Star Valor

Possibilities.

Spiro knew about possibilities, about losing them and finding them. He'd once defined his life as a bet that hadn't paid off. One too many relationships and 10 times too many manual-labor jobs had siphoned away his will. He'd grown tired, tired of searching for something that would make him happy. And for a time he had existed. Nothing more.

But one night his car had broken down, and he and his blonde Canaan dog had been forced to walk 5 kilometers down a stretch of lonely, dark desert road. It'd been then that he realized---finally realized---that he couldn't live without being happy. He'd looked forward and back, and there'd only been darkness.

Then he'd looked to the sky. And they had been there. And he had seen them as if for the first time. Stars, a perfect heavenly field, neither fettered by clouds nor choked by light pollution. Spiro had laughed out loud, realizing how ridiculous he looked standing in the middle of the road, staring slack-jawed into space. But when his laughter had subsided, and he'd turned and continued his walk, he'd come to know for the 1st time in many years a possibility that'd been right before his eyes.

Now, 21 months later, he and his dog stood on alien soil. He wiped his sweaty palms on the hips of his rust-colored flight overalls, then resumed holding hands with Mat and the woman to his right. As the wind rose, hinting of the scent of jasmine and causing the hair on his nape to stand up, Spiro let his gaze play over the 250 men, women, and children of the Brashita Colony Mission who had gathered to listen to Colonial Mayor Shameel. He glanced past the crowd to the flat area that stretched to the horizon. Above the worn-down greenish rocks, where orange and purple should have been, was an odd violet twilight superimposed by brilliant planetary rings that arced across the sky. A single full moon, ice-blue and not quite round, hung low but followed an ecliptic that took it much higher in the sky than Earth's satellite. For Spiro, Brashita was a place of eerie beauty, and it already felt like home.

"Incredible, isn't it?" Mat observed.

"Judging from what you told me back on the cutter, coming here is the smartest thing you've done in a long time."

He gazed on her and smiled. "Are you calling me stupid?"

She returned a grin of her own, a very nice one. "You know what I mean. We've all made mistakes."

"What mistakes have you made?" he asked, then squeezed her hand.

She squeezed back. "True, I haven't said much. But we'll have time later." She gestured with her head. "Here comes the mayor."

Spiro watched as Mayor Shameel strode to a position in the front of the group, turned to face everybody, and then cleared his throat. If Shameel was a day over 40 he didn't look it, and there was a glimmer in his eyes that spoke volumes of his determination. Spiro averted his gaze at the sound of a whimper from his dog.

"What's wrong, Captain Crunch?"

"Captain Crunch?" Mat asked incredulously. "What kind of name is that for..."

Spiro cut her off with a sigh. "It's a long story." He released his grip on Mat's hand and then petted the dog. The Canaan wagged his tail and kept his attention focused on the sky. Mat took Spiro's hand in her own.

"Tonight we stand beneath a new heaven," Shameel began. "After 150 years of calling out, the silence of the universe assures us that life on Earth is unique. We are---alone."

There was something, well, lonely about Shameel's words. Spiro wanted to believe that there was another race out there, one that knew the secret to discovering and maintaining happiness and could teach that amazing knowledge to humans. Admittedly, it was hard to argue against 150 years of silence, but that silence would not douse Spiro's hope.

The mayor shifted his weight, then cleared his throat once more. "You and I are among the first to bring life to the stars, to this planet, the farthest away any humans have ever ventured."

Captain Crunch let out a bark. Many of the colonists looked to the dog, and a few half-grinned. Sprio felt his face warm with embarrassment.

"He's barking 'cause Shameel forgot to mention him," Mat said softly.

Spiro nudged the dog with his foot. The mutt turned around and sat on his hind legs, facing Spiro. "Good. Now you stay there and be quiet." he looked up---into Shameel's gaze. He mouthed. "I'm sorry."

Shameel nodded slightly, then closed his eyes. "The light that shines from this new sun will not touch our old home for another 16 years." The mayor opened his eyes, and then paused.

Spiro considered Shameel's words. He was sixteen light-years from home, standing on a planet in the Zeta Omicron star system. Though the mayor had just reminded him of that fact, it was still well-nigh impossible to comprehend the distance.

"Unlike that light---we cannot go back. We can only move forward." The mayor swallowed, then blinked hard several times, fighting back what had to be a surge of emotions. "I know there are those back home who say we're only here as a status symbol. Others call us fortune hunters or say that we're running away. But I know we're here because of faith, a faith in the God of our ancestors."

Out of the corner of his eye, Spiro caught a tear sliding down Mat's cheek. Instead of turning to her, he allowed her the moment and kept his gaze on Shameel; as he did so, he felt his own eyes moisten.

