by G J Ogden
Sterling climbed the stairs of the hotel and stepped onto the veranda. It was clear that the door had been barred from the inside. Ordinarily, it would have been enough to at least slow down any attempted incursion into the building. However, the occupants of the hotel hadn’t accounted for Mercedes Banks.
“I think you should knock,” said Sterling, extending a gloved hand toward the door.
“If you insist,” replied Banks, taking a couple of steps back in order to get a run-up to the door.
Sterling pulled a stun-grenade from his belt and moved to the side of the hotel’s entrance. The weapon had been enhanced by his talented chief engineer, who had insisted the grenade was now powerful enough to stun the occupants of a football stadium. Sterling nodded to his first-officer and steeled himself, ready to toss the grenade inside once the way was cleared.
Banks stormed forward and thumped her boot into the door, focusing every ounce of her genetically-superior strength into breaking it down. The door caved in like it was made of Styrofoam and plasma blasts and bullets immediately soared through the opening.
“Your turn!” Banks called out as she drew back into cover.
Sterling tossed the stun-weapon inside and ducked into cover, pressing his hands to his ears. Despite being outside the hotel when the weapon detonated, it still felt like someone had popped a giant balloon next to his head. The torrent of plasma and conventional arms fire coming through the door stopped and Sterling wasted no time in advancing. Raising his rifle, he marched inside the hotel, blasting holes into the stunned mercenaries at point blank range. Banks moved in a second later, heading to the opposite side of the main saloon area, unleashing powerful blasts of plasma at armed men and women on the balcony level. Soon the room was filled with smoke and the stench of burning human flesh. Sterling knew that it would not be the last time he was assaulted by the revolting odor before the day was won. The difference was that this time he didn’t care.
Bodies continued to fall as Sterling advanced further inside the hotel. A Void Deputy sprang up from behind the bar and shot him at close range with a firearm. The bullet ricocheted off his armor and thudded into the ceiling. Sterling aimed his plasma rifle at the deputy and squeezed the trigger, blasting a hole straight through his chest. The deputy’s eyes widened with horror and the man staggered back, touching his fingers to the cauterized wound. Seconds later he was dead.
“Kill them!” a voice shouted into the room. “Damn it, kill them now!”
Sterling looked up and saw Marshal Ed Masterson on the upper-level balcony at the rear of the saloon. The lawman was bookended by two deputies, who immediately opened fire at Sterling. He moved into cover, but not before a blast struck his thigh. The thud of the impact was followed swiftly by a burning pain. Cursing, Sterling checked the wound and saw that the armor on his leg had been melted through. However, it had served its purpose and spared him from serious injury.
“Mercedes, cover me!” he called out. He was too wound-up to use neural communications. Besides, on this occasion there was no need for stealth, he realized. The whole city – or what was left of it – would have heard the battle by now.
Banks moved out and fired up at the balcony, the powerful blasts of plasma driving the lawman back and through an open doorway. At the same time, Sterling rushed through an archway that led to the upper floors of the hotel. Bodies were hunched in the corner, cowering as the sound of more plasma blasts echoed around the hotel. Sterling recognized one of the women as Dana, the owner of the establishment.
“Where is he?” Sterling asked the woman, while keeping a watchful eye on the landing at the top of the stairs.
Dana scowled at Sterling, apparently not recognizing him. Then her features softened and she shot up, grabbing him by the arm.
“Oh, thank god, I thought you were the Sa’Nerra,” Dana cried, hugging Sterling’s arm tightly.
Sterling shook off the proprietor of the hotel then peered into her relieved eyes. “Masterson. Where is he?” he asked again, showing no compassion for the woman, who was clearly traumatized. Dana appeared shocked that Sterling has so brusquely shrugged her off. However, there must have been something in his eyes that told the woman he was in no mood to be trifled with.
“He’s in the honeymoon suite on the third floor,” Dana said, nodding toward the stairs. “That bastard has damned near taken over the place. He’s not paying what’s due, mind you.”
