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ancient enemy

Teo Azkuharaz and his fellow archeologists expected to be answering scholarly questions in the ruins on the planet the team is bound for. But the questions become those of life and death when their ship is attacked and survivors taken prisoner by the yfel, a brutal reptilian race defeated millennia ago by the Virinian Empire. Now returning to exact revenge, they refuse to believe their enemy no longer exists. As a linguist able to speak with the yfel, Teo is given a slow-acting poison, and promised the antidote in return for information that will allow the yfel to destroy the Virinians and their subject worlds. Resigned to dying, Teo pretends to cooperate, only to find himself a pawn in deadly plots and schemes among the yfel themselves. Can he use those against his captors to save his ships crew, fellow archeologists, and the countless lives on planets the yfel plan to destroybefore he dies?

The hyper-jump came in the middle of the free trader Klarholds Firstwatchthe triple ding of the warning bell followed seconds later by a brief sensation of stretching in extra dimensions and then mild vertigo while the body adjusted to its new location in the universe. Nothing Teotemzaral Azkuharaz had not experienced before. Yet as the spin in his brain slowed to a halt and Teo reached up to pull down his library visor and resume the book playing on it, a prickle slid back along his spine from head to withers to stubby tail and he found all four feet pulling under him on the couch, as if bracing to leap. He stuck out his tongue in embarrassed amusement at his eagerness.

Thats six, Anzith Dee said. Eons of evolution separated him from his primeval ancestors, but a shadow of the reptile remained in his hairless yellow skin and sinuous movements. Were almost there.

The velvety fur on Arshuur Kuurrus chest, bared to let him enjoy the low temperature the Virinian crew favored, rippled, turning its color from silver to black. Sono Kridah-Peleos iridescent feather crest almost matched the rhythm, reflecting light in coruscating rainbows.

Teo ran a hand back through his hair and into his mane, eager for the end of this long journey. Not because they made it on a vessel without real passenger facilities, casually ignored or condescended to by the members of the Klar family who crewed her. At their destination lay possible answers to a million questions and an agony of speculation. Could the ruins these Virinians discovered really mark the prize Sodality archeologists had sought for so longthe home world of the iyatha. Or would it prove just another of the planets they colonized fifteen thousand years ago in this sector, including Virini, before mysteriously disappearing.

Kuiotala Besuamiamulo and Liahua Manakaseama, the expedition leaders, remained serene, of course, leaving the outward display of excitement to the short-lifers and younger colleagues like Teo. Light over their holoboard spilled from dark scales covering their scalps like lace caps to flow down liquid facial planes as calm and blue as the glacier lakes of their homeworld Miana.

Excavation equipment. He stuck out his tongue again. The one joke both archeologists and crew shared was the description of them as cargo which Kuio and Liah asked Captain Vede Klar to use on her manifest To keep rival archeologists from wondering why two of the most prominent scholars of the iyatha are taking an expedition toward the Ananaellai Rift.

He looked up at Derat Klar, a Secondwatch junior communications officer, one of the few crewmembers who spent any time talking to the expedition memberstall and whip-lean like all Virinians, with the ice-pale hair hers in a braid she wrapped around her head like a brow band and the yellow eyes and sharp cheekbones stamping most of the iyathas surviving descendant races.

Derat grimaced, stroking Teos arm lying along the back of the couch, smoothing the grey coat turned from short and silky to fuzzy by the ships temperature. Five ships are on record as calling Channel Whites from this sector the past year with nothing found at the signal coordinates but debrisno pods, no survivors. The rumors include a shaeghan ship and pirate ship, too. Imagine a pirate calling Channel White.

Siiliss feathers ruffled. It existed! Thats why we have the trans-space communications we do. The t-com was part of what the Eosians uncovered when one of them decided there might be truth to the legend of technology sealed away for the future before the colony had to go primitive. They also found mention of technology not left with the colonytransdisc transport and deflector shields, for two. Those are corroborated in record fragments weve found in other iyathan ruins.

