Moon 514- Blaze and the White Griffon Read online

  The first creature was relatively short and stocky like a rhinoceros – although much larger. Its face more closely resembled a gnarled and hairless grizzly bear and it boasted oversized clawed feet that threatened to collide when making sharp turns. A nearly reptilian hide covered its body and largely protected it from long range energy bolts. However, Blaze estimated that closer range attacks would be more successful by the way the beasts reacted to shots that landed near their bellies. While the creature appeared dangerous by its own right, Blaze guessed that its primary tactical purpose was to transport several men at a time so that its riders would be fresh for battle.

  Roughly the size of a large horse, the second species, unlike the first, could only reasonably carry one native at a time and resembled a hulky dog with long, exterior canines. These guys have some obsession with saber-toothed creatures, Blaze observed, all of a sudden wondering how the scientists had domesticated these creatures and how they had been able to manipulate these primitive communities into working with such dangerous beasts. There was more going on here than Blaze had expected – more organization, more sophistication, more danger. But he didn’t have time to identify what might be happening on a more global scale as he was focusing carefully on the weaknesses of each mutant species. The hind end of these doglike creatures was smaller and shorter than its front end – like a bulldog. Designed this way, they would be difficult to attack from behind but they would probably lack strong balance if attacked on their legs, he surmised – and it would be easy to dismount any rider subject to quick spinning and maneuvering by the animal. It probably couldn’t run fast either, he guessed. Energy bolt hits were predictably successful. There was nothing else to observe about this species other than it would not be wise to attack head on – something so obvious Blaze didn’t even consciously think about it.

  The third species looked like it might be winged but it was difficult to tell – even with his bino-glasses set to maximum strength. Their faces roughly resembled a beaked pterodactyl and it was this distinction that made Blaze suspicious of their possible ability to fly. Their camouflaged hides blended into everything around them so it was difficult to carefully make out their features from a long distance. If those were wings Blaze was observing, he hoped that they didn’t blend into the sky when they were airborne. He kept a close eye on this third species to determine its nature more precisely but for now, all he could tell was that they were relatively small, relatively numerous, and probably very dangerous.

  The last species was possibly the most disconcerting of all. They bore no riders for no one could feasibly ride them. Covered from tail to head to toe with bladed spikes, these feline-esque beasts tore through everything they touched and their movements occasionally bordered on randomness. He had already observed three natives essentially mutilated by these beasts because they hadn’t paid careful attention to their distance from these creatures. Brushing up against them was to become impaled in multiple places and torn to pieces if you didn’t move away quickly. Further, it appeared that the natives who fell from their interactions with these mutant beasts went into seizures shortly after falling – which suggested some sort of poison transfer. Otherwise feline in appearance, these creatures made deep shrieking sounds like the crossing of a crashing wave with the cry of a mountain lion. The only helpful thing about these creatures was their number and their color: less than two dozen in number, these beasts were a dull grey that approached pitch black.

  “Aim your fire on the dark grey beasts!” Blaze ordered his troops, deliberately casting his voice towards the men shooting the longer range weapons. Their leader, capable though he was, failed to notice the danger of allowing these beasts to come closer because he had been focusing on other details. Alerted by Blaze, his orders soon mirrored Blaze’s orders as well. But within moments, it was too late to matter much.

  The winged creatures took flight.

  Amidst the raucous yells from the natives as they disappeared into the air, Dr. Boyd’s army largely failed to hear all of Blaze’s commands. “… all ramps closed!” Blaze ordered. “All men take cover of the ship!” Those who heard survived. Those who did not were sitting ducks. Once the winged beasts were airborne, their camouflage became altogether more effective. The undersides of their bodies and the undersides of their wings had a strong iridescent quality to them (at certain angles) that produced a flash of light so that when you aimed your weapon at that flash of light, they had already moved slightly out of range. And their camouflage allowed them to seamlessly blend into the sky just as Blaze feared. They were only readily visible for effective shooting when they were less than two dozen yards away, making the time for reacting very short considering they were flying at a decent clip.

