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Shoot First

No signal.

Of course there wasn’t. Abel was still in the middle of nowhere, not even a quarter of a day away from the Lacertan camp, if even that.

Sighing, Abel unzipped the small survival pack that Lashar gave him before they parted. It was full of junk food, mostly potato chips and candy bars, the exact flavors of which were unknown as they were written in Cyrillic and Abel did not have a translator app downloaded before he lost connection on his datapad.

Slipping the datapad away in a small corner of the bag, Abel closed it up and held his cloak tight against his body. Siberia was very flat and aside from the occasional cluster of trees, there wasn’t a lot of room to hide from predators.

A pride of Regarites were roaming around to the north about a kilometer away, Abel figured. They looked like ants that far away but those apex alien predators were anything but ants.

As if Siberia wasn’t dangerous enough before the Regulians.

Abel remembered hearing about Soviet cosmonauts who used to land their crafts in Siberia. Eventually the space program made a special pistol for them to use to defend themselves from wolves and bears after returning to Earth. With the Regarites and that thing that attacked the train here now, Abel figures the cosmonauts would have been entitled to at least one grenade launcher.

A pair of twisted branches crudely sharpened at the tips were laying on the ground, a failed attempt by Abel to craft a weapon to defend himself with.

You’re just a pampered rich kid, aren’t you, Abel? What the fuck do you know about survival? You’re not one of the rebels fighting in the Congo or Vietnam, what the hell are you even doing here?

A year ago, Abel would have told himself that everyone has to do their part no matter what circumstances they were put in, rich or poor, free or slave…

But now Abel found himself at a loss.

Guess you’re already a slave, aren’t you? That’s how they get you, except you don’t even get room and board for selling yourself out, you get dumped in the middle of nowhere and at the mercy of the people the Regulians are supposed to, at the very least, protect you from.

But the Lacertans weren’t bad at all, at least those two. Abel didn’t even feel hatred towards Taal, perhaps he was a different person before they crash-landed, maybe Abel could have hated him before that but now he was just a wreck.

Would it have been so bad to stay with them as long as he could have?

Glass, Abel paused his thoughts and reminded himself. Whatever he’s planning with those bombs...I don’t like it.

Fuck, I’m whiny today, aren’t I? What the fuck am I doing, sitting here and pouting? I might as well put my foot forward and get a move on.

Abel stepped forward and once again thought of the two Lacertans. Stockholm Syndrome was a word that flashed in Abel’s head but at the same time Abel didn’t feel like he was suffering from a psychological disorder.

He felt comforted for the first time in a long while.

They’re behind me, it’s-

So distracted was Abel that he didn’t notice the rumbling of engines in the sky, not until the trees he was hiding under swayed as a fleet of dark gray lift-copters shot past the sky.

Heading in the direction of the camp.

There was no hesitation in Abel’s mind. He immediately slung the bag around his shoulder and sprinted back towards the camp. There was no chance of him outrunning the air cavalry but there was a chance he might catch up with Lashar and save him.

Please…

Lacertans, on Earth? It was madness! The defenses around Earth were foolproof and there hadn’t been so much as a piece of debris launched at Earth from the Lacertans in quite some time.

But there was no reason for Brolath to mistrust the Duchess and her army’s reports. If Lacertans had landed on Earth they needed to be purged to the last scale.

Brolath and Leon were alone in the passenger seats of a lift-copter. Rorgh had insisted on flying with the Duchess at the head of the fleet while the civilians were left in a safe vehicle far from the action.

No doubt the Duchess was calling in for an orbital strike to be on standby. Even one Lacertan on Earth could theoretically install a Logos Node and if so, the entire area needed to be purged, lest it potentially spread across the planet. Earth would not be taken, one way or another the Empire would protect humanity from falling into the clutches of the Lacertans.

But there was no telling how far away the nearest strike vessel was away from Earth. The war made knowledge of ship movements difficult even for Brolath to learn about. There was a good chance by the time help arrived that a good portion of Earth might need to be sterilized.

“Are you okay?” Leon quietly asked.

“I’m fine,” Brolath sat up straight and looked down at the human next to him. “What makes you ask?”

“Your tail is thumping against me – hard.”

Brolath stopped lashing his tail, having not even realized he was doing it.

