He carefully set down the wrench and slid into the co-pilot’s seat. He grabbed the targeting stick in front of him and squeezed the trigger. The bottom of the craft erupted with the firing of the ship’s weapons. From the window, he could see the blasts spraying out towards the squad. A targeting monitor flickered to life in the centre of the flight control. On screen, the squad of Composite troops fell back, diving behind a barrier of construction equipment. They swung their rifles over the barricade and returned fire. One of them threw something that bounced under the dropship’s nose. An explosion burst from below. The cockpit shook. The weapon-targeting screen blinked out; the heavy cannon was taken out of commission.
Tazman grabbed Luylla’s stream gun from the console and snuck back through the ship. Gunfire exchange broke out in the hangar. Sticking with the plan, Luylla was ambushing them from a defensible position. Tazman limped through the drop hold with the hopes of using the distraction to escape.
The Composite squad had taken cover to the right side of the ship — Tazman’s left. He rushed out and sidestepped unsteadily, swinging the stream gun round and unloading in the general direction of the enemy to put the pressure on. The gun recoiled. He grunted and gripped with two hands to keep the discharge straight. A soldier sprang out and returned fire. Tazman whirled into cover behind a cargo box off the rear of the dropship. He pressed his back to the crate. Its reverse side was bombarded. Tail lay stiff in an arc over his head. Sparks, slag and loose debris sprayed from round the corner. Pulse energy punched smoking holes in the ground before him.
The pulsefire ceased. Something clinked on the ground and rolled close. Tail whipped in fright; Tazman pushed off the box and sprang away. A fiery explosion sent scorching air against his back. He dived to the ground. The crate flipped and tumbled, cracking open and landing just short of him. He crawled past its flaming edges, taking cover behind the cloud of smoke. He pressed off another box to get to his feet. The soldiers returned their attention to Luylla. He paused for a moment to psych himself, then headed around the opposite side of the dropship.
Near the scorched front cannon, Luylla crouched with her back to a loading vehicle. As he crossed her path, he gave a signal that he was going to circle around. She was pinned down by two of the soldiers. One of them, having noticed she was female, began a vicious taunt. She inched out and expelled a volley. The rounds flew over the enemy cover, nowhere near the cocky soldier.
He laughed and yelled again. ‘Is that all you got, bitch?’
Luylla sprang out and blasted once more. She hit her target, the manual lock to a cylinder of insulation goo. The gutter flipped and the dense substance gushed out, cutting the cries of the two would-be commandos.
Tazman neared the end of a pile of girders that extended towards the enemy cover beneath the Inhibitan. He lowered to his belly and grunted. Propping himself on his elbows, he began to crawl. His thigh and chest hurt with a throbbing sting. Reaching the end, he took a moment and caught his breath. The remaining two soldiers chattered ahead. He rose and shifted his weight to his feet, taking two fast breaths in preparation.
He sprang up and lifted his gun. The movement was not as fast as he had wanted. The soldier ahead spun, saw him and moved with swift hands, redirecting Tazman’s aim and striking him in the face. Tazman’s head jolted back and he stumbled, losing grip of the gun.
The soldier grinned and raised his pulse rifle at the unarmed Freegu. Without thought, Tazman lunged. He backhanded the guy on the cheek. Tail lashed out and wound around the rifle. Tazman grabbed the barrel with both hands and changed the angle of fire. Hot pulse blasted over his shoulder. He planted his bad leg on the soldier’s chest and kicked away, his movement strengthened by the fact that it hurt like crazy. The rifle yanked clear. Tazman lost his balance. The momentum carried the gun over his shoulder. He bounced on one leg so as not to fall over and simultaneously swung the gun like a club. The weapon butt smashed against the soldier’s other cheek and sent him spinning to the ground unconscious.
Tazman got two breaths in before a hard forearm whipped into his neck from behind. A coarse growl turned over above his head. A heavy punch landed in his side. He cried out, with his throat vibrating against the headlock. Tazman dropped the rifle. His feet slid along the ground as he was dragged into the open under the Inhibitan’s wing. Metal spikes extended from the wrist of the captor’s gauntlet. They turned to align with Tazman’s neck.
