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Ur Collective – Qar Province

Lord Mar-Ur sat quietly with his wife, the lady Zindra, a rather plump, but pleasing woman with blonde hair tied in an elaborate hair design. He was studying crop yield reports and mynoxi livestock numbers on the collective. Pleased with the reports, he put them aside and said, “We are fortunate to have installed a sensory grid around the collective, its two-fold use of monitoring the livestock and keeping an eye out for attacks will serve us well.”

She gave him a bland smile, patted his knee with a bejeweled hand and responded. “Mar, surely we are safe. Who would want to attack our collective?”

“Nor or some of his followers. It is a good thing most of our crops and livestock are already at the processing centers in Valkor. We will turn a tidy profit this season.”
Zindra sniffed. “Mar, why did you side with him and then Lord Kal-El?”

“At the time my dear, I thought it was the right maneuver. Unfortunately, Nor’s arrogance and influence grew until he would listen only to those who echoed his thoughts and behavior.”

“He is an uneducated renegade. Terrible talking to him at gatherings, all the man does is grunt. After all the problems he has caused, surely the First Lord Kal-El and the army shall apprehend him soon.”

Mar-Ur snorted. This was an old argument. Now was not the time to pursue it. Instead he said, “Patience. We will have him and his cohorts in front of the Council….”

He did not finish the sentence with the word ‘soon’. He knew better than most of New Krypton’s populace of the moon-rounds spent trying to fight back against Nor’s forces and capture him. Since Lord Kal-El’s arrival the attacks had only increased in severity. He was going to have a talk with Master Tre-Vil of the Sapphire Guard. Perhaps they needed to plant someone of unquestionable loyalty to the Council into Nor’s camp to learn what he had planned.

His musings were interrupted by a high shrill that split the quiet of the night. Seconds later came the sound of running feet and then the screech of the door hinges as they were burst open.
Ren, the youngest son of the nobleman’s steward Ronteo, came barreling into the room, his face flush with exertion and panic. “My…my Lord Mar-Ur! The collective is under attack!”

Lady Zindra made a tiny gasping sound and brought trembling hands to a face drained of color. An assault on her beautiful home and the privileged, glittering world it represented was too much for her.

“We … Qar is part of the inner provinces. Fighting and raids only take place in the outer provinces. Munde is Nor’s home province! Such things take place there! Not here! Not here!” Zindra’s voice was at first a screech and then it faded into weeping.

Ren’s eyes mirrored the anguish and fear that his mistress portrayed, and he too began to tremble.

Mar-Ur gathered the terrified, shaking woman in his arms. He needed to take control of the situation immediately, before all of them were so paralyzed by panic that Nor’s forces could destroy the collective simply because they failed to defend themselves.

The echoes of pounding feet reached them further down the corridor only a moment before a large group of men, covered with the red dust of the fields and led by Mar-Ur’s steward, Ronteo, filled the study. This room which only moments before was a place where the Lord and his Lady could enjoy quiet repose and rest was now a space filled with apprehension and dread.

“Ren!” The steward cried out, “My son, did you warn the remaining members of the household?”

Snapped out of trembling by his father’s firm voice, Ren lowered his head and said, “No Father … I …am sorry. I was too…”

Ronteo, taking in the scene of Mar-Ur comforting his wife, did not allow him to finish, placing a gentle hand on his slender shoulders, he spoke kindly to his youngest child, “I understand. This is very different from anything we have ever faced. Now please, do as I bid. Get the children – your friends – to the shelters and make certain all the doors are secure once everyone is inside.”

Finding his tongue, Ren looked in his father’s eyes and spoke up. “But …but I want to be with you!”

“Ren,” Lord Mar-Ur said softly, “we are depending on you and the other young men to keep our families safe. Can you do that for your father and all of the Ur Collective?”

The boy’s eyelids blinked twice and then he nodded once, “Yes, sir.”

“Very well. Please escort the Lady Zindra to the shelter.”

Taking in a breath to steady himself, Ren bowed first to his father and then to Lord Mar-Ur and said in a very grown-up voice. “Yes, sirs.” Extending his slender brown arm he said, “Lady, will you accompany me?”