  Worried about the men who apparently didn’t hear his orders, Blaze began randomly shooting into the air above the stragglers. His staff held prodigious amounts of power when fully charged so he wasn’t overly concerned about running out of ammunition but this random disregard for conserving that power would be pushing its limits for the next wave of fighting. Languishing over the proper amount of time to wait before shooting, Blaze’s timing was relatively good – and while he took out a dozen of the creatures before they could inflict any damage at all, several more fell upon the uncovered soldiers and quickly ended their lives.

  Now that they were close, Blaze was able to assess their size and shape more carefully. Curled up around themselves fairly tightly before they took flight, these beasts appeared significantly smaller than the natives. Up close, Dr. Boyd’s soldiers were able to unmask that deception. Standing roughly six feet in height when resting, these creatures were large enough to crush the throats of their victims with talons that would make an eagle blush with envy. Given their stealthy attack and swift speeds, almost every attack was lethal and several men quickly met their end. Dr. Boyd had amassed a significant army of men operating outside of the confines of his Orders but sustaining losses at this rate would quickly prove disastrous. And by the time the soldiers figured out how to effectively defend against this mutant winged species and killed most of them, the enemy ranks were nearly upon Dr. Boyd’s men and a handful of the feline beasts were tearing them to pieces with great impunity.

  Of the five hundred or more men positioned outside the ship to protect the Order members inside, over half of them had fallen to the strategy of the enemy before the two most dangerous mutant species were eliminated.

  Next wave: one hundred yards and closing. Dogs and rhinos left, Blaze grossly estimated, trying to quantify his surroundings. He had been trained to battle. He had been trained to lead men. He had been tested in many simulations in many circumstances. He had played many hologram games to supplement his studies. But there was something different when you watched men die in front of you and you knew it was real, when you knew they were really dead, when you knew you wouldn’t grab them by the hand after the simulation was over and pat them on the back. There was something different about knowing that what you were doing really mattered – that it wasn’t a simulation – it wasn’t a game. For Blaze, that pressure was a new dynamic that he intuitively knew that he never could have understood until he experienced it firsthand. And now that he was gaining that experience, he felt somewhat overwhelmed – and he feared for the men who were following his commands.

  By this time, Blaze understood that the rapid firing weaponry from the other Orders was neither as sophisticated nor as powerful as his own. Bullets fired out of his staff were so rapid, they nearly appeared to be a single string of energy that would wrap around his enemies and slice them in half. This gave him a unique opportunity that his men could not take advantage of. Turning up his voice projector louder than before, Blaze belted out new orders.

  “HOLD YOUR FIRE!” he yelled as loudly as he could and ran out from the cover of the ship towards the oncoming army.

  “WHAT’S HE DOING?” the magic woman wondered in horror as she watched him from holographic monitors located on the deck
of the ship. Ship leadership and the magic woman were watching a live, miniature, three dimensional image of the battlefield. Her query met silence as everyone wondered the same thing.

  Dr. Boyd’s head started ringing as the magic woman’s anger affected his thinking. Intuitively, he understood that she was at the limits of her capacities just to control his mind – and that he was more intelligent than anyone she had tried to control before and that she had little experience in this skill. Were she to somehow intervene with the battle, he would be free from her influence – which meant that as soon as she helped in whatever way she could, she would die at his hands. And he understood that she read these thoughts as they passed through his mind.

  But he didn’t care.

  Within a few brief moments, Blaze found himself nearly surrounded by the remaining thousand or more natives who had survived the defensive onslaught delivered by Dr. Boyd’s armies thus far. Waiting for them to get a little closer, Blaze placed himself in a karateka warrior stance, placed his front hand in front of him in traditional kung fu fashion, and held his staff behind him as if he were ready to swing it like a baseball bat.

