Dragons in the Resistance

Dragons in the Resistance is a young adult novel. Chapter two introduces Sobril the alien, one of the main characters of the novel.

Please remember this is a draft not an edited copy.



Chapter Two


From behind the protection of a boulder, Sobril spied Mirthrog fleeing the valley with something or someone on his back. With the fighting so close, he had thought the dragon would have evacuated his valley long ago. As the commander in charge of this battle, he signaled to his males to open fire in the hopes of distracting the attacking Niroshids from seeing and shooting down the dragon. Bursts of laser rained down on the enemy. A single shot of dack disintegrated a tree. The Niroshid hiding behind it flopped to the ground, burned to a charcoal lump from the laser beams following the hand grenade explosion.

Planning his every move with calculating precision, he swiped his hand over his head to send another message to his males. He couldn’t communicate with them telepathically or the enemy might intercept the thoughts. The message traveled through the field. While he with several of the resistance continued to fire their lasers, many of the rebels ran away.

The Niroshid captain seemed to interpret the action as desertion, ordering his troop to advance, firing on anything that moved. Next to Sobril, Suckeri, one of his soldiers known for stealth, ran from behind a tree to a rock, diving for concealment behind a wall of low-growing bushes, parting the foliage, he peeked through.

The Resistance continued to fire upon the aggressive Niroshids to keep their current positions. Sobril zigzagged his way backward to another boulder, trying to reinforce and propagate the idea of a possible retreat. Seeing movement from his peripheral vision, he shot his laser, setting the bushes harboring an enemy soldier ablaze. The man rolled on the ground to take refuge behind a sizable rock. He continued his relentless attack. With the click of a button, he released one blast of dack, disintegrating the boulder. The soldier retreated as a comrade came to his rescue, opening fire on Sobril, forcing him to dive then rolled away from his cover. The rock exploded from the enemy’s dack. The force slammed him hard to the ground. He shook his head to clear it. Scrambled to his feet, he ran for cover.

With caution, he snaked his way to the rear to meet up with his sergeant.

The sergeant glanced to his right as Sobril took position behind a cluster of charred tree trunks next to him. “Sir.”

“Keep your eyes on the enemy.” He nodded in the direction of the fighting.

It wasn’t long before the rebels, flanking the Niroshids’ positions, appeared from behind and closed in on the enemy forces. The enemy, busy in their advance, never noticed the bold move of the Resistance.

Although few in numbers, the rebels opened fire upon the rear, advancing, moving into the enemy’s ranks, killing many of the Niroshid platoon. The surrounded enemy had nowhere to run. Sobril with the rest of his men pushed forward in a full charge. The pincer maneuver brought victory to the rebels. In a matter of minutes, the resistance regrouped, having killed every last Niroshid. He shook his head at the many Niroshids turned to ash—their families would never have closure, unable to give them a proper burial. The ugliness of war settled at the pit of his stomach.

Some of the fresher recruits shouted for joy, raising their weapons in the air. The seasoned rebels ran around, checking for survivors, killing them with effective swiftness to release them from their misery. The resistance did not take prisoners, for they had nowhere to keep them.

The Niroshid would meet the victory with greater retaliation. He ordered his men to leave the battlefield immediately. Running to the camouflaged vehicles hidden among a cluster of trees, an enemy fighter jet appeared on the horizon, approaching fast. Many reached the protection of the small forest and scurried to clear a vehicle with a mounted gun. The powerful new weapon, designed to take down even the stealthiest of jets, would be the culminating surprise for the enemy.

“Fire, fire,” Sobril yelled, out of breath, still a few feet away from cover.

The jet opened fire.

The strafing run hit a few good men. The short bursts of painful screams filled the air before their lives drained out of their bodies.

From the ground, the men aimed the weapon, firing at the jet. The explosion sent down a massive heat wave.

“Is everyone fine?” Sobril projected his thoughts to the remaining men. “Let’s get out of here.”

They scrambled into the vehicles and zoomed away.

“Did you see that imprudent dragon take flight, sir?” One of the younger soldiers commented.

“That was Mirthrog. This stinking valley is his home.” Sobril wrinkled his nose.

“Sir, do the Niroshids know that a free dragon lives here?”

“Not to my knowledge, but knowing Mirthrog, I don’t think he’ll be back.”

“I hope he won’t, sir.”

The small convoy arrived at the nearest resistance camp.

Not wanting to waste time, Sobril dashed straight into the commander’s quarters.

“Commander.” He saluted.