Zindra clutched her husband’s right arm with almost maniacal energy, refusing to let go. But then seeing the courage of this young boy before her, the Lady of Ur collective composed herself too Ren’s arm, and exited the room. Mar-Ur listened as her steps went from hushed as they moved over the carpet to loud and strident as they hit the tiled floor of the hallway. Those sounds marked the transition of their lives from one phase to another.

Meanwhile, the warning signal still rang out with an almost deafening howl. In two strides, Mar-Ur was at the desk and had shut down the alarm.

“My lord, according to the scanners, ten unidentified ships are headed this way. Two are fighters and the others are freighters. I’ve already contacted Lady Zara’s squadron; they should be here soon.”

Mar-Ur swore under his breath. Didn’t he and Zindra only minutes ago discuss how imminent the rogue lord’s capture was? Now rebel forces were threatening everything his family had worked decades for!

Setting those ironic thoughts aside, he spoke, “Have the ground defense personnel reached their stations?”

Ronteo listened again to his communicator, nodded and said, “The men are ready.”

“Just so. This night will prove whether or not our preparations were worth it.”

Mar-Ur drew himself to his full height and exited the room, walking purposefully with men that had toiled by his side to carve out a life in what was once an uncultivated wilderness. For all of them, the Ur Collective was more than just grain, land, and livestock. It was a place where over a hundred people had come together and created a home. As he stepped over the threshold and onto the wide stone porch, he looked out into the utter depths of night. Normally the fields would glisten with low level lights, but now they were absent, there was no reason to draw Nor’s ship to their location faster than need be.

Suddenly, the deep rumbling vibrations of the attack craft seemed to crawl up from the ground, even before Mar-Ur could see them.

“Fellows, support your anti-aircraft posts! Go!” Mar-Ur shouted. At his word, the protectors of the Ur Collective ran into the darkness, only a tiny torch lighting each man's way towards the camouflaged defensive post. Ronteo turned and heard his son’s bright, clear voice over the din calmly leading people to the shelter. The fear that had been so evident minutes before was gone. Ronteo’s heart swelled with delight and fatherly pride. He even heard Lady Zindra’s voice, encouraging the servants to listen to his brave, young son. It was going to be a long night. He prayed that Ren and Lady Zindra could together some measure of comfort to those being sheltered, especially the children.

Pulling his thoughts back to his own tasks, Ronteo shouted over the noise, “It would have been considerate for Nor to attack us at daylight!”

Mar-Ur barked. “There is nothing considerate about that scoundrel! Come, we must reach our posts!”

They launched into a run. The ships were getting closer, the heavy engines vibrating with such intensity that Mar-Ur could feel it through his boots. Somewhere in the midst of all the noise, his heart beat in a wild, fear driven tempo. His lungs normally, suited for long-winded speeches were ill matched for such physical exertion. The actions of this night could be catastrophic. As he and Ronteo reached their assigned defensive post, a loud strident, whistling sound filled the air abruptly ending with a blast so powerful that it knocked them to the ground. The explosive sound was immediately followed by a bloom of orange and white light so brilliant that for a second it was almost like daytime.

Mar-Ur swore again as he raised his head in time to see the communications tower crumble into a molten slag heap.

“Oh no! How can we let the rest of the world know what’s happening?” Ronteo asked.

As he said this, eight black ships flew over their position and headed for the grain silos and livestock pens. Wordlessly, the two men frantically removed the heavy camouflage covers, the harsh material scratched their ungloved hands, to reveal a powerful laser cannon. Within seconds Ronteo had set upon the controls and the laser’s crystal lens started to glow from a dull red to bright green in readiness.

Mar-Ur’s coms device on his collar chirped, and a chorus of frightened voices came out, asking for instructions. These were farmers, builders, herders, and manor servants not trained fighters. What were they doing out here in the middle of the night, fighting men who had no care for the lives they were disrupting?