“Sorry.”

Yawning, Brolath looked out the window. The same flat steppes as before, Brolath was starting to recognize the rocks and patches of dirt they were circling around.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Sometimes we can’t control our tails, it’s-”

“Unconscious, yes. My lion, I’ve slept with numerous Regulians before-”

Brolath balled up his fist.

“-and I know you can’t control it when you’re not thinking about it and that’s when your emotions reveal themselves.”

Leon leaned in, running his finger across Brolath’s lips, “Most humans look here, when instead they should look...” Leon traced his finger along Brolath’s chest, across his hip and eventually stopping at the base of his tail, scratching it. Brolath felt his skin flush and warmth rush across his crotch.

“Stop!” Brolath hissed.

“See? Something is wrong. Your mane is up on all ends.”

Brolath brushed his mane back, “It does that sometimes.”

“Not without cause.”

Leon brushed Brolath’s mane with his palm, “It’s okay if you’re scared. A Lacertan invasion would be-”

“I’m not,” Brolath growled lightly. It was the truth, whatever was happening it was far from an invasion and there was an almost zero chance of Brolath coming out harmed. He was not afraid of the Lacertans and whatever consequences might come of their visit.

It was telling Leon that there was a non-zero chance of his home planet being liquidated as a result of this, that was what had Brolath torn up inside. Telling Leon would be violating military secrecy and it would ruin their relationship. It was one thing to invade a planet but to bombard it until not even bacteria lived?

The Procyonids under the Regulian Empire never forgave the Lacertans for terraforming their planet to a state that was unlivable for them. Why would Leon do any different even if Brolath pulled strings to get him off the planet before this happened?

It’s not like we’re being unfair though. At the beginning of the war we had to blow up Gliese station with thousands of Regulians inside. We would do the same for a Regulian core planet if need be.

“It’s okay...” Leon repeated, hugging the Regulian’s thick neck, “...it’s okay, my lion.”

Now my human thinks I’m a coward...the sacrifices one must make for war.

“Come in,” the brown Sirian pilot spoke, pressing a finger against the headseat attached to his floppy ears.

Brolath and Leon both looked to the front cabin, straining to catch a word from the headset but Brolath could hear nothing and he placed no confidence in the human’s weaker ears to hear what he could not.

“Acknowledged. Heading there now,” said the pilot before adjusting course to the right.

“What’s going on?” Brolath grabbed the safety bar attached to the ceiling and edged towards the cabin.

“The enemy camp has been sterilized, no signs of AI activity. Nothing more than rubble now.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Some scouts landed before we toasted ‘em and caught a Lacertan alive, a green one,” the pilot laughed. “He should still be alive when we get there but not for long.”

Fuck, come on, come on!

The sky was starting to dim as the sun dipped and thick clouds blotted out the sun. Despite the lack of thick foliage above him, the marsh leading up to the camp was surprisingly dark.

Most of the clouds were natural, but there was definitely a stream of smoke coming up from the distance. Abel had only barely heard the explosions but he knew the camp was hit.

It was just a matter of saving whoever he could and if not…

Back to Regulian custody…

Gasping, Abel leaned against a tree. He was winded and breathing in swamp gas did not help.

Back to the monsters who just killed the nicest people I’ve met in ages. Who fucking cares if they were the enemy? They weren’t a threat to anyone!

But what did the Regulians care? To them the Lacertans were not even sapient. Just toys of their AI god who had no bidding but his.

To Abel, as off-putting as it might be, their religion didn’t seem any more crazy than others. The three Lacertans were a spectrum of the faith, no different from other religions Abel had seen.

Keep moving!

Gritting his teeth, Abel kicked himself into gear, charging through the murky swamp as fast as he could. Wet mud sloshed as the smoke grew closer and closer.

Plumes of orange and blue flames came into view from between the trees. Save for the destruction, there was no sign that any camp was here just a few hours ago. The ground was scorched black and any remnants of their ship was just as dark and scattered around like seeds.

The ground burst with an explosion several feet away, blowing smoke that caused Abel to lean over and gag.

Something rustled to Abel’s right and there was a sharp, digital beep. Turning his head, Abel saw the barrel of a rifle pointed at him that almost looked like it vanished into thin air, were it not for a tree behind it rippling like it was painted on fabric.

