HUMAN RESISTANCE

By: Stephanie Wise

Book One: Demon Master

—March of the Resistance—

Light of day
Dark of night

Demon blood
Human might

Love and Honor
Truth and Light

Hope and Freedom
For Life we fight.

--written by the Leaders of the Resistance in the Earthen year 3982--

Journal Entry #1:

Curious Thoughts

I have often wondered…

What would life be like if things had happened differently? What was life like in the past? What would life be like in the future?

Life is something that is only destroyed by death. Everything and everyone around us has life, yet…we each lead a different life. We each have different morals, different codes. Sometimes, the differences make me sick. Sometimes, I wish everything were the same. But then…that wouldn’t be right. Where would the fun of individuality be if we were all the same normal?

Still…I wonder what life on my planet would have been like without the creatures we call demons. They are demons too, as Master Xenoch informs me. “They are fallen angels who have possessed other worldly creatures. Our ancestors came from another world, but before humans colonized the planet…these creatures were possessed by demons; possessed…for eternity. Now, demons walk the planet freely.” It is a very confusing subject, one that gives me a headache when I think about it, but one that is quite important to my way of life.

For, you see, I have been cursed with demon blood.

When I was younger, I fought with a demon, and because of the Tri-vol—the weapon I wield—my blood and the demon’s blood mixed together inside me. I have demon inside of me now. I am not pure. I will never be “pure.” The people will scorn me when I return to my home. Training with Master Xenoch in the Mountains of Hidden Shadow, does not last forever. I will have to continue my swordsman journey alone—out in the world.

The world that has been invaded.

My family has been taken away. I have been left with a great burden. As my father lay dying from his wounds, he told me to take the Tri-vol, to learn how to wield it, and to take back the planet that was ours. He wants me to defeat the aliens who invaded.

How am I supposed to do this when I don’t even know who I am yet? I am still a teenager! I have not yet “come of age.” How does he expect me to save the world? I have demon blood! I could become possessed by one of the demons in these mountains at any moment. How am I supposed to liberate my people? My father asks the impossible.

I must make my journey first. I must discover the answer to my questions before I can help others discover the truth about life, and the courage to make them fight for it.

What is the meaning of life? Who am I? And…what is my message?

--from the journal of Reda Suki

Prologue: Zoranian Plans

:: Earth : Year 3962 ::

The air was fuller, warmer, more welcoming than it had been in a long time. Bradley took a big gulp of the air, sucking it all in with one large breath. Smog came with it and he turned to the side, coughing hoarsely, searching for some good old oxygen. Finally, the oxygen filled his lungs, and he stood back to his full height, tears brimming at the edge of his eyes.

“Oh jeez, Brad! You know better than that! Just ‘cause the war’s over doesn’t mean the air is clean to breathe right!” The laughing voice of his best friend and army-buddy assaulted him as Seth walked over. The arm over Bradley’s shoulder made him smile.

Bradley Gustro looked out at the destroyed land before him and nearly felt the tears trying to break free again. Old American soil turned to blasted wasteland…because of stupid green men from Mars. Shaking his head, Bradley corrected his own thoughts. No, they weren’t green, they weren’t from Mars, and they definitely weren’t stupid.

But at least they were gone.

Space Exploration had turned into Space Survival. Jealousy was a horrible thing, especially when it came from aliens.

Wars were horrible things. But…Bradley had to admit…the planet had been brought together to work as one—to be known as one united Earth.

Still, he sighed, “The war with the Xenese may be over, but the ultimate Space Survival Plan is far from completed. Remember, the Zoranians are still out there.”

Seth turned to face him, raising one brown eyebrow, his brown eyes holding onto an optimistic hope that so many others had lost long ago. Having changed out of his Army uniform, he was now wearing a ragged old gray shirt with dark khaki pants and a pair of nature hiking boots. Seth wore his boots everywhere, making everyone call him crazy. Bradley recognized it as one of the hopes holding onto home.

Bradley didn’t have boots, but he did have an old family heirloom wristwatch, as much as the thing didn’t work. It was something from ancient times, like the twentieth century. So he couldn’t exactly call anyone crazy.

“Oh, come on now. Don’t be so downhearted. Start looking at the glass half full, why don’t you?” Seth grinned, “Try being more like me!”

Laughing, Bradley shook his head. “I’m not so sure I want to. Two Seths in this world may not be a good idea. One is quite a handful.”

Seth shrugged, looking away from the technical center building where he had spent days and nights, weeks and months, even years inside designing newer, more advanced weaponry. Bradley turned with him, facing away from the “training camp” for army leaders—the place he had spent most of his time off-battlefield learning leadership techniques. Now that the war was over, he would retire and forget all about becoming an officer for the Army. No more Armed Forces for him.

