by Yakov Merkin
CHAPTER 28
Darkclaw woke with a start on the Hudecar’s ruined command deck. He was lying under the shattered display screen, next to the bodies of two of the command crew. Debris was strewn everywhere around the bridge; there didn’t look to be anything still intact, nor did there seem to be anyone alive. The flight controller still sat at his post, dead, impaled by a jagged piece of metal. But he had saved the ship, or at least Darkclaw himself.
As Darkclaw pulled himself up he saw Ship Commander Gadelius lying unmoving across the deck. So many familiar faces, gone in an instant. He hadn’t even known most of their names—many might not have even had proper names. As soon as he stood up fully he collapsed again, only then noticing the piece of debris that had somehow penetrated his armor and gotten stuck in his leg. Wounded, but alive. And the High Lord was dead; he remembered that much from before the crash. He could just let himself die now; he’d done what he had set out to do, they had won.
But no, he could not, he realized. No other Tyrannodons knew of his plot, and even if Nayasar assumed command, they would continue to follow the High Lord’s directives. They would continue as they had, even without the High Lord. He had to get out, had to survive.
He checked his armor’s comm unit and found to his relief that it was still functioning, for the most part. He would not be able to select a channel, so his message would be a general broadcast. Which meant that the Alliance forces would know of his survival. He would not mind capture though. It would let him speak to them, and with the Scion Dalcon’s help, convince them of his sincerity.
“This is Executor Darkclaw,” he sent. “I am alive, on the Hudecar. I require assistance.” He couldn’t think of much else to say. The Tyrannodons would follow Nayasar until his recovery, hopefully, and trying to speak to the representatives of the Alliance now would not be worthwhile.
Darkclaw tried and failed again to stand up. If he could at least get to the medical kit on the other side of the command deck… he collapsed again and the world went black.
“Executor?” a familiar voice asked, rousing Darkclaw back to consciousness. “Darkclaw?” It was a Felinaris, female. Darkclaw’s first thought was that it was Nayasar, come to his aid, but it was not her voice. Lisar.
“I hear you,” Darkclaw said as he opened his eyes to see both her and Kalviss, both apparently unhurt, standing over him.
“Are you alright?” Lisar asked.
“My leg,” Darkclaw began, looking toward it, then stopped as he saw the metal piece was gone, a medsalve patch covering the wound. “Thank you. Are there any other survivors?”
“We’ve only found a few dozen so far, but if the percentage is the same throughout the ship then there are likely a couple hundred.”
“We need to get out. It’s not safe in here. If the ammunition stores catch fire…”
“Not ssaafe outsside eeither,” Kalviss objected.
“He’s been monitoring enemy communications since we found you,” Lisar elaborated. “The Legion Navy is preparing to storm the ship to find and kill you. They know you’re alive.”
“And so should our own,” Darkclaw said as he pulled himself into a sitting position. Decorum mattered little now. “I sent the distress call myself.”
“No tiime,” Kalviss said tersely. Lisar nodded in agreement.
They were right. Even if his forces could mount a rescue; they’d never make it in time. By now the ship would be surrounded.
“You are sure they wish me dead?” Darkclaw asked. Surely Dalcon would not allow it.
“There was some debate, but the consensus was that you are to die.”
“We cannot let that happen,” Darkclaw said as he pulled himself unsteadily to his feet, grimacing both at the pain and the smells of death and burned machinery. “With me dead, my kind will continue this war to its destructive end, regardless of my order to follow Nayasar. Can we reach anyone on the outside now? If I can reach the First Scion, he will help.”
“Leegion cut off communiicatiions,” Kalviss said, shooting down another option.
“Then we fight.” Darkclaw carefully tested his leg. He would be slow, but he could walk for the time being. “We have to reach an armory. Arm any survivors in condition to fight. Tell them to join us on deck six.”
“We’re with you to the end,” Lisar said, drawing her own battered weapon.
