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“I understand what this might mean to you,” Dama said as the three of us stared at the image without speaking. “A coalition of our people to begin work on an initiative to travel space is a conversation the Rung are willing to have, but only after we defeat Legion.”

“Agreed,” I said, tearing my eyes away from the ship. “We kill Legion first.”

12

While the Rung chose their warriors and prepared to perform their blood rite, we were left to rest, thankfully. I slept in the side room with the screen and the food. You’d think with everything going on that I’d have a hard time falling asleep. Not so much, really. As soon as my head hit the rolled-up blanket I used as a pillow, I was out.

As I had instructed him to, Tong woke me a few hours later when the time for our departure neared.

“The blood rite is about to begin,” Tong told me, motioning to the large outer chamber. “Once it is complete, we will be ready to depart.”

“Right, right,” I said, sitting up while rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

John and Stacy were already up and arming themselves. What the Rung lacked in manpower, they more than made up for in a vast assortment of weapons. I was surprised to see two racks of bladed weapons that had been wheeled in while I slept. I went over to inspect them, feeling almost like a kid in a candy shop, having adapted to using weapons in addition to my fighting skills since we left Earth and gaining an interest in the various types and forms.

The racks reminded me of something you’d find in a clothing store on Earth. Long blades, axes, and short blades occupied one side, with hand blasters and rifles on the other.

I still had the Judge on my hip, but I couldn’t help but hold one of the Rung axes in my hands. It was slightly small with a bladed axe on one end and a hammer head on the other.

“You fancy the skull splitter?” Sulk asked, joining me. “It is a good and effective weapon. While blasters will eventually run dry, bladed weapons rely on your strength. They’ll keep working for you as long as you don’t give up.”

“You know, I think I liked you more when I couldn’t understand what you were saying,” I told Sulk with a raised eyebrow, kind of messing with him because I did agree with the logic of what he was telling me. “Is everything death with you?”

“We are a warrior tribe.” Sulk shrugged. “Despite our technological advancements, we have realized one thing.”

“And what’s that?” I asked.

“War always remains,” Sulk said as if it were a matter of fact not up for debate. “We can kill each other with sticks and stones, blasters or viruses, but there will always be war in one shape or another. Even now when we go to battle with Legion, we are in for the fight of our lives.”

Again, I couldn’t argue with him. We were about to try and sneak around a contagious virus to gain access to war machines that would hopefully tip the odds of survival in our favor. Then we were going to kill him. I was strangely just fine with all of that. After everything we had to do just to survive on Genesis, having this virus trying to eradicate us, then falsely attempt to befriend us, then try to kill us again was somehow a bit too much. I couldn’t wait for this war to be over.

I slung the skull splitter over my shoulder. Next, I turned to the rack of weapons behind us. A thick blaster with a short barrel and a massive magazine caught my attention.

“Made for clearing a room,” Sulk said, following me as if he were my own personal guide. “The Dragon’s Breath is a weapon made not for accuracy but brutal stopping power. It fires a stream of smaller projectiles in a cone-like shape.”

Furious shouting and something that sounded like the beat of a drum came from the large chamber just outside our own.

“Hurry, the blood rite begins,” Sulk said, scurrying out of the room. “You don’t want to miss this.”

I picked up the Dragon’s Breath and followed him out of the room with the others. John and Stacy looked cautious but interested. Tong actually seemed eager to witness it.

The first thing I noticed when we exited the room were the Rung soldiers had disrobed from the waist up. They stood in a circle. One of them had a large drum he pounded in rhythm.

The outer circle of the soldiers held the children and young of the group. They looked on with wide eyes. Fear lived there, but it was an afterthought to courage. Even the tiniest Rung that couldn’t have come past my knees swayed to the sounds of the beat, looking enthralled and determined.

I took a back seat with the rest of my team as we watched on with bated breath. The process was intriguing to say the least, this technologically advanced race of aliens completing a ritual that was primitive in nature. Dama entered the circle where the warriors stood waiting, all swaying with the sound of the drum.

When Dama lifted her hands into the air, the rhythmic beating came to a halt. All eyes followed her motion as she lifted a dagger from her belt.

“The blood rite is a pact our warriors take in only the most desperate times,” Dama said in a stirring voice. “Let no one be mistaken. This is the most desperate of times we find ourselves in. Our blood will bind this oath. Our fighting spirit will see us through. If we fall, we do so in battle for those who come after.”

“For those who come after!” the twenty shirtless warriors in front of Dama shouted as one. Each of them lifted a blade from their person, slicing a long cut in the palm of their