“I sure do miss the days of true freedom, though.” Seth’s forlorn tone caught Bradley by surprise, especially after his friend’s hyper entrance. “We may have been fighting to keep our freedom, but so many others have lost it and we’ve been stuck fighting, not enjoying the freedom we so crave.” The technology-literate man had his fists clenched by his side, his arms shaking. Bradley tried to ignore the sob he heard, though he couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the whispered mumbling. “Austin, I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’ll come get you now, brother. I just hope you remember what I always told you. Never forget home. Never forget where you come from.”

Unlike other people who would have either stepped back to let Seth have his flashback moment, or interrupt with a rude comment, Bradley Gustro joined in. He had known Seth’s little brother. “Keep your courage strong,” he added after Seth finished speaking. It was his own motto, as well as one of the last things he had said to Austin.

Out of the corner of his blue eyes, Bradley could see Seth staring at him in confusion, tears on his face. “Thanks, Brad,” was all he said before the two were engulfed by a huge moment of silence, only interrupted by, “I miss him.”

Now it was Bradley’s turn to put an arm around his friend’s shoulder, being the comforting best bud he should be. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s fine. That boy was tough.”

Seth’s gaze moved to the mud-cracked, grime-covered earth. “We can always hope.” He sucked in a deep, choking breath, about ready to burst out into another fit of tears. “But do you know what Zoranians are like? Being their prisoner is bad enough. Being a slave? How can you expect a little boy to handle it, no matter how tough?”

Spreading his arms out with the palms out, Bradley simply shrugged. “Some people can handle more than you would initially expect.”

--!--

:: Zoran: Year 3962::

Slash

He held the scream back as the whip sliced across his back for the fifth time. He held back the tears of pain. He had to be strong, like he kept telling himself.

You must be strong.

Slash

He winced, but only slightly.

Mom says you have the defiant heart. No one else does. Be…strong…

He clenched his teeth together and shut his eyes tight, bracing for the next whiplash. It never came.

Slowly, hesitantly, he lifted his eyelids, letting the world see his blaring, defiant green eyes, the trademark eyes that had cursed him to a life of endless torment, but also endless defiance. As much as the electrifying pain racked through his body, he never once cried out. Average adults fell after the first slap. His father usually fell after at least two, sometimes three. But not him.

“Jake, have you learned your lesson of the day?”

He winced inwardly at the shockingly smooth Zoranian voice, a trait of Venz-xarl he had always despised, but he did not respond.

Another voice reacted instead. “This little brat’s the Reed boy? The first one born on Zoran?”

Jake had his back to the voices, and he didn’t feel like turning around right now. He was too busy working on controlling his breathing. It sounded like Sirc-jon, Venz-xarl’s closest friend. He didn’t really care.

“Answer me, Jake!”

Slash

He fell to his knees this time, biting his lip so as not to cry out. The two Zoranians chuckled, their laughter echoing throughout the huge building—a part of Venz-xarl’s home, seeing as Venz-xarl lived in the Zoranian Palace.

Jake honestly felt like crying, but he held it in, dazing out to a time and place in the future when he was free and getting revenge. He always told himself to keep his dreams and wishes, and always believe in vengeance and redemption.

“He can stand seven slaps from my whip before falling. Eight…”

Slash

This one was harsher than all the rest combined—or maybe it just burned more. But no matter what the difference, Jake couldn’t stand it anymore. His mouth opened and the tearful yelp escaped, followed closely by an annoyed growl, which was then followed by him standing to his feet, turning around, and glaring at Venz-xarl…who laughed.

“See? He’s so predictable now. And still so defiant!” Venz-xarl licked his lips. “I knew this one would be fun to break. The look in his eyes gives me such a rush.”

Jake clenched his teeth and fists, focusing his defiant green glare on the cold purple eyes of his Zoranian master since birth. Since birth…he had been cursed since birth.

Venz-xarl turned to his Zoranian friend, who was not Sirc-jon after all. Bending his knees, Jake slowly sat down on the freezing cold marble floor, careful not to tense up his back muscles too much, wincing slightly when he felt warm blood dripping down his spine. Scowling, he sniffed, inwardly wishing he could go home.

Venz-xarl and the ugly uniform-wearing Zoranian continued discussing between themselves while Jake Reed sat and fell into his memories. He could remember stories from his mother and brother, stories of times when there was peace, when they were free. Stories without Zoranians, without slaves, without pain. Stories…of freedom.

Freedom.

Jake craved freedom. To be away from the cruelty, the hatred, the pain…It was his dream; his only dream.

Keep your dreams close to your heart and never give up on them.

