The Galactic Sentinel: Ultimate Edition: 4 Books with 2000+ Pages of Highly Entertaining Sci-Fi Space Adventure

by Killian Carter

  "Shit." He hadn’t expected Aglat to use a ranged weapon. Neither had Kaliff. Either Aglat wasn’t taking his challenge seriously, or Kaliff was right. The giant was afraid.

  Grimshaw leaned out from cover to find Aglat no more than forty feet away, the halberd in his hands, the heavy plasma blaster stowed. Grimshaw figured he’d concealed it behind his back again. He emptied a clip into the approaching Kragak. Most rounds met their mark, but even those that struck Aglat’s face failed to slow the giant. Aglat maintained a steady pace as if to taunt him.

  Grimshaw swore as he loaded another magazine. If only there was a way to weaken his armor from a distance.

  He had enough battery for a few minute’s worth of powerblade, but he didn’t want to get within melee range if he could help it. During the war, he’d seen Kragak tear armored men in two using their bare hands. He squeezed the trigger. His rifle rattled.

  Rounds sparked off gold and black armor plating alike.

  Aglat winced as a round almost struck his eye.

  Grimshaw swore again. This is useless.

  As he reloaded, Aglat suddenly surged forward, closing the distance with surprising speed.

  Grimshaw ducked behind the rock, barely avoiding the descending axe.

  Aglat lifted the weapon for another swing as he rounded the boulder.

  Grimshaw sidestepped, doing his best to keep the five-foot rock between him and the Kragak.

  He ducked under another wild swing, the blade sweeping mere inches above his helmet.

  As he came back up, something smashed him in the shoulder, flinging him into the open, his rifle sliding out of reach.

  The Kragak shield on his right arm pinged with only two lights showing. He looked at Aglat still by the rock, as he swung the halberd to cheers from the crowd. Grimshaw hadn’t expected the Kragak to use the butt of his weapon. He climbed to his feet, looking for the nearest cover. Three shorter boulders stood to his right, but Aglat’s blade would crush him as he fled such a distance, not that they would provide much cover even if he did make it.

  The ground shook as the Kragak approached, the crowds chanting. "Kill. Kill. Kill."

  Grimshaw reached for his plasma blaster. A few well-placed plasma shots would hurt the Kragak if he was lucky, but it didn’t have enough power to be of any real use. He opened the power-cell limiter and set his visor.

  He took aim.

  Aglat approached, casting a shadow over Grimshaw.

  "Puny Terran weapon," he spat. "Die."

  As the Kragak lifted the weapon for a killing blow, Grimshaw tossed the blaster several feet into the air and closed his eyes. A flash erupted and he felt the heat of the mini explosion on his face.

  Despite closing his eyes and his visor’s settings, sunspots blotted his vision. Resetting his visor settings, he just about made out Aglat stumbling back, one hand holding his face, the other maintaining a grip on his weapon.

  Grimshaw looked to the cover and hesitated.

  I might not get another chance like this, he told himself.

  He flicked his left wrist and a burning white plasma jet sprang from his SIG. He ran at the towering brute and swung his arm with everything he had.

  Aglat brought up the halberd at the last second, deflecting a blow aimed at his chest.

  The powerblade cut straight through the pole, the tip of sizzling plasma gouging a long line in the golden chest plate. The polearm fell to the ground in two parts, the severed axehead slicing through Aglat’s boot. The Kragak stumbled back, causing Grimshaw’s second swing to cleave off a shoulder guard.

  The giant rubbed his eyes and blinked at Grimshaw like he was still blind.

  Grimshaw risked one more swing before his vision could return. He thrusted the glowing blade at the Kragak’s abdomen.

  Aglat twisted, the blade cutting a shallow furrow across the armor guarding his hip.

  Grimshaw caught a smile on the Kragak’s dark face.

  He ducked under a swinging fist and hurried out of Aglat’s reach.

  They stared at each other for a long second.

  They charged.

  Aglat pulled a long, serrated knife from his back.

  Grimshaw ducked under a horizontal swipe that would have clove him in two. As he came up, he sprang forward, his starblade held out. The jet plunged into Aglat’s abdomen.

