Galaxy Under Siege

by Tristan Vick

  Aidora nodded again but jumped when the hiss of the airlock pressurizing startled her.

  The clunk of soldiers’ footsteps could be heard on the other side of the door. Onelle peered through the small window on the airlock to see two Nephilim patrol guards, wearing their typical scab-like black armor with yellow traces of light pulsing at the seams.

  “Open up,” the guard said, looking back at her through the small viewing portal. He pounded his fist against the door twice, knocking to be let in.

  Not knowing the exact reason they were boarding her ship, Onelle motioned with a thrust of her chin for Aidora to get behind her. The girl obliged and Onelle mashed the green button that unsealed the door.

  Another pressurized hiss could be heard as the two ships matched each other’s atmosphere, and two bulky guards crouched under the door frame and boarded the ship.

  The brutish men, obviously of low rank, shoved the two women aside and marched directly into the corridor and split up. Each one headed in a different direction so as to scour the ship from both ends, searching for anything out of the ordinary.

  “What’s the meaning of this search? As Supreme Commander of the Trade Federation, I demand you tell me who ordered this illegal search.”

  “Your title is merely honorary,” the guard informed her, ignoring Onelle’s posturing.

  Angered by his dismissal of her rank, if not her status as the wealthiest woman in the galaxy, she marched in front of him and planted her heels, blocking his path.

  “This is my ship and I demand you go no further!”

  He paused momentarily and looked down at her with an annoyed expression on his face, then reached out and shoved her aside as though she were nothing more than an inconvenient nuisance.

  Her back slammed up against the wall and she gasped out in dismay at how he had so rudely brushed her aside. “Why, I never...” she balked, her temper flaring as she pushed off and continued after the guard with a reinvigorated determination to give him a piece of her mind.

  “You do realize I answer to The Voice, right? And when she hears about how you’ve illegally boarded and searched one of her closest ally’s ships, she’ll be furious!”

  The guard merely laughed. “Where do you think our orders came from?” he fired back, not in the least bit concerned over her hollow threats.

  Slender white fingers reached out and took Onelle by her arm and stopped in her tracks. “No, Mistress Onelle,” Aidora whispered, “it isn’t safe.”

  “Fine!” Onelle growled, pulling defiantly away from Aidora’s grip. Once she’d freed her arm, she pointed a condemnatory finger at the Nyctan soldier who was busy opening and closing overhead storage bins as he inspected the ship. “But I’ll be complaining to Azra’il Nun personally. You have my word.”

  “And you have my word,” he replied, shooting her an exasperated look, “I still don’t care.”

  After a thorough search of the ship, both guards met back at the airlock. The first guard, who Onelle had chastised, looked at his comrade and said, “Report.”

  “It’s all clear,” he answered. “No sign of the senator.”

  The first solider nodded and then both turned toward the airlock to return to their ship when, unexpectedly, a clangor rang out from the back recesses of the ship.

  “What was that?” the second guard asked, spinning around in the direction of the noise.

  “What was what?” Onelle asked, feigning ignorance.

  “I heard it too,” the first guard said, stepping forward as he began to make his way down the corridor to the back of the ship.

  “No!” Onelle, screamed. Without thinking, she flung herself into the soldier, knocking him back. In his shock at being assaulted, he reached up and clasped her neck to try and choke her out, but she reached down and snatched his blaster from his waist and fired two shots into his abdomen, point blank.

  His gloved hands slipped from her throat, and her eyes wide with fear, she fired another five shots into his gut. The soldier fell into the wall and then sliding down the wall paneling he slowly settled onto the floor, the life draining from his eyes as he slumped over in a sitting position.

  “Drop it!” a voice demanded from behind. Onelle dropped the gun to the floor, her hands trembling with a cocktail of fear and adrenaline. “Now, put your hands behind your head and step back toward me. Nice and easy.”

