The year is 2355. On the planet Callon, the Tharnian Empire now reigns supreme. The original inhabitants no longer exist. The Tharnian Empire has a policy in relation to its acquired worlds. If an inhabited planet is invaded and deemed unsuitable, it is destroyed. Should the planet be found suitable, the populace is to be either eliminated or enslaved. All action taken is in strict accordance to the order of Sojan. As the Tharnian Empire considers themselves one of the most advanced species in the universe, effective opposition is usually minimal.

Callon's populace proved to be of little value and offered virtually no resistance. From here, things should have gone smoothly. However, after the invasion, the trouble began.

“Move it,” yelled Ky, his razer pistol levelled.

Maron stared blankly at him. “I'm not moving. Kill me if you want, but I'm not going anywhere!”

With a nod from Forbes, Eclipse moved over to Maron, raised his hand, and struck the cowering figure down with a swift backhand. He then proceeded to haul Maron's body over his shoulder. The group then started back out into the harsh wind.

Outside lay several Tharnian bodies, victims of the short battle that had occurred.

The winds roared as Ky looked back. Jarre was still inside the Merzer. He turned back and went inside the craft. He found Jarre, who was busy scanning the console's array of flickering lights. “Jarre, we've got to move. We've got Winters.”

Jarre didn't seem to acknowledge Ky's presence. Ky grabbed his shoulder. “C'mon, we've gotta move.”

“You go. I'm going to try to follow you in the Merzer.”

“What!” exclaimed Ky. “You'll never manage to fly it!”

“Then I'll die trying. For this technology, it's worth the risk. Move out, Ky.”

“But I-”

“Move it!”

Ky bit his lip in thought for a second or two before running out into the wind.

“Hey, what's going on back there?” shouted Forbes, struggling to be heard above the wind.

“Jarre's going to try and pilot the Merzer. I couldn't stop him so I don’t suggest you try,” answered Ky as he proceeded into the Tornado.

Forbes hesitated for a second. There was no point in going back for Jarre, of that he was certain. General Jason Forbes was originally in charge of the party, and officially, that remained. However, Jarre came up with the solutions. It was he, and he alone, who had conceived the strategies that had kept them alive. The thought of losing him was frightening but there was little or no point in giving Jarre an order that would never be obeyed. Forbes took a last look at the Merzer before hurrying into the Tornado.

Ganna moved her hands smoothly over the multitude of switches that projected from the control panel. “No sign of Jarre yet,” she said, somewhat concerned as Ky moved by her side to look at the scandar. They both stepped down as Harris, their only technician, began his watch.

“What did he think he was doing?” said a dumbfounded Ky, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

“Rhetorical questions we don’t need. Jarre we do,” said Ganna icily.

“Activity to the west. Looks like a Tharnian patrol,” said Harris.

“Let’s move it!” yelled Eclipse in a thunderous voice that matched his powerful frame.

“What about Jarre?” said a concerned Ky.

“If Jarre thought he could fly that ship then somehow he will. Either that or he’s toast. Let’s move!” yelled Eclipse.

Ganna shot a worried look at Forbes who nodded his confirmation.

Zor sat alone in the security of City 7's command centre. His mind cycled through the events of the past three months. Callon had been an ideal target. There were no problems and little resistance, as expected. Then they came. A group of creatures that had no right to be here. It seemed they were on a mission to explore unknown galaxies, and their expedition had brought them to Callon. While primitive, these creatures had developed space travel. Their craft had been seized for study upon its capture. Most of the intruders were captured and offered a choice. Co-operate or die. The number that had opted for death was disturbing and unexpected. Even more disturbing were the group that had managed to escape in the mother craft's exploration vessel. Although small, it was very quick and surprisingly well armed. It posed no threat to a mighty Empire, and its capture was imminent, but it seemed to be forever making well planned strikes on Tharnian targets. Eight months had passed and the vessel was intact and its crew alive. Their latest attack saw them capture one of their own kind, a scientist who was one of the few that had agreed to obey the Tharnians. He would almost certainly be killed for defecting.

As much as he wanted their demise, Zor was enjoying this little game. These creatures were cunning. Rarely had he encountered such resistance from an enemy so insignificant. These creatures also pointed to another advanced civilisation, although clearly not as advanced as his own. Even so, the possibility of another short and bloody war excited Zor.