Jake would never give up. One day, he would be free! No matter how difficult it would be to accomplish. He would get off this filthy, alien-infested planet. One day…

“Jake!”

Crack

The whip hit the marble floor right beside his finger, causing him to jump to his feet automatically. He growled when he stood up, his green eyes glaring hatred at Venz-xarl, facing the cold purple eyes of his Zoranian master. Venz-xarl was wearing his issued uniform; he was the Emperor-King’s First Officer after all. Jake looked past all the red ruby decorations on Venz-xarl’s dark blue jacket, not caring for the jewels or pins indicating the Zoranian’s high rank and expertise in “slave-breaking.” Jake growled again.

“Get your uniform on. I’ve been summoned to a meeting, and you’re coming with me.”

The other Zoranian sneered at Jake. “You should feel honored. I sent my slave home. No other human has been lucky enough to set eyes on the Emperor-King.” The bulky alien stepped closer to Jake, bringing his ugly blue scaly face down to the little six-year-old’s level. Jake stood his ground, not twitching an inch when the Zoranian cupped his chin under the blue hand. “You should feel very honored indeed.”

Jake met eyes with the long sick green-haired Zoranian officer—which was plain to see by the stripes on the uniform vest. He smirked. “I will never honor anyone or anything while I am only a slave. If you want more, go find pleasure with yourself…idiot…,” he said before spitting in the guy’s face.

Laughing in spite of himself, he dropped to the floor and sprinted through the legs of the Zoranian, spinning around and standing back up once he reached a considerable distance. He had enough time to stick out his tongue before he remembered Venz-xarl. By then it was already too late.

The whip hit fast and hard. He felt pain like he had never felt before. The flaming pain went up his spine and traveled through his body. He fell to the floor. He yelped, but bit his lip before he could cry out. The whipping continued for what seemed to him to be hours. Venz-xarl had never been this angry. Jake knew he had crossed the line this time, but he also knew he would be crossing it a lot more in his lifetime if he intended to keep up his defiant streak. His green eyes blazed. His body crunched up instinctively into a ball. And his teeth began to draw blood from his bottom lip. Through it all, he kept telling himself the same thing over and over. It was the one thing keeping him alive…and sane.

Be strong…Mom says to be strong…You must be strong. Be…strong…

--!--

:: Zoran: Year 3962::

The night had turned into icy cold. All nights on the planet Zoran were this cold. The Zoranians were used to it; it was their planet after all. The economical business flourished no matter what the weather was like. Neon lights flashed on all levels of the tall skyscraper buildings that covered the entire planet. There were all sorts of Zoranian workers moseying about their business tonight as tonight was no different than other nights, at least to them.

Paul Reed knew something was happening inside the Palace. He had just caught a glimpse of Jake in his uniform, something Venz-xarl wouldn’t order unless they were going to see someone important, like the Emperor-King.

Forgetting his shivers for a moment, Paul stared as they walked past. Venz-xarl followed another Zoranian. Paul had to search his memory hard to come up with the name, and even then it took a great deal to convince himself that he had it right, that Ban-xark—Core Commander of Invasion—was involved with Venz-xarl. Something serious was going on, making Paul blink twice when he noticed his brother being allowed to go with the most important Zoranians.

Jake was the most defiant of all human slaves. Was Venz-xarl so sure he could keep Jake at bay? Paul sighed. Then again, Venz-xarl did have a leash around Jake’s neck, something no other salve had to endure.

“I’m sorry, brother. You deserve freedom more than the rest of us, but the security around you is so tight you’ll probably be the last one off this horrible planet…”

“If any of us get off at all.”

While the wind nipped at his eyes and brushed through his messy brown hair, Paul moved his gaze. He had brown hair and blue eyes like his mother. Jake got his green-eyed glare from their father, with the sleek black hair that could be easily spiked into the traditional warrior-style of their people.

Sighing, he felt his shoulders slump. If the Zoranians had not invaded Dheru, one of Earth’s colonies, Jake would have been raised to become one of the greatest Dheruian warriors; he had the tough defiance and the will to withstand most oncoming attacks. Jake could have been great. If only…

Paul sighed as he reached up and closed the window, cutting off the wind and the light. Most Zoranian structures—if they had windows at all—possessed black tinted windows to keep everything a secret. There were too many “if only’s” in Paul’s thoughts about Jake. He needed to focus more into the present. There was too much to do. For now, Jake was alone.

“Paul, light the candle.”

The command from his Zoranian master was quickly followed through, and Paul soon found himself looking about a dusty old room that held only a few pieces of furniture, none of the old chairs looking very inviting. Elif-roe, the only Zoranian in the room, sat back, relaxing in his position on the broken sofa. He did not seem to mind the dust or pathetic furniture. It was, after all, a room on his floor.