Seeing Sobril, the commander jumped to his feet and saluted the male who’d managed to turn the tide for the resistance.

What can I do for you, sir? He pointed to a chair for Sobril to sit on.

I’ve lost a few men, and now I’m in need of a few more to attack a special Niroshid convoy carrying important supplies to their soldiers stationed near the Western Border. Do you think some of your men would volunteer for this mission?

Sir, I believe all my men would volunteer just to serve under your command.

The officer’s facial contortion was acknowledgement to the praises of Sobril’s commanding style.

I need men that are good fighters on the ground as well as good pilots. I’ve captured some excellent enemy jets I’ll be using on this mission. As with all missions, the men might not come back.

I will make sure to tell them when I ask for volunteers. When do you need them ready?

Now would be nice.

The commander nodded and walked out of his office. Sobril followed close behind. In no time, he had more volunteers than he needed. Those he turned down walked away hunched over.

His males with the new volunteers stood around him, listening to his instructions and orders.

We are all here fighting for the same thing. FREEDOM. Sobril paused to rest his gaze on each male. Every mission we undertake could be our last one. Is the freedom of your mothers, mates, daughters, and sisters worth your death? This mission, like all others, is very dangerous. Again, he paused to sweep his gaze across the new recruits joining his mission. They all stared back with determination, understanding in their expression that the price of freedom could require their death. We’ll be driving toward Bold-Rock where a few men are guarding the jets. The convoy will be coming into the desolate forsaken valley to shorten the drive. We won’t have much time when we reach our destination to complete preparations. We need to work with swift confidence. We’ll fly the jets away….

When he completed his speech, the men ran to grab their gear. Soon after, they left camp for Bold-Rock the spot where the Resistance would intercept the convoy.

Arriving at their destination, the men scrambled out of the vehicles to join those already there setting up booby traps and other preparations needed to attack the approaching enemy.

Sobril walked around to make sure his soldiers executed the traps with precision. Walking near a group taking a much too long break to drink water, he overheard the thoughts bouncing among them.

Do you know Mirthrog the dragon has found a pet?

Mirthrog has no time to take care of pets. One of the soldiers walked away.

I saw him; he had a creature with yellow fur on its head.

Maybe the adventurer brought him a present from space.

They all contorted at the thought

Did you talk to him?

No, I saw him from afar, but I think Mirthrog enjoys having pets, he goes nowhere without one.

Is he in the market for another pet?

Soldiers, has any one of you spoken with Mirthrog? Sobril broke in.

No, sir. The response came in unison as they all came to attention.

Then you have no facts. Without facts, you shouldn’t be making assumptions or speculations and spreading rumors. Sobril jerked his hand in anger and walked away shaking his head. Females that gossiped annoyed him; males that did this angered him. What a waste of precious time.

He went off to inspect the captured jets and speak with the mechanic that checked them thoroughly to make sure they were in perfect working condition.

Report, please. Sobril’s penetrating gaze rested on the mechanic, who shifted position.

Sir, only one jet has a problem. The radar sensors are damaged. We started working on it two days ago, but it’ll take several hours more to finish the job.

Why aren’t you working on it?

The mechanic ignored his question. It happed to be the last jet inspected.

Without this jet, how many do we have?

Seven, sir.

He paced around, making some calculations in his head, then turned back to the mechanic. Even if we had all the jets, the odds are not great. So, I’m going to take it and use it for evasive maneuvers.

The mechanic bowed his head and went off to continue his duties.

Sobril walked through camp, hands behind his back, to get a feel for what the men felt and thought. It was important for them to be in good spirits. Morale was crucial in their long and arduous fight for freedom. He picked up positive thoughts here and there and he twisted his mouth in a downward swoop satisfied with the feelings of his males. The men were ready for a good battle.

Time for departure arrived. Sobril gave the order to fly out. The eight-jet formation flew into their mission with the blessing of all those left behind to fight the ground battle.



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About annamaria

Although born in the United States, Annamaria Bazzi spent a great deal of her childhood in Sicily, Italy, in a town called Sciacca. Italian was the language spoken at home. Therefore, she had no problems when she found herself growing up in a strange country. Upon returning to the states, she promised herself she would speak without an accent. She attended Wayne State University in Detroit Michigan, where she obtained her Bachelor of Science in Computers with a minor in Spanish. Annamaria spent twenty years programming systems for large corporations, creating innovative solution, and addressing customer problems. During those years, she raised four daughters and one husband. Annamaria lives in Richmond Virginia with her small family where she now dedicates a good part of her day writing.
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