Carnage by Aer-ki Jyr (most inspirational books of all time .TXT) 📗

or another round on the defense wall.

She couldn’t be out there all the time, for she was the Clan leader and it was her responsibility to put the Clan in a position to one day rid the galaxy of these monsters.

And to do that she needed more than a rifle and a good firing line.

She needed an army, and hers was growing by the year in size, experience, and technology…but it wasn’t ready yet, and Esna had to get it there before the High Guard had their fleet maxed.

When that happened, Star Force would push back. Until then, she’d play the carnage game and do it better than the Hadarak since they wouldn’t allow anything else.

For if one succumbed to the carnage, and forgot who and what they were, then the enemy won whether you died or lived, because if you lived you would become the enemy. Esna would never do that. Never could do that. Her path had made her immune to it, but she still had to deal with the stress.

Carnage was the jungle she had been born into, and while she would not become the jungle, she knew well how to exist within it. And how to do so honorably.

Once Clan Kai’sa grew large enough, the Hadarak weren’t going to stand a chance.

It was just a matter of time and a lot of hard work to get to that point.

But it was coming. And every day and every battle that passed brought her a little closer to it.

4

October 18, 154929

Ha’ven Nu’meori System (Home Two Kingdom)

Ha’shavi

Paul and Cal-com had been walking and observing for several hours with the Archon’s head feeling like it was deflating. Somehow he’d accumulated a lot of stress and had locked it in to the point he didn’t even realize it was there, but now that he was deliberately shutting off his extra senses and confining his natural ones to a sliver of vision in front of him, muffled hearing through his robe, a fully intact sense of smell that was not necessarily a good thing in some of these dirty streets, and the feel of the rough road beneath his shoes, the lockdown was cracking open and the stress was bleeding off…and a remarkable amount of it.

“Trouble,” Cal-com whispered, telepathically pointing ahead about 60 meters on the somewhat busy street full of pedestrians and no vehicles.

The crack in Paul’s mind resealed in an instant as he opened up his senses to see a scuffle happening between two of the Tri’meori as the other passersby stepped back to give them space as they beat on one another viciously, with some people tripping over each other to get out of the way as those nearest got caught up in the flailing limbs, turning over carts and spilling produce out all over the street.

Suddenly everything grew quiet…and still. Hundreds of people stopped moving, stopped talking, and froze like statues, including the two scuffling who backed off from one another only to stare at each other as they too froze.

“Is that you?” Cal-com asked.

“Yes.”

“How many are you capable of controlling?”

“More than this. Their minds are weak,” he said as the people started moving again in twos and threes until everyone was cautiously blinking away their confusion and going about their business again, with the two fighters no longer remembering that they were fighting after a little mental washing as both were given a priority task in opposite directions that they headed off on, forgetting about each other until they were out of sight. If they wanted to go at it again it would be after Paul and Cal-com got through the area.

“I knew you were powerful, but I’ve never seen that trick before. What exactly did you do?”

“Asserting control over their minds without taking direct control of motor functions. I let them handle that, but put very firm restrictions on what they can and can’t do. That way they stay standing without me having to do it for them,” Paul said as they walked past one of the fighters as he went up the street they were walking down.

“Essence use?”

“Didn’t need to.”

“That’s why I didn’t detect it.”

“Is it that surprising?”

Cal-com glanced at his friend’s hooded head. “You may be underestimating how strong you’ve gotten. I don’t know of any Vargemma or Varkemma who could do the same without Essence, and even with Essence I doubt I could replicate that feat with so many people. How do you practice Ikrid skills onboard your ship?”

“I don’t. At least not mind hacking. Mental interface with remote computer systems is somewhat similar, but not completely the same. I’m rusty because of that.”

“I’ll take your rust any day,” Cal-com said as a large number of the Tri’meori police force arrived and quickly grabbed the fighter still ahead of them…but ignored the one going the other way entirely.

The Voku frowned, reaching out to search their minds as well as the one going the other way.

“Paul.”

“I see them. We can slip through.”

“We need to intervene. It was a setup.”

“How so?” Paul asked, reaching out to search the minds involved as the Tri’meori who was being arrested started fighting back as if his life depended on it…for it did.

“This one was attacked on orders, now they’re arresting him for the scuffle. Once they get him out of view of the public, they’re going to kill him. Some sort of political assassination.”

“Not today,” Paul murmured as he quickly got caught up with his own mental scans and soon the entire street went still again, with him and Cal-com walking up to the police officers and the Tri’meori they were soon to kill.

“I’ll take him,” Cal-com offered, with his Ikrid being handed off control by Paul’s with only a split second of lag during which the