Debra’s cheeks were glowing in the low lights, half from the strong alcohol and the rest from emotion as she stared at the Trevakian, her eyes sparkling with fondness as she whispered, ‘You mean a lot to me…I cannot bear the thought of us being apart.’ Both hands tightened round hers further as she continued, ‘Do you think we will ever escape this war? Will it ever end?’
Tregan shrugged, smiling further in reassurance, ‘I have known nothing else…the same for all our allies…all we ever knew from childhood is this war. Yes, there are some of our elderly that remember when war broke out…when the Morgons appeared at the edge of our planetary systems.’ Tregan swallowed, sitting back in his seat, ‘Apparently they began raids across our furthest outer settlements and mining operations, slaughtering any who resisted or did not flee. Our fleets were not as large then, so we struggled to defend the furthest colonies and planets, several falling before we even got there.’ He sighed, raising his own glass as Debra stared out across the distant stars, ‘Within a year conscription had started apparently, our economy moving towards a military footing and one where it has been ever since. Millions have been killed or displaced and we have lost six or seven outer planets to their forces, the rest in stalemate as the Morgons move on and attack elsewhere.’
Debra’s eyes strained, sensing his pain as he looked away, her hands squeezing his briefly in reassurance, ‘We have these new guns? We also know more about them than ever before...perhaps that will make a difference?’
Tregan nodded thoughtfully, his eyes brows rising, ‘We had no idea they had already been on your planet...that they had been watching you...if we had any inclination, I think we would have contacted you sooner. I believe my people will feel some guilt for not coming sooner to your race, for leaving you alone and to your own devices.’
Debra looked curiously at him, raising her glass once more, ‘Do we have a clearer picture of what is happening on earth?’
The Trevakian shook his head, ‘Only some rumours...you can’t trust them. Apparently there is some fighting on the surface. I have heard of Morgon vessels in your upper atmosphere, but cannot confirm this...’ He shrugged once more, ‘I believe we will discover the truth later tomorrow.’
Training Deck, Galactic Freedom
Drawing a heavy breath, Riaz chuckled with and overwhelming sense of achievement as he dropped onto a padded recovery mat beside the extensive viewing window, realising the exercise suit’s power had been exhausted, his body dripping in sweat as he breathed heavily, his face glistening with perspiration under the low pin lights. Glancing back at the machines, his eyes narrowed in suspicion, considering the resistance levels and challenging simulated firing points had far been beyond what he had previously experienced, the recovery time seeming reduced and timed response to the next machine painfully short. Unable to regain his breath when adopting a firing position, his adrenalin had soared as the targets appeared far more rapidly than normal, his heavy breathing preventing the accuracy he had previously gained pride from.
Several of his new Trevakian comrades grinned across at the slumped gasping human, Riaz drinking greedily from a chilled black water bottle provided on the low rack before him, his workout having extended far beyond the two hours he had anticipated.
Several of the exercising figures had studied his agile progress in almost awe, giggling silently at the groans and whines forced through gritted lips as he had realised in horror the extra effort and punishing commitment required. Normally the firing ranges were concealed by a swirling beam for each candidate, but this had not occurred on this occasion and much to his horror as others observed discretely. Several firing points in the flickering, computer generated simulators had even moved suddenly and unexpectantly, his eyes widening in astonishment as a natural competitive spirit consumed his mind and frame. The muscular human figure was then forced to adapt his tactics, pushing cramped and tired muscles forward to remain in cover and prevent enemy return fire, the exercise routine promptly ending if he had been deemed to have been hit.
Across the fitness deck, a Trevakian corporal hissed breathlessly to the female ensign next to him, both using the same upper muscle building machines nearby, ‘Have you ever seen that programme before?’ The illumination above dimmed in almost sympathy as the exhausted silhouette beneath the window fell backwards, laying prone on the undulating padded relief mat, Riaz’s chest rising and falling dramatically as he struggled to breath.
The female junior transport pilot shook her glistening face, forcing the shoulder weighted machine upwards with a grunt, her whisper strained, ‘He must be special ops...they get access to additional routines...or so is the rumour. I can’t find them on the control console menu...’ She gasped as the machine indicated the weight should be lowered, shaking her arms as they were released as she glanced across at the gasping Riaz, a cold mist descending towards his heaving frame from above, ‘Having seen that...I