  “No!” Aidora cried, and she grabbed the second soldier’s wrists and threw her entire weight into shoving his arms away from Onelle. He managed to fire off three shots, but Aidora was strong enough to redirect his aim, and the blasts simply scorched the inside of the ship’s hull.

  Without hesitating, Onelle bent down and quickly picked up her discarded blaster. She reeled around and pointed it squarely at the guard, but Aidora was still struggling with all her might and was in her direct line of sight.

  “Aidora!” Onelle shouted. “Get down!”

  Before Aidora could react, however, the guard backhanded her across the face and she crumpled to the ground. This gave Onelle the opening she needed and, without hesitating, she quickly pulled the trigger.

  The first blast hit the guard in the shoulder and he looked up in shock. Then growing furious, he lunged for her, hands reaching out to grab her. But she pulled the trigger again. This time the shot tore through his chest armor and stopped him in his tracks. Seeing the rage in his eyes, she feared for her life and fired again. And then again. And, finally, one last time, just to be safe.

  The Nyctan guard, smoldering in white smoke that billowed from gaping holes in his armor and his body, collapsed to the floor. The shot that did him in, however, was marked by a red glowing ring in his forehead.

  As the soldier lay face up, staring at the ceiling with eyes frozen in alarm, a short distance away from him sat his comrade, who stared vacantly at the wall across from him.

  “You got him!” Aidora cried out excitedly. She walked over to the guard lying on his back and nudged him with her foot, just to be sure he wasn’t going to reanimate and try to attack them all over again. Satisfied, she turned and smiled at Onelle, but seeing that Onelle seemed a little jarred by the whole ordeal, she rushed over to her and began rubbing her back.

  Off to the side of the corridor, tarnished by the black stain of plasma fire, Onelle stood hyperventilating. Although she tried desperately to catch her breath, it seemed a rather impossible thing to do at that moment.

  Her hands shaking, she looked down at the weapon she held and then, startled by the revelation of what she’d done, she dropped it to the floor. She drew back from it as it rattled about as though it were a copperhead snake and stared down at the weapon in a state of complete disbelief.

  “What have I done?” she asked, her voice wavering with the combined stress of shock and excitement of the kill. Oddly enough in all the turmoil she hadn’t even given it any thought. She just acted, as if by instinct, doing whatever she needed to in order to stay alive.

  And with a thousand different emotions running through her mind, she honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

  Aidora rushed to her side and got under her arm, as it looked as though her knees would buckle at any moment. Guiding her back to the bridge, Aidora said, “What’s done is done. When these men don’t report back as scheduled, they’ll send more soldiers to check on them. That’s how they operate. They even run patrols in groups, so there’s bound to be two or three more scouts nearby.”

  Onelle nodded thoughtfully. She looked at Aidora with her big green eyes and said, “I must thank you.”

  “For what?” Aidora asked.

  “For staying true to your word and standing by my side even when things got scary. I appreciate that. And I don’t forget who my friends are in the same way I don’t forget who my enemies are. Just know that you’ll be well taken care of if you decide to stay on as my personal servant.”

  Aidora nodded finding the offer quite agreeable.

  Finally, back in the flight cabin,
Onelle sank down in her seat, the white leather squeaking and whining as she slid into it, and made herself comfortable. “Aidora,” she said in a soft voice as she stared vacantly down at the flight controls.

  “Yes, mistress?”

  “Please board their ship and erase any record of this search from their database. Our names, the name of the ship, even the name of the sector they were canvasing. I want it all erased. Then place the bodies aboard and decouple that scout ship with the auto destruct set to blow as soon as we’re out of here.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  Aidora scurried away, anxious to carry out her duties. Onelle looked out at the stars and the distant green and orange nebulae that filled the background like a grand oil painting and let out a heavy sigh. Another bout of rattling came from the back of the ship causing Onelle to frown.

  “You almost cost us our lives, you stupid blue bastard,” she murmured under her breath. Ignoring the fact that she had locked Senator Targon in the confines of the holding nook to ensure he didn’t panic and prematurely release himself before the search was over.

