Tales of Talon Box Set

by A A Warren

  Shouldering his pack of tools, Talon lowered himself through the hatch, and swung his body sideways. His feet skittered across the top rungs of the ladder. He paused, as another shudder ran through the vehicle. His feet slipped off the rung, and he hung dangling beneath the lift car, holding on by his fingertips.

  He swung out again, and wrapped his legs around the ladder. He paused, as the vibrations continued to rattle through the shaft.

  Finally, the ore-slicer’s motions smoothed out. Taking a deep breath, Talon let go of the hatch, and grabbed the highest rung of the ladder. His boots clanked against the thin metal planks, as he climbed down the darkened shaft. An occasional ring of work lights cast a dim orange glow through the narrow tube. He paused, and wiped a film of sweat from his face. Deck twelve was close to the main reactor, and he could feel the heat rising as he descended into the hellish depths of the interior.

  Finally, his boots hit the bottom of the shaft with a loud thud. The sound echoed into the shadows above. Talon slammed his fist into a glowing panel, and another service door slid open. He stepped out onto deck twelve.

  The open platform was surrounded by a guard railing on all sides. A catwalk ran to another identical platform, several hundred meters away. Glowing diagnostic panels ran along the guard rails. A series of shimmering holographic rings encircled the platform, spinning around him as they matched the motions of the slicer’s outer hull.

  Talon walked over to the nearest bank of controls, and located a comm panel. “B’Turo, I’m here. Deck twelve.”

  The old man’s reply crackled though the console’s speakers. “Okay, the hydraulic clamp should close the mag lock. You can’t miss it… looks like three giant bolts, the size of a man’s head.”

  Talon glanced at the far wall… next to the door he had entered through, a mess of wires and hoses hung from a massive block of machinery. The equipment jutted from a portal in the wall. A haze of smoke and steam drifted in the dark recess behind the unit. True to B’Turo’s word, three heavy security bolts sat in a row on the front of the unit.

  “I see it… what do I do?”

  “You have to re-anchor the bolts… tighten them back down till they make contact. That should reset the clamp, and trigger the mag lock.”

  “Understood,” Talon replied as he walked over to the machinery. Sizing up the large bolts that protruded from the machine, he unslung his pack, and removed a heavier tool. The main bar of the massive wrench was collapsible. He extended it to its full size, about half the length of his body. Tapping the end against the first bolt, he triggered the torque field. A glowing blue energy field gripped the bolt. He pulled down on the wrench.

  Nothing happened.

  He tugged again, but the bolt refused to turn in its socket.

  “B’Turo,” he shouted. “The first bolt it jammed. It won’t turn.”

  “Must have stripped the conductor sockets. I’ve almost got the beam projector up and running. But if you can’t secure the clamp, it won’t make a difference.”

  “Just keep working,” Talon shouted back.

  He adjusted his grip on the wrench. Crouching on his knees, he reached overhead, and pulled down on the thick metal tool. Muscles rippled across his back, and his biceps were taut as steel. He grunted, and pulled harder. His face beaded with sweat from the heat and exertion.

  A tiny groan emitted from the bolt assembly. Then a squeak. Sparks leapt from the torque field as the tool struggled to maintain its grip.

  The bolt turned a centimeter… then another.

  Talon braced his feet on the floor, and yanked down, pulling even harder. He roared in triumph as the bolt moved again. The energy field crackled, and the bolt spun freely. Talon threw the wrench around, tightening the top bolt in its socket. A loud hum emitted from the machine, and a green light blinked to life.

  One down, two to go.

  He repeated the process on the next two bolts. A sheen of sweat and grease covered his skin by the time he’d finished, and his hair hung in his face. As the last bolt turned into place, the third green light flashed on, and a series of sparks arced across the machinery. Talon leapt back, as the clamp rumbled back through the alcove. A panel slid closed from a recess in the wall, blocking access to the unit.

  As Talon panted for breath, B’Turo’s voice crackled over the speakers.

  “I’ve got good news and bad news, kid.”

  Talon glanced up. "Now what?”

  “Well, the good news is, you did it. The mag lock is closed, and the structural integrity field is back up on deck twelve.”

