The Last Spartan: Different Paths

by A. E. McCullough

  Iaido noticed the slightest fluctuation in Aeneas’ gait and realized that he was about to attack. Shifting the grip on his swords, he prepared to leap into action. One way or the other, this was going to be the fight of his life.

  * * * * *

  News Anchor Jennifer Moody couldn’t believe her eyes at the dazzling display of swordsmanship that she was witnessing. The three warriors obviously knew each other but were actively trying to kill each other. Well, technically two were trying to kill the President and one was preventing the assassination.

  She had been able to piece parts of the story together from the overheard conversation.

  Achilles was the Presidential defender and the warrior personally responsible for the deaths of at least a dozen Galactic Marshals. Now, he was the only thing stopping either of the other two swordsmen from killing the elected leader of the Coalition.

  Jennifer knew that she should say something; after all, she was on the air and it was her job to narrate. But she just couldn’t find the words to describe the amazing aerial and acrobatic display of martial skills that she was watching. She was mesmerized…hell, even her producer had stopped talking.

  * * * * *

  Iaido was gone.

  Achilles was gone.

  At this very moment, there was no conscious thought. The individual known as Iaido to his friends and Achilles to his enemies was nothing more than the living embodiment of his swords. He leaped and rolled, blocked and countered, attacked and defended all without thought.

  Each of the three warriors had their own advantages and disadvantages in this battle. The point was to capitalize on their strengths while minimizing their weakness. In this he had several advantages over his brothers since he was wielding two katanas which gave him plenty of flexibility in his attacks. Granted, Aeneas was also using two weapons but a gladius was best used up close. Hector was using a single katana but seemed to be able to manipulate the surrounding shadows into a shield.

  Iaido’s foremost weakness had nothing to do with himself, it had to do with the General. That was their main target and that was something he had to protect at all cost. His one major advantage was that Aeneas and Hector were also enemies to each other. Yes, they were both against him but neither one could press their attack for fear of retribution.

  Then, it happened.

  Iaido had been forced to leap into the air to avoid an attack by Hector. Using the momentum from his back flip, he rebounded off the nearby wall landing in a forward roll and slashed at Aeneas’ leg. His brother’s clone had dodged the attack but tripped on some loose rocks and fell, giving the bounty hunter some much needed time.

  Iaido whirled to face his other brother only to see Hector stabbing downward with the ancient blade of Mushasi at the prone form of the General.

  * * * * *

  Talia and Xerxes dropped through a hole and found themselves on the balcony of the Grand Rotunda.

  Looking around, they spied the bleeding form of the Master Chief a few steps away. Without hesitation, Talia rushed to his side and immediately forced her talent through her hands and into his body. He was alive, barely but alive. Keeping her eyes closed, she sought out his injuries. They were numerous but the most immediate injury was the wound in his gut region. The Blade of the Void had sliced right through his armor, skin and ruptured the intestines. This was allowing the bacteria and waste products that were a function of the organ to poison him.

  Using her mystic abilities, Talia manipulated the damaged blood vessels and tissues to expel the toxins and repair themselves. Basically, she was just forcing the body to speed up its own natural healing process and preventing sepsis from setting in.

  Talia wondered for a moment about the parallels in that single term. Both the native Terran language and Sylvan tongue used the same word for ‘to make rotten or to poison by natural means’.

  When she felt that the Master Chief was out of jeopardy from imminent death she opened her eyes and looked at her companion. However, Xerxes wasn’t paying attention to her administrations. He was busy watching whatever was unfolding below them. Before she could ask anything, the overly large black mantis jumped off the balcony.

  * * * * *

  DJ was in trouble.

  There were bodies and body parts all over the foyer. As far as he could tell, none belonged to civilians since they had all fled at the onset of the conflict. The good part was that no more Galactic Marshals had stormed onto the floor in the last ten minutes. The bad part was that the final four Marshals were within twenty feet of him and he was on his last magazine of ammunition.

  Glancing at the ammo counter, he realized that it was worse than he thought. He had just over two thousand rounds, which meant he had less than fifteen seconds at full auto or about five controlled bursts. One thing he’d learned about the Typhoon during his stint in Strike, they were ammo hogs.

  Knowing he had to do something drastic, DJ decided to try a tactic from Omega’s playbook. Aiming at the marble floor several feet in front of the mobile barricade of the Marshals, he squeezed the trigger.

  As DJ panned the Typhoon S10 Gatling Gun back and forth, the 5mm railgun rounds chewed up the floor.

  The Marshals hadn’t been expecting this and pushed their barricade right into the newly formed trench. Two of the Praetorians fell flat on their face and were easy targets for the Marine. DJ lifted the barrel of his railgun and pointed it at the last two Galactic Marshals.

  With a grin, he pulled the trigger…and nothing happened.

  * * * * *

  The Nemesis rocked underneath a hailstorm of enemy fire.

  The warship was taking fire from all sides, not just the Galactic Marshal skimmers but several NAPD police skimmers had joined in the assault. Not many but enough that Pax and Athena had to hesitate to double check their targets before returning fire. The Captain had been adamant about not shooting at the police.

