Ruminations of a Wayfarer: Parts I and II

For most species in the cosmos, the year 2355 came and went uneventfully. Certainly the Telreikans were given a year to remember with their sun going supernova. Then there was the mysterious collapse of an S star, a red giant, in the Equabus system that attracted zealous attention from cosmologists. The Adders obtaining the universal blazer cup was also a significant event. By and large, however, the earth calendar year itself was unremarkable for most. Unfortunately for the Callonites, 2355 was a year they would prefer to forget although that was, regrettably from the point of view of a Callonite, no longer possible because in order for a species to forget something at least one member of their race must survive.

On the planet Callon, the Tharnian Empire now reigns-their sovereignty already beyond doubt. The previous inhabitants were no longer required. The Empire’s policy in relation to its acquired worlds is straightforward enough. 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 the unprecedented Sojan, the greatest Tharnian Supreme Commander to have graced the Empire.

When the Empire arrives, usually effective opposition is minimal. Callon hadn’t proved to be an exception. Conceivably, surrender had seemed like a good idea at the commencement of the invasion but as the populace was of no value to the Empire, it only expedited the exterminations. Had the Callonites chosen non-cooperation and subversion against the inevitable it is doubtful the culmination of their subsistence would have been divergent.

From here, things should have gone as planned. However, after the invasion, the humans arrived and dissonance began. A mere non-indigenous group of insects that would not stand against the Tharnian Empire for more than an ephemeral moment but a niggling pestilence nonetheless.

"Right! You, move it," yelled Ky, his razer pistol levelled. The operation to capture Maron Winters was unfolding favourably but time was of the essence. If they didn’t get away from here soon the place would be crawling with Tharnians.

Winters stared blankly at him. "I’m not moving. Kill me if you want, but I’m not going anywhere!" He wondered how prudent his last sentence was. He had betrayed the people before him and they wouldn’t need much of an excuse to dispense with him now. He gazed at the faces before him. Ky, late twenties, supposedly a tactician though no one could remember him doing anything momentous. Ever.

‘Give a punk a gun and get an attitude for free,’ he supposed.

Forbes, the ‘past his use-by date’ General who expected this mission to be trouble-free but found the soft, cute, fluffy rabbits found in space were hard, ugly, and equipped with claws and fangs. Eclipse, the young Security Officer who was literally larger than life. The giant had a temper to match his frame and would probably savour introducing him to the apex of pain. He looked around but couldn’t see Ganna, Harris, or Jarre. Perhaps they were already dead. Ganna had once been his friend; how pretty she was: Harris he never wanted to know; how bland he was: Jarre should have been drowned at birth; how unpleasant he had always been.

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