  “What’s the bad news?”

  “The lock on deck thirteen just tripped as well.”

  Talon staggered to his feet and slung the heavy tool over his shoulder.

  “Iberron’s harem… Standby, I’m on my way.”

  His boots clanged across the catwalk as he moved towards the second platform. He could already see the mag lock machinery, sparking and glowing against the far wall in the distance.

  Hopefully the sockets aren’t stripped on that one, he thought.

  Suddenly he froze. Something was wrong…

  He did not bother to ask himself how he knew, or what had triggered the intense feeling of being watched. The instincts that had led him to a hundred victories in arenas throughout the galaxy kicked into high gear. His nerves flooded with adrenaline, and his senses became hyper-attuned, filtering out the clanking of the machinery, and the crackling sparks showering from the mag locks.

  Before he felt the rushing air above him, he was moving… Stepping back, he swung the heavy wrench above his head. He heard a grunt of pain, as the dark shape crashed on the catwalk before him. Hidden in shadow, the figure leapt to its feet and charged towards him.

  Before Talon could even react, he saw a glowing orange fist, swinging through the air. He ducked, and the blow passed over his head. Jabbing forward with the wrench, he jammed it into his attacker’s abdomen with all his strength.

  The force of the blow caused his opponent to stumble back. As he stepped into a beam of light, Talon finally got a good look at him, although he already knew who it had to be.

  Makor glared back at him with his wide, bulging eyes.

  Bellowing a war cry, Talon swung the wrench overhead. Makor reached out with his glowing fist and caught the weapon, halting the downward swing. His fist blazed brighter, and Talon could feel the heat radiating between them.

  The weapon glowed bright red where it touched the plasma limb. Heat radiated down the shaft, burning Talon’s hands. Then Makor twisted his fiery fist. The red-hot metal tool snapped in two. Talon shoved Makor away. The two men staggered apart, as he hurled the broken fragments to the ground.

  “So much for your word of honor, Makor,” Talon snarled.

  The alien held up his fist, casting a glow across his face. “What do you know of honor, outsider? Do you know who did this to me? Who took my hand, and cast shame upon my lineage?”

  Talon drew his axe from his harness, but said nothing.

  Makor stepped closer. “It was your mentor, Orex Griff. I begged him, begged him to take my life, to end my dishonor. But he refused.”

  “He spared you,” Talon shouted back.

  “He disgraced me!” Makor’s voice rose to a gurgling howl. “Orex marked my failure for all to see. An injured Kujita is worthless. My Aoshun master abandoned me, left me to rot in the arena where I fell. I was forced to serve as a plaything for Dominion Lords. A slave, whose sole purpose was to amuse decadent nobles without a shred of honor.”

  “If death is the only release from your shame, I’ll be happy to oblige,” Talon snarled. He couldn’t see the alien’s mouth beneath his hydro mask, but the wrinkling scales around Makor’s eyes gave the impression of a smile.

  “You do not understand, outsider. When Katara purchased my contract and lifted me from that abyss, I thought I would never have the chance to face Orex again. So it was I who hired the assassin that laid him low in the arena. I provid
ed the poison for his blade. The compound was a venom manufactured from the sea creatures of my home world. A substance I knew would be invisible to the arena’s scans.”

  Talon lowered his weapon. His crystal eye reflected the light from the blade, glaring at Makor with a hellish glow.

  “You… you killed Orex Griff?”

  The alien nodded. “My only regret was that I could not watch him die with my own eyes. But now here you stand… his favorite pupil. You said he was like a father to you. And the honor debt of a father must pass to his son. When you arrived here on Neros, I knew the gods had granted me a second chance for revenge. Killing you is a memory I shall treasure for the rest of my days.”

  Talon hefted the axe. “Your days end here, Makor.” He assumed a fighting stance and triggered the weapon. The blade glowed to life. “Enough talk.”

  The plasma that formed Makor’s fist morphed and grew. It split apart, forming three fiery spears. The alien raised the glowing trident above his head and hissed through his mask. “Very well… Let us begin.”