For that matter, what was he doing here preparing to launch a battle against a man he once thought of as a close political ally? He was the Speaker of the Council, not a member of the Sapphire Guard. Again he reflected on the conversation he had had with Zindra only minutes before. If he had stood up to Nor years ago, perhaps none of this would have happened. He would have to take his stand now.

Even as the sounds and acrid smell of burning metal from the tower reached them, Ronteo listened intently to someone on the com-pip, gasped, and then said harshly, “My lord… one of the vine tenders posted in the north fields where the communications tower was. The flames from the explosion are spreading and the vineyards … they are ablaze!”

The vineyards? Mar-Ur’s stomach twisted and tightened. The legendary rostrum ice wine from his family’s original estate on old Krypton was burning. As a younger man he remembered loading enormous planters of tender young cuttings, hoping they would survive on a new world with alien soil. It took twenty long years of testing, planting, and refining, but the cuttings had not only survived in New Krypton’s slightly harsher climate, but thrived. Now, the work of centuries of cultivation was coming to a fiery end.

“No,” he whispered bitterly.

Ronteo said calmly, “Have no fear my lord. I transferred fifty of the best vines to the Abondar-El estate early this morning for safe-keeping. I would have informed you earlier, but we have been busy.”

Closing his eyes, the older man breathed out, “Thank you my friend.” Lord Mar-Ur made a solemn promise to himself that Ronteo would be rewarded for his years of faithful stewardship and be granted land, equipment, and agricultural staff to begin his own collective. Such intuitive forethought must be recognized and Ronteo had done plenty to deserve proper acknowledgement. Saving the Ur vineyards was the final sign that he deserved this honor.

Nor would never approve of granting land to a servant. Well, Nor be hanged. If it was up to him, the man would!

Suddenly, he could clearly hear Ronteo say formally in an attempt to bury his own panic, “My Lord Mar-Ur, the men … they await your instruction.”

Almost as if to galvanize Mar-Ur, the fierce heat from the burning tower suddenly reached them. He took a shallow breath and quieted his thoughts to focus on the fight at hand. He turned to Ronteo and said, “Target the two lead fighter ships! They hold the weapons; the other ships are for carrying away whatever those criminals want. Cripple the lead ships and the others will scatter!”

Touching his pip, Ronteo repeated the order just as the two fighters turned to rain explosives down on them. Four taut beams of white hot light leapt from concealed locations, across the air, and scorched the sides of the craft, leaving deep ugly red abrasions on their sides, but that was all, to the Mar-Ur men’s utter dismay.

“What happened?” Ronteo asked.

“Heavy underplating. I wish we had just one member of the Sapphire Guardians here to fight them with their sophisticated ordnance rather than our basic weapons! Somehow, he’s managed to give those ships heavier plating than the craft that took part in previous raids.”

Absorbing this information Ronteo said, “What do you want us to do?”

Mar-Ur clenched his teeth as he watched the ugly freighters land and men clad in armor ran out, heading for the silos. He bit out to the words, “We destroy those ships. No way shall we allow those thieves to get their filthy hands on one piece of grain! Tell the men when he makes his next pass, target all of our artillery the pilot’s canopy and then hit the freighters on the ground. The plexi-steel cannot deflect the beams of all our lasers!”

Suddenly, a familiar vibration of the Sapphire Guardians planes was heard followed by a welcomed voice burst out over Mar-Ur’s pip. “Not if we have anything to say about it my lord!” Zara said. "I like the taste of ice wine!"

The sight of six sleek gray ships knifed through the night sky. In his mind they were the sweetest sight he had ever beheld. He shouted in joy, “The squadron has arrived!”

A chorus of cheers and relieved voices came through the com-pips. Time to allow the true defenders of the land to battle Nor and his minions!

Two fighters, albeit heavily armored, were no match for Zara’s squadron of six state-of-the-art attack craft. Mar-Ur, his voice elated, said, “My lady, it will be a pleasure to watch as you perform your proper duties. Keep them from harming any more of my lands or its people!” Then he said, “One moment, how can you hear us? The collective’s communications tower is down?”

