"Force vs. SuperNova" by Emily Ramos

Intro

            There is no good or evil in a battle against family. It is not one side or the other who deserves to win. There are not set rules for wars like this, because in civil war, it is evil against evil, good against good. Nothing is pure. Everyone is betrayed by someone close.

Chapter

            The Tracker ran her fingers through the flame, blackening the tips of her fingers with soot. In her other hand she twirled a pearl-hilted knife. She raised her gaze from the flame and to the folk on the other side of the table.

            “And why do a couple of SuperNovas want to hire me? What is it you lost that you don’t want your friends to know about?”

            One of the pair crossed his arms. The female smirked. “Who’s to say that we are part of SuperNova?”

            The Tracker raised her eyebrows. “You wear their uniforms – if that’s what they can be called.”

            “That means practically nothing, when a war is in progress.”

            “Alright, I can take that. What is it that you lost?”

            “We’ll tell you when it is that you take the job,” the man growled.

            The Tracker leaned forward, her dark eyes narrowing. “What makes you think I ain’t gonna take the job? Is it really that bad?”

            “Are you taking the job or no?”

            “Yeah,” the Tracker said. “I’m takin the job.”

            “Good. Now it ain’t so much what we lost, as what we can’t afford to be used against us.”

            “A weapon, Tracker. A weapon we have yet to obtain. And when you get it, either you will protect it or destroy it.”

            “Easy. Do you have any information about this weapon?”

            “Of course, and we would be more than happy to share, just as soon as you sign our contract.”

            “A contract? I ain’t never had to sign my blood before.”

            “We take this very seriously, Tracker. We want assurances that you will complete the job.”

            “Righ’…”

            With a nervous look at the two non-Novas, the Tracker sliced her palm with her knife and held it out to the others across the table. The man wiped his fingers across the cut and then drew them across the female’s pale forehead. He then licked his fingers as the female lapped directly from the Tracker’s hand.

            “Now,” said the man, “we are in business.”

            Adah flung her knife at one of the attacking soldiers, at the same time spinning to slam her heavy-booted foot into the jaw of another Force soldier.

            “Fall back!” Adah cried and instantly the uninjured members of her unit and Tahms’ formed a semi-circle with their backs to the cliff’s edge and their wounded. The Force soldiers formed a line but did not advance. They eyed the Novas warily, trying to decide whether they could finish the rag-tag bunch or not.

            Before they had a chance to come to a decision, the roar of an engine in severe disrepair thundered up behind the Novas. The ramp door squealed as it was lowered and then thudded against the cliff’s edge. Four Novas ran down the ramp and began to pull the wounded back on to the transport the uninjured opened fire on what remained of the brigade of Force soldiers.

            As blue and silver uniforms were stained with more red, the soldiers fell back, shooting sporadically. One of their bullets ripped through one of the Novas’ legs. Adah caught him as he fell and backed onto the transport while still shooting at the soldiers.

            The transport pulled away from the cliff and Ethan Tahms hit the retract button as a few Novas stood guard until the ramp was up and locked.

            “A-Beck, full unit accounted for.”

            “Casualties? Of both?”

            “One dead, five be severely injured, and eight be wounded including yourself, A-Beck.”

            “Start getting’ the injured looked after by Doc. Do we know if the other units made it to their pick-up points?”

            “Yes ma’am. Two were unsuccessful, the rest made it. They fared about same as us.”

            “Alrigh’…N-Way, who’s dead?”

            “Amelia. A-Fel be the one who be dead.”

            It was a strange scene on the Transport as the remaining Novas stood watch over their dead in a silence that was anything but. With the roar of an ancient engine and the constant motion of the skeleton crew, silence could never be achieved in their present state.

            It had been a surprise to find three of the dead in the hold. They had not been seriously injured and therefore patched up and forgotten. No one had realized what had happened as they slowly fell asleep and then died. None of the Novas knew they were dead until everyone had to strap in as they went through a range of Force fire. They had been killed by Silent Poison, a poison that killed quietly through the blood. The bullets they’d been hit with were treated with the poison.

            The five who had fatal wounds, however, were not so much of a surprise. Everyone had known that they would most likely not make it through the night, but had hoped they’d be able to get them home before they died. But it rarely worked like that. None of them made it more than twenty minutes on the Transport.

