by Kyle, Celia
“Not to mention me.” Varia squeezes his shoulder.
“I could never forget.” Solair flashes her a grin before he returns to a more solemn expression. “It’s going to be dangerous, but like Kintar said, we don’t leave our own behind. If Project Blue Dawn and the Earth First movement want a war… well, hell, let’s give them one, but on our terms.”
The team is picked by volunteerism. Kintar is in, as well as Solair and Varia themselves. Swipt wants to go but Solair commands him to remain on the ship in case we have to beat a hasty retreat following the rescue op. Fiona pipes up and says she wants to go along; she may have better luck getting into the Azure Dreams server than Thrase or I ever could.
This prompts Montier to insist on going as well, since his jalshagar will be at risk. Of course, I’m going, and I make sure we all get geared up to the nines.
I manage to clear out the weak force pistol as well and get it operational. Unfortunately, its crystal refraction matrix takes days to manufacture, and we don’t have the time to make one for each of our party. But I make sure no one goes unarmed.
Kintar gets his hands on my prized Menacer assault rifle, a nasty energy weapon with an ammo drum allowing for nearly one hundred thousand shots. Solair and Varia get standard issue Raptor rifles, not nearly as powerful but with variable firing settings to make them more versatile. Montier supplies his own weapon, a belt-fed automatic shotgun with shells thicker than our human crew mate’s forearms. Just the sound of it being fired has prompted enemies to surrender, so they say.
Fiona is equipped with a lightweight beam rifle with a built in AI targeting system since she’s hardly a soldier. And as for me…
In addition to my weak force pistol, I also sling a Raptor over my shoulder, a slug thrower spread shotgun across my lower back, seven high-intensity plasma grenades on a bandoleer, and a smaller version of an Odex power blade thrust into each boot. I’m trying to figure out where to stow an additional semi-automatic slug thrower pistol when Kintar glares at me.
“Don’t you have enough yet?”
I look down at myself, and then sigh.
“No. But it’ll have to do.”
Dawn is approaching by the time we pile into our golden-skinned shuttle and make for the coast, where we will enter the flood sluice and fly as far as we can into the bowels of the sewer system before we have to continue on foot. Montier takes the helm, and the rest of us sit in the back, checking weapons charges and trying not to dwell on the fact that we might all be killed.
We’re still badly outnumbered, but I feel a lot better properly equipped. Those Kreetu bastards trifled with the wrong weapons officer.
Once we abandon the shuttle, the going gets slower as Fiona must use her holomap to guide us. One tunnel looks much like another down here, even when using dark vision goggles as most of us do. An hour slips by during our trek and then two, and I grow more anxious by the moment.
At last, Fiona announces we’re within a few blocks of our target. But as we turn the corner to enter a massive waste water pipe, a green plasma burst sizzles through the air, narrowly missing Solair’s unarmored head by inches.
“Ambush,” hollers Kintar as we all dive for what cover is to be found.
Chapter Sixteen
Thrase
The Kreetu drag me off to an empty office and then lock me inside, but the gap between the metal door and the carpeted floor is sufficiently wide that I can still hear what they are saying.
I nearly faint with relief when I hear about Zander’s successful escape. I’m not sure who the other Kilgari was who aided him, but I send him a silent thank you.
Standing back up, I dab at my cut lip with my sleeve. The bleeding has stopped already, though my head still aches from the impact. I don’t seem to have a concussion, however, so for that I am thankful.
Still, it was a hell of a blow. I don’t even recall the moment of impact. Kreetu have extremely dense, almost stone-like skin. This combined with their heavy muscle fibers makes them justifiably feared in combat.
At one time, they were Pi’rell, but after their home world was destroyed, they went down a different path. The Pi’rell survivors who split from the others eagerly accepted the Ataxian Coalition’s offer of genetic modification. Stereotypes about them being stupid lugs aren’t really justified, but the ones regarding their vicious streak trend closer to reality.
