Skaarg cursed his inferior genes for what felt like the hundredth time that week. He couldn't see anything inside the cave. The red-shades and the green-shades would have traversed this place with ease. Why did he have to be born a blue-shade?
The trip was supposed to be exciting. No-one in his lifetime ever ventured off of the Voidlight Base. He was the first to do it. How ironic! There were people who were part of his species trained for years to do this. Here he was, living their dream.
The Engen’ozus lived upon the Voidlight Base for more than a millennium. Until recently, venturing out into any stretch of space was a pipe dream.
He traced his hands along the gravelly walls and allowed them to guide him deeper into the cave. His face tingled as the frosty wind blew; the place was colder than the streets he had grown up on. That was the thing about living on a space station. The place was always well insulated.
Even living on the streets didn’t quite reach the depths of cold he felt since stepping foot on this planet. His heart pumped in his ears; he wished he could see whatever lay ahead. Anyone could be waiting for him. If he had been a red-shade or a green-shade, he knew his eyes would be able to cut through this eternal black. But there was a reason people looked upon the blue-shades as a genetic mutation.
It wasn’t the fact the superior shades of his species had four arms and he only had two. It was because every other shade, including the lowly oranges, had two eyes. Skaarg only had one. It sat slap bang in the middle of his light blue face and provided him with less vision than he would have liked.
His foot kicked into a sharp rock poking out on the floor and sent him toppling forward. He lifted his arms to catch himself, but slammed to the ground. He winced as the sting of shame lashed upon his hands. Yet another moment when having four arms would have come in handy. He pushed himself back to his feet and waved around, trying to find the walls of the caves once more.
Skaarg had to remind himself this was all part of the plan. The last mission Commander Traarg would send him on before things changed back at home. There was a time when he fought on a smaller plane. His unwitting alliance with a red-shade meant he had a chance to make a great impact on his people.
By his people, he meant the orange-shades and the blue-shades. The ones who lived in fear of the red and the green for far too long. All he had to do was complete his work here, and the plans were in place to fight back.
Footsteps up ahead caught his attention. He looked around for a place to hide, but the darkness revealed nothing. The orange glow of fire up ahead cast the shadow of an Ivarozzan explorer. Skaarg had read about them in books he stole from the Great Library on the base. He never quite believed there was a species out there with the features of a lizard.
Skaarg ducked down as the shadows rounded the corner. A constant crackle of electricity followed their footsteps.
There were two of them. One, a big lumbering bulk of scales, was lighting the way with a fiery torch. The other, a slinky reptilian with a sly grin, added a tint of blue from the energy-based pickaxe he was carrying.
This made sense. Ivarozzans preferred the use of classic melee weapons with a capacitor which sent tiny lightning bolts whirling around them. Skaarg had never seen one in person and, he had to admit, they looked as awesome as he pictured.
The slimmer Ivaorozzan’s eyes widened. His sly grin dropped into that of alarmed concern as the two came face-to-face.
“Stay where you are!” he cried, and the electric hummed as he waved the pickaxe in front of him.
Skaarg fixed him with his best smile and held up his hands. “Relax, I don’t mean you any harm,” he said, then motioned to his belt. “See, no weapons here.”
The Ivarozzan didn’t return the pleasantries. Instead, he crept forward a little to shine a harsh light upon Skaarg. He looked him up and down. His musty breath pierced Skaarg’s nostrils. “What are you?”
“Name’s Skaarg,” he said, offering a hand to shake. “I’m one of the new guys in town.”
The slinky Ivarozzan shot a concerned look at the lumbering Fool. “I reckon we should call this one in.”
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“Please, there will be no need,” said Skaarg and he took a step towards them. Slinky wafted the pickaxe and brought him to a halt. Skaarg held out his hands. “I’ll go without a fight. Take me to your authorities. It’ll be nice to get out of this darkness.”
Slinky looked at the Fool again. They had a few quiet words between them and then nodded in Skaarg’s direction.
“Hands in the air, no funny business,” came the dull set tones of the lumbering Fool.
The Fool led the way and Skaarg followed. Slinky lagged behind, pickaxe clutched at the ready. They needn’t have bothered. While he could take both idiots in a fight, he wasn’t here to hurt them. He only wanted to take what they had.
As they walked out of the cave, the orange glint of dawn peeked through at the purple planes of planet Nort. While it was the smallest planet in the Ivarozza system, it was also the most important. Once every year, the deepest cave on the planet would produce plasma. The rarest and most powerful substance in Valaxoria/Ivaorzza space.