The current hideout was located within a cave set in the foothills of an area called Key South. It had been Jarre's idea to make their hideout here, and so far, they had not had a Tharnian patrol pass within a twenty-mile radius. The small cave floor had various pieces of salvaged equipment set up in a hazardous fashion. Seated behind one such piece of equipment, a scandar unit, Ganna stared at the screen in silence. Ky crouched beside her. “Anything?” he whispered.

“Nothing,” responded Ganna coldly, her eyes not leaving the scandar's display. She didn’t want to lose Jarre. Not only for the sake of the others but also for herself. Jarre was someone to her. She knew that underneath his at times glacial exterior was a man of warmth and compassion. There was something between them and she suspected that Jarre felt it too.

Seated at a table nearby, Maron watched as Forbes continued to pace back and forth.

“Maron Winters, man of science. Dedicated, in fact, to his own fellow man.”

“Save your cynicism, Forbes. I don't owe you any explanations,” said Maron dryly, attempting to mask his fear.

“You’ve betrayed us, Winters. Selling us out to those monsters!” yelled Forbes. “How could you turn your back on us? Tell me!”

“It was all right for you, General. You escaped. They captured me. You didn't see what they did to Truth and the others. If I didn't co-operate, I'd be dead.”

“Oh when we’re through with you, you’ll wish you were,” threatened Ky.

“Ganna, we were friends,” said Maron weakly, desperate for an ally.

“You’re right. We were,” spat Ganna, turning away from the prisoner’s stare.

“The Tharnians are your only friends now,” said Ky. “And they’re not here to protect you.”

“Surely you could use another scientist? I’m more valuable to you alive than dead?”

“I won’t be happy until I see your head on that wall,” said Ky, pointing to a wall in an attempt to add a dramatic touch to his threat.

“This is my interrogation, Ky. If you don’t mind,” snapped Forbes.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to cast a shadow over your one moment of glory,” returned Ky.

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” demanded Forbes in anger.

“It means that with Jarre not being here right now, the jack has come out of the box. Think I liked you better when you were in the box.”

“Listen up, Ky, and listen good. I outrank you all, and Jarre has always played second fiddle to me.”

“Not in the orchestra I’m hearing,” challenged Ky, praying that Jarre would return to rescue them from the leadership of this buffoon.

“Don’t push me, Ky,” threatened Forbes, his temper rising.

“Forbes and Winters,” muttered Ky under his breath. “Control Central’s teams are just like a deck of cards. You get 2 jokers in every pack.”

Ganna snickered.

“I heard that!” snarled Forbes.

“The ears of an elephant and the brain of a flea,” mused Ky, almost causing a smile to appear on the face of Winters.

“That’s it!” snapped Forbes, stepping towards Ky who stood his ground. “I’ve had it with you.”

“A ship, looks like a Merzer, is heading our way,” interrupted Ganna, barely able to contain her excitement.

“Must be your lucky day,” said Ky, now face to face with Forbes. He walked across to Winters. “I can’t say the same for you, though. When Jarre gets back and finds you’re still alive… you’ll wish you weren’t.”

Morock approached Zor in a state of apparent shock. His Commander would not be pleased. “Commander. Merzer 411 has been stolen.”

“What?” snarled Zor in astonishment.

“Merzer 411 has been captured by the humans, Commander,” reported Morock again, his voice a little unsteady.

“That is impossible. They would be unable to apprehend or pilot it!”

“Merzer 411 is under their control, Commander. It has been confirmed,” reported Morock again.

This was not part of the plan. Zor had given the creatures their fellow crewmember, and although they didn't know it, Maron Winters was a walking beacon. As anticipated, the creatures had attacked the Merzer's crew and taken their hostage. The hostage was still with them; thus they could be located and destroyed. Again, he had underestimated their canniness. The risk was minimal but the game must end. The remaining creatures must be destroyed.

“We have the location of their sanctuary. Destroy it at once!”

Morock nodded and turned to leave.

“Wait. Send four of our best pilots to find the Merzer under their control. Have it destroyed. Lynn is to lead the squadron.”

As Morock turned to leave once more, Zor raised his clawed hand.

“Morock, you were in charge of this operation. How is it possible they captured our vessel?”

