Chapter 19

NINETEEN

A zlun’s world narrowed to a singular focus as he faced Oran across the chaos of the hangar. The air crackled with ozone and the hum of advanced weaponry. Azlun’s hand tightened on his plasma sword, its edge shimmering with barely contained energy.

Oran sneered, activating his own weapon - a double-bladed energy sword that pulsed with an ominous red glow. “Come to die alongside your Earth whore, Prince?” he spat.

Azlun’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he settled into a fighting stance, his weapon humming louder as if sensing the impending battle. “It’s over, Oran. Surrender now or face the consequences.”

With a roar of rage, Oran charged. The air sizzled as their blades clashed, sending sparks of energy cascading around them. Azlun parried and struck, each movement a deadly dance of precision and power. Oran fought with brutal efficiency, his blade carving arcs of destruction through the air.

Around them, the battle raged. Dravek wielded a massive graviton hammer, its impacts sending shockwaves that crumpled armor and shattered bones. Garek moved like a ghost, his nano-blade gauntlets slicing through enemy defenses with terrifying ease.

Venus, armed with a Tharvisian stun pistol, held her own against a rogue guard. Her Earth combat training combined with her quick wit made her a formidable opponent even against the trained Tharvisian warrior.

Azlun’s focus wavered for a split second as he saw Venus narrowly dodge a vicious swipe from her attacker. That moment of distraction cost him. Oran’s blade slipped past Azlun’s defenses, searing a deep gash across his ribs. The smell of burned flesh filled the air as Azlun stumbled back, gritting his teeth against the pain.

“First blood to me,” Oran taunted, pressing his advantage with a flurry of strikes. “I’ll take your head next, traitor!”

Azlun recovered quickly, his training kicking in. He used Oran’s aggressive push against him, redirecting the force of one powerful swing to throw the rebel leader off balance. In the same fluid motion, Azlun’s plasma sword found its mark, carving a deep, cauterized wound across Oran’s chest.

Oran howled in pain and fury, his attacks becoming wilder, more desperate. Blood and sweat mingled on the metal floor as the two warriors clashed again and again. The air was thick with the smell of ozone and gore.

“You’re a disgrace to Tharvis,” Oran panted, his sword leaving a trail of destruction as he swung. “Consorting with humans, weakening our planet?—“

Azlun cut him off with a punishing series of strikes, each one pushing Oran farther back. “You know nothing of strength,” Azlun growled, his voice cold despite the fire in his eyes. “True power comes from unity and forging alliances. Not from fear and bigotry.”

Their weapons locked, faces inches apart. Oran’s eyes burned with a hatred so intense it was almost palpable. “You fool,” he hissed, spittle flying. “Can’t you see what these Earth vermin are doing to us? They’re a plague, Azlun, a disease infecting the purity of Tharvis!”

Azlun pushed back, breaking the deadlock. They circled each other, weapons at the ready. “You’re blinded by your prejudice, Oran. Earth offers us opportunities, new perspectives?—“

“Opportunities?” Oran scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. “Their planet is filled with savagery and disregard for life. They wage wars over imaginary lines in the sand, pollute their only habitable world, and you think they have anything to offer us?” He lunged forward, his weapon barely missing Azlun’s head. “They’ll drag us down to their level, corrupt our culture with their primitive ways.”

Azlun parried the attack, his plasma sword leaving a sizzling gash across Oran’s armor. “And your solution is what? Isolation? Stagnation? That’s not strength, Oran. That’s fear.”

“It’s preservation!” Oran roared, unleashing a flurry of attacks that forced Azlun on the defensive. “Look at her,” he spat, gesturing toward Venus with his blade. “A weak, fragile creature. And yet you’d let her kind influence our great civilization? She can barely withstand our atmosphere without assistance.”

Venus, overhearing this as she grappled with a rogue guard, couldn’t resist chiming in. “This ‘weak, fragile creature’ is kicking your men’s asses just fine, thanks!”

Oran’s face contorted with rage. “See? No respect, no understanding of their place. They’ll pollute our bloodlines, dilute our strength. In a few generations, Tharvis will be unrecognizable!”

Azlun saw an opening and took it, his plasma sword slicing through the air. Oran barely managed to block it, the force of the blow sending him staggering back. “You’re wrong, Oran,” Azlun said, his voice firm and clear. “Tharvis will evolve, yes, but it will grow stronger. Diversity brings resilience, new ideas, innovation.”

“Pretty words,” Oran sneered, recovering his stance. “But what of our traditions? Our way of life? You’d sacrifice millennia of Tharvisian culture for what? Some primitive allies who can barely grasp the concept of interstellar travel?”

Azlun’s eyes narrowed. “Our culture isn’t so fragile that it can’t withstand change, Oran. The true strength of Tharvis has always been our ability to adapt, to take the best of what we encounter and make it our own.”

As they clashed again, the hangar around them a symphony of battle, Azlun continued, his voice carrying over the din. “Imagine a Tharvis that combines our technological prowess with Earth’s creativity. Our strategic minds with their adaptability. A Tharvis that leads the galaxy not through fear or isolation, but through innovation and collaboration.”

Oran spat blood, his attacks becoming more frenzied. “Collaborators! Traitors to your own kind!”

“No, Oran,” Azlun said, his voice filled with determination. “We’re visionaries. My father saw it, I see it, and one day, all of Tharvis will see it. A future where we stand tall among the stars, not alone, but surrounded by allies. Where we face the unknown challenges of the universe not as a single planet, but as a united front of diverse worlds.”

Their weapons clashed again, energy crackling. Oran’s eyes were wild and fraught. “I’ll die before I let that happen. I’ll kill every last Earth rat with my bare hands if I have to!”

Azlun’s face hardened. “Then you’ve made your choice.”

The final exchange was swift and brutal. Azlun’s plasma sword found its mark, and Oran fell, his hatred burning in his eyes until the very end.

As the dust settled and the remaining rebels surrendered, Azlun stood tall despite his wounds. He looked around at his people - Dravek and Garek, loyal and strong; Venus, fierce and determined; the mix of Tharvisian guards and Earth allies who had fought side by side.

“This,” he said, his voice carrying across the now-quiet hangar, “is the future of Tharvis. Not divided by fear and hatred, but united in purpose. We will face the challenges ahead not by closing ourselves off, but by opening our arms to new allies and ideas.”

He reached out, taking Venus’s hand in his. “Earth and Tharvis, together. This is just the beginning.”

One by one, energy weapons powered down and clattered to the floor. As royal guards moved in to secure the prisoners, Azlun finally allowed himself to relax slightly. He pulled Venus close, mindful of his wounded side.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he murmured, wincing as the adrenaline began to fade and the pain of his injury set in.

Venus chuckled softly, supporting some of his weight. “No promises, Your Highness. But I’ll try. Now, let’s get you to a medical pod before you bleed all over my favorite shoes.”