Nasferas: The Begotten

1

Nasferas: Years Earlier

Davidar knew their lives would soon be over. The thought of dying made his stomach lurch. A hot feeling overcame him, as one might have before viewing their last meal. With a deep inhale, he fought back the bile and was resigned to his fate.

Amidst the terror, breathing had become a conscious act. Even so, he couldn't catch but every other breath, as if something within stole his air. Every so often he'd sneak an in-between breath, like a hiccup. This kept him from passing out, but he wasn't far from tumbling like a toppled tree. His heart pounded against his ribs, wanting to burst to freedom; a man desperate to penetrate the glass under the surface of a frozen lake.

Tears welled in his eyes as he looked at his family. Not a wish to take them in one last time, but to etch their memory into his soul, hoping to store the imprint forever. Davidar didn't know where he would go when he died, but death had settled in the air and if his time had come to translate from this life to the next, he wanted his family with him. Even if only as a shadowy memory of what they once were.

From their hovel in the hills, Davidar and his family witnessed devastation wreaking upon Pochulae. Bright lights bursting from the larger ships leveled entire city blocks. The blasts turned night into day, a moment at a time. The ships canvassed from one area to the next, destroying everything in their line of sight.

A few hours earlier, when the attack began, the family gathered around the table and prayed to The Maker for some inkling of hope. Their attempts to plan an escape route to another city or into the barrens had been thwarted as all the roads and byroads were watched. Davidar bowed his head with his family, waiting for his death ... or a miracle.

"We've finished!" Tranz burst through the front door. Davidar's spindly cousin's flowing blond hair, slicked back with salve on the sides, grazed the top of his tattered coveralls. Grease splotches from one of his shop projects covered the front.

"What are you talking about?" Davidar folded his arms.

"The ship is done." His hands went to his knees and he sucked in deep breaths of air. "Father says both families can come and there are stores enough for normal travel. I would wager at least twenty cycles, longer if we add yours."

Davidar's Uncle Moroo had started fixing up an old cruiser he'd purchased a few years earlier as a project for himself and his sons. This noble attempt to win the boys' love came after their mother passed away from influenza. He'd always been a harsh man who'd rather stick to the drink than spend an evening alone with his wife and children. Even when he did stay home he wouldn't say more than a few words. But something had changed after his wife died. The effort to be closer to his family thickened, thus the purchase of the ship, a commendable effort in Davidar's eyes.

The ship, a classic Zylo One frame and engine, had wasted away in the trash heap and required a complete rebuild. Damage to the bow and a tarnished surface made it a near-impossible task. Davidar's father had laughed at his brother and told him he had no chance of ever getting that "piece of Cog dung" running. Even if he did, the hull would never hold going through the Third Plane of the Great Barrier.

Moroo had ignored his brother.

Davidar's father had predicted the project would never be completed because Moroo had a reputation as a notorious procrastinator. When the attack began, after being summoned to war, Davidar's father made Moroo promise to work day and night. "Use all resources necessary, even the family's nest egg. Get that machine running. Save our families," he had patted Moroo on the shoulder, gave each of his children a hug, and kissed his wife gently on the lips. Then he'd been lifted to the land ship transport taking all military personnel to the base in Tahl. Davidar never saw his father again.

"Are you out of your mind?" Davidar said. "This is the most bungle-brained idea ever. Trying to get that rickety piece of junk through the Barrier is suicide." He whispered in Tranz's ear, "Don't make light of this. I wouldn't want you to get everyone's hopes up."

Davidar's mother sat at the head of the oblong table, bowed in humble prayer.

Tranz ignored Davidar as if he had said nothing to him. "Father assures the ship is ready. He hasn't slept nor nourished himself regularly for the past month. I know it will fly and save us all." He added in an almost pleading voice, "It has to."

"When do we leave?" Davidar's twin brothers Alek and Dram said in unison.

His younger sister Aleese stood next to the hovel's front bay window, her eyes fixed on the distant lights signaling the destruction of the city below. Beams ripped dozens of buildings apart. Three and four ships at a time would canvas an area. When an explosion occurred, one heard it as if the blast came from next door.

She shifted her weight to the other foot and rubbed her eyes. "Mother?"

"Yes, sweetie." Tarisha swiveled in her seat.

Her nickname for the only other girl in the family misled everyone. Aleese could be quite a handful if you fueled her fire. She'd been the lead player on all the girl's teams at school and had no problems with academics. At seventeen she finished her didactic studies much earlier than most. Davidar also finished his in-class learning early. Not because he completed all the final tests like Aleese, but to go into his apprenticeship.

In Nasferian culture, once you finished classes, becoming betrothed lurked around the next corner. The family thought Aleese would soon wed. She was young, but their father had said it would do her good to have a man to count on.

Davidar knew his sister's strength and hardheadedness. Once he had seen Aleese punch a girl in the face. It wasn't the dainty punch you'd expect from a girl only five feet tall. She'd been arguing with another girl who'd made a disparaging comment about Aleese's friend, Treylor. When she'd hit her, the poor girl's front teeth flew across the room in a spurt of blood. Stunned by the blow, the girl had turned and Aleese had delivered another swift strike to her victim's gut. When she'd doubled over, Aleese planted her knee in the poor girl's face. The loser had slumped to the floor with her mouth bleeding. A small trickle of blood had dripped from her left nostril.

"I think we should go," Aleese said.

"Suicide," Davidar announced. "No other families have made it as far as the Second Plane. The ships that did make it into the Great Barrier were vaporized. They didn't have the proper navigational equipment conducive to space travel. I can't bear the thought of being blasted to kingdom come or burning to death in the heat of the Third Plane."

"Father assures we can, and will, make the jump through the planes. Please come with us!" Tranz turned and knelt at Tarisha's feet with his hand on her knee.

Davidar's blood boiled. "Not possible." The heat of his anger started at the nape of his neck. "The ship won't pass through the Barrier. Maybe not even through the First Plane." 

Tarisha lifted her head. With a light touch to Tranz's shoulder, she gave him a soft smile. "Tell your father we will come."

Davidar had a gift with machinery. He'd worked on many engines of the same caliber and apprenticed with the town engineer. His experience with the Zylo One's engine proved it didn't have enough power or the proper shielding.

"Their ship isn't strong enough. I know for a fact because Father and I examined it."

"Davidar, go pack. Only bring essentials. Then help your sister and brother's pack." From the look in her eyes, Davidar knew the seriousness of his mother's words.

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