“I do not know, Commander. Every precaution was taken.”

Zor sat deep in thought for a moment. This was inconceivable. He waved his hand to dismiss Morock, who nodded again and left. Zor stretched, a small smile forming on a face any human would find brutish and unpleasant. He leant back in his chair, the smile still brewing. He couldn't help himself; this was a tremendous little game. A pity its end was drawing near.

Jarre pushed his way past the hugs and greetings and made his way to Maron. “What did you tell them?”

Maron stretched in a similar fashion to that of a contented feline. “Well well, if it isn't Jarre. I might have known you’d still be alive. You are goi-”

He stopped in mid-sentence as Jarre pulled out a razer pistol and levelled it at his forehead.

“As you insist. The co-ordinates of Earth, our technological state...whatever they wanted to know,” managed Maron nervously. He knew he had to try to escape. It was only a matter of time before someone decided to kill him.

Jarre’s anger attempted to entice him into squeezing the trigger, but he refused to yield to it. That would make him even worse than this traitor.

Suddenly, Maron leapt at Jarre, both hands going for the pistol. The two struggled before the weapon was fired. Everyone looked on in horror as Winters fell to the ground. In unison they watched the body fall then looked up at a dazed Jarre, pistol in hand.

“You’ve killed him,” said Forbes in shock.

Ganna bent down to check for a pulse as Jarre snapped back to face reality. “Everyone into the Merzer. We're leaving.”

“What?” said Forbes, still a little bewildered at having seen his prisoner die.

“They know where to find Earth. If we don't warn them, we won't have an Earth to return too. Let’s move!”

Forbes stood his ground, but it was of little use. One after the other, Harris, Ky, and Eclipse rushed from the cave. Ganna put her hand on Jarre’s arm, her eyes informing him that it wasn’t his fault, and followed the others.

His pride hurt, Forbes felt like being foolish and insisting on staying here with the Tornado. His sense of self-preservation forced him to swallow the bitter taste of humiliation. He walked out. Jarre followed. Maron Winters did not.

Galway, the Tharnian combat technician, grinned as he looked up at Morock. “Phase matter targeted, Sir.”

“Fire,” said Morock, looking down at the ground, his face a portrait of defeat.

A large red button stopped flashing as a larger claw pressed it. Galway had received twelve certifiables at the academy. When it came to Phase Matter, he was one of the best.

There was no tremendous explosion, nor were there any kinds of fireworks. Yet in a few seconds, a large part of Key South would simply cease to exist.

“Is she difficult to fly?” asked Ky with a victorious grin.

“So far, so good. I used to train on an obscure simulator that was surprisingly similar. I haven't figured out the weapon systems yet, though,” said Jarre, seated in the Captain’s chair.

“How are you doing over there, Ganna?” shouted Ky as Harris walked by, mumbling he'd never seen anything like it.

“I’m getting there. Read-outs seem pretty straight forward.”

“Can this thing get us back to Earth,” quizzed Forbes, his voice demanding the authority he craved.

“It had better,” threatened Jarre.

“Command, we have the enemy Merzer in range. Awaiting your orders.”

Zor entered and gave the order that Morock could no longer delay.

“Fire at will.”

Nothing more needed to be said. Tharnians began to resume their duties. Four elite pilots, flying in more advanced Merzers than that of their target, would not be evaded by the creatures that could barely pilot their stolen craft.

Zor sighed. They had struggled well but the ripple was out of the now still waters.

“We're out of Callon's atmosphere.”

Jarre's statement brought relief to all except Ganna. “Jarre, I'm not entirely sure but I think we've got company. It looks like the Tharnians are in pursuit. At a guess, I’d say they’re Merzers.”

“How many?”

“Four, I think. You'd better figure out how to power up our weapons.”

Lynn snarled in satisfaction at his computers readout. The enemy was in range and he had orders to destroy it.

“I have acquired the target,” informed one of Lynn’s wingmen.

“Squadron is to remain on target. Fire at my command,” ordered Lynn, keeping his Merzer steady. His squadron remained in the Eind formation as they closed in for the kill.

Jarre ripped open a side panel in desperation. So far, every unmarked switch had been pressed or flicked. Everything from the climate control to the self-destruct sequence had been put into action (and in the last instance, quickly aborted). The panel revealed three switches, all of which looked important but had no markings to indicate their function. The first one was activated.