  The Kragak warrior roared, and withdrew, doubling over. Silent awe washed through the arena. Aglat remained about twenty feet away, snorting and grunting while watching Grimshaw from under his heavy brow.

  Suddenly the crowd chanted louder than before. "Kill. Kill. Kill."

  The entire arena shook as they stomped the ground in excitement.

  "Have you had enough?" Grimshaw asked, offering Aglat an opportunity to surrender.

  "For a Kragak, there is no enough," Aglat snarled. "If you mean to kill me then kill me."

  He stood upright, swaying unsteadily from side to side. Grimshaw thought he might fall, but the Kragak kept his balance. He spread his arms, revealing the gaping wound in his gut. Black ichor bubbled from the gashed armor, soaking the rocks under Aglat’s feet. He opened his mouth wide, exposing four long fangs, and roared. Grimshaw’s stomach did somersaults in answer.

  Aglat half-stumbled-half-charged at Grimshaw.

  Grimshaw steeled himself, readying his powerblade for one final strike.

  As the Kragak approached, the plasma stream faltered and vanished.

  Grimshaw watched in horror as the Aglat shifted his weight and threw a punch.

  He evaded a fist bigger than his head only to cross paths with another. A mighty force slammed the side of his head, scrambling his brains. A second smashed his chest, flinging him into a patch of dirt. He rolled on his back, gasping for air. His head spun as he checked for damage, his fingers fumbling clumsily with his SIG. The Kragak shield had taken the brunt of the impact, but his breastplate had partially caved. Had he been equipped with anything less than an angel-class TEK, the blow would have crushed his chest entirely, but the unit had held…barely.

  Grimshaw forced himself onto his knees, sweat trickling down his back as he gasped. The Kragak shield hissed and slid from his right arm, smoking.

  Another cheer cracked like thunder peppered with cries for death.

  Aglat was doubled over again, catching his breath.

  I must have hurt him after all. Now I just have to outlast the bastard.

  Even as the thought crossed his mind, the Kragak struggled back to his feet. His knees wobbled, but he advanced slowly, his eyes fixed on his prey, his face twisting with a sickening grin.

  Grimshaw got to his own feet as he checked his built-in shields. They held at seventy-three percent, but they’d be useless against bludgeoning damage. He deactivated shields and rerouted the additional power to the TEK’s magnetic armor plating. The tactical exoframe hummed and popped as plates adjusted and expanded.

  Aglat picked up his pace, his eyes shining with renewed fervor. Grimshaw looked over his shoulder and fled for cover, the heavy thuds of Kragak feet growing louder with every step.

  All I have to do is stay out of reach a little longer.

  He leapt for cover, but something snapped at his ankle, flinging him back the way he’d come.

  The arena lights flashed from one side of his vision to the other and back again.

  Smash. Smash.

  His leg popped and he feared it had been torn off. The area spun around his head.

  Smash.

  He landed on his back next to the boulder he’d originally used for cover.

  Wasn’t that on the other side of the arena?

  Grimshaw panted and tried to get back on his feet but fell back to the ground when one leg refused to respond. He was glad to find it still attached, but such relief was short-lived. He watched through his cracked visor as Aglat hurried after him, his movements erratic.

  Grimshaw closed his eyes. He’d exhausted all options. There was only one chance of surviving and it was a slim chanc
e at that. He activated his fury drive implant, and ecstasy surged through his veins, burning away all pain and washing away all sense of control.

  He got back on his feet, his stupid body slow and clumsy, for the Grimshaw fool had damaged it in his feeble attempts to fight the formidable beast. But now it was his turn. He grinned and cocked his head sidewise as he regarded the ambling creature. It seemed so sure of itself, like it could actually put him down.

  "Arrogant fool!" he screamed. "Nothing can stop me. I am the ward of the Sar Hadarr, and I am free."

  He howled at the lights above with laughter.

  The bleeding monster looked at him, its expression suddenly a touch less confident.

  "Yes! Exercising caution is wise. I will not be defeated so easily."

  "What are you?" the towering beast growled.

