Thrax

Taking the meaning in his eyes, Agena nodded and left, going quickly back to her side of the suite. 

*****

Presently, she was using her data collector in a manner for which it was not intended.

The Knights and Corps had followed their orders with flawless efficiency.  All the civilians were gathered in an open outer courtyard of the Chateau to await the arrival of aerovans that would bear them to safety.  The courtyard was filled with a hubbub very different than the noise that had inundated Thrax and Agena at the Stadium during the Lottery.

 They were now immersed in a buzzing of a different sort: just as constant and insistent, but lower, more subdued and restrained, with an edge of nervous, anxious energy.  People’s data collectors and other media devices, including Agena’s collector, were showing the reason why. 

Everyone had divided into sub-groups to watch the live holograms that now floated like stationary bubbles in the courtyard, showing the battles that had unfolded in space—and the ones that were breaking out all over Lacerta; now, the alien ships had entered the atmosphere and had started making their way for the populated areas.

Agena held a holographic playback in front of her like some ancient seer’s crystal ball.  A knot of other people had gathered around her, people she did not even know because she had been so busy—or Thrax had kept her so busy—since the morning they had talked on the balcony.  Thrax had shown her how to call up different kinds of information from the data collector, though she frankly could have figured out how to do so herself. 

What she and her fellow aspirants were seeing now was a continuation of the nightmare that she and Thrax had seen in the suite.  The lead alien craft in orbit, reminding her of the rust-colored, spiny shells of Earth crustaceans, had taken a geosynchronous position over Silverwing.  The flotilla of ships accompanying it had issued a swarm of other craft that had descended like metallic hornets on Lacerta.  They were gliding over the cities, exchanging fire with Lacertan aircraft that swooped in to challenge them. 

The air was torn with streaks of energy leaping back and forth, and harsh blossoms of explosive force that hammered the buildings and cracked and broke their facades, sending thick tendrils of smoke and showers of debris in every direction.  Civilian were dragons flew wildly through the carnage, looking like scattering swarms of birds, and in some places, they winged their way through smoke clouds that made them flounder and falter in the air or were struck by hurtling pieces of rubble and went spinning to the ground.

 And on the ground, more civilians ran, desperate to put as much distance between themselves and the violence as they could, spurred and shepherded on by members of the Corps who barked and screeched at them to keep moving and not to stop. 

In Agena’s little knot of people, and in other clusters all around the courtyard, the questions flew back and forth.  Who were the aliens?  Why were they doing this?  What did they want?  Why didn’t they try to communicate?  Did they mean to kill everyone?  Or capture people and take them as prisoners and slaves?  Agena, soberly and tensely watching the display from the band of false scales about her wrist, wanted to voice the same questions, but they felt redundant even before she spoke them.

 There would be no answers until the aliens chose to transmit their intentions—or emerge from their craft.  Or until the defenses of Lacerta found a way somehow to force them out into the open.

She looked away from her holographic bubble when she caught sight of Thrax in dragon form striding near and heard him say, “The aerovans are almost here.  They have had to maneuver around the fighting near the Spires and through other traffic heading out of Silverwing.  The Corps has been managing the traffic flow at the same time as they’ve been protecting civilians.  It’s especially dangerous around the Spires because here in Silverwing is where the entire planet is governed.  The aliens, whoever they are, knew this was a strategic point to attack.” 

“Of course, they did,” Agena half-muttered, feeling overwhelmed by it all.  She waved her hand over the data collector and stopped the hologram; it turned to pixels and was gone.  Now her attention and that of the people near her was squarely on Thrax. 

The other Knights and Corps members, also morphed into their reptile bodies, had distributed themselves around the outer edges of the courtyard as if to herd all of the civilians into the place.  The armor-skinned, winged personnel stood watch, keeping their eyes on the sky and brandishing the hilts of their weapons, ready to produce their blades and lances of energy at an instant’s notice.  Thrax, as leader, had taken his prerogative to step away while the others stayed at their posts.

  It took a minor adjustment of thinking on Agena’s part to relate the two-legged dragon in front of her to the man who had made such rich and lascivious love to her for days on end, for she had naturally spent much more time with, and been far more intimate with, the man than with the dragon.  But this was her Thrax.  He carried himself and spoke in the same way.  For all that he was now a human reptile, the man under the scales still shone through.

With one hand on the hilt of his weapon, which lay tucked into the loop in the armor at his waist, Thrax said, “Don’t be afraid, Agena.  We will not let anything happen to any of you.”

Agena believed his intentions, if nothing else.  His voice had a slightly rasping, hissing sound in this body, but the tone of human concern—and more than concern—still rang through in his tone and his manner.

 This was still her noble Knight.  This was still the man who had told her that he enjoyed her more than he had any other woman he had ever known.  The future father of her child was here to reassure her that there would still be a future.  He did not reach out to touch her with his gauntleted reptilian hand, but she would have welcomed his touch if he did.

A whirring sound welled up from around one side of the Chateau.  From that direction came three shiny, floating oblong craft with dark-tinted windows.  They glided to a halt just outside the edge of the courtyard: three aerovans with enough seating among them to carry everyone in residence at the Chateau, guests and staff.

The craft hovered down closer to the pavement.  Their hatches swung open, and ramps extended downward.  The armor-skinned reptilians motioned to their charges to start calmly and quickly boarding the vessels.  The holograms in the air winked out, their users now intent on moving rather than watching.

“It’s time to go,” Thrax said, pivoting his dragon neck and head from the direction where the aerovans waited and back to Agena.  “We’ll be away from here directly.”

Agena stayed close to Thrax as the crowd started to move.  “Where will we be going?” she asked.

“There are places in the forests,” he replied.  “And caves where the Draconite and Odysseum are mined.  Though we shouldn’t stay any longer than we absolutely must in the caves.”

“Because of exposure to the minerals,” Agena guessed.

“Yes,” Thrax said.  “The vans will have a supply of inhibitors, enough for everyone, to minimize the risk of mutation to humans that might complicate any pregnancies.  And medicines for exposure to the radiations of Odysseum.  But the caves, if we use them, are only a short-term option.  Quickly, now…”

The crowd moved briskly, and people began to climb aboard the vans.  The hubbub in the courtyard grew noticeably more frantic.  In just a few more minutes, Agena thought, amid the human static, she and Thrax would be safely on board the nearest aerovan and ready to peel out of this place and into the Lacertan countryside.

Then, a deep, loud rumbling made her wonder if they would even make it out of the courtyard.

The new, nerve-drumming sound came from overhead.  Agena and Thrax looked up but did not need to ask what the source was.  It descended from out of the clouds, its shape like some huge, ruddy, sinister cosmic shell.  Lights glowed at the front of its hull like the eyes of a demon, fixed right on the courtyard.  And now, among those rushing to climb aboard the aerovans, the constant, hushed murmur broke into screams and shouts.  Thrax instinctively threw himself in front of Agena.

And that was when the firing began.