‘Surrender or he dies,’ said his captor in a throaty voice.
Luylla peered out from behind her cover. The commando raised his pulse rifle with his free hand.
‘If you don’t come out, I will kill him. Then I will kill you.’
She didn’t respond.
‘Well? I grow impatient!’
‘All right,’ she screamed.
Tazman protested.
‘Do not speak,’ the commando barked, breathing down his neck. The soilder winded him again.
Tazman grew dizzy.
‘Slide your weapons to me.’
Luylla set her plasma rifle on the ground and sent it scraping out from her cover.
‘I said weapons,’ he bellowed, emphasising the plural. Her two pulse pistols lobbed out one by one and clattered to the ground.
The commando snickered. ‘Now reveal your hands,’ he sneered.
Her open palms rose from behind the vehicle. The commando, unable to stop breathing from his mouth, straightened his arm and pulled the trigger. The shot skimmed the surface of her barricade and she pulled back. The commando laughed hysterically, spraying droplets of saliva. He rolled Tazman out from his grip and sent the Freegu’s woozy form to the ground. The commando’s thin mouth, on the end of his long, tapered skull, curled at the sides in victory.
‘I’m gunna enjoy this,’ he gloated.
The commando drew a pistol and pulled the trigger. A blast hit the ground near Tazman’s hurt leg. Luylla squealed, to the commando’s amusement. Tazman shifted away from the smoking crater.
‘That’s it,’ spat Luylla with a sudden change of tone. ‘What are you smiling at? You have ten spuckons to surrender.’
The commando burst out laughing ‘Or what?’ he said, stretching out his muscular arms.
‘You’ve taken my guns but I’m not exactly unarmed … am I Tazman?’
Tazman looked up suddenly comprehending the situation.
‘Come out and get it then,’ the commando spat.
‘Seven spuckons,’ yelled Luylla, matching his tone.
Tazman, with wide eyes, counted in his head and shifted his weight to his hands. Six. Five. With his gaze fixed on the commando’s energy pistol, he slid back along the ground. The commando turned his head and glared at him. Tazman stopped. Two more counts passed while the creature stared him down with thin beady eyes. Four. Three. When the commando turned back, Tazman sprang to his feet and bounced away on one leg to the underside of the Inhibitan. Two. One. He dived and rolled towards the landing pad.
The commando turned. ‘Hey,’ he screamed, shooting back at Tazman. The creature strode further towards the Inhibitan’s left wing thruster. He glanced up, having just noticed the heat secretion. His eyes shot wide. Luylla hit the fire button on her arm. A burst of flame exploded from the thruster. The commando’s scream was but a whimper under the jets.
Tazman rolled faster as the heat came after him. When he got clear, he patted his legs. Light smoke puffed from his singed hospital pants. He picked himself up and dusted off the burnt particles from his body. The thrusters shut down. Tazman hobbled back round to the rear of the ship and saw the pair of smoking boots, surrounded by a scattered black powder. The stench hit him hard and he covered his mouth, thinking that his remains could have been mixed in.
‘Oh good, you survived,’ said Luylla, striding towards him. ‘Quit loitering and take this.’ She lobbed a something in his direction. He made no move and the belt clattered by his feet. Tail snaked in front of him, plucked it from the ground and dangled the strap in front
of his face. It had a holster that cradled a Composite sledge pistol. He clicked the gun belt around his waist and then spotted the ex-commando’s pulse rifle on the ground.
‘You know, I’m glad our friendship is coming along,’ he said, heading to the weapon. He grabbed the rifle and put its barrel to the floor, gripping the butt to take the weight off his hurting leg. ‘I mean, sure, we’re about to die, but I think it’s great that you can trust me with guns now,’ he said.
‘Let’s go,’ she bossed. She’d found her stream gun and another rifle and was already on the move to the hangar exit.
Tazman limped behind trying to keep up, but a sharp pain halted him. He winced and looked down his pants. The medicals on Poria had sealed the wound but he could see a blotch of red on his bandage. He hobbled forward and joined Luylla in the dim hallway.