Lynn watched as the escape capsule was ejected from the enemy Merzer. The humans were more foolish than he had thought. “I will deal with the escape capsule. Remain on target and destroy the Merzer at will.”

At once, the other three ships fired a volley of trifire at their target.

Jarre hit the second switch. A message appeared on screen.

EXHAUST PORT EJECTED

It was not hopeful. At that moment the ship rocked violently.

Lynn watched the trifire strike the Merzer as he moved his ship out of formation. He stared in disbelief as the rear of the enemy craft grew from a distant light to a raging inferno. They had ejected their exhaust section! He pushed his Merzer's control stick down harder as his ship was struck. The other three didn't have a chance and vanished as the intense heat consumed them.

Lynn heard his engines stop and quickly checked the damage report.

LEFT WING DISABLED

ENGINE ONE DESTROYED

ENGINE TWO DESTROYED

PHASE MATTER CANNON DESTROYED

TRI FIRE CANNON ONE DESTROYED

TRI FIRE CANNON TWO DAMAGED 87 %

REPAIR UNIT NOT OPERATIONAL

LIFE SUPPORT SYSTEM DAMAGED 17 %

POWER BEACON FOUR RUPTURED

HULL DAMAGED 45 %

COM UNIT DESTROYED

Lynn bellowed in anger as his prey vanished. Not at all grateful for his life, he operated his distress beacon. Commander Zor would not be pleased.

“I don't believe it. You've destroyed them! Jarre, we're free!” screamed Ganna, running over to hug him. Jarre returned her embrace while studying the display in front of him. “Without our exhaust system we seem to have lost some power, and I doubt we'll be able to enter any planet's atmosphere, but I think we can make it back to Earth.”

“Does the ship's computer accept co-ordinate input?” asked Harris sceptically.

“Yes,” said Jarre. “Yes, I believe it does.”

There was a brief silence as the six occupants looked at one another.

“How long till we get there?” asked Eclipse, flashing a newly formed grin.

“At a guess? Within forty days,” offered Jarre.

Forbes was the first to yell with excitement.

Jarre withdrew in his own silence, seemingly unaware of the joy around him.

At Control Central, New York City, John Froyd studied the scandar in front of him with a frown. Although he had notified his Sergeant some 10 minutes ago, there was still no sign of his superior officer. He expected nothing different from a brass hat. Taking your time when there was a possible crisis was a privilege of rank that he had seen exercised all too often. He looked around with increasing impatience, finally sighting Speering who marched toward him.

“This had better be important, Froyd. Protocol and midnight wake-up calls hardly complement each other.”

“Sir, we have picked up an unidentified vessel. It has just stationed itself outside our atmosphere.”

Speering remained silent as he moved across to inspect the scandar's readout for himself.

“Sir,” yelled another technician, almost forgetting he was addressing a Sergeant. “They're attempting to make contact with us.”

“Open all channels and arm the defence sphere,” barked Speering.

The room fell silent. Whoever they were, it was their move.

The receiving monitors crackled to life. “This is General Jason Forbes, previously the Commander of the L.U. Tonga. Are you receiving me, Control Central?”

Speering felt tempted to cheer, but thanks to many years of discipline, was able to contain himself. “This is Sergeant Speering of Control Central. We are receiving you, General.”

“Sergeant, it is a delight to hear your voice again. We have much to tell you, but first, we need a ship to come and pick us up. The craft we have acquired is very advanced but due to some damage, we are unable to enter Earth's atmosphere. Care to oblige?”

“It would be a pleasure. I'll have a transcarrier rendezvous with you in 30 minutes.”

“Make it the H.D. Bogart. We’d like to return in style,” said Forbes, requesting the most distinguished transcarrier ever commissioned.

“Of course. I’ll see to it at once.”

“Excellent. I shall see you soon, then.”

“You shall, General, and welcome home!”

General Forbes was in charge once more. Jarre was no longer the man with the answers. He was a pilot and nothing more. They had made it back to Earth, a place that understood authority. Here, Jason Forbes was a name that people knew. He was a General! He was the one who had led the exploration mission for his world. The transcarrier would arrive shortly, and he would be back on his remarkable planet. Earth: the name itself so sweet. At last, things would return to normal and he would return a hero. He looked away as Jarre seemed to notice his glare of repugnance. He began planning a speech, knowing his world would remember and treasure it for years to come. He would go down in the history books.