  He moved his legs, finding one didn’t move as well as the other. "It seems I am somewhat broken, but I’ve killed fouler beasts than you with less."

  The looming creature cackled. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, Grimshaw. One of us will die this day, and it will not be me. Your bag of tricks is spent.”

  The beast certainly did not appear so big as it had through Grimshaw’s eyes. Besides, what did size matter? "I agree. Enough tricks. And enough talk."

  He sprinted forward, the arena a blur, the monster’s movements slow and awkward.

  How could Grimshaw have let this bumbling thing catch him?

  He ducked under the beast’s grasping hand. His own hand aimed for the right armpit.

  His fingers snapped through the golden armor and plunged into the old wound Kaliff had pointed out.

  The Kragak howled in agony and withdrew.

  He sprang after the beast, ready to strike again. He ended up shoulder-deep in the creature’s guts, his fingers searching.

  He ignored the monster’s roars as his fingers slid around, grasping for something solid. His lips twisted with delight as he found the solid column he was searching for. The Terran’s hand was not large enough to wrap around the spine, but he pulled, and something cracked.

  The beast roared and brought up a metal pole. Smashing his head, forcing him back several steps. A panel pressed against his skull, annoying him. He pulled the frustrating contraption free and threw it to the ground.

  "Damn Terrans and their soft bodies."

  He lunged for the creature again as the pole arched through the air.

  He caught it mid-swing.

  The creature tried to bear down on him, but he stood his ground.

  Its eyes widened. "Where have you found this strength? Are you a demon?"

  Whether its words were tinged with fear or uncertainty it didn’t matter. It would simply meet its end.

  He roared and thrust both hands forward, wresting the pole from the beast as it fell onto its back.

  He stepped forward to finish the deed. Pain flared in his left leg and he slid to the ground.

  "No, Grimshaw!" he cried, clawing at his helmet. "Leave me be. You will get us both killed."

  He had to act fast. Before it was too late.

  He half-hobbled half-crawled, pulling himself with the help of the pole. The creature had to be slain.

  Strength drained from his arms. He had to finish the deed before the fool Grimshaw could mess everything up again. The Terran’s heart was as feeble as his body.

  Using the broken pole, he pulled himself onto his feet.

  "I am the ward of the Sar Hadarr…I refuse to be locked away before my task is complete!" He lifted the pole, the jagged, broken end aimed at the beast’s twisted stomach.

  Gasps rang out quickly followed by anxious silence.

  He thrust with the weapon.

  An unseen force seized his arms.

  "Grimshaw, no!" He gathered every ounce of hate and fury he could muster, but it was not enough to move another inch.

  He tossed the weapon aside.

  "No!" he howled. "Grimshaw, what have you done?"

  Agony suddenly raked his mind and body, driving him back to whence he came.

  Grimshaw fell to the ground next to Aglat, his chest heaving. He fumbled with his SIG controls and injected a dose of fury serum. The darkness flooding his senses abated instantly, but the burning in his bones barely subsided.

  While relegated to the innermost depths of his mind, he’d remembered the words and learned their meaning.

  Aglat moaned as he brought himself upright, the pole raised over his head, his body wavering wildly.

  Grimshaw gritted his teeth against the pain. He brought himself up on one arm and looked in the direction of the elders. He drew as deep a breath as he could manage. "Anak Rim Omahr," he called out in the breathless silence. "Anak Rim Omahr."

  A great outcry broke out. Countless voices wailed, and the Kragak gnashed their teeth. The Kragak reeled, danced, and stomped at the words they all feared.

  Grimshaw sank back to the ground.

  The lights above filled his eyes, and the cacophony filled his ears.

  33

  Freedom From Slavery

  Ria moved in a half-crouch directly ahead of Taza. The three Chan fighters Leeroy had assigned to protect Ria followed, their footsteps barely audible. They advanced through the maintenance shafts unimpeded. Leeroy was right. The Ushtarans had grown to rely on their servants so much it would be their downfall.

  Taza keyed a command into his SIG, attempting another connection to Allora. The connection dropped. The Ushtarans had definitely set up a comms jammer somewhere above. Remote control was out of the question.