  Of course, for all their troubles, she’d decided to leave him in there for the duration of their flight, at least until their return to Arkadia. It’d only be another six and a half hours.

  Another twelve minutes had lapsed when Aidora returned and quickly took her seat opposite Onelle. “It’s done,” she replied, "just like you asked.”

  “Excellent,” Onelle said. She smiled at the girl and then, turning her attention back toward the control panel, she typed in the coordinates for Arkadia, a veritable pleasure paradise and homeworld to the Bre’lal people.

  Her hand on the throttle, she powered up the FTL and, in a flash of light, her ship blinked into hyperspace, leaving the scout ship behind.

  It hung lifeless in space, floating adrift like a castoff bottle floating across an endless sea.

  A few moments after Onelle’s gleaming white space yacht, the Miura, had blinked out of the system, the scout ship exploded in a glorious flash of hot plasma. Blue and white fire bubbled out of the ship’s plating and the hull ruptured along the seams of every bulkhead. The flames quickly collapsed back in on themselves as they ate up all the gases until nothing was left except for the all-encompassing vacuum of space and the cold, charred, skeletal husk of what used to be a shuttlecraft.

  33

  Danica had always wanted to create energy discs that were akin to throwing stars. She pressed her palms together and generated a small energy shield and flattened it down until its edges were razor sharp then spun around on her heel like a discus thrower. She launched the glowing blue energy disc at the giant crab beast, angrily clacking its claws and watching her from its extended eye sockets.

  Arkadia’s gladiatorial arena was slightly smaller than the one on Thessalonica, but not by much. It was, however, quite different looking. It was designed with a pleasing, tropical beach aesthetic that allowed it to blend right into the surrounding islands without being an eyesore. The spreading tent roof was shaped like sails of a seagoing vessel, creating quite a striking look from a distance.

  In fact, it was the largest structure on the surface and took up the most area of any structure on Arkadia. It was imposing in comparison to the relatively topographically flat resort islands, with their ocean villas that stretched out in every direction as far as the eye could see.

  A small tourist-trap of shops and food places surrounded the arena, making the large island by far the busiest of all the resort islands. In fact, the arena took up so much space that the landing port for inbound vessels was set up on the adjacent island. This meant visitors had to boat over to the main island after making their way through customs. Even so, all of this added to the quaint, islander way of life that so defined Arkadia. The arena, however, was only the second biggest draw to the island world; the first was the pleasure resorts and the beautiful Bre’lal men and women who catered to their guests’ every need.

  Attendance at Arkadia Arena was up this season, as everyone who tuned in to the games eagerly anticipated a new reigning champion. There were a lot of fan favorites, a lot of predictions of who might step into the number one spot, but none of the contenders seemed to be able to clinch the title.

  Danica was hoping to change all that.

  Her energy blade arched high on its trajectory, wobbling unsteadily as it went, and finally swooped down and imbedded itself like a throwing star into the side of the giant crab’s spiny shell.

  After being wedged in the shell for about twenty seconds, the energy disc dissipated, leaving only a small gash where it had penetrated the thick armor. Before the crab even realized what had hit it, Danica began forming another energy-star. This time she made it twice as large and was determined not to miss the creature’s vital areas.

  The crab seemed to be more interested in the orange-skinned man who was scurrying to the other end of the arena, which was fine by Danica. The slight distraction allowed her to add some extra energy to her disc, and she gave it serrated, saw blade-like teeth, just for good measure.

  Spinning on her heels, she launched the massive energy blade up into the air. It arched high, soaring over the people’s heads as they oohed and awed from the stands, before spiraling back down where it sliced off the crab’s right-side pincer.

