Epoch (The Templar Future Book 1)
Page 14
The Templar was about to speak, but thought better of it. Instead, he turned and marched across the clearing.
“What do you think he look’s like now?” Bruce whispered.
“I’d be afraid to see,” Pip answered.
The Templar walked to a small wooden bridge spanning the stream and stood at it’s edge.
“Come out now! Surrender!”
All in the village was still.
“I have seen you,” his voice boomed, echoing against the bluff. “You will come out or I will destroy your village.”
A plasma bolt seared the air next to his head. He didn’t even flinch.
“That was off four centimeters,” a strange voice called. “I give you a chance to surrender, demon.”
The Templar changed the tone of his voice to match his adversary.
“I will call in Hell fire!”
Another bolt shot at him, he dodged it.
“Robe, your rifle,” he called.
Robe tossed him the blaster. The Templar grabbed it from the air and in one motion threw it to his shoulder and fired three quick blasts.
Women screamed from the darkened doorways. Three limp bodies fell out of three houses.
“Templar!” said Robe.
“Stun Two,” he smiled over his shoulder.
He turned back to the village.
“We will talk now!”
He walked across the bridge, a king coming home to his castle. The rifle was held ready, and no more shots came from the shadows.
“Who will talk with me?” he yelled, stopping by the first body. “This one is not dead, but he will not be awake for some time.”
A flamboyant figure clad in bright scarlet and blue silks leaped off of a roof and landed in front of the Templar. He wielded a long thin knife in one hand and a cat of nine tails in the other. He flicked the razor tipped leather strands at the intruder’s face.
The Templar caught the whip and ripped it from the man’s hand.
The knife lashed out for his face. He pulled back, letting the man wind himself with wild slashes.
“I’m going to shoot you,” he warned.
The man was silent. He lunged for the Templar.
He shot him. The man crumpled.
“How many of us will you fight?” the strange voice called again.
The Templar watched as figure after figure appeared from the shadows, surrounding him.
“Who are you?” the voice asked.
It belonged to a thin man with a tired look and ragged beard that matched his well worn clothes. The men watched him, waiting his command.
“You are the leader?” the Templar asked.
“Answer my question, demon.”
The Templar dropped the glamour, allowing them to see him as he really was. The group backed away several steps.
“What sort of trickery is this?” the thin man asked.
“I have come seeking a safe haven.”
“This is a Den, no haven for strangers. Kill him. He is just a man.”
The Templar raised the rifle.
“I spared the lives of your men,” he clicked a switch in the butt of the gun. “I will do you no favor.”
The thin man stared at him over the sights of the gun.
“I do not fear death.”
Robe stepped to the edge of the circle.
“He’ll kill you call.”
“A Suit,” they whispered. Four men grabbed Robe by the arms, pinning them at his side.
“It won’t do you any good,” Pip stepped from behind a house, her rifle pointed at the crowd.
“Where are the men who were watching you?” the thin man screamed.
Darwin led the men into the clearing.
“he has fought the Mob and won both times,” said Robe, ignoring the men at his side. “He is a mighty warrior, more than any you have ever known.”
“We are warriors,” said the thin man. The men and women cheered.
“These?” the Templar laughed. “Villagers pretending.”
He didn’t lower his rifle.
“We have eight men with a bead on you, warrior,” the thin man spat contemptuously. “Surrender.”
“I’ll give you one more chance,”
“Now,” said the thin man.
Crimson streaks arced through the air, converging on the spot where the Templar stood. He was no longer there.
He flipped backwards, landing behind the crowd. He clicked the gun to stun, shot three, and flipped again, appearing among them. They tried to scatter.
Pip dropped to one knee and picked off the villagers. She relied on her Suit to protect her from the plasma bolts.
The rifle men were frightened. They had been sure of the Templar in their sights, trained to hit any target, because speed was of the essence when they took a ship. They were all aiming at his head, ready to vaporize him on command. When they fired, he wasn’t there. They shot, but he was in the crowds, weaving so fast they couldn’t draw a bead.
The Templar was a blur. He landed beside Robe, clearing the men off of him and shielding him while he sealed his helmet.
“Stun, right!”
The Templar nodded and ran for the thin man. He caught him easily and lifted him off the ground.
“Call them off.”
“Kill him!”
He threw the thin man over his shoulder and jumped high, disappearing into one of the huts.
Robe flanked the crowd, shooting them as they ran, stunning each into unconsciousness. As quickly as it started, it was over. Villagers lay scattered in various positions of flight, riflemen slumped over their guns, but all were knocked cold.
“Where’s Darwin?” Robe called to Pip on the intercom.
“With me.”
He found them kneeling beside Bruce.
“Is he dead?”
She shook her head.
“He must have caught a blast,” she said. “One of yours. You never scored well in target practice.”
He nudged her while she was kneeling, trying to knock her over.