She stood over a facedown body. Holes dotted its back. She flipped it over. It was an older gentleman with grey hair on a brown-black Weinian face. His white coat had a crest that read: ‘Tranquillian Composite Research Group’.
‘Composite murdering Composite? What is going on here?’ said Tazman.
The lights flickered off. Tazman was shoved against the wall and he dropped the rifle. He reached for the sledge pistol only to receive a hard knock to his hand, sending the firearm flying away somewhere.
Luylla’s metal arm whined in a struggle nearby. She screamed and shot. Bright pulse sprayed onto the wall, momentarily lighting up the shape that shoved Tazman back before he could help her. The shooting stopped with a clatter on the floor. Tazman’s night eyes couldn’t adjust fast enough. He was gripped on the neck, lifted and slammed into the wall. The corridor lighting flashed up to reveal an angry Reelai clasping both of them in his deathly grip.
Twenty-six
Reelai disliked interruptions. The meddling beings who had tried to steal the Human were back, now squirming to free their oxygen pipes from his crushing grasp. He decided he would take his time. He squeezed slowly, watching their faces with satisfied glee. Then his interruption was interrupted! One of his colleagues addressed him from the control room. He aggressively replied.
The situation concerned the other Human, Leroy. Reelai then felt an extra sharp hatred for the soft race. The fleet commander was taking an unhealthy interest. He asked questions, persisted and even had the nerve to demand. Reelai’s colleague submitted a request to terminate the man. Reelai, regretfully, responded in the negative. Until this world was conquered in its entirety, Leroy still had a use. The rest of his research team thought the prospect of Leroy being useful was unlikely. Reelai also had his doubts. But the invasion should remain as optimal as possible. Too many unknown factors about the Composite and its allied forces existed. The Xoeloid could not afford to dispose of the Commander just yet.
Reelai informed them that he would deal with Leroy personally. He then shut out his colleagues and reverted his attention to the intruders. The colour in their faces had taken a change; he thought it fascinating. They tried feebly to cause him pain. The female attempted to belt him with her artificial arm. The yellow one tried to kick. This creature in particular had caused much inconvenience on his research lab, delaying his experiments, wandering into the forbidden zone — and still it had the nerve to persist. Only a slow death would be suitable for them. Anything less would be unfulfilling. They deserved to feel a pain unlike anything they had the capacity to know. A Xoeloid execution.
Unfortunately they needed to die right now … or did they? An idea came to him. His perfectionist nature had borne an alternative solution for the problem of both Leroy and the intruders. He started down the corridor, dragging the intruders by their necks. They swung and flailed, trying to land hits on him. Oh yes they will suffer, he thought.
Reelai could not stop thinking back on the pain he had to endure. Reminders of it had increased ever since he met the Human, Milton. Reelai’s pain had been a pain worse than death. He had been stripped of everything he valued and disallowed to be what he rightfully was. He had vowed nothing would stop him from regaining what he once had.
He stormed into the control room. Leroy was on the brink of being killed. Reelai issued a stern warning and his brethren stepped back.
Leroy was looking over one of the sensors, running his vocal emitter and was even initiating physical contact by slapping Reelai’s colleague on the back. Reelai now understood the dilemma.
‘Leroy,’ Reelai barked, in its primitive verbal language.
The man straightened. If Reelai were able to express himself entirely the Human would be reduced to a quivering pile of flesh. Leroy looked on at the intruders and a smile crept across his obscene features. Reelai dropped the intruders and they writhed on the floor, panting in a helpless state.
‘Take these prisoners,’ he briefed. ‘I am devising a slow and pain-ridden execution. Do not let them escape.’
Leroy’s weapon lay across one of the consoles. For the commander to have brought it along meant he was not as disabled as Reelai had thought. Reelai snatched up the weapon and pushed it into the man’s chest. Leroy took his rifle, smiled again and focused on the intruders. The Human was a simple being but proved useful for less challenging tasks. Reelai allowed his colleagues to overhear the thought.