Zoranians did not have just a room or a “house.” Each and every one had at least a floor. It was no wonder the capital city covered more than three-fourths of the planet, and most of the city was sky-scraper after sky-scraper after sky-scraper. Elif-roe had more than one floor, but all in different buildings in different areas of the city. This floor, he had told Paul, was used as a means of spying on Palace workers.

Elif-roe, unlike other Zoranians, was against Emperor Trek-xeml, was against planetary-invasion, and most importantly was against slavery. Paul had been lucky, very lucky indeed to have Elif-roe selected as his master.

Every once in a while, Paul had to do a few trivial things for his master, but he didn’t complain. He didn’t have to bow or memorize phrases. Jake did. He didn’t have to stand in any specific spot at any specific time. Jake had to follow Venz-xarl around like a dog on a leash, literally. Paul didn’t have to worry about getting scars from whip-lashings. Jake already had several.

Sighing yet again, he sank into a chair, coughing as dust flew into the air. He placed the candle in its holder on the table. Why Elif-roe couldn’t just pay the electricity bill, Paul had yet to figure out. Maybe the Zoranian thought he felt more at home this way. Paul grunted. He, actually, had discovered himself to be quite the techno-whiz, and he loved all the Zoranian high technology. It was a pain in the ass trying to explain that to his master, though.

“So, what are we doing here? I haven’t escaped yet, Paul. I may be on break, but Xan-ark will want me back on the training fields five minutes before time gets called.” Austin interrupted the drab silence with quite the serious point.

He looked over at Austin, the newest “recruit” from Earth. It had taken two months to break him, as far as Paul had been informed. Jake had been born on Zoran, and he still wasn’t “broken” yet. But still, two months was the second-highest record. Zoranians were tough to defy.

The eight-year-old boy had gotten lucky, too, in a way. He had gotten dumped with the Zoranian Weapon Master Xan-ark. Austin got to watch training matches all day long, though he wouldn’t get his katana for two more years.

Zoranian protocol said the only weapon humans could own was a katana, and they gained this when they came of age at year ten. Paul supposed it meant they thought you smart enough not to start a fight with any Zoranians, and you weren’t liable to cut yourself to pieces accidentally. The katana idea had come from an old Earth society…and the reason only katanas were issued? Zoranians had special armor which made it near impossible to cut through with simple swords.

Paul had his katana; he had gained ownership of it a year ago. He didn’t use it much; it was sitting on the floor right now. He didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do with it, and he didn’t care for lessons.

Clearing his throat, Elif-roe spoke up from his relaxed position. “Paul, you said you wanted to start a resistance?”

Paul nodded toward his master, knowing it was safe; Elif-roe was trustworthy; he would help. “Yes. A Human Resistance, so to speak.”

--!--

:: Zoran: Year 3962::

“Glory be to the Emperor-King, Trek-xeml, and all the Emperors underneath thee. I pledge my life to protect thee, not just to obey my master but to serve the rulers of the planet. May all Zoranian plans come to a fructuous ending.” Jake finished his memorized speech, but remained bowed down, his eyes never leaving the blue marble floor.

He kept his hand at his stomach, his teeth unclenched, though it proved to be very difficult to keep his polite voice. Venz-xarl would know he was faking it, but as long as Trek-xeml remained fooled the next beating shouldn’t be too horrible. The only reason Jake was going along with this was because he honestly didn’t want another whipping.

“I place my trust in you, Jake Reed, as I have placed my trust in your master. Look at me.” Jake did what he was told and straightened from his parallel bow, green eyes blazing.

Catching sight of the sword spread across Trek-xeml’s hands, his breath clumped in his throat—and not just because of the tightening leash at his neck. Would they seriously give him a weapon four years before he was allowed to?

“Jake Reed, take this katana as a sign of my trust. You are my bodyguard. Use it well. Do not betray my trust and you may find yourself rewarded.”

Silence filled the great hall. Jake didn’t know what to do next. He started to panic, wondering what it was he was supposed to do, and if he didn’t do it exactly right, would they take away his only chance at getting a katana? Jake took a breath and swallowed it. He would guess. It shouldn’t be too complicated.

Bowing low before the Emperor-King, he spoke so all Zoranians present would hear. “I thank thee, Emperor-King, Trek-xeml; I shall not fail you.”

Silence waltzed through the great hall for a second time. No one spoke. Nothing moved, not even Jake’s eyes, which stayed transfixed on the weapon at the corner of his vision.