Without further conversation, Darkclaw led them out of the command deck, and down a still intact maintenance shaft. Fortunately it had been built to accommodate more than one Tyrannodon at a time, so even Kalviss in his heavy armor could make it through, though with a bit of difficulty. If they could reach an armory, there would be a chance.
Once they reached the appropriate deck, Darkclaw led his bodyguards and entourage of crew through the mangled hallways. “The armory will be just around this—corner.” He stopped when he saw what truly lay around the corner, a barricade of annihilated metal. What good was knowing the ship like he knew his own hands when anything could have been changed? Of course, he might not know his hands either any longer, so at least it was a fitting parallel.
“We will have to try a lower deck,” Darkclaw announced as the ship shook.
“They’ve made an entrance,” Lisar said quietly, gripping her weapon more tightly than necessary.
“Then we will have to hurry.”
As it turned out, Darkclaw’s detailed knowledge was of value, as it allowed him to quickly find detours through the ruined and darkened ship—even the emergency lights were not functioning.
Finally they found an intact armory down on deck eleven, and passed out weapons, everyone carrying as much as they could. And then what would they do? Going after the intruders would be a waste. They would likely fail, and accomplish nothing. As much as Darkclaw despised sitting and doing nothing, they did just that, waiting in nervous silence as the sounds of coordinated movement drew ever closer. There was no weapons fire though, which meant that they either were accepting surrenders or had not found any other survivors. Likely the latter.
All too soon, however, the sounds grew loud and close. “Positions!” Darkclaw ordered sharply, and everyone readied their weapons and found whatever cover was available. “Don’t fire unless they do so first.” There was still the chance that he could peacefully surrender.
Moments later, the blue armored Legion forces appeared around the corner, and stopped when they saw the weapons pointed at them and readied their own. “Is the executor a part of this party?” the Tehlman commander asked.
“He is,” Darkclaw said from the rear of the group. “If you will guarantee my safety, and the safety of my soldiers, I will surrender peacefully.”
“We don’t deal with war criminals, murderer. Anyone who steps aside will be taken prisoner and treated well. If you insist on protecting the executor, we will not hesitate to go through you.”
“The executor is the only reason any of you are still alive!” Lisar snapped. “He’s been working to end this war!”
The commander turned to look at her. “So some have said. Unfortunately for you, most of us don’t care. We don’t want this monster to be let go or even have a public trial. He doesn’t deserve it. Are you so willing to give up your life for him, Felinaris, Snevan?”
In response, Kalviss opened fire, blowing the man in half. Then the hall erupted with weapons fire, though fortunately no explosives. The enemy must have been concerned about catching some of their own in the tight quarters.
After a few moments of fire, it quickly became clear that Darkclaw’s paltry force was outmatched. Over a third of them were already down.
“We have to fall back,” Lisar said as she crouched next to Darkclaw. He nodded. He was sure that Dalcon was aware of what was happening, and would work to stop it. They just needed more time. But he was so tired, and his leg throbbed incessantly.
“We fall back.”
“Fall back!” Lisar shouted, taking charge of the situation. Kalviss provided covering fire as the
remaining survivors broke cover and they ran around the corner, through the mangled deck.
But where could they go? There wouldn’t be anywhere they could hold out for long enough, and at any moment they could run into a dead end. But he continued to lead them deeper into the ship, though the plain, dark walls made him feel like he was an animal trapped in a maze, with a predator on his tail.
They continued to fire back as they ran, but the enemy was better equipped, and in better shape. More of Darkclaw’s protectors began to fall compared to only a handful of the shouting and jeering enemies. They must have been enjoying their first major victory on the ground.
Darkclaw led the shrinking group down an emergency evacuation shaft, which would buy them a little time as the enemy would be forced to descend only a few at a time, and would have to wait for their entire force before proceeding. Just as Darkclaw was thinking they might have a chance, his leg began to give out.
Not now, not now! He shouted at himself. But it didn’t help much. He needed more delaying tactics.