‘Another thing,’ Reelai added. ‘The enemy is scrambing its transmission sources. Tell me where the command is situated.’ His colleague activated the large communication screen at the front of the room. Leroy glanced over its readings. The screen depicted what Reelai had been looking at since the battle began.
Leroy’s soilders had programmed the hypersat station to extract the enemy communications. It was only now beginning to operate at optimum efficiency. The collage of transmissions the station received was a mess of vision and sound, chaotic, highly inefficient and nothing like the purity of thought transmission, unique to the Xoeloid and … the retched Vellnoa. Reelai used its information to direct his troops.
‘Command would most likely be at the Ministry of Defence,’ said Leroy.
‘The building you speak of has been destroyed,’ snapped Reelai.
‘Then the next in charge would be a fleet commander on a flagship. Wait …’ Leroy paused and stepped towards the screen. ‘That voice. I don’t believe it.’
Reelai used his thoughts to browse the data, shifting, enlarging and minimising. He found the so-called voice and intensified its clarity.
The speech boomed out decisively, ‘I want cover formation from the fighters and the gold quarter of artillery to concentrate fire on the enemy ship at the north side.’
‘It’s Raegar,’ said Leroy. ‘There. He’s aboard the Raticia.’ He pointed out the ship beyond the vapour trails of a missile. ‘That son of a bitch is still alive. He’d be the one leading the defence. Destroy Raegar and the planet is yours.’
‘Then he shall die,’ said Reelai. He headed to the exit.
‘Downing his ship won’t be enough either,’ Leroy added with a smirk. ‘You have to make sure he’s dead.’
Reelai strode back to the bridge to further execute his will over his warriors. He rhetorically asked his complaining colleague if the situation was to the appropriate standards. An answer came back in the positive as Leroy also seemed to find distraction in the display screen.
Reelai had adjusted perfectly to the setback. The situation was under control and he was satisfied, for now. But his temper still lingered above its saturation point. He calmed himself, for he had an invasion to attend to and he needed to concentrate.
Raegar kept an eye on the tactical layout. The Dwarve was subjected to concentrated fire. Three enemy ships had cornered the vessel to the side of the battle. He checked the Dwarve’s status readings; shields had worn thin. He glanced up and saw the ship in the distance through the forward pane. An explosion thundered against its rear thrusters. Xoeloid fighters swarmed along its body. With the shield gone, heated rounds pierced its weakened pane and laid waste to the commander and crew. The ship dropped over the Nim
bus, crushing one of the laser batteries from which it had sought cover. A violent crack reverberated through the foundation. The Dwarve weighed the platform down. Another laser battery slid and tumbled on the sinking slope. The battleship’s hover thrusters died. The Nimbus thrusters flipped the platform over and launched the falling ship into the nearby residential towers. The Dwarve’s graphic wiped from Raegar’s tactical layout.
On the platform, ground troops couldn’t afford to flinch. They worked tirelessly to man the primary cannons. Continuously reloading, aiming and blasting. Pulse, missiles and shells were launched in every direction in a sky mixed with Xoeloid and Composite forces.
The scream of a missile thundered from the Raticia’s lower front. It curled its trajectory up and smashed into the side of an enemy ship. Composite fighters swarmed its hull and the enemy dropped out of Raegar’s sight.
The enemy was now taking an interest in the Raticia. A group of the hostile vessels had broken off and closed in on Raegar’s position. They somehow knew he possessed command. Heavier blasts came from multiple sides. The bridge shook violently. Three hostile ships were visible overhead through the forward pane.
A panicking voice came from his left. ‘Sir, main thrusters are failing.’
A great deal of his status screen readings started blinking red.
‘Guide her to a clearing,’ he said, strapping himself for impact.
The Raticia used its remaining thrust to pull away from the battle. A dust cloud rose over the pane. A tense moment passed before a wide street appeared. Raegar clenched his armrests. The battleship slammed into the pavestones. The gravity system failed and Raegar was thrown forward against his seat restraints. Vehicles, trees, signs and everything else in the Raticia’s path was crushed indiscriminately. A fierce impact quaked the bridge. The crew held to their places. A moaning screech rumbled and the ship came to a halt.
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