“Abel?” Lashar spoke and pulled off the hood of his camouflaged cloak. His voice was tense, far from the jovial Lacertan that Abel was familiar with.

“Lashar,” Abel gasped, his run suddenly catching up with him as his chest ached with pain. “I’m sorry, I came to warn yo-”

“Thank you,” Lashar said, shouldering his rifle just as another explosion went off behidn him. He grabbed at a charred chunk of metal. “Help me.”

“We have to get out of here, it’s danger-”

“No!” Lashar shouted in distress. “Survivors, we have to search for survivors!”

Abel looked around, dreading to find a Regulian squadron with their guns drawn but saw nothing of the sort, merely another patch of dirt exploding. Nothing serious, just the entire area might be littered with delayed or proximity munitions.

“Fuck,” Abel ran up to the slab and grabbed it. “Okay, one, two, three!”

Abel grunted and pushed the slab with all his might but it was clear Lashar was pulling most of the weight. The slab slid off, revealing nothing more than uncovered dirt beneath it.

“Lashar, there’s-”

“Asha has to be here...” Lashar darted into the smoke.

Holding his breath, Abel followed, waving the smoke away with his palm. The air was growing hot and Abel was shocked to see Lashar kick a burning chunk of metal away which was then erupted straight into the air after it hit a buried bomb.

“Not here...” Lashar cupped his palms around his muzzle, “...Asha! Taal! Where are you!?”

“Asha...Asha...” Lashar looked around wildly, “...please, Asha...”

Once again, the Lacertan darted across the wasteland but only got far enough to escape the smoke when he collapsed onto the ground and started digging with his claws.

“He might be underground, Abel, please...please...”

Lashar’s claws were covered in dried charcoal and soot. A few claws were broken. It was clear Lashar had been doing this for some time before Abel arrived.

The air whirred and Abel fell down on Lashar, covering them up with his cloak. A lift-copter’s engines grew louder, until they were hovering straight over the pair.

“Asha would not want this,” Abel whispered. “I don’t know him very well and I don’t know what he means to you but...I think I know what he would want you to do.”

Lashar tensed up. He did not cry, for he was unable to, nor did he sob; but Abel could sense a sorrow just as biting to his heart as hearing an injured child crying.

Slowly, the Lacertan brought his right hand up and placed his palm on the human’s hands, caressing him with his smooth scales.

The sounds of the lift-copter started to fade as it hovered away from the site.

“Lashar, I-”

“Quiet!” Lashar suddenly hissed and perked his head up. “Do you hear that?”

Abel went silent and scanned the area. It was hard to hear with the crackling of flames but there was a small beeping noise ringing out from off in the distance.

“It’s an SOS! Asha, I’m coming!”

The lift-copter landed smoothly in a large field that was turned into a makeshift airport by the Ducal air fleet. It was quite a ways away from the Lacertan camp, which was still covered in cluster bombs that were still in the process of being detonated. The jets silenced and Brolath slid the door open and motioned for Leon to come.

“I would rather stay,” Leon replied.

“It’s not every day you get to see a Lacertan executed in person,” said Brolath.

“And I intend to keep it that way.”

“They’re not like you and I, they’re just drones.”

“I’ve saw one video and that was enough.”

Brolath shrugged, “Suit yourself, I’ll be back in a moment.”

Hopping onto the ground, Brolath was greeted by Rorgh, whose brown fur was blowing wildly in the wind. They exchanged sniffs and Rorgh began leading his Captain across the field.

“Haven’t seen him yet, me and the Duchess just got here. Her soldiers had to secure the package and make sure he wasn’t fitted with an explosive implant or something.”

“No two Lacertans are alike, they say,” Brolath grunted.

“This one’s apparently a very bright green, Yora reckons his scales will fetch a good price.”

“Nobles will buy anything.”

A black Lupiad in gray armor waved the two over to a lift-copter with the doors shut. It was surrounded by more guards than the other vehicles.

“Captain Brolath, I presume?” the Lupiad pounded his chest. “Her Grace has permitted you to interrogate the captive about your target.”

“Not a bad idea,” Brolath frowned. “Their camp wasn’t far from the crash-site, they might have seen something.”

The Lupiad slid open the door.