I’m not left to my own devices for long, which is just as well since this office has no windows or furniture, nothing I could use to escape or fashion a weapon. Even if I could, fighting back would be next to futile. I’m smart enough to know when I’m physically outclassed.
The door opens, and one of the Kreetu snaps his fingers.
“Up.”
I stand up a bit unsteadily, my head still spinning from the blow to it.
“Come.”
When I take a few steps toward him, he takes my arm in an iron grip and ushers me along ahead of him. I can feel his retractable claws digging into my flesh through my sleeve, but I’m not about to offer a protest. His red eyes are utterly without pity, so I don’t see a point.
We head to the elevator and ride the car up, I believe to the top floor though the lighted guide no longer functions. As soon as the doors open he shoves me forward, and I stumble into a surprisingly well-appointed office with rich, deep blue carpet and an image of the planet Earth emblazoned across the back wall. Comfortable leather wing-back chairs sit facing a wide wooden desk with a slender, balding man sitting behind it.
“Hello, Thrase. So nice to see you again.”
The door shuts behind me, but the Kreetu remains with us. He stands near the wall, motionless as the rock his flesh is compared to oft.
“Thrase?” I shake my head in denial. Playing dumb though my heart is about to burst from my chest. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir. I don’t know you from the proverbial Adam.”
His thin brows arch over surprisingly clear and pleasant-seeming blue eyes.
“Oh, yes. I had forgotten. You were in cryo sleep the last time I saw you.” He gestures at one of the wing-backed chairs flanking his desk. “Please, have a seat.”
“I’d rather stand, thank you.”
The man doesn’t say a word, but the Kreetu moves away from the wall and knots up his hand in my hair. Yelping in pain, I stumble across the carpet as he forces me to sit in the left-most chair.
“Your staff are charming in their subtlety.” I feel my lips twitching a snarl, though I’m loath to show this cretin any trace of emotion. “Do they know of your stated goals of human supremacy?”
The man grins and folds his hands before him on the desk.
“You misunderstand our mission, Thrase. We’re not looking to eliminate all other sapient life or even dominate it. We simply want to protect humanity’s borders and ensure that our own affairs remain sovereign.”
“By any means necessary, yes?”
He spreads his hands and frowns.
“It is what it is, Miss Thrase. So long as we pay well—and we pay very, very well—the Kreetu don’t care what we think of them personally.”
The man stands up and straightens his sharply tailored gray suit. I notice his tie is blue and green, echoing much of the décor in this office.
“But I’m being rude.” He offers a slight bow. “Dr. Jerson Mal, at your service.”
“Mal…” I narrow my gaze. “The same Dr. Mal who was thrown out of the Angstrom Institute for unethical experiments?”
Mal chuckles and turns away from me to gaze out the massive picture window behind his desk.
“A bunch of small-minded fools.” He turns back to me and grins. “You have a lovely mind, Thrase. And I do so love women for their minds.”
I don’t laugh at his double entendre, though I don’t think he expected me to.
“You’re going to be my lab rat, Thrase. That much is written in stone. The only question is… how much will you make me hurt you before we begin cutting into you
r brain? Hmm? Perhaps if you start by telling me where the Kilgari’s blasted Ancestral Queen is docked, I might be merciful.”
I return his glare. And then it dawns on me.
There is a way I can still continue to fight.
I think back to everything I’ve read in school and on my own from humanity’s history.
Humans have been plagued with racism of one sort or another for as long as we’ve been around. And in many ways, the racism we’ve borne toward others in our history has always been a reflection of our greatest fears.
Couple that with what I know from my psychology studies in manipulating people who are inherently afraid and I think I have a way to convince Dr. Mal I’m on his side.
“You’ll have to make me a better offer than that if you want me to give up the ship,” I say, looking him in the eyes.
“Oh, is that so?”
“Yes. I don’t care what happens to the goldies one way or another, but freedom from torture is hardly a carrot to dangle before this pony if you want her to run.”
