Chapter 13
The dumbfounded Terovians regrouped in the middle of the empty field, the portal closing behind the purple VW bus.
“Where did he go?” Vorgan slashed his blade along the ground, sparks igniting the night air.
“Too smart for you, Terovian?” Alaris waved a crystal dagger, crackling with white fire. “It’s not something I’d want to report to my commander.”
“Oh, great Preasidium,” Vorgan bowed. “I take pleasure in your arrival. I can only imagine the importance of my task.” The Praesidium and the Raiders both kept their distance, knowing a full-blown battle would prevent them from achieving their goal.
“You’d do best to choose another prize, raider. No amount will be worth the effort.”
“That would be so, if I were simply a monger. I was chosen because I hunt for the glory. The trophies.” Vorgan smiled, his lips swollen, bloody with stingers. “Perhaps I’ll take your head and the Scion’s.”
“Another day, Terovian. Until then, be aware, this Scion will not fall before I do.”
“You seem sure of yourself, Praesidium. We found him once. We can certainly do it again. And if… rather, when we find him, I’ll render his flesh from his bones…just for you.” The Praesidium fell silent. Vorgan grinned. “Touch a nerve?”
“If you insist.” The knight flicked its dagger like a liquid light whip and struck the Terovian warlord below his eye. Vorgan barely flinched, his seared flesh smoking. Light shimmered around the knight before vanishing.
“To the probes,” Vorgan roared. “Track the void signatures! They’ll find the Scion…wherever he goes.”
“Shouldn’t we inform Craven?” Shmire asked.
“No, we shouldn’t inform Craven!” Vorgan stalked toward Shmire. “Perhaps you might, though?”
“No, no, Vorgan. It stays among our crew. As always.” The weaselly Raider cowered behind another.
“You would never betray me, would you, Shmire?” Vorgan’s eyes narrowed, scowling at the raider wrought with the selfish, loathsome type of self-preservation that makes one wonder how they survived this long.
“Of course not, brother.” Shmire wriggled and shook his head, stepping backward, his hands raised, defensively.
“Perhaps a reminder.” Vorgan mumbled, unsheathing his blade. “Brother.” With an abrupt movement, the razor edge sliced through Schmire’s wrist.
Schmire screamed as his gauntlet encased hand fell to the ground.
Vorgan hoisted him up by the throat, smashing his nose into Shmire’s face. “You don’t have the courage to kill me, Shmire. If you did, I’d be dead long ago. You’ll serve me because you fear me… brother.” Effortlessly, Vorgan tossed Shmire into another Raider. “Cauterize his wound and choose a weapon for his stump. Make him serviceable, at least. To the probes, now!”
As the Terovians disappeared into the shadows beneath the bridge, Alaris re-materialized in the center of the field. “Orion, have you deployed Beetlebee?”
“Per your command, though, I don’t see what good he can do. Perhaps the misfit-”
“Orion, this isn’t the time. We’re all Dylan has.”
“All Dylan has?” Orion asked, picking up on the Praesidium’s choice of words.
“Yes, the Scion has a name.”
“You have never referred to the Scion by name.” Orion’s tone was smug. “I find it surprising.”
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“You can find it surprising all you want. Just set our coordinates for Mount Shasta.”
Nan leaned against the wall, gathering her wits after the attack. Despite her age and slight frame, she exercised regularly, was in good shape and, like the rest of her family, a fighter. She inspected the demolition zone, glass everywhere, a broken table, her sofa charred, filled with buckshot.
“God, if you’re listening…I’m tired of my family being part of this, tired of sacrificing my boys! I’m tired of it all! What’s it going to take, Lord? I ask you to please spare Dylan this madness. If there is anything I can do or sacrifice, I will. God help me… please.” Nan jumped, startled by the knock at the door. Unsure of who or what it might be, she grabbed the shotgun. She wondered if the commotion had woken any of her neighbors and cautiously entered the foyer.
Nan leaned the gun next to the door frame, well within reach. With one finger, she pulled back the shade and peeked out the window. A single porch light illuminated the yard out to the street. She scanned the entire area but saw no signs of anyone or anything. She grabbed the gun and turned -knocking- Nan wheeled around, the gun raised, ready to fire. “Alright, buster! I’m not in the mood! You wanna play games with me?” She whipped the door open, her finger on the trigger. Peering through the shadows, she swung the barrel from side-to-side across the yard. Nan was truly an extraordinary woman, but nothing could prepare her for what she was about to encounter.