  Metal clanged beneath their feet as the two men rushed across the catwalk, charging towards each other with their weapons poised to attack.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Makor’s growl echoed though the cavernous interior of the ore-slicer. He dipped low and thrust with his fiery trident. Talon pivoted, knocking the alien’s arm aside with the shaft of his axe. The powerful block threw Makor off balance. Talon let go of the axe with his left hand, and pummeled Makor’s face with a back-handed strike.

  As the alien stumbled backwards, Talon raised his axe overhead. He sliced down with a powerful, two handed swing. But Makor recovered before he could land the attack. The alien threw up his blazing trident, intercepting the falling plasma axe. The weapon’s glowing blade wedged between the prongs of the trident’s containment field. A hum filled the air, as the two magnetic fields grated against each other.

  Makor grinned, and launched a kick. Talon grunted in pain as the alien’s boot slammed into his gut. He stumbled back, gasping for breath. Makor ducked under Talon’s swinging axe, and jabbed with his three blades. Talon leapt aside, but he was too late. He winced, as he felt his skin crackle and burn. The fiery trident tore an angry red gash across his left side. Spinning his axe in a circle, he knocked the three blades aside before Makor could strike again. Then he raised the weapon’s shaft and slammed it forward, cracking it against Makor’s hydro mask.

  The blow snapped the alien’s head back, and he gurgled in fury. As he staggered back on the catwalk, Talon glanced down at his smoking wound. He shook his head and grimaced. Another few centimeters, and Makor’s burning blades would have pierced his lungs.

  The battle continued. Their plasma weapons sparked and whined as they clashed, neither able to penetrate the magnetic field of the other. The dark interior of the ore-slicer lit up in brief flashes, as the blades of their weapons pulsed and glowed. The two men’s shadows darted across the curved walls surrounding them.

  As they fought, Talon shot a glance at the pistons and drive shafts above them, spinning in circles around the hull… the machinery that drove the outer rings of the massive vehicle. His head jerked to the side, as he felt the sting of Makor’s blades across his cheek.

  “You said Orex taught you everything he knew,” the alien hissed. “Did he not teach you to stay focused on your opponent?”

  Talon said nothing. Instead, he swung his axe straight up, knocking Makor’s fiery arm backwards. As the plasma blade continued its rising arc, he twisted the shaft to his right, slamming the pommel into the side of the alien’s head. The handle of the weapon made a loud, bone-splitting crack as it struck the alien’s skull. Makor reeled, and fell to his knees. Talon raised his weapon to strike.

  Makor swung his legs across the ground, sweeping Talon’s feet from underneath him. He struck the catwalk with a loud clang. Red hot metal sizzled next to his face, as his plasma axe cut through the railing at his side.

  Rolling backwards, Talon spang to his feet. Makor was already moving in to attack. Talon dodged his downward slash, and the trident tore through another section of railing. The glowing metal flew off the catwalk, lighting up the darkness as it plunged below them. Jabbing the pommel of his axe forward, he struck Makor in the gut. As the alien doubled over in pain, Talon hefted his weapon and slashed down, aiming for the alien’s neck.

  Makor seemed to sense his attack. He dove forward, tackling him to the ground.

  Talon grit his teeth as the burning blades of Makor’s trident razed his side. He drove a knee up, forcing the alien to release his hold. Makor’s eyes bulged wide, and he stabbed his weapon down. Talon twisted left, then right… the three blades gouged glowing, molten holes in the catwalk's surface. The metal platform groaned and swayed.

  Makor lifted his arm, slashing the fiery blades towards Talon’s chest. The struggling human warrior blocked the slash with his axe. But before he could recover, Makor staggered to his feet and kicked. The blow struck the axe handle, knocking it from Talon’s grasp. He heard the weapon roll across the catwalk behind him.

  Makor made a clucking sound through his mask. “I expected better from a student of Orex. Your moves are predictable. You lack focus… Your master failed you.”

  The alien angled the trident back and forth, like a cobra weaving in the air. Then he hissed and drove the weapon down. Talon threw up his arm, shunting the blow aside. His hands clamped onto Makor's bicep. Sweat poured down his forehead, and cords of muscle bulged in his arms as he forced the glowing weapon away from his body.

