Domik
Leaving CJ was the hardest thing that Domik had ever done. He knew it was necessary, but still. It hurt.
And he had a score to settle. Stepping out of the medical tent, he watched as troops, both human and Taurean, ran every which way. A truck bowled past, horn blaring as it tried to get through a throng of people.
Domik turned on the spot. The medical tent was toward one side of a small tent city that had been erected near the destroyed Space Force headquarters building. In the distance, the smoking remains of the hospital he remembered from his last visit could be seen.
That explains the field hospital.
Domik snagged the arm of a passing Taurean. “Tell me, where is field command?” The man pointed toward a nondescript tent with a solitary human marine standing guard and, with a nod of thanks, Domik headed toward it.
He didn’t pause as he entered, just pushed past the guard, who stepped back at Domik’s sheer size and the growl that split the air, and opened the flap. He stepped into a room filled with a large table, overhead fluorescent lights throwing a bright white light in the darkened interior.
Three familiar faces looked up as Domik entered, and he smiled. “Zac. Brother. T’arq,” he said in greeting as the three Taureans moved to greet him, clasping forearms in the traditional warriors’ greeting.
“Let’s get you some armor,” T’arq said, moving toward a trunk and tossing Domik some dark gray Taurean uniform pants and shirt.
He stripped right there, pulling off his boots and the sweatpants he still wore, which were now beyond filthy and now an unrecognizable shade of brown. He paid no attention to the other occupants in the tent, only looking up when he was fully dressed in Taurean armor once more. When he approached the table where the three warriors were scanning various maps, they looked up.
“I’m glad to see you are alive,” Domik said, nodding at all three.
“Pretty hard to kill, we are.” T’arq laughed.
Zac nodded, a grim set to his jaw. “Oren tells us you saw a Xakul ship.”
Domik nodded, turning to his brother. “Did Clodagh tell you that?”
“Yes, she also said the resistance seemed to expect them.”
Domik scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve been thinking about that. They were expecting a ship, that much was obvious. And the ship sounded like a Xakul ship. But when it flew over, it didn’t quite look like any Xakul ship I’d ever seen.”
The three Taureans glanced worriedly at each other.
“And we never saw a Xakul soldier.”
Oren lifted an eyebrow, and the two brothers spoke in unison. “The Taurean Purists.”
A collective gasp was heard as those around the table realized the implications of this.
“What would they want with us?”
Domik turned to see General Russell step forward, his head bandaged and his arm in a sling. One side of his face was swollen and bruised, and blood marred his torn uniform.
“It’s not what they want with you. It’s what they were hoping the resistance will do.”
“And that is?”
“To start a fight between humans and Taureans, so the Xakul will have less resistance to take Earth.”
The general sat heavily in a chair, staring sightlessly. “So we get wiped out.”
Domik nodded. “Yes.”
He laughed; the sound crazed. “Too bad for them. We aren’t easy to kill, either.”
You haven’t seen Xakul soldiers in battle.
But Domik kept his mouth shut and let the general be surrounded by his staff.