  The massive claw, along with the reedy arm that somehow held it up, dropped to the sand and the crab let out a terrible bray that sounded like a gigantic horse’s whinny from deep under water. Danica didn’t know if crabs even had voice boxes; maybe it was just a trick of the air passing over its oversized gill slats, similar in shape to a hover bike’s air intake for powering the turbines.

  She made half a dozen smaller discs, about the size of old laser-discs, and launched them all in a consecutive volley of energy attacks. Most of them missed, embedding themselves in random points of contact all across the crab’s thick shell. But one lucky energy blade managed to slice off one of the eye stalks atop the crab’s head. The entire eye, along with its stem, fell to the ground with a thud.

  She looked down at the giant eyeball protruding from the end of the stalk and smiled to herself. It resembled a magic crystal ball on the end of a long scepter.

  The eye twitched, startling her, and just as she refocused her attention on the beast, the crab spun around and, raising its smaller yet still formidable pincer high, lumbered toward her.

  Immediately throwing up an energy shield, Danica absorbed the brunt of its attack. The size and weight of the crab were too much, however, and even though she blocked it in time, its momentum impacted against her with such force, it was like trying to stop a runaway hover-train.

  Danica rebounded off the creature and was tossed into the air like a child’s plaything. She flew halfway across the arena before tumbling into the soft beach sand of the Arkadian arena. She rolled a few times and then slowly pushed herself back to her feet.

  Sand clung to her sweaty skin. As she slowly rose back up, the audience hollered with a round of confidence boosting cheers. She recognized a roar of cat-calls and lewd whistles and looked up to the large monitor. The televid drone had swooped down to zoom in on her sand plastered ass as she got up.

  She ignored it and brushed the sand off her shoulders and then adjusted her bikini and shell armor, the seashell necklace adorning her neck rattling as she did so. Satisfied she was in performance condition again, she turned to see the crab knock the orange man down and skewered him with one of its spiny appendages.

  The man screamed out as the crab’s leg penetrated his mid-section, but try as he may, he couldn’t free himself. When the crab took notice of Danica again, it began to scuttle toward her, the man sticking to its foot like a piece of gum. His lifeless body flopped about as he remained stuck to the crab’s foot all the way across the arena.

  “You just don’t give up, do you?” she asked out loud. She let out a sigh and then started generating more energy discs. “Good, because neither do I.”

  Sh
e launched them one after another until she’d sent off a dozen or so, each one making small nicks in the crab’s armor plating but doing very minor damage.

  A thousand scrapes weren’t going to bring this thing down, so she fashioned a massive energy sheet, raised it high above herself, and spun it in the air above her head. Just as the crab started charging her, she brought it down like a giant circular saw blade and placed it squarely between them.

  Still spinning, it bit into the ground and kicked up dirt and sand. This time she firmly planted one leg behind, bracing herself for the inevitable collision, as more energy shielding slowly wrapped around her to provide additional protection.

  The crab hit with a resounding crash that echoed throughout the stands, but the shield held. Unfortunately, so did the crab’s thick shell. Although the energy blade wasn’t enough to penetrate the thick shell, it did manage to cut off a segment of the crab’s left middle leg, leaving the pointed tip lodged in the sand.

  Dizzy from the crash, it staggered about on wobbly legs. In all the confusion, the orange man finally fell free of the creature’s leg, but not before his entrails were ripped out of his gut when his intestines got snagged on the spiny appendage of the crab’s back leg.

  “Ew,” Danica said, making a sour face, squinting as the wet slop fell to the ground. That wasn’t a nice way to go out.

  Of course, the dizzy spell wouldn’t last, and Danica knew she needed to act fast if she wanted to take advantage of the situation. If she missed her window of opportunity, she’d risk ending up a shish kabob herself.

  Danica traipsed across the soft sand, her muscular thighs flexing and rippling with raw power as she made her way over the difficult terrain. That was one difference she’d come to notice between Arena City’s stadium and this one on Arkadia. Arena City had dry, packed sand with a red clay base to it. Here on Arkadia, however, the arena had beach sand.