‘With the discovery of Zenite, we knew we were not alone in the universe. We expected to find many other civilised societies in our stellar neighbours, but found only disappointment. Our mission took us beyond the universe as you know and understand it. Outside what you have seen, there waits a hostile universe, where the race for supremacy is the only one being run.’ He paused for a moment, uncertain if his world was ready to be exposed to the frightful truth.

Three months passed, ninety-two days to be exact, few of which Jarre had enjoyed.

One good thing had happened to him though, an event surpassing anything he had ever hoped for. Ganna asked him to marry her and in doing so, offered his life the completion it needed. Perhaps she was grateful to him. Perhaps the question had been asked while her judgement was still being clouded by emotion. Jarre knew he shouldn’t doubt her motives. Were it possible, he would take his beloved to an invulnerable fortress, keeping her shielded from the savagery and sadness of a fallen world. How contented they would be! When he was in the company of Ganna, he felt vulnerable and enjoyed that emotion tremendously. By the standards demanded by the world, he wasn’t a desirable man. He lacked basic social skills and wasn’t likely to acquire them. Ganna was the complete opposite, so why did she marry him? While Jarre could not fully fathom her motives, he took full advantage of her delirium when he answered her proposal with a resolute ‘YES’. They then married that very day. Ganna, who in her own words was a ‘take charge kinda gal’, had made all the arrangements in advance, obviously confident that Jarre would accept her proposal. While he loved her more than life itself, all had not gone to plan. Just three weeks after the bliss began, she moved out and took it with her. Ganna had said she would never leave him but couldn’t live around him until he promised to stop living his life for the Tharnians. She would return when he agreed, but Jarre knew that day could never come. That day would be preceded by the arrival of the destroyers. When they had finished, there would be no more days of wonder for anyone. He anticipated his wife would be his ally, and at first, she was. However, while Ganna planned trips, activities and a family, Jarre planned strategies to force Control Central into action against the imminent Tharnian threat. Ganna would have to wait, and this she could not accept. He didn’t like it. Ganna was his world and so much more, but he was certain he must press on. The Tharnians had to be stopped before they brought to the Earth what they had delivered to Callon. Jarre was brought back to his immediate reality.

“This won’t take long, provided you co-operate,” intruded the voice.

Currently in one of the interview rooms at Control Central, Cudex, the interrogator who answered only to General Forbes, was again questioning Jarre.

“Jarre, you're a hero. You’ve survived the encounter with the aliens and you’re home. So, tell me, why can't you start getting on with your life again?”

Jarre considered his answer before replying, though his answer was not the issue that needed contemplation, it was more the obtuseness of his fellow man.

Their story had been whitewashed. The press had their instructions and in turn, the people had been told that the L.U. Tonga had been caught in freak storm. Most of the crew had been killed and were it not for the heroics of General Forbes; there would have been no survivors. The story was full of holes but as the government controlled the media, they knew better than to question it. The people simply didn't know any better. The truth itself, which seemed to have become lost somewhere along the way, had been taken with much salt. Many heads had been nodded but it seemed Control Central was more interested in the Merzer spacecraft than anything else. Excluding General Forbes, every survivor had been told to stick to the story and enjoy his or her life. Everyone had been given a large bonus and seemed agreeable to go along with the plan. Everyone but Jarre, that is.

“Well?”

“The Tharnians will come and be assured if we're not ready for them, we'll be destroyed.”

“Yes, so you say, pilot Jarre. Do you really think they'll even find us?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Jarre resisted the urge to yawn. He had answered these questions before. Many times. “Winters gave them the co-ordinates.”

“And you killed him for that?”

“I didn’t kill him. There was a struggle and he lost. He attacked me and tried to take the weapon.”

“Forbes recalls the incident somewhat differently. I think Winters would have told you whatever you wanted to hear. I know I would have if I had a gun in my face.”

“Winters was telling the truth.”

“Again, Jarre, how can you be certain?”

“He had no reason to lie.”

“And the statement made by Forbes?”

“The fabrication of a born story-teller who detests me.”

“Oh, I see.”