And then the silence was thrown to the side by Venz-xarl’s hulking laughter. Jake winced. He hated the sound of Venz-xarl’s laugh; it sounded downright…Jake shivered as he thought it…evil. ”Did I not tell you he would pass this so-called ‘test’ once I bent him down far enough to understand our protocol?”

Another Zoranian’s voice filled the air, one Jake recognized as the officer who had barged in during his “lesson.” “He’s a smart human boy, I dare say, but the defiance he was born with…that’ll cause trouble.”

Venz-xarl seemed to agree. “True. True, but only trouble for him, not to us. I’ll make sure of that.” He paused and then flicked the leash, smacking Jake on the back and making him cringe. Though the uniform was red and excellent for hiding blood stains, Jake could still feel the warm substance flow down his back. “Go! Grab your katana and get out of here, Jake!”

Jake straightened and turned to face his master, cocking his head in mock confusion as he felt the leash slipping off. “You’re letting me go home? Early?” He whispered the word, wanting to say it, but not wanting Venz-xarl to hear it and change his mind, which was something he very well might do.

“What does it look like I’m doing, slave?” Jake felt his eyes flash at being called this, but he kept calm. “Do as I say and go home. But remember…this’ll be the only time you are set loose without pain. Remember this day, Jake; it’ll be the only thing keeping you sane for the next several years. And I need you sane, boy.”

Jake nodded, took his katana, and sprinted for the exit. His footsteps echoed, but so did the voices. As he left the arena he heard a little snippet of Zoranian Plans.

"We should send the Elvian to aid the Xenese. That’ll crush Earth for sure, or at least keep them distracted while we send an invasion force to their only other colony.”

“Yeah. What was the name of that one again? It was the planet with the demons, right?”

“Correct. They call the planet Jerchu. Some say it’s the sister planet of Dheru.”

“Sister planet of Dheru? Jerchu? Bah! Humans have no idea what to name planets or stars. I say we call it Biktol, the Ancient’s word for demon’s haven.”

A Zoranian cackled as if enjoying a great joke, and Jake realized his feet had stopped moving. He cocked his right ear back toward the great hall so as to hear better. “You mean the word humans would translate as Hell?”

“That’s the one.”

The same Zoranian laughed again. “Why in the world would they name their planet Hell? Haven’t you picked up on anything from the Earthling’s false religion?”

“No. I’ve never been stationed near Earth, or been near an Earthling who hadn’t been shown the Truth.”

Jake listened with interest. He had heard very little about adults coming in from Earth. Austin was the only Earthling he had ever met, and Austin didn’t speak about any religion. Maybe Austin had been shown the Truth? Jake pondered on it for a minute, then decided it wasn’t possible. Austin didn’t have a mark in his eyes or voice that showed serious change in spiritual thoughts, which was supposed to be common among those who had been forced into Zoranian beliefs.

Jake didn’t believe in anything or anyone but himself; he had been born on Zoran, but he still thought their way of “the Emperor-King is always right” was stupid and foolhardy. It seemed to work for Zoranians, though.

“Well I find false religions interesting.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…It is your specialty, Blek-rof. Get to the point.”

Blek-rof paused and Jake guessed he was making a face before responding. “They believe in a different kind of afterlife than what we believe. There’s a Heaven where the perfect or ‘saved’ souls are said to go, where their god resides. And then there’s a Hell where the devil lives, this one they call Satan, along with all his demons; it is where the lost and forsaken souls are believed to be sent. So you see, the humans naming their own planet Hell wouldn’t happen—because of what they believe. It doesn’t matter that there are demons walking on the mortal plane on Jerchu, humans will never call it Hell.”

Silence answered. Jake found himself facing toward Blek-rof. Only when the Zoranian finished speaking did Jake catch Venz-xarl’s angry glare. Feeling a shiver run up his spine, he quickly spun on his heel and vacated the premises, hearing one last comment from the Zoranian who had been arguing with Blek-rof.

“They may not call it Hell now, but they will once we invade.”

--!--

:: Space Region Outside Earth: Year 3962::

The blade was smooth when he commanded it to existence. The hilt was nicely decorated in gold, and silver, and bronze. The edge of the blade was sharp, and the metal gleamed even in the dim light.

His father whistled in a downward spiral; he was impressed. “Well done, Riku. Nice job.” His father took the blade and examined it closer. “Very nice job.” Riku looked up, waiting, hoping…for his father’s smile.

It almost came.

Captain Takahashi’s cell phone rang through the cabin, and Riku’s magnificently detailed blade quickly transformed back to the original bo staff that it was. His father sighed, placed the bo staff back in Riku’s hands and answered his cell phone. “This is Captain Takahashi speaking. What do you want with me, Sir?”