Kuio looked up from his and Liahs game. The reason for that being one question we hope to answer. It might be important. They colonized thirty worlds in less than three hundred standard years, if we understand their dating system correctly. That is faster expansion than they could have resources to support. Quite possibly the reason for abandoning the colonists. Why push so, in that case? Not to relieve over-population. The ruins of the failed colonies indicate populations too small to be viable and those few that managed to survive, like Virini, verged for generations on collapse from in-breeding before the fatal genes bred out. Most intriguing, however, is the fact that the colonies lie in a near straight line from the Ananaellai Rift to the Andvarian Commonwealth on the Rim. As if they were driven, or fleeing something. Does that explain their disappearance? It might be good to know.

Teos gut knotted. The mere presence of another ship did not necessarily pose a threat, but an unidentified energy pattern after the talk of pirates and star monsters felt threatening. The Virinians must think so, too. Except for Derat, they scrambled from the commonroom, faces grim.

Kuio and Liahs expressions remained unperturbed, but they shut down the holoboard and hurried toward an exit with speed Teo had not remembered them using since the dig on Xoan caved in on team members there.

The tone of the hoot rose. Rose again as the signal lights went white. The intercom changed to a different voicespitting numbers too fast for Teo to follow, but their meaning easy to guess. The other ship had come too near, too fast for comfort. Sudden cold chasing across Teos hide had nothing to do with ambient temperature.

As though reading his thoughts, Derat grinned down at him. Dont worry. The Klars have always been more than a match for any rutting pirate. And my ancestors once owned this sector of space, remember.

Derat turned back. Maybe I can help that. She looked at Kuio and Liah. You two have the Patriarch suite where Klar elders stay on board. Ill patch the screen of its vid console to the bridge and you can see whats on the main screen there.

Derat slid open the cabin door and with the whole expedition party following her in, hurried across to a desk with a large wall screen above it. Teo had assumed it was merely a fancy intercom, but under Derats manipulation a section of the desk top slid aside to reveal a panel of buttons and readouts. Her fingers punched rapidly.

Teo grabbed the back of the nearest chair for support. It was as though someone had jerked open a section of the bulkhead. Blackness filled the screen, the Ananaellai Rift, truly the Infinity of Midnight the name meant in Liah and Kuios language. The only visible stars lay on the far side, blurred by distance into a misty fog.

As Derats fingers continued to move across the buttons, a ship filled the screenits length tapering to a pointed bowsleekly menacing as a predator fish. Nothing at all like the knobby cylinders and eggs Teo was used to seeing leached to the docks of orbital stations. Graphs with numbers and Bari lettering superimposed over the stranger one after another in a blur.

Derat covered the panel and headed for the door. If you have any items of value, hide them, and break out personal weapons. If were boarded, fight. Handing over valuables is no guarantee you wont be killed anyway.

Derat had given them sound from the bridge, too. The com officer ran through hailing sequences in some twenty languages besides Panlingua, and on reaching the end of the list, began repeating them, though he broke in the middle to say in Bari, Theyre still not replying, Captain.

The screen jumped, shrinking the size of the ship to a pinpoint in the middle. It did not remain a pinpoint, however. Teo had no idea how to judge velocities from a vid scan, but the speed of the stranger must be tremendous to refill the screen so quickly. The stranger shrank again, and grew again. Light flashed at its bow.

Teo fought through fur to air again. Chaos! How could someone feel cold and hot simultaneously? Cold chewed at his spine at the same time sweat soaked his flanks and both cervical and thoracic shoulders. Did he feel the Klarhold firing or was that next shudder another hit? Firing, he decided moments later. Explosions flashed beside the attacking ship, lighting up a blood red hull but bouncing off the attacker.

Voices yelled on the bridge. Teo pictured the scene, lights flashing emergency blue on the panels circling the room and crewmen feverishly attending them, mentally counting the lives of kinsmen affected by each of those lights.