Shameel continued. "The rocket fuel that brought us here can be burned away, but the belief in God---in the future---never can be. Never will be."

A man Spiro recognized as the pilot of the cutter stepped up to Shameel and handed him a flagpole. The pilot resumed his position in the crowd. Shameel paused a moment before lifting the flag, studying it with reverence. Then the governor stabbed the flagpole into the soil. A white flag with a blue Star of David in it unfurled in the Brashitan wind.

The colonists around Spiro took the flag's presence as their cue to let out a cheer. The woman to Spiro's left, a slim brunette who was likely in her twenties, pulled him towards her. Spiro released Mat's hand and found himself embracing the girl. She hugged him hard, then thrust him backward, keeping her hands on his shoulders. Spiro saw that the name patch on her flight overalls read, HOENIGBERG, AISHA.

"Oh, what a thrill!" she said, then looked at his name patch. "Spiro, huh? Named after Spiro Agnew, eh?"

Immediately Spiro knew that she was not one of the engineers responsible for designing the ship that carried them to Brashita. "Uh, I don't know."

"Oh," she said, her cheeks flushing. She let her hands slide off his shoulders. "Well, I bet you do. Nice meeting you."

Spiro detected the weight of a hand at the base of his neck. He turned to see Mat move in next to him. She took his arm in hers, and suddenly Spiro felt nervous.

"Nice to meet you, too....Aisha," Mat said. "Now, if you'll excuse us." Mat pulled Spiro away from the young lady and steered him through the dissipating crowd. Captain Crunch fell in at Spiro's side.

"Since when are we an 'us'?" Spiro said.

Mat tossed her head to remove some golden locks that had strayed into one of her eyes, then lifted her brow. "You didn't?"

He shook his head no. "Does that mean we are?"

"Maybe," she said, then started away. "Come on, let's get something to eat."

Spiro groaned. "I hate it when they're coy." He regarded Captain Crunch. "Don't you, boy?"

The mutt wagged his tail fiercely, licked his chops, then barked.495Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYz2KRP4EKc
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For two Brashitan months, the equivalent of 2 and one half Earth months, Spiro helped build the kibbutz. The cutter's fuselage, an enormous structure that lay on its side in the clearing of the lush tropical rainforest they had chosen as their home, was utilized as a storage warehouse. Though in the years to come they would build permanent dwellings, for now, they lived out of prefab Quonset huts arrayed in the cutter-like tin cans lying on their sides, half-buried in the soil. Spiro participated in the raising of the satellite dish, a project that should have been accomplished in one day, but one that had taken the team of five nearly one week.

Of the 16 rovers that had been packed for the journey, all but one was functional. There was something wrong with the transmission on the vehicle, a defect that had been present before loading. Spiro suggested they cannibalize the rover for spare parts. Shameel agreed.

Spiro shared nearly every meal with Mat. Though she was preoccupied with her geological studies, she always found time for him. He knew they were destined to become lovers, but thus far he was the one holding back. What scared him was the fact that if their relationship didn't pan out, there was nowhere to run. One planet. One settlement. And he knew he would hate the awkwardness of having to sometimes be in her presence.

But he wanted her. Badly.

After one particularly long day of serving on a construction team, Spiro skipped dinner, went back to his hut, and collapsed on his cot. He shared the hut with fifteen other settlers, all of whom were, thankfully, away. He knew Mat would be unhappy with him, but he would make her understand. He dug his back deeper into the cot and shut his eyes. Then he felt Captain Crunch leap onto the bed. The dog used his muzzle to drive Spiro's legs to one side of the bed.

"Oh, come on, dog, can't you sleep on the floor?"

But the Captain would do no such thing. He found a spot and settled down, resting his chin on one of Spiro's ankles.

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Sometime during the night, Spiro was awakened by a snarl from his mutt. He opened his eyes and focused on the clock at his bedside; it was 3:00 a.m.---early--even on a planet with 41-hour days. Spiro cocked and lifted his head a little, then squinted at the window. A wedge of blue moonlight shone into the room and cut the floor in two. The window's curtain, an old T-shirt hanging half-off, billowed in the wind. Something rose behind the curtain, something like steam or fog, but Spiro dismissed the image as a trick of his sleepy eyes. Captain Crunch rose shakily on his bed, then hopped off onto firm ground.

Spiro sat up and rubbed his eyes on the heels of his hands. "What is it this time, Captain?"

The dog paused before the window; then uttered a steady, foreboding growl that rose slightly in pitch but dramatically in volume.

Reluctantly, Spiro threw off his covers, scratched at his belly button, and then got out of bed. He crossed gingerly to his window, swearing under his breath that he didn't have a pair of slippers to insulate his feet from the icy floor of the hut. "This had better be important," he told the dog.