Jarre refrained from hammering the desk in front of him. “I don't think you see at all. Unless we prepare ourselves for this attack, we'll all die. Plain and simple. Everything that you know will be decimated and cease to be.”

“We've stepped up our patrols, Jarre,” offered Cudex with a slight smile.

“We need to contact our allies. If we don't act soon, it will be too late.”

“Summer has moved on. Why can’t you do the same?”

“If only I could.”

“Jarre, why can't you just take your bonus and resume your life like the others? Are we asking too much of you?”

“You speak of life without a future,” remarked Jarre coldly.

“Do you smoke, Jarre?” asked Cudex, offering him a cigarette as he lit one for himself.

“My lungs indicated that I may still require them so I quit,” replied Jarre, not welcoming the deviation from the topic.

“Good for you! Mine told me the same thing so I had them replaced.”

“It would seem a pity to replace your lungs while leaving your brain untouched,” retorted Jarre dryly. It somehow seemed quite appropriate for Cudex to be carrying the lungs of a convicted criminal. They were probably more at home now than they had ever been.

“Pessimistic humour. It goes well with your personality. Forbes told me you’d be difficult. You’re not a very happy man, Jarre. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Yes. You have. Just now. My sombre mood is likely to be matched by everyone else on the planet shortly.”

“Do you know why you’re so disconsolate? Could it be something that stems back to some unpleasant childhood experience?” asked Cudex, putting out his cigarette.

“I don’t recall meeting you as a child,” replied Jarre cynically.

“Amusing. I want an answer, Jarre.”

“I don’t remember,” replied Jarre evenly. “Does it matter?”

“I think it does. Did you have trouble making friends as a child?”

“You’re wasting your time and mine. You may be paid for asking these nonsensical questions, but no fiscal recompense will make me sit here and attend to them.”

“I see. You would prefer to talk about the Tharnians and forget about your distressing childhood experiences?”

“The Tharnians are about to give you some very distressing adulthood experiences. One minute you’ll be eating your last meal, the next, this world could be obliterated from orbit.”

“That’s nothing more than conjecture,” argued Cudex. “We used to tell our children that the universe started with a big bang and that our planet was flat. You must understand that your theory, although you believe it to be fact, is merely a delusion.”

“Yet they will come.”

“Why, in your infinitesimal opinion, will they come? To get revenge on you? To enslave humanity?”

Jarre spat his reply. “They'll come to fight. Not for gain or some rare mineral. They'll come for the thrill of war. One that will be short lived if we don't prepare ourselves.”

“Yes, well it's a wild theory tha-”

“It is not a theory! It's an inevitability. The Tharnian Empire will-”

“Listen to me, Jarre. You may have been hot stuff back there in the middle of a crisis but let me tell you something. That crisis is over. Now, you have killed one of our best scientists and ever since your return, you have insisted on making trouble for yourself and Control Central. We can and will let your behaviour go unchecked, Jarre, but only to a point. If you keep pushing this Tharnian nonsense down our throats then we'll have you dealt with. Understand?”

Silence.

“Do you understand me?”

Jarre closed his eyes, opened them again, and responded. “I understand.”

“There’s a good boy. We do not wish to hear you speak of these things again. You have been warned.”

“As have you,” retorted Jarre as stood up and turned to leave.

“One moment.”

Jarre stopped but didn't turn to face his inquisitor.

“The vessel you piloted back. As you know, we can't get it working. It almost appears to be dead. The same way we found it, in fact.”

“Work out your own problems. I managed to fly it back, but perhaps the journey was too much for it,” suggested Jarre, his back still turned.

“I guess that makes you a very lucky man, Jarre, but then you do lead a charmed life. Be assured that if we meet again, you will not walk away from me so easily. That will be all.”

Jarre didn't reply as he left the room.

Sitting in his modestly furnished apartment, Jarre examined the glass in his hand. It was empty, the prior contents now settling. He was now certain that his place was being watched. He knew he made certain people within Control Central nervous. He felt tempted to sit back and watch their disquietude turn into fear. Enslavement or destruction would soon follow. Sadly, there would be no seats available on the sideline. Why did he always have to do everything alone? Why was he the only one who could see the harrowing future that was assuredly inevitable?

This book is available from several online bookstores. Please see StarLegend.Com for reference.