They had deflector shieldsreminding Teo that the earlier discussion of iyathan technology included deflector shields. It brought an appalling thought: could that ship be iyathan? Or a heretofore unknown teyathan race that still possessed their ancestors technology?

Whoever crewed it, the weapons found the Klarhold. The freighter recoiled like a wounded animal. The lights went out, and this time remained dark. The screen and bridge voices died, leaving Teo and his colleagues in suffocating blackness and a silence smelling acidly of sweat and fear.

A rectangle of light marked the doorway and they fought out through it. The corridor seemed bright only by comparison to the total darkness of the cabin, but at least it had some light. As almost the last out, Teo found his colleagues already scattering to their cabins, presumably to grope through their luggage for knives and needlers.

No need to ask what he meantthe deaths. The severe environment of Rraeth made Arshuurs people treasure every scrap of life. How they viewed situations of self-defense remained to be seen. How well prepared were any of them to defend themselves, for that matter? Had even one of them killed another sentient being before?

The ship heaved, cutting her off and screaming the protest of metal stressed beyond tolerance. Gravity bounded, ceasing momentarily, then just as everyone began to float, cut back on with intensity that slammed them to the deck.

Teo wheeled away. The deck heaved with another wild bound of gravity, and this time the entire corridor flexed. A section of overhead buckled. Teo stretched into a hard gallop. Down the corridor ahead flashed the blue lights marking the lifepod entrance.

Gravity changed again, doubling. The corridor flexed once more while metallic groans rose to a scream. Derat and the Mianans, running just ahead of Teo, fell sprawling. Teo stumbled, but he had grown up in similar heavy gravity, and despite a long absence from Azkar, he kept his feet.

To his horror, though, the walls bowed out sideways, bringing the deck and overhead buckling before him, grinding toward each other like closing jaws. Cutting them off from the pod. He caught a blue arm in each hand and dragged Liah and Kuio forward over the rising plates, past Derat.

An urge to laugh rose raggedly through him. His family encouraged their young adults to travel, to accumulate education and experience before they came of age at eight hundred and took on family responsibilities. But surely this surpassed their intention.

He flailed helplessly in midair until Derat grabbed a pocket on his tote vest and towed him to a handhold on the bulkhead. There he looked around for the rest of his colleagues. And gasped in shock. Liah and Kuio floated secured to holds with belts, their eyes closed and hands crossed over their chests in meditation. Arshuur drifted motionless in another net, unconscious or dead. But the only other person in the pod was Derat. None of his other colleagues.

Looking out another port, he understood her rage. The Klarhold receded rapidly from them, hardly recognizable. Gaping wounds crossed the lumpy egg shape from bow to stern. On the bow and along the top to the stern, whole chunks looked bitten out.

After a moment, it occurred to Teo to wonder what light out here lit the freighter, until he realized it came from inside the ship. Brightening. He snapped his eyes closed just as a globe of blinding light enveloped the freighter, a fireball visible even though his eyelids.

Derat pushed away from the viewport. Only Mothers body. Shes Dren Klar, the Secondwatch captain. Klarhold was her soul, hers and Aunt Vedes. However many shareholders, they owned Klarhold. They built her. They left Virini together when they were twenty and signed on with the Gevard Company out of Thaja. In ten years they worked their way up from cargo jaks to bridge officers, then they quit, went home, and recruited shareholders and kin to crew a ship of their own. Mother told me she fell in love with Dad when he pinned her in a station bar brawl but married him because hes an engineering wizard. Her mouth pressed into a grim line. Im going to have every rutting one of those felsons! After the sandie ship answers our Channel White and picks us up, Im going to use their t-com to call Virini. Then the Klars will go hunting!

Teo looked out. The illumination came from a high intensity light bank on the wall of a hangar bay. Against that he could tell little about the beings backlit by it except that they looked tall and thin with long heads and oddly-bent legs.

Yes. Now Teo recognized it. Hemra, an old Virinian language unspoken as such for nearly three thousand years, but once the trade language of the Virinian Coalition, evolving into Galactic, Pangalactic, and finally, Panlingua. As a historian, he had become fluent in it, though more to read than speak.