  "The damn Quamat better not get us all killed," he muttered into his helmet.

  Skallig had departed the base an hour before the rest of the team, his camouflage making him the perfect candidate for scouting the lower walkways. Disagreement had broken out over the need for a scout, splitting the rebel command team down the middle. One side argued that a scout wasn’t needed since the Ushtaran guards would never stoop so low as to walk among the poorest Chan in the lower walkways. They believed the way would remain wide open and that sending someone ahead would risk giving away their element of surprise. The other side of the room argued that the Ushtarans would break tradition, given the stakes, and that the rebel units assaulting the Spire would be walking into a trap without reliable eyes on the walkway system.

  Taza agreed with the latter group and turned the vote in their favor.

  Taza also had his ghost-drive, but his TEK’s batteries couldn’t last long enough to be much use for scouting with so much open space. A camouflaged Quamat didn’t have that limitation.

  Skallig had checked in with updates twice since leaving. Taza got nervous each time his helmet’s vox system pinged, but Skallig relieved him of any worry, informing him that the way ahead was in fact clear of Ushtarans, proving the first group right.

  Better to err on the side of caution, he thought.

  Ria held up a hand as she reached the end of the shaft.

  Taza stopped. He saw the city over her shoulder, transports wizzing to and fro between a sea of glassy buildings.

  "Skallig, we’ve reached the lower walkways. Are we still clear?"

  "I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary," the Quamat’s slithering voice responded over the unit-wide channel. "I’ve still some way to go, but it looks clear."

  Ria waved over her shoulder and dropped out of the opening.

  Taza moved up to the tunnel exit and looked below to find Ria waving for him to hurry.

  The drop was at least twenty feet. Taza knew his suit could handle it, but he dreaded the maintenance it would require when he got back to the Orinmore.

  He turned on his stomach and dropped to the lower walkway below, his boots hitting the metal with a thud. He sprinted across the open platform and joined Ria behind a support pillar.

  "Keep it down, dammit," she hissed.

  Taza was going to tell her he was being quiet when the three Chan sidled up to them. They hadn’t so much as made a t
hud when dropping from the maintenance shaft. He merely nodded at Ria.

  "The Ushtarans may have increased their presence along the Spire’s skyways, but few Chan use this area, let alone Ushtarans. We might come across a few homeless folk or street rats. We’ve got a mile to close before meeting up with Skallig. He’ll be waiting at an old service elevator that leads to the upper skyways. Keep moving, keep close, and keep low."

  "Yes, sir," the Chan answered.

  "Yes, sir," Taza said, his tone more high-pitched than usual.

  Ria narrowed her eyes at him before making a run for the next support.

  Taza had to stop himself from chuckling as he followed, the other Chan close on his heels.

  They crisscrossed rusted metal pathways. Some sections were so old the rails had been eaten to stumps. The further down the buildings Taza looked, the more signs of wear and rot he noticed. Things didn’t seem so pristine down here. He was surprised the lower parts didn’t crumble and take the upper parts with them.

  They wove in and out of various forms of cover. Taza just about managed to keep up with Ria, her body lithe, her movement silent.

  They closed in fast on Skallig’s location when Taza’s vox pinged with the Quamat’s registry. "Two Ushtaran guards just emerged from the elevator. Seems like they’re willing to sniff around down here after all. I’ll take care of them before they can make trouble. Going silent."

  "Wait—"

  Skallig had already cut his line.

  "Quamat bastard might need our help. Keep it quiet,” her eyes lingered on Taza longer than the others. "And whatever the hell you do, don’t get seen."

  She slinked off in the direction of the elevator. She picked up the pace and Taza started falling behind.

  He was about to tell her to slow down when she stopped at the end of the high rail, her weapon ready.

  "I told you no rash actions," Ria hissed at the Quamat.

  Taza arrived by her side to find Skallig standing over two dead Ushtaran guards, bloody holes torn in their throats.

  "I took care of them, didn’t I?"

  "Yes, but you disobeyed an order. Are you trying to get us killed?"