  Talon reached up with one arm, grabbing the edge of Makor’s hydro-mask. He struggled to pry it away from the alien’s mouth, but a molded strap held it in place.

  Makor’s unblinking eyes gazed down at him. His black pupils widened, and a clear membrane flicked across them. He grabbed Talon’s arm with his free hand and twisted his fingers away from the mask.

  “Another failure of Orex’s teachings. A warrior defends his weakest point. A vital spot is not always the best target.”

  "No," Talon grunted. "But it can serve as a distraction."

  Makor glanced at his right arm… Talon had forced it to the edge of the catwalk. The three plasma blades were moving towards the other guard rail. “What are you—”

  Before his opponent could finish his sentence, Talon lifted his head up from the ground and slammed his forehead into Makor’s. There was a loud crack as the cartilage in the alien’s nose snapped. Makor reeled, and a gargle of pain escaped his mask.

  Talon threw his body sideways and grabbed Makor’s plasma arm with both hands. His shoulders and biceps rippled as he forced the alien’s weapon down. The fiery blades slashed through the guard rail, and cut into the floor of the catwalk.

  The weakened metal plates groaned and buckled. The shriek of rending metal filled the air as the catwalk bent apart. Makor fell through the opening, plummeting down into the darkness.

  Talon felt himself sliding forward as the severed platform buckled beneath his weight. His flailing arms grasped one of the torn, bent struts that supported the guard rail. His fingers clutched it in a white knuckled grip as his body slid over the edge.

  He heard something skittering across the bent metal. Reaching up with his free hand, he grabbed his plasma axe as it flew past him on the dangling catwalk.

  As he hung over the abyss, he heard a groaning sound coming from the metal strut. Looking up, he saw it was bending further, unable to support his weight. The metal groaned again, and Talon felt himself drop a few more inches. Then, with a loud snap, the strut broke off. The wind rushed around him as he followed Makor, plunging into the innards of the slicer.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A second later he struck a hard metal surface. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs. A wave of pain wracked his body, and his fingers lost their grip on his axe. He heard it clatter and fall, plummeting into the dark machinery below.

  Footsteps clanged towards him. Fight
ing through the pain, he leapt to his feet. He was balanced on an enormous structural support that ran the width of the vehicle. Massive pistons hammered up and down on either side of him, and drive shaft gears spun above his head, like a series of razor-toothed pendulums.

  He stepped back as Makor loomed over him. The alien's plasma trident illuminated the dark machinery, casting flickering shadows across the spinning gears. Sparks flew through the air as the weapon slashed a trail across the metal where Talon had been laying.

  “Excellent,” Makor hissed. “I’m glad Orex trained you well. It will make his ultimate failure so much more satisfying.”

  He struck again, hacking through one of the massive gears as it spun between the two men. The burning metal wheel split in two and fell into the machinery below. A shower of sparks shot up as it shattered between the massive pistons.

  Makor vaulted over the remains of the gear assembly and continued his assault. Talon crouched low, dodging left and right as the alien’s blazing weapon slashed through the darkness. He drew his twin cryocite blades, and made quick, controlled slashes, forcing the alien to keep his distance. The crystal edges of the swords were the hardest substance known to man, and they glittered in the faint light. But as sharp as the weapons were, he knew they were useless against a plasma blade… A single hit would reduce their metal frames to slag in an instant.

  Makor chuckled. He took a step back, and held his weapon arm by his side. The plasma field morphed again. The three blades congealed into a line of writhing flame. Snapping his arm, the blazing whip crackled through the air. Talon leapt back, as he felt the burning lash sting his flesh. He glanced down… smoke rose from a long, red burn that ran across his flesh.

  So much for forcing him to keep his distance, he thought.

  He ducked under a hanging cluster of hoses and hydraulic lines. Makor spun the whip side to side, sending a blinding shower of sparks into the air. Talon ducked low and lashed out with one of his blades. Makor spun around and cracked his whip. Talon grunted in pain, as the burning plasma trail looped around his wrist. Agony flooded his nerves, and his weapon clattered from his fingers.