As Riku put the bo staff back in its hiding spot under the bed, he cringed at his father’s use of the honored “sir.” The only person in this space fleet with more authority than Taiku Takahashi, was Rakote Ninnotama—the Fleet Commander. And Sir Ninnotama said he would only page on the cell phone when they reached the Xenese.

It had been three weeks since the Zoranians sent them the order. Now, the Elvian race was required to aid the Xenese in their mission to distract the Earthlings. It was all a ploy. They were all pieces moving on a game board. The humans were resisting, but the Elvians—alongside the psychic Xenese –had given in to Zoranian rule long ago.

Riku didn’t have any views on the political aspects, seeing as he was only five-years-old. All he knew about war was that his Daddy had to be put in harm’s way, a phrase his aunt used often when discussing war with Taiku. Riku’s mother had died in childbirth, so whenever his father went away, Riku went to live with his aunt. But not this time. This time he got to come along for the ride; this time his abilities played an important role.

Riku Takahashi was a Natural Linguist, meaning he knew every language from birth. He hadn’t understood the special ability at first, because to him everyone was speaking the same language—just different dialects. He had been taught how wrong he was in that assumption. Come to find out, the main language—which he referred to as “the Pure Language”—wasn’t even Elvian. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t any of the languages alive today.

“Riku,” his father said as he clicked off his cell phone. “You’re being summoned.” Taiku placed a hand on his son’s shoulder and steered him toward the door, leaving the rare bo staff behind. The metallic door slid open with a swish. Riku glanced behind his shoulder, hesitant to leave the family’s secret weapon. “Don’t worry, Riku. My cabin has a lock, like all upper-officers.”

He let out a withheld breath and relaxed his shoulders. The bo staff was the family heirloom, and it was his; he didn’t want to be the one to lose it. He breathed easier as his father led him through the spaceship walkways. He kept his blue eyes ahead, but admittedly his thoughts were far away—on bigger things, such as the war they were now involved in.

Before he could daze out too long, a metal door swished open and his father led him into the Commander’s room. Riku’s blue eyes flicked around the area, quickly taking in the details of this cabin. A desk covered with papers and a map of the galaxy sat against the far gray wall. Books lined the shelves on either side, possessing titles such as “Basics in Space Warfare” to “Zoranian Customs.” Riku felt his eyes widen as he glanced past the several electronic devices from computers and radar to things he didn’t even recognize.

Lastly, he focused on Rakote Ninnotama in one of the radar chairs. Rakote was facing them, talking with his father. As soon as Riku realized this, he shook his head and put all his focus on Sir Ninnotama.

“Riku, do you think you can do that for me?”

He felt his cheeks flush when he realized he had missed important information. “I…uh…um…” He gulped, feeling the disappointed gaze from his father. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint, but what could he do now besides tell the truth? “Sorry, Sir, but I didn’t hear you. I was…uh…I was looking at all the stuff in your room.” He was definitely embarrassed now.

To his great surprise, Rakote Ninnotama started laughing. “This is your son, Takahashi?”

Riku could feel his ears burning; he almost had the floor imprints memorized. He felt a hand rustle his brown hair, and then heard his father speak. “Yes, Sir…” Taiku seemed confused, not sure how to react.

Rakote stopped laughing long enough to speak again, this time to Riku. “Come here, boy. I promise I won’t bite. I don’t bite very many children, at least.” That strange comment caused Riku to shoot his head up to face Rakote, alarm in his blue eyes. This successfully caused another bout of chuckling from the Commander, who gestured for Riku to come forward and grabbed the boy’s wrist when he was close enough. “You are quite a special boy, Riku. I see great things in your future. But…”

Suddenly, Rakote let go of Riku’s wrist, his eyes dazed out, and his body froze. Riku turned to his father, confused. “What’s going on?”

Taiku Takahashi came forward and waved his hand in front of Rakote’s eyes before kneeling beside Riku. “You have to keep this secret, son, but now that you’ve seen it in action you have to know. Rakote runs the entire Fleet from this room and rarely lets anyone else in here…one of the reasons is his special ability. You know how you’re a Natural Linguist?” Riku nodded. “Well, Rakote is a type of Prophet. In other words, he randomly sees sneak peaks into the future. I think…”

Then, just as suddenly as he had dazed out, Rakote Ninnotama dazed back in, brown eyes worried. “Riku!” He gasped, as if having run a mile. “Listen to me, Riku!” Rakote grabbed both of Riku’s hands, bringing the boy close to his frightened brown gaze. “Don’t you ever fall in love.”

“What?” The exclamation came from Taiku. “Why not, Rakote?”