  As the Nemesis bounced hard to port from the concussion of two missiles Pax said, “Forward shields are down to fifty percent; aft shields at seventy. I suggest we engage engines and evade further damage.”

  Athena shook her head. “Negative. The Captain said to remain in an overwatch pattern, then we will remain here.”

  “That action is not logical.”

  “Logical or not, we are not leaving.”

  The Nemesis bucked again from several missile strikes.

  Pax shunted current and projected damage information to her sister. “Front shields at forty-five percent; aft shields holding at seventy. We cannot stay here. Our destruction is imminent. If all conditions remain as current, shields will fail in three point four minutes.”

  “We are not leaving.”

  Pax continued. “Additionally, the IFF signature of the bogies from the south-southwest show that a flight of Coalition Dragons will be in weapons range in one point five minutes.”

  Athena was still obstinate about not leaving but saw the logic in her sister’s plea. A moment of clarity entered her android mind as she remembered an old mission from her time as Diana. It was a mission that she had helped Iaido on. She still couldn’t remember all the facts of the case but one memory was solid. Iaido had needed to get to a mark but was prevented from going straight at him due to his defenses. So, he had blended into the crowd and moved along with his enemies until the moment to strike had presented itself.

  Shunting her plan to Pax, she hopped out of the gunnery pod and scrambled back to the bridge. “What do you think?”

  Pax responded. “Forward shields at forty percent. Firing engines. Engaging plan Athena.”

  If Athena had been human, she would’ve held her breath as the large warship charged the line of Galactic Marshal skimmers. The smaller ships gave way to the Nemesis, breaking their tight knit formation. Once through, Pax shifted course until she was darting in and out of their line all the while circling the Hall of Justice building.

  The Galactic Marshals were in chaos.

  Many swarmed after t
he warship while some tried to charge the building and they became priority targets for the Nemesis. The Cerberus class warship’s weapons made short work of the fleeing skimmers and soon, they stopped trying all together and chased after the Nemesis.

  Pax announced. “Forward shields at fifty percent; aft shields at seventy-five. All bogies accounted for. Coalition Dragons within firing range.”

  Athena racked her brain for some plan that would allow them to stay in an overwatch pattern and resist the incoming Dragons but nothing came to mind. Without asking, she knew that they would resist the starfighters with everything they had but their options were limited inside the atmosphere.

  “Tracking multiple missile launches from the incoming Dragons.”

  * * * * *

  Officer Ernspiker paused at the door.

  According to the schematic on his HUD, this should be small office with one door on the opposite wall that opened to the room when his teammates were having a firefight. Tightening the grip on his R-Gun, Spike kicked in the door and was greeted with the shriek of a young girl.

  Her blonde hair, pointed ears and emerald eyes marked her as Sylvan or at least partially so. She was sitting on top of several barrels with what he guessed was a proton less than bomb three feet away. Spike could see that the timer showed three minutes and falling.

  Keying his mic to the team tac-net he said, “Spike to El-tee.”

  “Go for KC.”

  “I have good news, better news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

  “Give me the good news.”

  “I’m about to breach the door behind the tangos.”

  “And?”

  “I’ve found the child.”

  “Eve?! Is she okay?”

  “She is for now. But in two minutes and forty-six seconds we’re all going to be having a really bad day.”

  “Oh shit! Alright ignore her and press forward. We’ll do the same.”

  Hearing the firefight in the next room suddenly intensify, Ernspiker hesitated. He couldn’t just ignore her after everything she’d been through. Popping the dome-like helmet of his armor, Spike smiled at the young girl. Quickly cutting through her bonds, he pointed at the door behind him. “Run. Don’t stop. Find an elevator and go down.”

  “But…but…” she tried to argue.

  Pushing the half-elf out towards the door he commanded, “Run!”

  Closing his helmet, Ernspiker moved toward the opposite door but before he reached it, it flew open. Without thinking, Spike raised his R-Gun and fired.

  CHAPTER 35

  Even before Iaido moved, he knew that he would be too late. Even with his enhanced speed and strength, he wouldn’t be able to cover the thirty feet between himself and the General before his brother skewered him. But he had to try.

  Just before Hector slammed home the killing blow, he looked up from the General and locked eyes with his twin. With a slight smile, he stabbed downward with all his might. The grin quickly fled his face as the razor sharp Blade of the Void was turned aside at the last second when it confronted the energy shield the President had activated.

  That caused him to pause ever so slightly, enough so that Iaido was already on the move.

  Hector reached down with his free hand, grabbed the edge of the energy shield and ripped it away. The President screamed and tried to back away. He was on all fours and scooted several feet back but it wasn’t going to be enough and they both knew it.

  Of course, neither of them expected the arrival of the eight foot tall black mantis. Xerxes landed next to the cowering form of the President with a loud hiss and lashed out with his silver spear.

  However, Hector wasn’t just some thug or brute. He was a Spartan. He was bred to be a warrior. His skills and training placed him on the same level as Achilles. But then, he bonded with the Nosferatu and became much more.

