Cosmic Tales 12: Vagabond by Richard C. Parr
"Stop!" cried the captain and his whole company froze. Another wire was tripped unknowingly, followed by a subtle rumble. The ground shook and a bunch of cylindrical logs was released in an avalanche, bowling two men like skittles as they were granted too little time to respond to the trap. The captain's first officer aimed his laser with the rear firmly pressed into his shoulder. His tremors were uncontrollable, and the captain seized the weapon, shoving him aside.
"Give me that!" he snapped. "Company, advance!"
A barrage of arrows rained from the sky and one landed awkwardly, penetrating the reinforced material of a soldier's boot. He howled in agony and hopped to safety. The captain ordered his men to fire at will in the direction of the bombardment. A laser shot severed a thick branch and Obinson stumbled, clinging to a thick trunk that was far too wide for him to fully grasp. He slid, and under immense pressure, let go, collapsing on top of a soldier, taking his laser gun and executing a stand-off where he was outnumbered seventeen to one. The captain stepped forward.
"After we have recovered the weapon, you will die for betraying the government."
"I will not allow the Voloxians to start another war," said Obinson. "You have no right to bombard foreign territories, install your puppet governments and confiscate the indigenous people's resources."
"It is the best policy we have."
"It is the only policy you have. I cannot believe your imperialist ignorance. Is there something inherently wrong with our race that we hate peace and prosperity so much?"
"Why not take from others and claim as your own? Voloxian inhabitants have no will to prosper themselves. They expect their government to do everything and provide for them, and thanks to their laziness, we have great military potential and we get free reign to invade and govern foreign territories."
"I will not let you have this technology."
"So you do admit it is here."
Obinson shook with years of bottled rage.
"Get off this island," he spluttered, and the men started to laugh. The captain stepped forward and Obinson's preparation of courageousness was dissolved in an instant when the towering figure of command blocked his path. He wanted to press the trigger, but a wave of sorrow hit him and for some reason he felt unable and useless. He could not end a life. The captain swiped the laser gun and struck Obinson across the face, then kicked Obinson in the sternum as he fell to the ground. Obinson gasped for air and reached out with a hand to try and take back the laser gun. The captain stood poised over his belittled victim, turned the butt of the weapon around, raised it high over his head and prepared to bring it crashing down. A violent rustling and vibration unsteadied the jungle to interrupt proceedings, and in the clearing, an antenna rose on wheels, operated by a reptilian female, who lowered the spire to aim the weapon directly at them.
"It's too late for you now," muttered Obinson to the startled, petrified captain. His men ran for the beach, abandoning him to face the weapon alone.
"Go away," stated Rodeena. The captain dropped the laser gun, took several steps backwards, turned and ran, and in doing so, Rodeena released the brake mechanism and inched the wheels forward. The men scurried across the jetty, crammed themselves into the lifeboat and released the rope. The captain hollered at them to stop, leaped and plunged into the water, then swam to the lifeboat, eventually being dragged and hoisted aboard by a group of soldiers. The three who had been catapulted into the sea also swam for the safety of the boat, and in being helped to safety, the boat rocked intensely and almost capsized. A pitiful strained effort to control the direction and speed with the oars unfolded and the captain lost control. The men did as they pleased, panicking and not paying attention to orders. The weapon made its way on to the beach and Rodeena rotated the antenna. Under Obinson's instruction, she understood how to control the concentration and force of the beam.
Obinson limped to the tree line and watched the lifeboat radiating a fiasco of hysteria. The antenna warmed up and produced a miniature quake, sending ripples along the sea and causing a sudden silence to engulf the lifeboat. The Voloxian fretfulness was interrupted by the awakening of an ingenious beast. As quickly as the quietness came, it was over. A beam, like the cluster of a million lightning bolts swirling around each other in a never ending spiral, was released in a split second, firing out horizontally. The lifeboat and its inhabitants were eliminated. Shards of boat exploded outwards and landed in the sea, creating ripples of wooden rain droplets. The firepower was so devastating that, seconds after the sinking, there was not even a single sign of any soldier. The antenna smoked and cooled, while on the horizon, a centuries old ship weaved against the tsunami created by the weapon, its anchor shattered in the biting sea, and it was carried away by the brutality of the tide.
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The evening approached fast and it was a race to get a blaze going before the cool air shrouded the island. Obinson saw the contents of his shelter had been largely destroyed by the reckless cruelty carried out by the invaders' search. He assembled firewood and worked with Rodeena to create the campfire, speaking to her while he concentrated on crafting those first embers.
"The fate of the galaxy is determined by those with the greatest technological ability. The future of every race is determined by those willing to remember their ancient roots and to keep to a simple way of living. Technology accelerates the standard of modern living, but discourages the simplicity of life and severs the connection to the land, and by this, technology goes hand in hand with downfall. The danger lies within us. Our quest for fulfilment is endless. There is no maximum limit to our satisfaction. Spiritual enhancement breeds the yearning for self-knowledge. But material enhancement produces greed. The more we have, the more we want, and the more we are unfulfilled. I'm sure you would like to travel to many planets and see multiple sights, and this is an inherent desire in all of us. Pick just one place, explore it in its entirety, at the expense of the others, and you will get the feeling of being complete. Despite modern advancements, always remember your roots and the simple ways of living."
Obinson collected the shards of pots, pans and furniture, throwing them on the fire and watching the flames grow.
"You're not going to repair any of your stuff?" said Rodeena.
"Of course not. I can make it again anyway. I will gather resources and start from scratch."
"But you don't seem upset about having your place wrecked and losing your belongings."
"Because I'm not upset. Never own anything you are not willing to detach yourself from. Whatever I build, I will one day lose because I will not be here. However, with a bit of luck, what I have constructed throughout my life will survive and be passed on, so there is no point becoming attached to a possession. In the end you will lose it all. You have to learn to let go."
Rodeena threw lumps of wood and smaller twigs into the inferno. She suddenly became aware that one day her adventures on the Chromium Bullet would cease, and she would return to her home planet or find a peaceful dwelling in a protected land. Her mind wandered to the whereabouts of the crew enjoying their break. She could not imagine ever leaving Elwood, Wingclipper, 234 or Bink behind.
She was not willing to let them go.
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Written by Richard C. Parr
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About the Author
Richard C. Parr was born in 1986 in England and lives in Nottingham. He has travelled to 20 countries and runs a blog at HumanEmbodiment.com.
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Email: [email protected]
Twitter: @HumanEmbodiment