“I can’t say the details,” Rakote muttered, gazing deep into Riku’s young blue eyes. “Do you understand me, Riku? Don’t fall in love. Ever! You’ll die if you do!”

He nodded slowly, blinking twice.

One of the communication devices beeped and static wheezed through the room—or what sounded like static to Taiku and Rakote. Riku recognized it. And he said so.

He whispered his translation into the silence. “The Xenese are ready for us to enter their Space Station. Whenever you feel like boarding, Sir Ninnotama.”

“Yes…of course…” Rakote whispered, just a little louder than Riku. “We have another war to start.”

Riku shivered.

--!--

:: Jerchu: Year 3962::

Dilast Regon, Emperor of the planet Jerchu, paced back and forth in his Study, constantly moving his eyes out the window, toward the sky. Something wasn’t right about the stars, wasn’t natural. It almost seemed like something was hovering in the sky, like there was an invisible force coming down from space.

From space…Could it be one of the alien planets? Could there be an invasion underway? Could Dain Suki have been correct in his insane prediction after all?

The thought was not a good one. Dilast tossed his brown hair out of his eyes, raising a finger to begin chewing on the nail. Whenever he grew nervous, he chewed on his fingernails; it had become a habit, no matter how many times he had tried to break it.

He threw his brown eyes back to the night sky, and found it completely void of all stars. There was something…

Suddenly, a scream sounded from a nearby area, somewhere close to his Study—too close. Dilast swerved around, emerald green cloak waving behind him. The gold crown on his head—the simple crown with the emerald jewel and two ruby jewels decorated onto the three pointed protrusions—titled to the side of his head at the sudden movement. His breath caught in his throat as something began pounding on the large wooden door of his Study. He heard the clanging of blades striking metal and knew instantly a battle was being fought. And then the thought came again, the reminder of Dain’s predicition.

“The stars are talking to me. They say the Zoranians will come. They say…we will all die unless someone breaks tradition…The stars tell me things, Emperor. You do believe me, don’t you?”

But Dilast Regon had not believed his bodyguard. Dain had the Swordsman Disease. It was a disease responsible for stealing the sanity of hundreds of swordsman worldwide. Dain was one of the many who had the disease, one of the few who had stood against its probing for over a year. The insanity was still present in the man’s bright blue eyes, and in the way he could be found stroking the hilt of his Expert Blade, muttering things under his breath such as “I trust in you, Perfect” or “my perfect baby” as if he were talking to the inanimate sword strapped to his waist.

Dilast shook his head, remembering how he had sent Dain away, telling him to take a vacation and spend time with his family. Dain Suki had not approved of the command, insisting he would be needed here, but it was necessary. Dilast Regon could not deal with a bodyguard who had the Swordsman Disease; it was too risky.

Now, however, Dilast was second-thinking his decision to ignore Dain’s prediction. Had Dain truly talked to the stars? Had the Zoranians invaded?

He got his answer as the door shuddered, cracked, and exploded inward. Loose wood flew by Dilast’s body, a wood chip missing his eye by a hair but cutting his skin nonetheless. As red blood dripped down his face, the Emperor of the planet Jerchu looked on as a well dressed, yet still ugly, blue Zoranian stepped into the room.

It was tall, even for a Zoranian, who were a naturally tall race. It had ruthlessly cold purple eyes that bled into Dilast Regon’s soul and caused him to shiver. Dilast knew his life was going to end real soon when he saw that look. The cracked, reptilian-like blue skin creased back and forth like a snake shedding its skin as the Zoranian took a few steps toward the Human Emperor, the gun in its hand pointed toward Dilast’s heart. Dilast backed up until he was against the very edge of the wall, his hands behind him searching for anything with which to protect himself, though he didn’t believe he would be able to survive the day, seeing as his best bodyguards had all failed.

He watched the Zoranian’s red cloak move back and forth in time with the creature’s footsteps. The gun tapped against Dilast’s chest, and he winced, knowing it was almost over but hoping for a miracle just the same. Humans didn’t carry guns on his planet, but everyone knew the power in those mechanical creations. One shot could kill.

Dilast took a deep breath of air and nearly coughed at the smell coming off of the Zoranian’s ugly black armor. Tears welled at the edge of his vision, and the gun moved up to his throat, tilting his head up so that his eyes could meet those of the taller creature.

“I am Ban-xark, Core Commander of all Invasion Fleets. I have two Zoranians above me on the stair step of power, so consider your death by my gun a privilege.”

Dilast felt himself whimper as the cold gun pressed harder against his neck. His lavish robes were sticking to his body because of all the sweat from fear he continued to leak out. Coward or not though, he still felt the courage well up inside—deep down inside—with the need to save his life. Closing his eyes as if to shut out the nightmare, he quickly reached up, grabbed the crown on his head, and thrust it out, aiming for the Zoranian’s eyes. He heard a cry of pain, and felt the gun drop as the Zoranian took several steps back.