  Calling upon his powers, he gathered the shadows once again around his left forearm and used his shield to deflect the spear. Luckily for Xerxes, Hector was completely out of position for a lethal counterattack but not enough that he couldn’t attack. Hector rode the force of the blow on his shield and let it help him spin. Midway through the turn, he leaped into the air and lashed out with his right foot in a sidekick which knocked the large Mantodea backwards a step.

  This probably saved his life since Hector had his sword trailing the spin in a deadly arc that would’ve decapitated the Mantis if he had stayed in his original spot. As it was, the razor sharp Blade of the Void sliced right through Xerxes’ right mandible and took off the last six inches of the appendage.

  Hector landed gracefully but couldn’t press his advantage since his brother had arrived.

  * * * * *

  Once again, Iaido was gone. As Iaido, the Myrmidon had learned compassion. He had learned that killing wasn’t always the answer. He had learned that many times words were more powerful than any weapon. These were hard lessons won over the years. But at this particular moment, they were a distraction and he let them go.

  After witnessing Hector’s actions, he knew that this was indeed his brother but enhanced in some dark way. So Iaido was gone and Achilles landed in front of his twin and became the war god incarnate. With both swords, Achilles started his attacks high…working his brother’s guard up.

  Hector blocked and countered.

  Achilles parried and thrust.

  Everyone else in the room was gone. It was just these two immortal warriors.

  They leaped and rolled. They slashed and parried. They spun and dove. They thrust and dodged. They kicked and blocked. It was medieval. It was barbaric. It was amazing. No one who witnessed the dazzling display would ever forget it.

  However, the two warriors seemed perfectly matched. Neither could gain an advantage nor find a weakness in their opponent’s defenses. It was obvious that the battle would continue until one or the other made a mistake. Or something stopped them.

  Finally, something did.

  * * * * *

  Aeneas had not been idle while his two brothers dueled.

  Seeing them completely occupied, he had rushed toward the General with the intent of killing him quickly. Of course, he didn’t take into consideration Xerxes. Even wounded the large Mantis was deadly and obstinate.

  Xerxes spun the silver spear with the skill of someone who knew how to use it. Of course the three arms, or appendages that Manatodeas used as arms, made the passes and attack angles different than anyone Aeneas had ever fought before. Thiers was another impressive battle, not as epic as the twins but still amazing.

  Aeneas’ dual gladii were faster than Xerxes’ spear but the hard exoskeleton of the Mantis made up for any weakness in his form. The Praetorian had been able to get several thrusts through his defenses but none were able to penetrate his carapace.

  Xerxes was not a true warrior, never had been and never would be. But every Manatodea knows how to fight. Fighting is a way of life in the Colony. From the moment they are a hatchling to the day their path is chosen for them by the Queen, they must fight to survive. But even as stubborn as Xerxes was, he knew that he could not win this battle. Not unless something unexpected happened. Aeneas was too skilled with his blades and sooner or later, one of his attacks would pierce his carapace.

  However, both of them paused in their battle when something or someone came hurling through the main entrance to the Grand Rotunda.

  * * * * *

  When DJ pulled the trigger on his Typhoon S10 Railgun and nothing happened, he knew at that precise moment that he was in serious trouble. His ammo counter still showed that he had five hundred and twenty three rounds so he knew it was a jam. This was a known flaw in the Typhoon S10, but with two very pissed off Galactic Marshals less than ten feet away, he did expect to have time to clear the jammed round.

  He also didn’t expect them to tackle him nor did he expect them to be strong enough to knock him backward through the doorway he was guarding. But that was how he found himself tumbling down a fligh
t of stairs.

  One thing about the HAVOC-V suit, it was tough.

  Somewhere in the spill, he’d lost his grip on the Typhoon but that didn’t matter, not with it being jammed anyway. DJ let the suit finish its fall down the stairs before trying to right himself. Already the suit’s AI was updating possible tangos throughout the room.

  One part of him wanted to watch the amazing sword battle ranging on the far side of the room between his friend and the shadow covered swordsmen but when the two Galactic Marshals which had knocked him through the doorway stood up and pulled out short swords which sparked with energy, his attention was focused.

  Grabbing the two swords Iaido had given him earlier, he thumbed on their power switched and prepared himself. Since he wasn’t a swordsman, he opted to treat them as really big knives, just like he said earlier. DJ held the both blades downward, running along his forearm and readied himself.

  One of the first mistakes anyone who wears combat armor makes is thinking that they are wearing combat armor. Those that continue to think that way usually die. Combat armor, whether it was the ARC suits or the HAVOC-Vs are nothing more than an extension of the individual. When a person wears clothes, they really aren’t conscious of how the clothes slightly modify their walking or other actions, it happens naturally. The same could be said for a veteran of combat armor. Those who lived in a suit…who trusted a suit…who bled in a suit, eventually stopped thinking of it as a suit. It becomes just another set of clothes.

  DJ was a veteran of combat armor and so, the seven foot suit of armor was just like a second skin to him. Granted, it was rather large and that was a few years ago but those worries fell into the category of rule number two.

  Ever since DJ had been released from New Leavenworth, two simple rules had governed his life. Rule one, don’t sweat the small shit. Rule two, everything is small shit.

  * * * * *

  Talia was in a quandary.