“The Templar took the leader into a hut. Think he’ll kill him?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “What should we do?”
“Secure our position. Hold against onslaughts.”
“That Troop training coming in handy,” she smirked.
They gathered the inert bodies and dragged them into a tight circle.
“Anything to bind them with?” he asked.
She sat down on a stump.
“We’ll have to hold points. Standard triangulation.”
He nodded.
“Where’s our third leg.”
She pointed to Darwin.
“Great,” Robe said. He moved to teach the Doctor how to shoot.
Inside the dark hut, the Templar straddled the chest of the thin man, his large bulk eclipsing any resistance.
“You will listen to me,” he growled.
The man stopped struggling.
“My village is quiet.”
“We have taken prisoners. No one was killed,” the Templar assured him.
“How can I trust you?”
“You can’t.”
The Templar climbed off the thin man, offered his hand to help him up.
“Who are you?”
“I have come to your island to seek sanctuary from the City.”
“Every man’s excuse here.”
“I am an escaped prisoner. The Troops you see with me came to my aid, as did the other two men under my command.”
“Troops helped you escape from Troops,” the thin man looked at him skeptically. “We don’t want what you’re selling. Get out.”
The Templar settled on a mat, resting the rifle across his legs.
“I will not leave.”
“You don’t understand. Suits are going to track you here with their Computer. They will annihilate this village. We’re Corsairs. They don’t even take us to Trial. We’re field executions.”
“No one will find us.”
The thin man rolled over on his knees and climbed slowly to his feet.
“They will not come,” said the Templar.
“What then?
“I will stay here. I need this place.”
“Impossible-”
The Templar held up a hand, forestalling comment.
“You have little choice in the matter. Either I kill everyone on this island, or you accept us into your group.”
The thin man shrugged his shoulders. He pulled a wineskin off of a peg and squirted a thin stream of red into his mouth, spilling a drop out of the side.
“Some option,” he said.
“I said you had little choice. I would kill you and be done with it, but my team has an aversion to taking life. You have seen me work. You know I can do what I say.”
The hut grew quiet. The thin man tilted his head, listening for some sign of life in his village. There were none.
“What have you done?” he asked, not expecting an answer. “We can only do what you say. Who are you?”
“They call me Templar. You may, as well.”
“I am called Bangor,” he opened his arms to indicate the quiet village. “Welcome to Channel.”
Bram stalked the hallway, ignoring the waves and smiles as he passed every Trooper he had trained. His mind was in the office he just left, with the woman he admired and cherished more than any other thing on this earth. His heart was there too, but tucked away and kept secret. They had talked about the prisoner and the fugitive Robe, their regent in training. It quickly degenerated from a conversation to a yelling match, with no points made, no ground gained, no results reached.
He shook his head. They were letting off steam, shedding the baggage that could cripple them in battle on the field or in the boardroom. Still, words hurt. The Suits could withstand plasma bolts, assaults from the Mob, and any amount of abuse the guys in R & D could conjure in their imagination. Words, however, leaked through every seam, flaying flesh from wounds, grinding salt in scars, decimating ego and esteem. She was good with them, picking her aim carefully, pinpointing doubts he held in the darkest recesses of his soul and holding them in front of him for examination. She knew where to go, how to get there, and what to do once she was there. She was brutal.
He could hold his own, usually. Attack her position as Commander, sow seeds of doubt in her ability to lead, and her attack crumbled. Now, though, he regretted every syllable that fell form his lips. He wondered what effect they might have when confidence was all she had to bolster her.
Bram turned, an apology forming in his mind. A lift opened beside him, spilling Darren to the floor.
“I’ve been trying to raise you,” he stuttered.
Bram nodded toward the office.
“I’ve been in conference.”
“Good news?”
He shook his head.
“Then you’re not going to like this,” Darren said. “Darwin’s gone.”
Bram hit the wall with a fist, cracking the plas-steel shell with a spiderweb of hairline fractures.
“Does she know?”
“She doesn’t answer her link either.”
“What priority did you use?”
“Highest.”
Bram marched to the office door. He knocked quickly and entered.
Nova sat at her desk, staring out of the window.
“You didn’t answer your link.”
She looked at him, her tired eyes reminding him of the days without a full night’s sleep.
“I need a vacation,” she said.
Darren stepped through the door behind Bram.
“Darwin’s missing,” he said.
She tried to compose herself, collect the remnants of authority that were slowly seeping away under the constant barrage of miscalculation.
“When?”
“Two nights, we think. Harry and I went to Academy to question him again. No one’s seen him, and he’s not home.”
She clicked on her terminal.
“Report on Mob activity near the Academy,” she queried.
“None,” the Computer answered.
“Location density of Mob?”
“Last night, coordinates unknown. Limited access, limited reading.”
“Why are they so quiet?” Bram asked.