Zara responded bluntly, “Military secret. Keep your people at their positions, we have all of them tracked including yourself. Gray Guardians Three and Four, attack those freighters. Gray Guardian Two, on my right wing. Five and Six, keep a tight watch on the boundaries of the collective in case Nor has any surprises waiting in the dark.”

Mar-Ur was impressed by Zara’s demeanor. The woman held herself as coolly as Lady Lo!

Another familiar voice came over the coms and when the lord heard it, his chest swelled with pride. “Father, is the family well?” Dar-Ur asked.

“Yes, your mother and the others are safe.” He responded.

“Gray Guardian Two, no personal communications over our line. It may be monitored,” Zara said with cool efficiency. “Firm up your position!”

The non-verbal answer came in the form of Dar-Ur’s ship vigorously pursuing the lead fighter.

The sounds of battle all around them was terrifying, especially as the gray aircraft started firing at Nor’s fighter vessel. Both ships’ running lights moved in mad patterns against blackness and stars as they fought. The eyes of the collective workers watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as Lord Mar-Ur’s youngest son took on a deadly, experienced fighter.

Ronteo’s heart squeezed with apprehension, aware that when Dar was goaded, he could be impulsive and lose sight of everything but to the task at hand. In this case attacking those who harmed his family’s land.

He wanted to continue observing what was taking place in the skies above, unfortunately, Nor’s followers were doing their level best to ransack what remained of the harvest. At least three freighters had succeeded in swiftly clearing out one of the largest silo and lifted off. Somehow they managed to fly past the Gray Guardians before they were in sufficient range to stop them.

Happily, Zara’s squadron made quick work of the remaining vessels still on the ground. Nor’s followers immediately scattered into the dark fields beyond. Some of the men ignored Zara’s instructions, abandoning their posts and with small hand weapons took up chasing after the rebel. One fighter was shot down while the other had vanished towards the Olmor mountain range, with Dar-Ur in hot pursuit.

Suddenly, a group of incendiaries, was let loose from the fighter, and for the second time that night the sky lit up brilliantly as if it were the middle of the day. Immediately, a lone missile was fired at Dar-Ur’s ship and damaged the left wingtip. Thankfully, the fighter’s auto-targeting system had been lacking, otherwise the outcome would have been far worse.

“Gray Guardian Two, break off pursuit. I repeat, break off pursuit, your ship has been hit! Find a safe landing area. The ground attack is over.” Zara said.

The response from Dar-Ur was a barely concealed snarl and then, “Gray Guardian Two. Acknowledged.” He broke off communication, an eerily silence emanated from Mar-Ur’s com-pip.

“Gray Guardian Two?” Zara said with an edge to her voice.

From his location at the laser canon, Mar-Ur watched as his oldest child’s ship flew erratically to find a safe landing spot on the edge of Ur lands which were the foothills of the Olmar mountains. He slowed down and turned on the bright red and white landing lights and gradually began to descend. Abruptly the ship he had been chasing made a violent turn and the air filled with strident noises of that engine’s high pitched whining reached Mar-Ur’s ears, the violence of the sound seemed to cut through everyone on the ground with the keenness of a blade.

“He’s coming for you! Fire Dar! Fire!” Mar-Ur screamed.

As if hearing his father’s panicked words Dar-Ur’s craft fired a laser strike, hitting his opponent’s side adding to the scars that the ground crew had given.

In answer, the rebel ship sent out a missile that hit the other wing of Dar-Ur’s craft. The damage to his craft was unsustainable and the ship began to fall, but not before Dar-Ur’s savage war cry tore through the ears of all who had com-pips.

One of the ships, no one on the ground could tell which one, seemed to roll over on its left side and then plummeted to the ground, erupting into a ball of plasma fire that brightened the night sky. Seconds later the ground shook from its impact.

Ronteo turned to look at the man he had served faithfully for more years than he could count. Mar-Ur’s mouth was agape, his strong features slack and face ashen. The man had aged one hundred years in a few minutes.

Over the com-pips they heard Lady Zara’s voice, grim and shaken. “My … Lord Mar-Ur, your son, Dar his… his ship is missing.”