As the enemy continued to pursue them, Darkclaw and his group passed under a partially collapsed ceiling, and he had an idea. Darkclaw ushered the survivors past him, then pulled out all of the explosives he had on him and readied them. Sure, using them could cause a chain reaction that would kill them all, but without them, he’d be dead in minutes regardless.
When Darkclaw spotted the enemy force running down the hallway, he primed everything and threw it all around the corner, then ran. The shockwave knocked him painfully to the ground, but the screams and screeching of falling metal made it worth it.
“Think it’ll hold them?” Lisar asked with a glance toward the debris pile.
Darkclaw shook his head. “This is hopeless. We can do little more than delay them. I know the First Scion will come to stop them. He just needs time. But I can’t move quickly enough.” Darkclaw himself was beginning to doubt that, but he had to hold onto hope. But there would be no hope if he could barely move.
“You truly think so?” Lisar asked as she rested against the wall.
Darkclaw nodded.
“Then go, take advantage of the delay.” Already Darkclaw could hear the pile being moved. “Kalviss and I will hold them off for as long as we can,” Lisar continued.
“No! I can’t have you do that for me. We will find a way that we can all escape.” He could not let more die purely on his behalf, least of all two people who had become friends—more than friends; confidants, protectors, support.
Lisar shook her head. “There is no other way, if you are to buy time. Kalviss and I are the only ones here at all fit for combat. And besides, we are your bodyguards. Both of us knew it might come to this when we agreed to serve.” Kalviss nodded silently, as was his way.
Not for the first time, Darkclaw was glad that Tyrannodons could not cry. “I cannot tell you how much you have done for me, both of you. I am proud to have fought alongside you. I only wish our parting did not have to be as it is. You will never be forgotten.”
Lisar nodded, and though her helmet obscured her face, Darkclaw thought he could picture her face as she replied, and took his hand in a military style grip, hers tiny compared to his. “I regret nothing. It was an honor to fight alongside you, and to know you as a person. You are braver than anyone I have ever met, and there is only what to admire within you. And don’t worry, we’ll still be watching over you, even if not with physical eyes.”
Kalviss walked over and clasped Darkclaw’s other hand. “Shee’s a better talker than Ii. But know that the Ssnevaans are forever iin yoour debt. Thee aavatars wiill alwayys smiile upon yoou soo long as Ii am wiith them. Wee haave fulfiiled oour purpossses. Yoou sstiill have whaat to do.”
Darkclaw held both of their hands for a long moment. “Thank you again, for everything.”
They nodded, then let go and began to ready themselves. As Darkclaw led the surviving Tyrannodons away, he had to glance back once more. Lisar and Kalviss were both in combat positions, behind what cover they had made, weapons ready, explosives by their sides. No, they would not be forgotten.
With a heavy heart, Darkclaw forced himself to look forward. He only hoped that their sacrifice, and those of the Tyrannodons who had died protecting him, would not be in vain.
* * *
“No, you are to stand down! Now!” Dalcon shouted over the comm link to the Legion Navy commanders nearest the crashed Tyrannodon ship. The idiots had no idea what they were doing. He had tried to explain to them that Executor Darkclaw was responsible for their victory, that they had been working to end the war. But no one cared. All they wanted was retribution against a war criminal. And that foolish decision could very well haunt them forever. Darkclaw had been very clear that he was keeping his actions secret from his own kind. If he had not had time to properly inform them of his decisions before he crash-landed, this war could continue on, and Dalcon did not have high hopes of his side winning, despite their recent success at the Tyrannodon station and on Dorandor’s surface. He had to get to the executor first.
Dalcon glanced back toward the empty ground where the High Lord had been, and the large indentation that his death had created. None of the soldiers were willing to walk there, and Dalcon could not blame them. That victory was all the more reason Darkclaw had to live. He summoned his two Scion honor guards, then approached the Legion commander in charge of the duster-mounted light attack units.
“I need three dusters,” Dalcon said simply.