“How many deputies or mercenaries does he have up there with him?” Sterling replied. He wasn’t interested in the woman’s ridiculously misplaced grievances. He only wanted to get his man.
“I don’t know, five or six, maybe,” Dana shrugged. “If you kill him, make sure you leave me enough silver to cover his check.”
Sterling huffed a laugh and shook his head. The city had just been razed by the Sa’Nerra and its population mostly reduced to ash, yet Dana was more concerned about her profits.
“Once Masterson is dead you can take whatever you want from his cold, dead, corpse for all I care,” Sterling replied. “But I suggest you use the money to get off this world, before the Sa’Nerra come back.”
“And go where?” Dana replied, practically screeching the words at him. “Where the hell can any of us go that those alien bastards won’t follow?”
Sterling didn’t have an answer for her. The truth was that if the Sa’Nerra broke through the Fleet lines and destroyed Earth, nowhere was safe.
“As far away as possible,” Sterling replied, giving the only answer he could. “And don’t come back.”
Dana took two steps back from Sterling, looking dazed and confused. He assumed the hotel owner had wanted some form of reassurance that everything was going to be okay. Perhaps even a rousing speech, filled with heroic hyperbole about how Fleet was going to kick the aliens back to where they came from. However, these would have been a lies and false hopes. The Void Colonists would all have to settle for reality sooner rather than later. All Dana had to do was step outside her own front door to see it for herself.
“The main saloon is clear,” said Banks, moving through the archway and covering their rear. She ejected the power cell from her rifle and reloaded.
“Masterson is in the honeymoon suite, third floor,” replied Sterling, glancing up at the landing area.
Banks backed up closer to Sterling and also peered up the stairwell. “It looks tight up there,” she said, slinging her heavy plasma rifle and equipping the plasma hand-cannon instead. “We should be prepared for more close-quarters action.”
Sterling nodded, slinging his rifle and drawing his pistol instead. His hand touched the handle of the Sa’Nerran half-moon blade, and he contemplated whether to use it instead. However, he left the weapon attached to his belt, knowing that the time would soon come when its blade would be wet with blood.
“Shade and the commando squads have secured the perimeter and Masterson’s shuttle,” Banks said, turning to Sterling and tapping her neural interface to close her link to the weapons officer. “Half of the mercs and deputies fled. Shade requests that she be allowed to pursue.”
“Order Shade to run them down, all of them,” Sterling replied, setting a foot on the bottom stair. “We’ll deal with Masterson personally.”
“Aye, sir,” Banks replied, tapping her interface and relaying the command to the Invictus’ weapons officer. Sterling guessed that his weapons officer would likely consider it to be the best order she had ever received. When it came to Opal Shade and killing, it was more than just her duty - it was her profession.
“Let’s move,” said Sterling, heading up the stairs in the lead, pistol held ready.
After the raucous gun battle in the saloon, a strange stillness had fallen over the hotel. All Sterling could hear was the creaking of floorboards beneath his feet and the sound of his own breathing, heavy and laden with anticipation. Reaching the third floor, Sterling then heard the groan of floorboards from somewhere up ahead. He signaled to Banks and both of them moved
more cautiously onto the landing of the hotel’s upper level. They pressed their bodies to the wall next to the archway leading into the third-floor corridor, ready to move out. Suddenly, the stillness was shattered by the fizz of plasma weapons opening fire at close range.
The wall crumbled as whomever was on the other side shot blindly through it in an attempt to ambush them. Banks was hit and fell, tumbling down the stairs to the landing below, but Sterling didn’t have time to check if she was hurt. Charging through the opening, he came face-to-face with three mercenaries, each of them still firing blindly through the wall. Sterling shot the closest at point blank range, carving a chunk out of the man’s chest and destroying his right shoulder. A blast fizzed past Sterling’s ear, so close it scorched the hair on the side of his head. Sterling shot again, destroying the second man’s abdomen. The mercenary collapsed onto Sterling and knocked his pistol out of his hand just as the third attacker opened fire. The blast melted through the body that was still draped across Sterling and he felt the energy burn his ribs. Roaring with pain and anger, Sterling used the dead man as a battering ram, driving the remaining mercenary against the wall before tossing the corpse aside. The final mercenary raised his pistol, but Sterling caught the man’s wrist and managed to wrestle the barrel of the weapon away. The pistol fired and the fizz and bright flash of light temporarily stunned him. Sterling took a punch to the face and staggered back, giving the mercenary the space to take aim. The man squeezed the trigger, but the weapon did not fire. The cell was empty.