            “I can’t believe it,” Adah finally said as the Transport neared their city. “The Force has never – Silent Poison was outlawed back in the twenty-teens! How could they…?”

            “Sure looks like the Force be goin’ all out, sis.”

            “Oh, Simon. My girls are dead. Tahms’ guys too. This was the worst run yet, and we’ve had bad runs.”

            “Keep yourself together, A-Beck,” Tahms commanded gruffly as he paused on his way by. “We’ll be getting new Novas from the SuperNova.”

            “Yeah. Yeah, best we just get them off and to Rat. That way they can go to their families. Yeah.”

            “There you go, Adah. Now you be thinkin’.” Tahms patted her soldier and made his way to let down the ramp.

            “Tahms be right, Adah. We’ll get more help. Maybe none can replace what we lost, but sure as Hell could be better. ‘Sides, you an’ me, we be Becketts. We be SuperNova to the core, and we can cope with everything this crazy world throws at us.”

            “We sure as Hell can. ‘Cause we be Becketts, sure as Hell.”

            Nathaniel Beckett slammed his fist against the table, anger over powering him. For so long these “SuperNova” renegades had been a constant irritation. No, they were much more than an irritation. They were horrible, misbegotten lowlifes who destroyed the Earth’s way of unified life.

            And now, yet again, they had caused significant damage to his – nay – they had decimated his troops. His Force soldiers had surely made some sort of impact on the wretched renegades, but there was no perceptible change in their numbers. In fact, it seemed almost as if there were more than ever; the Novas just kept coming!

            “Where do they get so many goddamn volunteers?” Nathaniel demanded rhetorically.

            “I don’t know, sir,” the flustered Under Officer said quickly.

            Nathaniel continued, unhearing. “Where do they come from? We aren’t losing significant numbers of our population to their so-called ‘cause’ and yet we seem to be taking all the damage. We have superior technology, but it hardly seems to discourage them. They must have settlements of their own. We will need to look into that. Right now, however, we have a more important issue. Tell me, Glau, has the weapon been located?”

            Fox Glau cringed. “No, sir.”

            “Damn it! They are coming, Glau! The SuperNova will be the least of our problems when they arrive. Find that weapon, or we are dead.”

            “Shouldn’t we tell the SuperNova? Maybe we could fight aside them when the Others come, if we can’t find the weapon.”

            “Are you insane? No. We won’t need to stoop to asking help from brigands, not when we will have the weapon.”

            “Sir, it may help if you were to tell us what exactly the weapon is.”

            “I can’t. I do not know what it is.”

            “Well we can’t find this ‘weapon’ if we don’t even know what to look for! It is impossible. Sir.”

            “Then bring Trackers. Bring Trackers, but do not tell them why. I will see to that. You tend to say too much.”

            Fox kept his face straight. “Yes sir.”

            Fox Glau hurriedly vacated the room. Almost instantly a woman clad in a red skirt and a tight metallic top appeared from the half of the room that was separated by a gauzy curtain.

            “Nathan, don’t get so worked up over this weapon.”

            “This weapon is what will save our lives, Iysen.”

            “She is just a girl, Nathan.”

            “Just a girl? She is the key to the survival of the human race, divided as it may be at the moment.”

            “Relax, Nathan. No one is as important as they seem at first glance.”

            “Well she is.”

            Iysen stepped closer to Nathaniel and pressed her thin frame against his muscular one. “You may want to relax. You look as if you could use it. I can help you.”

            The young woman stood at the lip of the ridge, her arms spread to the night’s embracing breeze. She was more girl than woman, perhaps aged only sixteen or seventeen years. The hem of her light green skirt was caught and tugged by the wind, revealing bare feet. Her velvet shirt of deep burgandy exposed a generous amount of her flat white stomach, and the two-inch close knit lace sleeves were a joke. Her knee-length leather coat had one button fastened just above her belly-button and had a long rip on the left side from the hem to nearly her waist. Her nearly waist length, copper-blonde hair was braided in the Old French style and covered by a torn yellow bandanna. Her crystal blue eyes were lined in dark charcoal and below her eyes were deep purple circles that told of a consistent lack of sleep. Her ears were host to a pair of tarnished silver hoops, a pair of small silver balls and a single light blue crystal. From her neck on a thin silver chain hung a small wire dream catcher, complete with tiny black beads and a tiny razor-sharp metal feather. Simply from her daunting appearance, even any city-bred Force loyalist would know that River Maher was a Loner, more commonly called Gypsies.