“I don’t know. Darren, any word on Robe or the Templar?”
“Nothing since the car.”
She stared at the monitor.
“Series of events, next week’s fund-raiser. Mob prediction,” she typed.
“Insufficient data for correct extrapolation.”
“Work with limited parameters.”
“Possible Mob assault. Possible no activity. Recent levels dropping. Mob activity receding.”
“Bram, double post Troops,” she ordered. “Stephen?”
The tall assistant stepped through the door behind Darren.
“Yes.”
“I need R & D up here for a meeting,” she chewed on the tip of her finger. “In an hour.”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you want to double post?” Bram asked. “We need all resources for our search.”
“I don’t like what the Mob is doing.”
“They aren’t doing anything.”
“Precisely.”
“Commander, this happens every year. The season changes, it gets colder, the Mob goes deeper underground or disappears all together. There’s no reason to panic.”
“I’m not. This is a precaution.”
“But the Council suggested we find the prisoner. They’re not going to like us calling it off,” Bram argued.
“You concentrate on your job, Second, which is following my orders.”
He bristled. The argument form earlier threatened to erupt again. He barely held himself in check.
“Yes sir.”
“You have your orders.”
He left without a word, shoving past Darren who stood mutely blocking the door.
“What do you want?” she snapped, noticing the eager Trooper rooted to the floor.
“Harry and I want permission to search on our own.”
“You heard my orders. Concentrate on the Mob.”
“It won’t interfere with our regular duty.”
She waved him off, ready to be rid of him.
“What you do on your own time is your business. But it absolutely cannot keep you from your duty.”
“Yes sir,” Darren saluted and left before she could change her mind.
She leaped across the room, landing at the dispenser. She stretched like a cat, relishing the dull ache it produced in her muscles. She had been sleeping in her chair, running through scenario after scenario in the Computer, hoping for a breakthrough with the Templar, a revelation or answer. Nothing was forthcoming.
She drew a cup of caffeinated water, hoping the stimulant would jolt her awake. She had to determine what was going on with the Mob, with the money makers, with the Templar. She needed answers and it was going to be a long night. The chronometer on her desk told her it was only three in the afternoon.
“What if we kill you while you sleep?” Bangar poured a big cup of warm tea from an iron kettle over the small fire. He handed it to the Templar.
“We are five. Sleeping in shifts, one of us will raise the alarm. When I wake, I will destroy you.
“What if we shoot you while you guard the others?”
Banger and the Templar had been in the hut for over an hour, sharing company and questions. Banger was nearing the end a list of possibilities on removing the Templar from his camp. Every contingency was outlined with possible variations, and each was met with a simple proclamation of utter destruction.
In the beginning, Banger though the Templar was exaggerating for effect. After all, this was the man that entered the camp under the guise of a demon. but he was very straightforward with his answers. He never bragged about ki
lling the entire village. It was a simple statement, a token of honesty Banger grew to appreciate.
“What if we shoot you with a rocket, and sniper your friends at the same time?”
The Templar took a swallow of the tea, savoring the bitter-sweet warmth that washed down his throat.
“A rocket will disorient me. I am impervious. The Suits will protect the others.”
“There are two without Suits.”
“Two are Doctors.”
“And you are indestructible without the armor?”
“No, I am a man. But I come from a different place. Somehow, these weapons don’t affect me the same.”
“But what if we-”
“Banger, I tire of these questions. Accept the fact that I am staying. I will let you live. I will let all live, I only require your pledge. Tell me we are safe here. We will not interrupt your lives. You will go on doing what you do, to who you wish. We will not stop you.”
Banger smiled, finally catching the Templar with his own words.
“Troopers pledge to kill Corsairs. That is the way. Even if you are not a Trooper, the two Suits out there cannot let us continue. They made a vow to stop us.”
“They are my men. They do what I tell them.”
“So you say,” Banger shook his head.
The Templar stood up, shaking his legs and arms, ready for anything. He nodded to Banger to follow him.
Outside, twilight was falling. The sleeping bodies of the villagers had been gathered in small groups around fires that burned off the chill that was setting in.
Banger was surprised. The Suits were even now dragging the body of a Corsair over to a group and laying him gently down, while the older man checked him over.
“Robe, Pip,” the Templar called them over.
The Troopers jogged to him, stopping a few paces away. Their rifles were slung across their backs, but their hands rested on pistol grips at their waste. Each movement copied the other, and Banger marveled at the precision training.
“Why are your weapons there?” he pointed to their guns. “What of my snipers in the woods?”
Pip smiled.
“We searched and destroyed each of your outposts.”
Banger looked at the Templar triumphantly.
“They are vowed to kill us. It is in their blood.”
“We didn’t kill,” said Pip. “That’s just what we call the hunt. Each of your men is in one of the groups. They’ll sleep the night through, but we didn’t kill anyone.”