“Hello.” A short, glowing, golden metallic creature said in a high pitched, bubbly, mechanical tone as if it were speaking underwater. “Good day.”
“Now, what are you supposed to be?” Nan asked, the gun barrel aimed at its shiny, round head.
“Beetlebee,” it said, strolling past Nan as if he were a guest she had just invited in.
“Beetlebee?” Nan lowered the gun, recalling the name Alaris mentioned. “Who or what are you? Some kind of robot? An alien?”
“Beetlebee,” he said again, dawdling through her home. Whatever the diminutive creature was, he was unique to be certain. Only three-feet tall, he resembled a smooth, shiny gingerbread man, with the face of a smiling child.
The tiny creature continued to mosey around the living room, inspecting the area more thoroughly than Sherlock Holmes. “Well, do you talk?” Nan asked, putting the gun down.
Beetlebee nodded. “Hello. Good day.”
“Listen Beetle, I don’t have time for games. My great grandson, Dylan-” Beetlebee’s eyes snapped to the far side of the room. Like a cat, he sprang up the staircase and into Dylan’s room, with Nan following.
“Well, good Lord.” Nan circled a dead Terovian, his flesh blistered beyond recognition. “It’s one of those aliens.” Beetlebee scanned the room before spotting the television screen.
“Hey! What are you doing, little guy?” Beetlebee studied the game system, camcorder, and the TV before he turned the set on and pressed the buttons on the remote control. Max’s face suddenly appeared, moving in fast-rewind.
Beetlebee started the video from the beginning. It was the first time Nan had heard her son’s voice since he died. Despite being a grown man and the Scion of the entire planet, Max would always be her baby. She wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth, and sobbed. To her surprise, Beetlebee took her hand in his mitten-like paw and squeezed until their hands glowed. “Thank you. You figure things out pretty quick, don’t you?”
“Yes.” He nodded.
“I’m going to ask you again. What are you?” Nan sniffed.
“Beetlebee.”
“Ok, so that’s how it is.” She shrugged. “Well, now do I call the police about this dead alien? I certainly can’t leave him here.” Beetlebee waved a finger in warning and pulled the raider’s gun from his belt. He handed it to Nan and ushered her out the door, shutting it behind him. “What are you doing, little guy?” She wiggled the handle, more frozen than locked. A light flashed through the seam of the doorframe, a whirring noise grew louder, the glow illuminated the hallway, brighter, until it lit the entire area. Nan backed away. Then, as quickly as it began, the light, the sound, gone. The door opened and Beetlebee ambled by as if nothing happened. She peeked in the room, but no sign of the raider.
She wheeled about after Beetlebee. “Now, what did you do with him? I’m about tired of having no answers and-”
“You are welcome,” Beetlebee said, hopping down the stairs.
“Don’t you get smart with me, Beetlebee.”
“Sorry.” Beetlebee dropped his head.
“It’s alright, I just don’t appreciate being treated like some useless old lady.” Beetlebee nodded and continued to survey the downstairs. He ran his hand over the surface of the furniture. “What the devil are you looking for?”
“Data.”
“Data?” she asked. “Data for what?”
He picked up another Terovian blaster. “War.”
“War?” Nan straightened at the sound of the word. In her early years, she had a secretarial job at the O.S.S. intelligence agency where officers noticed her unique skill set. After a six-month indoctrination into the world of spies, she served in the United States military as a liaison during the cold war. Though never in actual combat, Nan received advanced training and had seen more than her share of action. And now was the time for action.
“Wait here.” She hustled down the hallway and disappeared into her bedroom. She reappeared, fully dressed in jeans, a gray sweatshirt and a black baseball cap. “Ok, little guy, let’s go!” She slapped a clip into her handgun. Beetlebee stopped his inspection, his head cocked quizzically.
“Listen, Beetle Bailey, if there’s a war coming and Dylan’s a part of it, then so am I! Get in the car. We’re going to Mount Shasta!”