A single being ducked in through the openingsinuously graceful in a scarlet uniform, two kord tall Teo estimateda head above Derat, scalp brushing the pods overhead. Fine, iridescent scales glittered in coppery red, blue, and green lights on the long, bony neck and egg-shaped head. Sky blue eyes had such clear, bottomless color that the horizontal oval pupils seemed to float there. One three-fingered hand clasped the vertical stock of a weapon the fingers long enough coming around the stock for the points of their talons to touch on either side of the thumbs the other supported the weapons barrelthe talon of the thumb resting on a raised button. The odd shape of the legs came from a long, vertical metatarsus leaving just toes on the ground and a short femur and tibia sharply flexed at the hips and knees.

The weapons muzzle pointed at Derat, though the tiny opening looked hardly threatening. Accent making him gender Teo arbitrarily assigned barely intelligible, he said, In the name of The Supreme Conqueror Emperor Dtamu Chequdtai and the yltai ship Dominator, I take you prisoner.

Which explained why the being spoke Hemra. It had been the trade language when this species tried invading the Virinian Coalition. And been chased back across the Ananaellai Rift, leaving a twisted version of their name as a Virinian swear word.

A shout outside echoed the burst. Almost before the yfels body had fallen to the deck, another filled the doorway. Derat fired again, catching the head this time. But a third yfel, this one with purple gemstones on his uniform, came in over the collapsing body of the second, the muzzle opening of his weapon gleaming blue-white.

Teo gaped at it, then Derat, who stood staring in stunned disbelief from the arm to her shorn shoulder. Incredibly, there seemed to be no blood. A moment later, her other arm fell, too. Teo wanted to turn away but horror paralyzed him.

The blue-green hide of the yfels neck and head rippled, throwing off gold, red, and blue lights. You remember us. He hissed softly through pointed teeth. Pale blue eyes left ice where their gaze touched Teo. They focused on what remained of Derat. We remember you, too.

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getting there by jacob king

Jacob King is a wanna-be super-hero who met the loves of his life while teaching at Timken Senior High School in Canton, Ohio. His affections belong first to his beautiful wife, Carla Thompson, and then to his rewarding obsession to write and teach others to do the same. Carla gave Jacob the opportunity to be a father with the addition of his step-son, Furious, and his infant son, Atticus Rage, who both grow too fast for their parents liking. Working part-time at Phoenix Coffee in Cleveland provides Jacob with just enough caffeine to fuel his studies and other obligations as a Graduate Assistant at John Carroll University. When hes not teaching, writing, studying, or changing poopy diapers, Jacob enjoys drinking micro-brewed beer, being visually impaired, and sleeping.

Jacob Kings poems are a refinery. He takes the daily grind of urban midwest life rides on the city bus, bicycle commutes, daily family challenges and applies heat and pressure to reveal tiny diamonds, scraps of love amid the grit and dust. These poems take us along on Jacobs personal journey, reminding us to always seek the sublime within the struggle. T.M. Gttl, author Stretching the Window, Angels and Copper

Pablo Neruda would have called King fully engaged, for he is aware of the world around him, whether he is walking or biking or just watching. He notes how neighbors, after shoveling snow, share the sidewalk and stand, / belonging, yet can be divided by culture, by much more / than the burqa fabric / and tattoo ink. King seeks to find places of faith / reaching beyond racism, and he reaches out to the hidden girls who too often feel malice / born of their loneliness yet who could easily see themselves as beautiful / if anyone bothered to tell them. In the end, we all want what Jacob King wants for his step-son: the gift: to be loved like that.' Robert Miltner, Professor of English: KSU Stark, author of Hotel Utopia, Against the Simple

Its a reintroduction and rejuvenation of poetry. King is a man who I have greatly respected since first walking into his classroom, and now with this book of wonderful poems, I respect him even more for continuing in his chosen art. Tyler Swegheimer, poet, graduate of Timken Senior High School