “How can we help you?”

  Sonya stands up straight. “I need to speak with Commander Willis.”

  The guards exchange a glance, then they look back to Sonya. “Commander Willis is resting and—”

  “Then wake him up,” she tells him.

  The other guard speaks. “We have orders to not let anyone disturb the Commander while he’s resting.”

  Sonya lets out an irritated breath and she begins to crack her knuckles. The guards’ hands go back to their holsters. Then suddenly an alarm goes off, and the two guards rush down the hall. One of them looks back at Sonya as he runs to the alarm. Sonya shrugs, then turns to the keypad on the door. She pushes down on a few numbers and the door opens. When she enters, it closes gently behind her.

  Commander Willis enters the living quarters wearing sweatpants and a tight t-shirt. He’s old, balding, and very tired. He spots Sonya looking at a picture, and he shakes his head.

  “What are you doing here, Sergeant?”

  She holds the picture in her hands and faces Willis. “He’s alive,” she says. Then she tosses him the device.

  Willis looks carefully at the map on the tracker. “What makes you think he’s alive? It’s

  been years since his disappearance.”

  Suddenly, the sound of the alarm stops. The two guards rush into the room, sweating and breathing heavily.

  One of the guards points to Willis. “You set that fire!” he says.

  Willis closes his eyes and rubs his forehead. Sonya stands still, waiting for his response to her discovery. Willis waves his hands to the guards. They salute him quickly and then they leave.

  Willis walks over to Sonya and takes the picture from her hands. He looks at the photo, a much younger version of himself wearing a soldier’s uniform as he poses with another soldier and the soldier’s two young children, a boy and a girl. He walks over to the side table and sets the picture on it, then he places his hands on the table and leans forward with his back to Sonya.

  “I promised your father that I’d look after you both,” he says. He turns to face Sonya, but his eyes are downcast. “Don’t make me break another promise to him.”

  Sonya steps forward. “If there is a slight chance that Isaac is alive, we have to take it.”

  “Reports came back that the entire team was wasted by Vultures.”

  “But his body was never found.”

  Willis looks up at Sonya for a moment, then he walks over to the wet bar. “So let’s say he did escape the slaughter. What makes you think he survived out in the Devil’s Earth?” He places a few ice cubes into a glass and pours himself some whiskey. “No water…no food…” The whiskey goes down smoothly. “No chance of survival.”

  The Devil’s Earth is what some call the Red Earth. Not many can survive out there and Sonya knows her brother has a slim chance to none of making it out alive. If the Vultures don’t kill him, the Devil’s Earth will.

  Sonya walks over to Willis, and he pours her a drink. She takes the bottle instead and sits down in a comfortable couch on the other side of the room. She takes a few sips before setting the bottle down in front of her.

  “I have to know if he’s alive,” she tells him.

  Willis chuckles. “You're so much like your father it’s scary.”

  She smiles slightly. “Then you know that he taught me everything he knows about the Devil’s Earth.”

  “Yes, Andrew taught you well. It’s a shame your brother didn’t follow his footsteps.”

  Sonya glances at the picture of her father and brother. It’s been so long since she’s seen a picture of her father, she barely recognizes him. His death had created a chasm between her and her brother, but Sonya still loves and respects her younger brother even though he chose a life as a biologist, which means going out into the Red Earth. He is a genius, too smart for his

  own good, but that isn’t going to be enough to survive out there. However, hope has been restored with a red blinking dot.

  “You know I’m going out there with or without your permission, right?”

  Willis closes his eyes and rubs his forehead again. “I’ve received orders from The Gauntlet. We’re shipping out in a week.”

  “For how long?”

  Willis takes another long swig of whiskey before his eyes land on Sonya again. “We’re not coming back to earth.” He walks over to the couch and sits down next to Sonya. “We’re leaving in one week.”

  “I have to know, Willis. If he’s—”

  “I know. The least I can do is give you a Rodent and a few arms.”

  A tear falls down her face but she quickly wipes it away.

  “Thank you, Uncle Willis.”

  Willis puts his hand on her leg. Sonya jumps a little and moves over slightly.

  “You have five days before we leave. Find your brother and come back.”

  He sounds more like a father than an uncle sometimes. Keeps secrets like one too. Willis never even told Sonya or her brother, Isaac, how their father died.

  The only thing they needed to know was that the Earth was dying.

  ****

  The elevator slowly rides down, giving Sonya a view of the armory. Long rows of various types of land and air vehicles take up most of the space of the armory. Trucks drive up and down the rows either dropping off or picking up equipment. Just above her, huge mechanical hands carry a tray of three Ravens.

  The elevator reaches the bottom. Sonya steps out and pulls out a digital map of the armory. A jeep pulls up in front of her. A young man slips as he steps out of the jeep and falls onto the floor. Sonya watches as he gets up, dusts himself off, and stands at attention.

  “Private Jenkins reporting for duty, sir,” he says.

  Sonya bites her lower lip.

  “I mean, ma’am. Reporting for duty, ma’am.”

  “C’mon, lets go,” she tells him.

  Jenkins reaches for Sonya’s duffle bag but she gives him a stare and he backs off. Then she throws her bag in the back of jeep and enters. Jenkins enters seconds later and they drive off.

  They drive down the maintenance and repair aisle. It should be packed around this time but it’s nearly empty. Usually Sonya would walk around covering her nose from the stench of gasoline fumes. Each garage they drive past is empty or contains a useless vehicle, which serves no point in repairing.

  Trucks drive past loaded with boxes or soldiers. Sonya catches the face of one of the soldiers as the truck passes. He’s not happy. Going to live in some twisted metal with flashing lights in space is no one’s idea of home. The Gauntlet took years to build and billions of taxpayers’
money to develop. It’s not the most luxurious place, but it’s home...for now.

  Jenkins makes a sharp right, almost hitting a worker. He apologizes as he drives past. Sonya can hear the worker cursing at them but the engine noise drives the sound out.

  Soon, they pull over at a locked garage and step out of the jeep. A couple of Raven pilots standing outside the pilots’ lounge look at them, then continue with their conversation.

  Sonya grabs her duffle bag.

  “Why are we at the Ravens hanger?” Sonya says, staring at the locked garage.

  Jenkins scratches his head. “I’m not sure, Sergeant. I’m just following orders. M.A. Sergeant Barnes will be here soon.”

  Sonya looks around. She’s never been to the Raven Pilots depot.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with, Sergeant?”

  “No. I’ll be fine.” Sonya walks towards the Ravens Lounge. “If you see Barnes tell him I’ll be here.”

  “Umm, I don’t think—”

  “Just tell him, soldier!”

  He nods slightly. “Yes ma’am.” Then he drives off.

  Sonya knows that Jenkins was trying to warn her. No one but Raven pilots go into the Ravens Lounge. The last guy who went into the lounge couldn’t tell anyone the details of what happened. A broken jaw and two broken ribs can do that to a person.

  Sonya walks up the steps. Three Raven pilots awkwardly look at her. One of them steps in her way...big mistake.

  “Can I help you?” he says.

  “Getting outta my way will help greatly,” she answers curtly.

  The pilots chuckle at her attempt to be brave.

  “Get the FUCK outta my way!”

  Then one of the pilots reaches to touch her…another mistake. With his hand in hers, Sonya breaks it. He screams and it irritates Sonya so she quickly smashes his head on the stair railing, knocking him out. The other two pilots put their hands up and back away.

  Barnes and a few other pilots step out of the lounge. They look at the unconscious pilot then at the other two who both point at Sonya.