“The goldies?” He arches an eyebrow. “But they are your saviors, and you’ve acted as their spy.”
“Because our interests coincided, and that is the only reason. Project Blue Dawn has made my life miserable, so I’ll take any chance I can to put an end to that. If that means working with some aliens, well, you do what you have to sometimes.”
I snicker and lean back in the chair. Time to act like the cold-blooded scientist shrew everyone thinks I am.
“Besides, it’s not like I have to put up with lumpys and their disgusting ridged faces, or snake-faced Shorcu.”
Mal’s eyes narrow further, but I can see him making calculations in his head. I’m doing my best to pretend to be racist and I’m hoping it’s working.
“I believe perhaps I’m being told what I want to hear.”
“Do you think me that obvious? Please.”
“Maybe if you were to tell me where the Kilgari vessel has hidden herself, I might be more inclined to believe your sincerity.”
“K’Patel private air field, docking sector 817.”
He frowns and takes his seat. Picking up a comm, he makes a quick call, telling his people to confirm what I have told him. Then we wait, him drumming his fingers on his desk impatiently and me just sitting back and relaxing.
I told him the truth, but at this point Solair surely knows something has gone wrong, and will be expecting trouble. Besides, I have no intention of being tortured. My pain threshold has never been all that high, and I’d wind up singing like the proverbial canary before long.
But if I can convince Mal that I’m as bigoted and cold blooded as him, and only out for myself, he’ll bring me into the fold. My skills are not to be discounted.
Will he, though? I think he will. He will believe me because he wants to believe all humans are like him. It’s an egotistical paradox that greater men than himself have fallen prey to.
After a time, his comm flashes and he puts it up to his ear, swiveling around in his chair and speaking quietly. When he turns back around, his face is marred by a suspicious glare.
“It seems what you have told me is true enough, though we can hardly mount an assault on their vessel so long as it’s docked in a private field.”
“Have I earned your trust?”
“No.” He stands up and straightens his suit. “But you have earned yourself a chance. I’m putting you on probationary status for the time being until I’m certain this isn’t all a trick. The credentials you gave us may have been forged, but they’re based upon your real-life experience. A woman of your intelligence and talent would move our program forward at much greater speed.”
“If you’re asking whether I prefer to be a lab rat or ply my trade, I think you know which one I would prefer.”
“Yes. I think I do.”
I flinch as he comes around the desk and approaches me, but then he thrusts his hand out for a customary shake.
“Welcome to the Earth First movement, Patriot Thrase. I truly hope I won’t have to cut your skull open.”
I take his hand and grip it tightly.
“That is a sentiment we both share.”
Probationary status. Well, it’s better than getting strapped to a table and having unspeakable things done to me in the names of information and science.
Besides, I know Zander won’t let me remain in their clutches, not for long. I am his jalshagar, after all.
Chapter Seventeen
Zander
Energy blasts char the stone walls of the flood sluice pipe, sizzling through the air and raising the hackles on the back of my neck as we flatten ourselves against the wall. I’m the first to return fire, electing to use the Raptor rather than the weak force pistol since I can’t really make out our enemies in the chaotic rain of fire.
Soon my fellows join in, and the sluice pipe becomes a hotbed of weapons fire, shouts, and drifting smoke.
None of us seem to be hitting anything, however, and after a moment the fire dies down. I raise my voice so I can be heard down the pipe by our adversaries.
“You Blue Dawn scum will not stand between us and our captured crew. To do so will result in your death.”
“Bah.” The deep voice that echoes back from the darkness and smoke most likely belongs to an Odex. “You will die, you ignorant puissant.”
“Hey, Brax, hold up. Did he just call us Blue Dawn?”
The second voice was not as deep, but also far more sensible.
“I don’t care if they call us late to dinner, Tur.”
“But aren’t we here because Blue Dawn kidnapped Num?”
“Yes, yes, yes, don’t bore me with details.”