Spiro rested an arm on the windowsill, looked right, and left, and saw nothing outside of the hut. He wasn't sure why, but he felt the urge to look skyward. The tableau was peaceful----but then he saw something, and he felt his mouth open. 3 horizontal slits of light, in formation, approached the colony.

First thought: We don't need any help. Why the hell did they send another team here? What the hell were they thinking?

Second thought. Another team? Wouldn't happen!

Then he heard the thrusters of jets. It was the unsettling roar a jet fighter makes as it soars through the air. Angry and malevolent, the sound struck fear in Spiro as it grew louder and louder. He detected something new in the air, a smell the likes of which he had never encountered. The closest thing he could compare it to was that of burning plastic.

He studied the slits of light, probing deeper into his memory, trying to draw angles from them, insignia, something. And in his next heartbeat, they were visible: a squadron of warplanes shaped like an immense winged scarab beetle, twelve in all, in a diamond attack formation. Spiro toyed with the idea that the gliders were part of some top-secret IDF project, but at the same time that he tried to rationalize their presence, his heart told them they were not from Earth. The IDF would not spend that much money to put fighters this far out. The only people in the system were the colonists.

From somewhere outside came a thunderous approach of footsteps. As he turned away from the window, Spiro's mouth went dry and a knot formed in his stomach.

Mat!

Screams rose from the Quonset hut beside his. Spiro craned his neck, shot a look through the window, and saw colonists fleeing from the rear exit of the shelter. Above, a glider swooped down, its engine howling, and let loose with a volley of laser fire that tore the hut into gleaming, hissing ribbons of corrugated steel. Spiro's dog howled back at the roar of destruction.

By now, the other colonists were bolting from the cots, and Rachel, a bioneer, rushed up to Spiro, her face a mask of fear and worry. "What's happening?"

"We're under attack," he said, the words sounding more like a question than a statement.

"Omigod...."

Spiro spun away from Rachel and started for the door. Mat's hut was just two down from his. He could make it.

A sound came from behind the door, a hissing, and Spiro froze.

The door blasted off its hinges and slammed onto the floor. Through an acrid-smelling cloud of smoke, a monstrous silhouette appeared and advanced into the threshold. Other silhouettes could be seen behind it.

Then Spiro caught a glimpse of the thing. It was a thing right out of Dungeons and Dragons! Its "head" was a squared helmet with half a face guard shaped like the top of a skull. Attached to the top is a sun-shaped metal ornament piece. Its shoulders were oval, very long, and small in size. The torso consisted of many layers of rounded metal sheets that covered everything from the neck down and ending at the groin, but the sides were only covered near the bottom. Likewise, the legs were covered by a skirt of many layers of metal sheets reaching just below the groin.

In whatever it was that passed for its left hand, the somewhat humanoid clenched the cylindrical device it had used on the door.

Spiro's dog bounded for the alien shock trooper.

Amid the colonists' screams outside and inside the hut, Spiro heard his name. He looked over his shoulder and, sure enough, Mat was standing in the rear doorway of the hut.

He shot a glance forward and saw his dog prepare to leap onto the shocktrooper. The alien raised its weapon.

Spiro turned and ran towards the rear exit, but the other colonists clogged his path.

The last things he heard were a yelp from his dog and the Shhhhaaaaaa! of the alien's weapon firing.495Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpo4jtGLLH8
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Mat was hurtled 5 meters away from the rear doorway by the shocktrooper's weapon. She fell onto her side, felt a fire in her hip, brushed it off, then rolled and stood. "Spiro," she said, her voice cracked and tremulous. Mat backed away from the hut, then in one fluid motion, turned and sprinted away.

She heard the demonic cry of an alien glider, then laser fire paralleled both sides of her path. Dirt and stones shot into her legs from the barrage. She was between Quonset huts, and up ahead lay the relative safety of the jungle. A tremulous explosion sounded in the west. She looked right, just as the giant satellite dish exploded and collapsed to the ground. Above it, alien gliders swooped like metallic ravens over the treetops flying in flocking formation, hunting....

From within the hut to her right came the hysterical voice of a colonist. "Mayday! Mayday! This is the...."

A salvo of alien laser fire ended the man's message.

Mat rounded the corner of the hut, and there, in the distance, she caught sight of the Israeli flag, flapping defiantly against a wall of flames. A shocktrooper ran by the flag, then swung around, aimed its weapon, and torched the emblem. Bastards! Mat felt a rush of air behind her and came to a jarring halt. She looked over her shoulder and saw an alien glider diving to zero in on her. The urge to duck passed quickly, for she knew that regardless of what she did the alien would not miss. Every nerve in her body thundered. For a moment there was just the deafening beat of her heart. Then the world became a place of intense heat and light.495Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJ3IHHEvhob

Star Valor

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