Plasma was the substance that gave the Ivarozzans their power. But power had a limit, and they were about to realise that.
Slinky and the Fool guided him along the exterior of the cave until they stopped at a small tent. It housed a large desk and a lone Ivarozzan whose posture put the lumbering Fool to shame. His heavy-set figure was lit up red from the power armour which squeezed against his body. A failed attempt at showing off his authority. He clearly expected no interruption as he sat slumped over the desk, snoring.
“Sorry to bother you, Fizbald sir,” Slinky squeaked and the guy in charge jumped at the sound.
He took a moment to catch his breath. “What have I told you about knocking, Hingldar?”
Slinky bowed his head. “Sorry, sir, apologies, but we’ve got a bit of an emergency.”
“What emergency?” asked Fizbald, his beady eyes already rested on Skaarg. “Who is this?”
“We found him in the cave, sir,” the Fool blurted out. “Thought he ought to come and see you.”
“Yes, and while it is all very nice you lead me here, I can handle the rest,” said Skaarg. “Haven’t you two got a job to be doing?”
The Fool scowled. “We don’t take orders from you.”
Skaarg shot a smile at Fizbald. “No, but you do take orders from him and he has to admit I’ve got a point, right?”
Fizbald sat frozen in shock. He’d obviously not had anyone talk to him like this before. He cleared his throat. “They take orders from me and I have ordered them to report anything strange they might find in the caves. Which would be you, sir,” he growled. “So I advise you to hold your tongue before we cut it off.”
“Noted,” said Skaarg.
Fizbald glanced up at the two Ivarozzans. “You are both free to return to the mine. The harvest should have begun by now.”
Slinky and the Fool nodded, then sidled off and Fizbald turned his attention back to Skaarg. “Before I refer you to Nifelzar for a fair trial about your trespassing, do you care to explain who and what you are?”
“Me?” Skaarg said with mocked shock. “Oh, I’m just one of the new guys, is all.”
Fizbald raised an eyebrow. “New guys?”
“The people are about to take over this side of space?” Skaarg said. “Yeah, don’t worry, though. We’re pretty great when you get to know us.”
Fizbald laughed. “You’ve got some gall, I’ll give you that.”
“Hey, don’t shoot me. I’m only the messenger,” Skaarg replied. “I don’t do the planning. I’m not even technically a part of the big plans, if I’m honest. Either way, far be it from me to lie.”
Fizbald said nothing. He didn’t know what to make of Skaarg and he wanted to get shot of him so he could get back to his nap. He took out a small device which had a bunch of square keys attached. He typed something into it, then looked back up at Skaarg.
“Your transport to Nifelzar has been called. You’ll go there where you will stand trial before the six Gods of Balance,” Fizbald said in a bored drone. “Before you go, I’m going to have to frisk you, I’m afraid. Please stand for me.”
Skaarg held his hands up as Fizbald’s scaly fingers worked their way across his body. They stopped when they rested on something hidden in the pocket. Then ventured further to retrieve a round metal object with a black button on it.
Fizbald glared at Skaarg.
“See, I was wondering when you were going to find that,” he said. “Thought it might be my ticket out of here.”
Fizbald examined the disc. “A data disc? What information does it contain?”
Oh good, this guy wasn’t as stupid as he looked.
“Remember how I told you I’m one of the new guys? Yeah, well, that thing there will tell you everything you need to know about the oncoming enemy,” he said. “Share it with the authorities, and you’ll be getting yourself a bit more than a promotion. You’d be a hero.”
Fizbald’s eyes shone with wonder.
He snapped out of his trance and frowned. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
Skaarg nodded at the button. “Go on, press it and see for yourself.”
Fizbald hovered his scaly finger over it and hesitated. He glanced up at Skaarg for reassurance and pressed.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then came the earth-shattering blast that echoed through the caves. Fizbald’s eyes shot up in alarm. Skaarg used the confusion to reach down into his boot and slipped out a knife from the compartment.
“Oh sorry, I must have accidentally swapped it with the fuse for the explosives I set in the mine,” he said. Then, before Fizbald could react, he lifted the knife and stabbed him straight through the throat.
Fizbald thumped to the floor, and Skaarg stepped over him.
The Ivarozzans sent a small team to harvest the plasma every year. All of them had been in the mines and, with Fizbald gone, this was going to be child’s play.
Skaarg grinned. Commander Traarg was going to be delighted.