            River wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her sides, and tilted her head back. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the feel of the cool air in her throat. The air was bringing a change of weather and River welcomed it. She was tired of the dry heat and ready for something that was more fitting to the season.

            With the cleansing scent of rain filling her, River began to descend the path etched into the side of the ridge.

            A single knife hurtled out of nowhere and imbedded itself in River’s leg, just below the knee in the back. She cried out and stumbled against the cliff wall. She pressed her back against the wall and scanned the area for her attacker. When she saw no one, she clenched her teeth and grabbed the hilt of the knife. Steeling herself, she pulled the knife from her leg and screamed. She threw it aside and pulled back her skirt to see the wound.

            The world shifted beneath her and she slipped to the ground as her leg failed to support her any longer. River clutched her bloody skirt with one hand and the rough rock behind her with the other and squeezed her eyes shut. When she re-opened her eyes, the world steadied and she saw the blood flowing sporadically from the gash. She sluggishly scrunched up the loose fabric of her skirt and pressed it against the wound.

            This action sent licks of fire through her mind, clearing it some of the fog that the knife had produced. The first, cool raindrops of what promised to be a torrential downpour enhanced the clarity that River felt and she cursed.

            Whoever had attacked her had treated the knife with something. With anger burning in her stomach, River watched the horizon tilt and completely turn on its side as she fell and the side of her face hit the quickly moistening dirt.

            Teyla Wheydon watched with excitement as Dana Bates scooped up the methane filled bubbles. After the backs of her hands were wiped off, one of the Replacement Novas lit the bubbles on fire. The flames wooshed up and then went out. Some of the Replacement Novas stepped back nervously while others eagerly clambered to “hold fire.”

            Dana laughed as she lit each of the young Novas’ handfuls of bubbles on fire. Teyla got up hesitantly and scooped a handful of bubbles from the basin and stepped over to Dana. The woman wiped the back of Teyla’s hands and then lit the fire.

            Teyla stood absolutely still, her arms fully extended as flames grew and died a scant two feet in front of her. The heat radiated against her face and the liquid sizzled in her hands. As quickly as the flames sprung up, however, they died.

            “Alright. Anyone else?” Dana called.

            The Replacement Novas all shook their heads.

            “Then it is over. Those of you who could not work up the courage to hold some fire, what makes you think that you gonna be able to kill somebody? Go home. The rest of you…Tahms will be in soon to speak to you.”

            As those rejected took their leave, the rest looked at each other in confusion. Soon Ethan Tahms entered and took an authoritative stance at the front of the room.

            “So. You are our new Novas. Soon enough you will be getting’ your Unit assignments. It is true that you young folk be replacin’ those we done lost, but who ain’t anymore? In a war against somethin’ as big as the Force it only makes sense. And yes, many of you will die, but unfortunately we ain’t got the time to sufficiently train ya’ll. Sorry. Leave now if this is not…appealing to you.”

            With that, Tahms once again left the room and Teyla crossed her arms apprehensively. She wasn’t sure how appealing the idea of war was to her, but it wasn’t like she had anything to go back to.

            Adah leaned against the wall, folding her arms across her chest. She watched the Replacement Novas through the false mirror with something akin to disgust.

            “Look at them,” she snarled as Tahms re-entered. “They are children. How is it that they are supposed to be fight? We can’t even train ‘em!”

            “We done a’right before. We teach ‘em how to shoot and they shoot.”

            “Yeah, but they get themselves killed more often than not. I can’t believe I got to take six o’ them. Six, Ethan. My girls were good and yet I have to take six new ones? My girls shouldn’ta be dead. They were good.”

            “No one’s good enough to survive forever, Adah.”

            “These kids ain’t gonna survive at all. They’re all gonna be dead first and second run. All of ‘em.”

            “Probably. But perhaps no. You wanna know which ones be yours?”

            “Not really, no.”

            “I don’t blame you. Hell, I wish I weren’t responsible for putting them in Units ‘cause I know exactly which one’s ain’t gonna live. But we chose this path and we’ll both be stickin’ with it, right? I can’t have you abandonin’ us. Not now.”

            “Don’t you worry, Tahms. War be my life now.”