Dilast Regon opened his eyes and blinked at the sight. Ban-xark was bleeding, holding his face, and crying in pain…from something he had done. The shock wore off and the realization came next. He could make a run for it!

Without bothering to think through his decision, he ran for the door, entertaining thoughts of a long life still lying ahead. What foolish thoughts they were.

Just as he passed the Zoranian, he was stopped, tripped up by a reptilian tail he had failed to notice. He hit the floor hard, wondering why he had failed to notice the tail. Since when have Zoranians have tails? I don’t remember that!

“Foolish human. And you wonder why we hate you?” Ban-xark was angry, an emotion that became obvious as the huge Zoranian put a foot on his back, nearly crushing his spine.

The gun barrel at the back of his head made the thought of death even closer. Dilast knew for certain that he was dead now, and he only wished he had done more with his life, done more to try to prevent this from happening, perhaps even have listened to Dain Suki’s insane predictions for once.

“Not only does your very existence sicken me, but acts such as this demand your extinction. I disagree with the idea of humanity in slavery, only because it allows the human race to live on.”

With those words, the gun shot rang, and Human Emperor Dilast Regon plummeted into the darkness that met him as he died.

--!--

:: Earth: Year 3962::

“I’m sorry, Bradley, but I can’t let you leave. There have been reports of another alien race helping the Xenese regroup. They are planning another attack.”

Bradley Gustro could feel the walls crashing down around him as he heard this news from his commanding officer sitting across the office desk. The war was supposed to be over. They were supposed to be allowed to go back home. They were supposed to be free…

“It’s not fair. It’s just not fair,” he said as he shook his head. “Damn aliens; damn them all. Zoranians, Xenese, whatever these new ones are…”

“Elvian.”

Bradley blinked as he looked toward his commanding officer. “What?”

“Spies have picked up communication between the Xenese and what the Xenese refer to as Elvian. We’re fighting technical wizards this time.”

“More like technical elves,” Bradley muttered out of the side of his mouth before shrugging. “So what told you that?”

“These reports,” Lieutenant Anderson glanced down at the papers at his desk and then back up at Bradley. “The only thing keeping my hopes up now is the small chance of success, no matter how small it is.”

Bradley nodded, knowing that meant even Lt. Anderson thought this close to a losing battle. “I’ll be back on my regular schedule then, Sir,” he murmured before sighing. “What is this world coming to…?”

He drifted off, turned around, prepared to walk out the door, and the explosion knocked him off his feet and sent him flying though the door into blackness.

--!--

He awoke a few moments later with a pounding headache. He touched his forehead, felt the blood, and winced. Moans of pain were all around him, and he realized he had gotten off easy.

“What happened? A bomb?”

To his surprise, someone answered, shining a light on him, making him realize that the building he had been in had collapsed. He had been very lucky. “Not a bomb…not exactly. It’s an Elvian attack. We’re calling them Exploding Landers because they’re very similar to bombs and missiles…just…not quite there. The scary thing is that there have been reports that they’ve hit other parts of the city, and other cities, too! This is a frightening situation—nothing is in our favor. The word is, we’re relocating to some hidden underground facilities.”

“What?” Bradley felt his eyes widen considerably and then felt the headache. He took a breath, and continued his thought. “Relocate on our own planet? Let them take over the surface as we become a Human Resistance Force?”

The random guy chuckled, “I like the sound of that. It could become quite catchy.” Laughing, he said, “Maybe we should use that in the future.”

Bradley blinked. Who was this guy? What was going on? Where was…”Hey, what building got destroyed?”

“More than one, I can tell you that. The main aim seemed to have been the technical buildings. No one and nothing got out of there. Everything within a certain radius of those buildings…is complete wasteland.”

That news froze Bradley like a chunk of ice down his pants. Seth had gone back to the technology stations once they had been re-called to duty. Now…Seth was gone.

That’s crazy…I must be dreaming. Seth can’t be gone. A world without Seth? How can that exist?

“Oh, and uh…by the way…by the time the aliens finish their destruction-spree there won’t be much of a surface left.”

Bradley cringed.

I hate war.

----

A/N: Aye, I know it's a long prologue, but it introduces the whole series, every important side of the war. Review if you read, please. I won't know you're waiting for more if you don't let me know. And, if you have something bugging you, I won't know about it if you don't tell me. Good or bad, reviews help. Also, this was written in my high school days, mostly just tweaked for grammar, and it has been posted up here before. Yar.