“I’m sorry, First Scion,” the Talvostan officer replied, “but the dusters are first and foremost for my soldiers, and there are few enough already.”
“You misunderstand me, commander. I was not asking.” Dalcon had just about had his fill of irritating military personnel for one day.
“And my position has not changed, hero or no hero, First Scion. A courier ship should be arriving within the next fifteen minutes. They will take you wherever you need to go.”
Dalcon didn’t bother to reply, and instead harnessed his power and fired blunt energy ribbons, knocking three soldiers from their vehicles. “Get on,” he ordered his escorts.
Moments later, he was speeding away from the stunned soldiers. Dalcon was almost surprised that they had not fired on him, but he supposed that if they killed the supposed hero of the day it would look bad. Everyone thought that he had killed the Tyrannodon High Lord, but Dalcon knew the truth. He had seen the device fall, and he had failed to stop the High Lord from reading his mind. Someone else had finished the job; Darkclaw, he was sure. More reason why he could not let the Tyrannodon die.
“We need to get to the Tyrannodon executor before anyone else does,” Dalcon said to his companions as they sped through the ruined neighborhoods and across the open nature preserves. “It is of vital importance, and we cannot let ourselves be stopped. It may be necessary to force the issue. I would prefer not to harm any of our own, but the executor is priority.” The Scions responded that they understood, and would follow his lead. Whether they truly understood did not matter, but Dalcon would need the backup.
Even flying at the dusters’ top speed, it took over ten minutes to reach the downed ship. It was quite a scene: The massive crater and path through the ground, the ruined buildings and farmland, and the army surrounding the broken vessel.
Dalcon landed as close as he could to the ship and approached the Darvian that appeared to be in charge. “What is going on here?” he demanded. “The High Command and the chairman both ordered the Tyrannodon leader taken alive.”
The Darvian laughed. “The chairman is dead, Scion, killed by the subordinates of the criminal we have trapped like a rat in that ship. Of course, we will try to take him alive. Unfortunately, the war criminal will refuse to surrender, and we will be forced to kill him. You truly do not believe that he deserves a trial, Scion, do you?”
“I am the First Scion,” Dalcon corrected the officer. The chairman was dead? That was bad news, but nothing he could do anything about n
ow. “And yes, I want the Tyrannodon alive. You cannot possibly understand what is at stake.”
“You’re probably just agents for the enemy like the rest of your order. The last First Scion was a traitor, after all.”
Dalcon had had enough. He grabbed the Darvian, who was at least a half a meter taller than him, by the arm roughly. “You want to say that again? Do you know who I am?” Of course he did. Everyone knew by now. “I killed that monster that destroyed our ships, the one that influenced the traitors. I am more loyal to the Alliance than you are, and I say the Tyrannodon lives.” Of course, it was not technically true, but no one knew that, and if it allowed him to save Darkclaw, then it was justified.
The Darvian looked down at Dalcon’s hand. If he was inclined to fight, he did not show it. He more than most would want revenge, for the conquest of his world, if nothing else. But he was also not stupid.
“I’ll give you the tracking signals on our forces and on the Tyrannodon,” he said after a tense silence. “Feel free to try and beat them to him.”
Dalcon immediately accepted, and loaded the data into his combat system. Immediately, both signals appeared on his heads-up display. There wasn’t much time.
“We go, now.” He ordered his companions, and they approached the ship’s hull. Dalcon quickly found a spot where it had been rent open, easily widened it with his power, and stepped through.
The interior of the Tyrannodon ship would have been dark and dreary even if the lights had been working. The hallways were some dark grey color, completely smooth, unadorned apart from utilitarian screens and readouts. He couldn’t fathom how anyone could live and work in such a dark place. But now was not the time to wonder about life on one of these ships. He had to get to Darkclaw first, and the others had a head start.
Dalcon quickly checked the tracking signals. Darkclaw was three levels above them, and approximately two hundred meters north of his current position.