“And they called us Blue Dawn…”
If we wait for the Odex to figure this out, we might be down here all day. I power down my rifle and sling it over my shoulder before rising from my crouch.
“What are you doing, Zander?” Solair’s mouth gapes as I walk out into the middle of the pipe with my hands in the air. “Surrendering?”
“I don’t think these are our enemies, Captain.” Raising my voice, I address our as yet unseen rivals. “I am Zander of the Ancestral Queen, and if you are not with the Blue Dawn, I am not your enemy.”
“Ancestral Queen?” The Odex sneers with his tone. “Never heard of it.”
Solair gets the idea, and he stands up as well.
“Hello there. I’m Captain Solair of the ship in question, which you have never heard of. And I don’t think we should be shooting at each other since it turns out neither of us are Blue Dawn.”
“He has a point, Brax.”
“Who is the leader, Tur?”
“You are, of course. C’mon, we can always kill them later if they turn out to be the bad guys.”
“Hmmph.”
Stepping out of the smoke into full view, a massively build Odex slings his equally massive rifle over his shoulder and glares down the tunnel. His nostrils sniff the air, and he growls.
“I don’t know, Tur. I smell humans.”
“Oh for goodness’ sake, Brax.” A lanky Pi’Rell dressed in loose fitting trousers and a tunic steps into view. Purple tattoos snake all over his ebon skin, and a contemplative frown creases his features. “They are not the enemy. Take a leap of faith for once, why don’t you?”
Solair starts walking toward their group, his arms carefully held out at his sides.
“Now your man seems pretty sensible. I would listen to him if I were you.”
The one called Tur reveals himself to be a Grolgath as he comes into view and speaks.
“Listening to sensible things isn’t Brax’s strong suit, but the rest of us kind of balance him out.”
Brax sighs and motions for Solair to come closer.
“Very well. I know when I’m outvoted. Gyn, you can drop the cloaking field.”
I start as a scaled Shorcu appears out of thin air and powers down his magnetic boomerang, a nasty weapon that can sever bone and tis
sue like a hot knife through Rauth grease.
Solair motions for the rest of us to come out of hiding as well.
“Come on, folks, let’s show our hand. I believe we may have found potential allies.”
Brax and Solair come together, standing a few feet apart in the smoky tunnel. Solair is not a small member of our species, but the eight-foot-tall furred Odex dwarfs him. Still, Solair doesn’t seem the least bit frightened.
“Brax, is it? I take it you’re seeking to penetrate the Starcorp building as well?”
“I will not give away our mission to a…”
“Brax,” the Pi’Rell says with admonition in his tone.
Brax sighs, and nods his shaggy head.
“Yes, that is our goal. The project Blue Dawn scum have stolen Tur’s pet, and apparently there will be a mutiny aboard our ship if I didn’t agree to rescue it.”
“Num’s not my pet. He barely even likes me. Dott gets along with him way better than I do.”
Brax glares at Tur until he goes silent. Kintar narrows his gaze on the tattooed Pi’rell.
“Those brands… the sign of a Raith’Pa master.”
The Pi’rell arches his brows and nods.
“Indeed. You’re quite well-informed, sir. Phyn’Ro at your service.”
He bows his head, and Kintar returns the gesture.
“Kintar, a simple steward, but pleased to make your acquaintance.” Kintar turns to Solair and grins. “You can relax, Solair. The Raith’Pa would never serve a cause they deemed immoral.”
“Yes, I’ve heard.” Solair puts his hands on his hips. “Their name translates to followers of the Precursors, something near and dear to my own heart.”
Brax stomps forward and growls.
“Before we all start performing fellatio on one another, I’ll remind you—all of you—that we have a mission to complete.”
“Indeed.” Solair gestures at our crew. “If we work together, that mission will be much easier, yes?”
“I need no help from a Kilgari.”
“Brax…” Phyn’Ro purses his lips and glares at the big Odex.