Sterling spat blood onto the floor, more enraged than he was injured, then drew the half-moon blade from his belt. The mercenary tossed the empty pistol and pulled a machete from a sheath before coming at him again. Sterling parried the mercenary’s initial attack and countered with a thumping left hand. The punch was so hard and struck so cleanly that it crushed the man’s nose. Dazed from the impact, the mercenary staggered back and blindly swung at Sterling, but this time the assault was slow and contained little power. Dodging the strike, Sterling swung the alien blade and opened the mercenary’s throat. He watched the man croak and splutter, hands desperately trying to stem the flow of blood. Then the mercenary’s body thumped into the floorboards, blood spewing from the gaping wound like a crimson fountain.
Sterling lowered the blade to his side as Banks raced around the corner, plasma hand-cannon raised and blood trickling from a cut to her eye. She saw the dead bodies on the ground and raised an eyebrow at Sterling.
“Do you still need me?” Banks said, filling the awkward silence with a prime example of her misplaced, dark humor.
“How about you take the lead this time?” said Sterling, dabbing the back of his fist to his throbbing jaw.
He switched the Sa’Nerran blade to his off-hand and recovered his plasma pistol as Banks moved ahead. His first officer followed the narrow corridor to the first guest-room door. Coordinating with Sterling, Banks turned the handle and pushed the door open before bursting inside, hand-cannon raised. However, the room was empty. Sterling cursed and they both moved on, trying each new door in turn. He knew that behind one of the doors was Marshal Masterson and James Colicos, but which one he had no idea.
“Where the hell is the honeymoon suite, anyway?” said Banks, as another room turned up a blank.
“How would I know? I’ve never been married,” Sterling hit back, crabbily. He was getting frustrated. The one man he wanted to find was the one man that had so far evaded him. “Just look for the biggest room.”
Suddenly the door to a guest room flung open and a deputy leaned out, pistol raised. Banks beat the man to the trigger, the boom of her plasma hand-cannon assaulting Sterling’s ears. The deputy was reduced to a smear on the door then Banks moved inside.
“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!”
Sterling moved up and saw another deputy on his knees, hands pressed to his head and weapon tossed away in front of him. Banks had her plasma hand-cannon jammed into the back of the lawman’s head.
“Which room is Masterson in?” demanded Sterling, cutting to the chase.
“Take a right at the end of the corridor, then it’s two doors along on the left,” the deputy said. The man’s voice was shaky and weak and he was unable to meet Sterling’s eyes. “I swear that’s where he is, now please don’t kill me.”
Sterling glanced at Banks, the look in her eyes as cold and ruthless as his own. There was a silent understanding between them. It was the understanding that they had both already descended to the darker parts of their psyches, and that there was no turning back.
Sterling left the room and a moment later the hand-cannon boomed for a second time. His first officer then emerged beside him, her armor wearing a fresh coat of blood.
“Now we finish this,” said Sterling, following the directions the deputy had given them. “We can go in hard and fast.” He locked eyes with his first officer to ensure he had her full attention. “If you see Masterson and can take the shot before me, do it. Is that clear?” He wanted the Marshal for himself, but he wasn’t about to let his own desire for vengeance get in to the way of their mission. He needed Colicos more than he needed the satisfaction of making the kill.
“Understood,” replied Banks, firmly. “You can count on me, Lucas.”
Sterling nodded. “I know I can,” he replied, still holding her eyes. “I’ve never trusted anyone more. Even myself.”
Banks moved up to the door that the deputy had indicated and held her cannon ready. Sterling got into position too and drew in several, long deep breaths.