Lying in the center of the lift-copter and taking up most of the space was a very large and very red Lacertan. The creature’s eyes were shut and his stubby arms bound across his chest, which was missing several patches of scales. Blood trailed from his fingers, leading across the floor to a pile of talons, fangs, and claws lying in the corner.

“Soldier,” Brolath asked, “what color is this Lacertan?”

“Green.”

“He’s red,” Brolath sighed, “get your retinal implants checked and update your report to the Duchess before she promises the wrong color of scales to a noble.”

“But most of the nobles don’t have implants.”

“Trust him,” Rorgh butted in. “Nobles will find out and demand refunds and she will not approve.”

“Fuck.”

“Also...” Brolath pointed at the Lacertan, “...why have you bothered torturing him?”

“To get information, sir.”

“Lacertans are drones, they don’t feel pain or fear. You’re just wasting your energy.”

“He seemed to be in pain to me, sir.”

“That’s impossible.”

Brolath stared at the unconscious Lacertan quietly. His right leg was broken and twisted up bad, the soldiers were having fun with him. It was good for morale, Brolath supposed, but pointless beyond that.

“Any dangers?” Brolath asked.

“We extracted a...I don’t know what to call it. Some kind of flammable venom sack that he could use to spit.”

“Flammable venom?”

“Maybe they expected him to put a light to his lips and spit like some cheesy action movie stunt,” Rorgh interjected.

“Wake up,” Brolath kicked the Lacertan in his leg.

As if the Lacertan felt pain like a normal creature, he awoke screaming. His dagger-like fangs were covered in blood and several were missing, having joined the pile in the corner.

“Have you seen a human?”

“Send me home...send me home...” the Lacertan chanted, eyes rolling up.

“Or a train crash?”

“Logos, help me...send me home, please...send me home...help me, Logos, help me...”

The Lacertan’s muscles tensed and he began to shake violently.

“I am your servant, Logos, I have not forgotten, please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me, please don’t-”

Brolath shut the door on the mad Lacertan and shook his head. Rorgh was frowning, his ears folded back and his nose wrinkled up in disgust.

“There’s nothing to get from him,” Brolath told the soldier. “Take care of him.”

The beeps had silenced but Lashar kept on running while Abel struggled to keep up. They were a fair distance away from where the camp had been but the trail of smoke and destruction stretched on.

At the very least the ground was no longer detonating randomly, though Abel heard several small explosions behind them.

“He’s here,” Lashar stopped and whispered, pointing at a fallen tree whose branches were set ablaze.

Lashar whipped out his knife and it began to glow blue as he sprinted towards the flaming tree. As Abel trailed behind him, he spotted a small crater in the ground beneath the fallen trunk.

“Captain!” Lashar shouted and reached into the branches with his knife, slicing them off and tossing them aside with no care of being burnt. “I’m here!”

Turning around with venom dripping from his lips, Lashar pointed to the trunk, “Help me, please!”

Abel and Lashar both stood on opposite ends of the trunk. Abel’s eye caught the sight of emerald green scales in the hole just before Lashar counted down and they pushed with all their might, rolling the log off of the hole.

Asha was there, lying perfectly still. Lashar hopped into the hole and embraced his Captain, nuzzling him gently against the snout.

“Please wake up...”

Abel cupped the green Lacertan’s hand. Despite the heat above him, his scales felt cold. Abel swallowed a lump in his throat.

“Lashar, I-”

“A...” a small rasp came from Asha’s lips, “...gent?”

“Thank Logos!” Lasha hugged his comrade tight, sniffing and nuzzling at his neck. “I was afraid…I was so afraid...”

“Fear is not logical...” Asha hissed weakly, “...goes against Protocol...Protocol...”

Asha laughed slowly, “I forgot the number...”

Lashar motioned towards Abel to come and join them. Abel needed no encouragement, he crawled up to them and joined Lashar in hugging the injured Captain, copying Lashar in nuzzling him with his nose.

“Careful...don’t kiss me,” Asha laughed. It was uncanny hearing the very serious Lacertan laugh, “if you do...I won’t have the energy to satisfy your lust...”

“And people say I’m the joker,” Lashar sniffed.

Despite the cold scales all around him, Abel felt warm and accepted as part of something.