  Hold your ground! he ordered himself, forcing his fears out of his consciousness. NOW!

  Swinging his staff in a huge arch, Blaze shot long strings of energy bolts out of his staff, decimating dozens and then hundreds of the natives and the beasts they were mounted upon. Fifteen minutes passed. By the time Blaze stopped shooting, there was nothing alive within fifty yards or more.

  But more beasts and more men were approaching.

  Momentarily released from his primeval mentality, Blaze looked at the control panel of his staff and realized that there was virtually no power left – only enough to stop projectiles from hitting himself. With that realization, he dropped to all fours and shouted into the voice projector mounted over his right shoulder patches.

  “Attack! Give them everything you have!”

  Encouraged by his example, all of the remaining men raced to his support and began shooting at the natives with reckless impunity. But before long, gunfire became less effective as the distance between the armies closed and everyone was largely forced to fight hand to hand, weapon to weapon. Of all the things Blaze had been required to do this morning, this was the thing he was most comfortable with. While all of Dr. Boyd’s armies were trained in hand to hand combat, they felt more secure with long range tactics. Melee combat was more intense, more unpredictable, more personal.

  But that was precisely why Blaze enjoyed it more. That was why he excelled in this arena. Improvisation was his specialty. Following instinct instead of skill was what gave him the edge over his opponents. While his foundation of weapons training honed his intuition, his concept of liquid misdirection was what ultimately guided every combat: while appearing to throw one blow, he would modify his strikes to land somewhere unexpected, somewhere more damaging, somewhere more lethal. Aiming strikes like that could only be prepared so much – they could only truly be effective when they were spontaneous and improvised. That meant that they could only happen in the spur of the moment. That meant they had to be very personal. That gave Blaze the advantage.

  While the battle progressed and while Dr. Boyd’s men focused on their task and focused on overcoming their individual fears, Blaze allowed himself to slip into that beta phase where your intuition is really in charge. He nearly lost consciousness of thought and allowed himself to let years of training guide his actions and lead his mind. Slowly though, fatigue set in, limitations of the body asserted themselves, and Blaze knew that he had little left to offer.

  But that didn’t matter.

  BY THE END OF THE BATTLE, there were less than fifty men left from Dr. Boyd’s army. Roughly four thousand natives were dead and hundreds of beasts were scattered all across the battlefield. But no one inside was harmed and the ship itself sustained virtually no damage. Blaze met a hero’s welcome and was personally invited on deck to celebrate.

  But Blaze didn’t feel like celebrating.

  He felt like wrapping his head in his hands, curling up into fetal position, and wishing away the scenes he had seen that morning. He felt like yelling at the top of his lungs – as if that would somehow make the painful memories go away. He felt like a failure for not protecting his crew better – even those who were technically supposed to be under Vardn’s direction for purposes of this battle. Blaze acted like a commander on the field when he was supposed to be acting like a mid level officer – only ordering those men under his authority. But somehow, in the midst of things, he got so confused with those arrangements (that seemingly conflicted with his new appointment as second in charge) that he usurped authority and just took charge.

  The battle rankings were intended to be temporary. Dr. Boyd felt that the men were not ready to be led into battle by someone they didn’t really know – and that probably made sense to someone untrained in military theory – but in retrospect, this had clearly been a mistake. It hadn’t made good military sense. It cost lives. It didn’t work.

  And so it didn’t matter that he was being invited to celebrate the victory. Blaze felt too conflicted inside and too confused about what had happened. Maybe the high level of deaths was his fault. Maybe they were Dr. Boyd’s fault. Maybe it didn’t matter. He didn’t really know and he really wasn’t sure – but until he had answers to those questions, he felt nothing like a hero.

  But orders were orders so he went on deck as soon as he freshened up and changed out of his blood stained uniform. Many people were waiting, including the magic woman, Evelia, and Dr. Boyd. The instant he walked into the room, the deck filled with honorary cheers and then fell reverently silent as Dr. Boyd raised his arms and walked over to welcome the hero.