“On my order,” whispered Sterling.
Banks took a pace back, preparing to kick in the door. Sterling crouched behind her, ready to engage the mercenaries or deputies he expected to be inside.
“Now!”
Banks smashed open the door before dodging aside to allow Sterling a clean shot. Plasma blasts raced over Sterling’s head and he shot back, killing two deputies and wounding a third. He could see Masterson at the rear of the room, holding Colicos in front of him as a shield.
“Go!” Sterling called out and Banks rushed inside, blasting another deputy in the chest and coating the wall with his charred entrails. Sterling moved in moments later, but there was no-one left to kill. No-one besides Marshal Ed Masterson.
“Stop right there or he dies!” Masterson yelled, pressing the barrel of a plasma pistol to the side of Colicos’ head. “If you want him, you have to let me go.”
“Fine, let him go then,” Sterling lied. “I don’t care about you, Marshal. I just need Colicos.”
The Marshal laughed, though the lawman’s voice was shaking more than his hands. “I’m not stupid, Captain,” the man hit back. “You don’t get him until I’m safely on board my shuttle with the engines running.”
Sterling stepped away from the door and motioned toward it with the blood-stained, Sa’Nerran blade. “Lead the way, Marshal,” he replied, casually. “Like I said, I don’t give a damn about you.”
Masterson scowled at Sterling, his ever-changing expression a kaleidoscope of suspicion and mistrust. However, the man was desperate and Sterling knew it. The lawman would take any option other than a plasma blast to the head. Then, as soon as Masterson had got close-enough or had let down his guard even for a millisecond, Sterling would take him out. And if he didn’t get the chance, he knew that Banks would. Either way, Masterson would not leave the room alive.
“No tricks, Captain,” Masterson said, ushering Colicos toward the door. The scientist was petrified with fear, but as far as Sterling could tell, Colicos was uninjured.
“No tricks, Marshal,” Sterling answered, maintaining a strict poker-face. “Your shuttle is outside. I’ll order my commandoes to let you through.”
Sterling nodded to Banks, and she made a show of tapping her neural interface and pretending to relay the order. However, Banks knew just as well as he did that the lawman had only seconds left to live. The Marshal’s skeptical eyes flicked to Banks then back to Sterling, but
the ruse worked. Masterson clung on to the faint hope of survival like an infant clinging to its mother. Suddenly, there was the thump of bootsteps outside, growing rapidly closer. Masterson froze, pulling Colicos tighter and digging the barrel of his weapon into the scientist’s temple. Sterling felt his heart thump harder in his chest and continued to watch Masterson like a hawk, while Banks covered the door.
“What’s going on? I said no tricks!” Masterson yelled.
A split-second later, a Void Deputy burst through the door, weapon raised. There were two blasts of plasma. The first shot was fired by the deputy and the second was from Banks’ hand-cannon. Two bodies hit the deck, leaving Marshal Ed Masterson standing alone between the Fleet officers, covered in the blood and brains of James Colicos and the deputy.
Sterling snarled a curse into the air then threw down his weapons and advanced on the Marshal, clasping his hands around the lawman’s throat. Masterson tried to claw Sterling’s hands away, but the older man was quickly overpowered. Dropping to his knees, Masterson croaked and spluttered, his eyes imploring Sterling to stop, but the lawman’s cries only made him want to increase the pressure further. Hands and arms burning from the exertion of strangling the Marshal to death, Sterling pulled Masterson closer, so that they were nose-to-nose.
“Die you cowardly son of bitch!” Sterling roared into the man’s face, which had already begun to turn blue. Masterson’s tongue bulged out from his mouth, but Sterling held on until the last gasps of air escaped the lawman’s lungs. It was barely louder than the whistle of the breeze brushing past the windows of the honeymoon suite. It was a weak raspy whisper, closer to the sound of a Sa’Nerran hiss than a human word. Then when all the life had been choked out of the man, Sterling threw the dead body of Marshal Masterson Senior to the floor and spat on it.
