PART TWO
VINTARO ÜSHABA
CHAPTER SIX
HUMANS ARE WEAK PIECES OF KRAUL SHIT.
At least the Loric put up a fight.
I was new to war when we invaded Lorien. Practically fresh out of the vats. Raised and trained to annihilate an entire civilization. There was a blaster in my hand as soon as my fingers could curl around the trigger. I was part of the youngest batch to fight in the invasion. We had one directive: to live the words of the Great Book. Conquer. Consume. Cauterize. To make Beloved Leader proud.
Hail our Beloved Leader!
We were told that the Loric were a people who upheld peace above all else. But they didn’t accept their fates without resistance. The so-called Garde—the Loric with powers—fought hard. I lost half my squad to a girl shooting lasers out of her hands and a man who could control flames—and those weren’t even the strangest things I saw that day. But the Garde didn’t live up to their purpose. They failed to protect their planet and their people. Of course they did. They had no chance against us. Against me. But they died honorably, fighting until their last breaths.
Most of them, that is. I destroyed buildings where Loric cowards were holed up, hiding and praying to their useless leaders. Hoping someone would save them, or that we’d just keep on moving and forget about them.
I’m not sure how long it took for the planet to fall. Everything happened in a blur of bombs, blaster fire and blood. And then it was over. What I do know is that the fight was finished too soon. When we left Lorien, I felt feral, like I could have spent the rest of my years torching that planet’s fields, destroying its cities—or better yet, pulling the last of the survivors from their hiding places and slitting their throats in Beloved Leader’s name.
Instead, our ships finished off the planet, destroying any hint of life that managed to survive our assault. And Setrákus Ra was pleased.
Forever may he reign!
Afterwards I was sent to Earth. In many ways, it’s a combination of Mogadore and Lorien, inhabited by a people who somehow worship peace and war in equal measure. At first, I had high hopes. I thought I was lucky to be stationed here. That the humans would make worthy prey.
They don’t, for the most part. They submit. They’re easy to control. I’ve found no sport in dominating them, no thrill in the victory of beating them.
Here on this blue-and-green planet I’ve been working in the shadows for years, long before we made our presence known. I was one of the many sent to seek out the last of the Garde, who proved to be much better at hiding than they were at fighting. Because of this, I’ve learned all about the humans. I had to, in order to disguise myself and blend into the population when needed. I’ve faced them head-to-head as I’ve hunted the remaining Loric, intimidated people of power into joining us and silenced those who saw too much. In all these years, I hardly ever broke much of a sweat. Even when torturing people for intel—like those who unknowingly harbored Garde or tried to alert the humans to our presence—they gave up information so easily. I never really got to work them over. Or if I did, it was just for fun, after they’d told me everything I wanted to know already.
I’d thought everything would change when our warships descended over their cities. I guess it did in some places where the humans and the Garde actively fought against us. Not in Chicago where I’m stationed, though: where I led a squad of soldiers in a raid on a Garde safe house not long ago, collecting one of Beloved Leader’s most valued targets. Here we allow them to evacuate because Beloved Leader—Praise his name!—has plans for this planet, maybe even its people. It is not Lorien. We are not here only to destroy. I do not question his reasoning. I know it to be infallible.
And so I’ve been on patrol, stamping out small pockets of resistance ever since we showed the humans the true face of their masters. A handful of police officers here, a mob of angry students there. A couple of people desperately trying to get out of the city—who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time—just to keep my blood pumping.
What I wouldn’t give to be in one of the cities where there’s a real fight going on. I can feel it in my muscles and bones. The need to fire my blaster and swing my blades. To hold my enemies up by the throat and look into their eyes before finishing them off. I actually miss the old days, before we made ourselves known. I miss the thrill of the hunt. I miss the sweat of battle and the feeling of someone’s pulse when their neck is in my hands. I crave carnage and bloodshed. Anything but the boredom of dealing with humans.
Which is why, when I receive word that my captain wants to see me in the council room of our warship a few days after we stopped over Chicago, I can’t help but run my tongue over my teeth and hope that he’s giving me a chance to do some real damage. To get back in the fight and end all this waiting around. Not to mention the fact that to be in the presence of the ship’s captain is an honor in itself. I’m a vatborn squad leader—someone who has proven his worth in battle—but my orders still come from lower-level trueborn officers.
I take a Skimmer up to the warship and wait in the council room with two other vatborn veterans. They’ve got scars on their faces, and one of them is missing several teeth. They’ve seen action. They’re good soldiers.
We stand shoulder to shoulder as we wait. None of us speculates as to why we’ve been summoned. At least not out loud. We’ll know soon enough, and then we’ll carry out our orders. Swiftly. Mercilessly. We’ll make our comrades proud.
The captain enters and sizes us up, nodding to himself as if to approve of the selection before him. He says our names. We step forward when called. I am last.
“Vintaro Üshaba.” The captain pauses for a second. “Why have you chosen this name for yourself?”
He means my first name. Like all vatborn, my last name is taken from the place I was created.
“‘Vintaro’ in the old tongue means ‘to raze.’ That is what drives me.”
The captain smirks a little. He seems to like this.
“I’ve called you here for a special mission,” he says, beginning to pace back and forth in front of us. “Ever since it came to the attention of Beloved Leader that some humans have begun to exhibit Garde-like powers, your squads have been on the lookout for such specimens on the ground. He—in his infinite wisdom—would like to examine a few of these tainted humans himself. From now on, we’re taking a more proactive approach to collecting such prisoners. I’m told you three are some of the best of my vatborn on this ship.”
I grunt, nodding my head in agreement but keeping my eyes on the floor.
“Your jobs are simple. You’ll each lead infiltration squads and find these Loric-powered humans. Our recon officer will supply you with leads. You have whatever resources you need available to you. Though, remember: we’re to uphold the ‘peace’ we promised to the cities who don’t resist us.” He shows off a row of gray teeth. “Keep your mayhem in the dark.”
“Sir!” we all say in unison.
He makes for the door, telling us that more information will be given to us soon and that our squads have already been chosen. They are awaiting our orders. He’s about to step into the hallway when he stops.