  “Blaze,” he began with a boisterous voice meant to be heard by everyone present.

  “We are all indebted to you for your bravery today!”

  Not true! But you were very brave and you should be proud.

  “We were heavily outnumbered but because of you, we are safe!”

  It’s a lie! But you did the right thing. You were amazing, magnificent!

  “Your leadership was superb and you deserve the highest honors.”

  That is true, the magic woman confirmed, this time adding nothing to contradict Dr. Boyd’s acclamations.

  If he was confused before entering the deck, Blaze was a mass of confusion now. What is this all about? he wondered, unable to tell what was going on.

  While the celebratory occasion was unabashedly shadowed by the heavy loss of crewmen, everyone afforded a smile for Blaze when he entered the room; everyone sported smiles of encouragement to honor him for what he had done; everyone that is, except the magic woman. Her facial expressions betrayed hugely conflicting emotions. Her expressions were missed by nearly everyone but they were glaringly obvious to Jerron. He was already suspicious of her and he was pretty sure that Dr. Boyd was unhappy with her this morning as well but he couldn’t identify the conflict just yet – but he was keeping his eye on her just in case.

  “Blaze,” Dr. Boyd continued, “your name shall forever be graven upon our sacred pages of history.” Then, raising his drink with his right hand while placing his left on Blaze’s shoulders, he turned to everyone and cheered, “a toast! A toast to our greatest warrior!”

  There was no need for the battle, Blaze silently heard. The ship’s shield would have protected us from the attack – no one had to die. The young warrior’s heart sank. The thought hadn’t ever crossed his mind. He knew nothing of spaceship armor and everything had happened so quickly that he had simply followed orders without thinking. He should have been thinking more globally, more inclusively, more creatively. That is what truly great leaders do. But then, he hadn’t kept his position in the battlefield like he was supposed to either. In retrospect, he had been a poor follower and a miserable leader. With that in mind, he sunk more deeply into his personalized throne of failure. Conflictingly, he tried to wear a smile for the sake
of everyone honoring him.

  As drinks raised and cheers echoed throughout the room, Jerron observed two things. First, the magic woman was biting her lip, scowling towards Dr. Boyd, and viciously flicking the tip of her tail as she tried to control emotions. Second, Dr. Boyd fell into Blaze’s arms, clutching his chest, a clear victim of a devastating heart attack. In the heat of the moment, Jerron pulled his gun, and shot through the backside of the magic woman where he estimated her heart would be located.

  He was only slightly off target.

  Apart from several hushed gasps, the deck fell silent once more, some eyes fastening upon Dr. Boyd and others looking upon Jerron and the magic woman. All eyes were filled with horror.

  “Blaze!” the magic woman wheezed in harmony but loud enough for everyone to hear. “Blaze, you must take your rightful position as leader of this people!” she finished, barely audible. And then, after a moment of near silence, she added words that only a few people present heard: “Just like I told you before …” before falling to the ground, dead. Although few heard the words, it didn’t matter. Jerron broadcast them abroad very quickly and the others who heard them supported his testimony.

  Crumbling over the body of the magic woman, Evelia sobbed uncontrollably, once again holding the infant in one arm while embracing the lithe little alien in the other. This time however, she wasn’t there for comfort, she was there in shock, begging the magic woman to heal herself, to not die.

  “Blaze.” Dr. Boyd’s voice was subdued and quiet but the silence in the room allowed several to hear him. “Blaze, there weren’t enough provisions for everyone. We couldn’t feed them all. We couldn’t take everyone with us.” His words were fading one by one as he spoke but they remained fairly clear to the end. “I just wanted you to know.” The aging scientist tried to say more but couldn’t. Clutching his chest even more fiercely, he tremorred a moment before sagging motionless into Blaze’s arms.