GENESIS - THE BEGINNING. Book 1

Chapter # 1. LOKI, the TRICKSTER

PROLOGUE

The fighter plane exploded fifty meters in front of him.

Banking out of a sharp turn, both fighter ships screamed towards the enemy craft at Mach 8 when, out of nowhere, short, precise bursts of laser fire stitched across the forward fighter's undercarriage. The explosion erupted instantaneously through the cockpit and forward plating of Grayvite steel. The wingman followed so close that the conflagration before him registered in his brain a split second before a blur of something, something...

Mach 8 may not be deemed an excessively high speed especially in combat, but when a solid piece of Grayvite plating makes contact with the nosecone of a fighter at that relatively 'slow' speed, there will be only one conclusion.

The second fighter became, in an instant, a mirror image of the first.

The double explosion almost went unnoticed as more ships ducked and dived to evade or line up their on-board weapons as their targets came into range. Dogfights were two, three, or ten on one as the defenders died in their numbers or fled the destruction the enemy forces delivered with effortless professionalism.

The Empire had, once again, been out maneuvered by an enemy they did not, and could not comprehend; an enemy that came out of nowhere to deliver death and destruction on a yearly basis, only to vanish as swiftly as they appeared.

This was not warfare, but the utter humiliation of the Galactic Empire's naval forces. This situation turned a fighter pilot into an endangered species.

Loki; the Trickster

Loki trembled from the aftermath of unbearable pain and he screwed up his eyes in an attempt not to scream. He lay naked, curled up in a ball under the large oak tree trying to calm his emotions. He clenched his fists and shoved them under his armpits to stop his arms from flaying.

He was, in the tradition of giants, gargantuan. Three times the height and four times the girth of a normal human. His well-built muscles twitched until he brought them under control. With slow and fearful anticipation of a recurrence of the ghost pain, he unclenched his folded arms and breathed deeply. With a last tremor of his stiff muscles, the vestiges of pain disappeared.

He rested his back against the large oak tree and slept undisturbed for the first time in nearly five thousand years.

The scream that ripped through his thrashing body woke him up a few hours later. Leaping to his feet, he paced back and forth in the shade of the overhanging branches. He felt eyes on him. He looked up, and saw a bull stag in the distance staring at him. Ears erect and flicking.

Hunger engulfed him.

The air shimmered violently as he morphed into a roaring lion. A hungry lion. The startled stag disappeared into the undergrowth.

The stag clenched its muscles, gathered its strength, and gave an extra spurt of speed. It twisted between outcrops of trees and boulders. The lion closed in. Speed was detrimental to both hunter and hunted. A hunted animal could only do so much to outrun a hungry lion. Wooded areas were better than open grounds for trying to evade predators. Sharp twists and unexpected turns could leave teeth and claw foundering.

The stag's wide, staring eyes bulged and turned in their sockets. Gasps of breath rushed in and out of her overloaded lungs. The lion launched itself through the air and clamped his sharp claws around the stag's neck. It struggled to get its back legs into position to claw the underbelly. The bucking, speeding stag's haunches almost collapsed as the lion's weight pulled it back.