Shaaban took off at a run down the tunnel. The remainder of us followed. Yazov still yelled about an attack. They were pinned down somewhere farther down the tunnel. He couldn’t see how many there were or what kind of weapons they had.
Another flood of lights popped up and whiz of energy blasts started again. We fought off the drones without losing anyone, but I could hear some crying. One member of Three curled in a ball next to a bulkhead and wouldn’t move. We left him.
The tunnel sloped down and in a gentle arc to the left. The sound of Yazov’s firefight started to echo up to us, but we couldn’t see it. He was the last one on the feed, and his voice sounded desperate.
Our headlamps bounced as we ran, lighting areas for a split second. We ran past what I thought were boxes until they unfolded into small turrets and began shooting.
Kamaka stood next to me and took three projectiles: two to the body, one to the face. She fell to the ground. Her helmet was broken open and oozed red goop onto the ground. I threw an EM grenade as I moved to the side of the tunnel, turning my head hoping to not get shot as I blindly ran.
Blue light, a pop and the turrets shook, stopped firing and folded back in on themselves.
We left the three dead behind.
Muzzle flashes lit up the tunnel as we rounded a bend. Yazov sat behind a set of barrels on one side of an open area. His left leg was at an odd angle, and I could see he held his side with his right hand, blood seeping through his fingers. If his suit couldn’t stop the bleeding there was little hope for him, but he continued to shoot over the top of the barrels even if it came nowhere close to hitting anyone.
Across the way, behind a makeshift barrier, was no more than ten Vantagax. Some were bloody and dusty. I assumed they had been part of the anti-aircraft brigade.
I slid behind a bulkhead and fired around the corner without aiming. One Vantagax shouted commands or pointed out our positions. Every time I tried to look a barrage of fire hit my position, and I ducked behind the bulkhead again.
Asel stood and, with a whomph from her gun, fired. The Vantagax rushed over each other trying to move. Their shouts turned from surprise to pain after the explosion and ensuing fireball. Bits of the barricade and Vantagax splattered back down the tunnel towards us.
“Roasted fuckin’ bird,” said Yazov. His voice was weak, a harsh whisper on the general feed.
I rushed the makeshift barricade with Shaaban and pounded through the debris. Two or three Vantagax crawled away from the breach Asel had made. They moaned. It didn’t look like any of the defenders wore exo-suits or body armor. A couple of shots rang out behind me as I ran behind Shaaban, and the moaning stopped.
“I don’t know what you guys are doing,” said Margaret, “but make it fast. We’ve got inbound.”
My breath fogged my visor as I ran. Lungs burned and legs ached. I’d slung my gun over my back, and now it clattered against my suit as it slid around. Every few steps I had to readjust. If we hadn’t been in a firefight I would have cast it aside and been done with it.
Shaaban’s headlamps came to a stop ahead of me. I pulled up. Asel was close behind. We stood on a large grate platform. Walkways went in either direction to the sides and disappeared into the darkness. My light highlighted a railing in front of me but nothing beyond. I walked up to it and looked over. Nothing but void. It made my head spin. It was worse than being in vacuum. I backed up and returned to where Shaaban worked.
“I sent the rest back,” said Asel. “Set up charges along the tunnel.” She looked up at me. “We don’t need anyone else here.”
I nodded.
Shaaban stood. He placed a man-portable missile launcher on his shoulder and loaded it.
“You know where it’s supposed to go?” I said.
He hissed at me, and I backed away.
The launcher fired. The missile moved away then ignited, its rocket carrying it into the darkness, a tiny blip of light in the nothingness. Shaaban loaded another and fired it.
A small explosion of light blossomed on the far side followed by the next missile. The sound of their detonations reverbed back to us, slapping off the walls. The ground began to shake, and I heard rock start to fall, tumbling down into the abyss. Metal screeched and howled as it came dislodged and fell.
I slapped Shaaban’s back. “You hit the fault,” I said.
Shaaban nodded. A boulder fell a few feet to out right and smashed into smaller pieces. The platform started to tilt, and I felt our momentum begin to take us down into the pit.
“Get your asses to the surface or else I gotta go,” said Margaret.
We ran without waiting any longer. We ran past the dead Vantagax as the tunnel shook. Yazov wasn’t there. We ran past the fried turrets. The one who had been curled up in a ball wasn’t there. We met up with the survivors. We ran past our dead.
We blew the tunnel and ran into the open area with a cloud of debris in our wake. We ran towards our ships waiting to pick us up as the Vantagax crested and came into view.
“Move it,” said Margaret. “They got ships.”
Shaaban and Asel ran next to me as we exited the tunnel. A Vantagax ground craft flew low over-head kicking up dust in its wake. It turned, side open, gun aimed towards us. I saw the gunner’s eyes narrow as he locked onto his target. His fingers squeezed the triggers.
Asel erupted into a fine red mist.
I fired at the gunner. Shaaban did the same as we ran. Projectiles pinged around the inside of the Vantagax ship. The gunner ducked and the ship weaved away. Its gunfire focused on another group.
We jumped into our shuttle and strapped in as Margaret flew us out. We didn’t wait as no one else had stayed with us. It wouldn’t have done any good to stay and fight and be killed.
I slammed my head against the headrest of my seat. The whole side of my body was covered in Asel. The memories of crushing Kaur to death came flooding back, and I wanted to vomit.
A communication box popped up on my HUD. I thought it might be one of the other shuttles or teams.
It was General Braxa, preening his feathers.
Braxa cooed in that infuriating way the Vantagax laughed. His eyes smiled, and I recognized the smugness held in them.
“Sorry that we don’t get to meet in person, Representative,” he said. “This little party was thrown together at the last minute.” He bobbed his head back and forth towards the camera. “The party favors were a little underwhelming on my end.”
“You knew about this?” I said. Exhaustion couldn’t contain my rage not only for Braxa but also for me for walking into his trap.
“Of course, Representative,” Braxa said. “You didn’t think I wouldn’t have moved to stop your little group, did you?
It was his smugness. Something besides the trap had made Braxa cocky. Something else besides almost wiping us out had made him so confident.
“How Braxa?” I said. “How’d you find out where we’d be next?” Bello had said her informant was someone we could trust, someone she’d known for a long time. Someone who had a grudge against Braxa and could get us the information we needed.
Braxa clucked and shook his head while he said, “You know I won’t tell you, Representative. I’m going to let you continue to run around in the dark like you always have.”
“You’ve been lucky,” Braxa said.
I didn’t want to agree because to an extent it was true. It had been a trial by fire method: learn what you were made of with each new confrontation. I said, “I’ve had help.”
“You’ve been used by others to further their own goals and along the way you’ve caused nothing but destruction and hindered progress,” said Braxa. His feathers fluffed up, and he punctuated each word with a quick peck towards the camera. “But I’m going to make an example out of you.”
“I’ll go down fighting,” I said to Braxa.
Margaret informed me we were about to jump to FTL and leave the system. My conversation with Braxa was about to end.
“I
know,” Braxa said. “And while you do I will raze the Terran Fleet, and I will kill any who escape, and I will let you watch as you pinprick me.” He got close to the camera and turned his head so that one eye looked directly into the camera, his pupil large and dilated. “I will tear everything down around you and when nothing is left I will destroy you.”
The video cut out.
Chapter Fourteen
Shaaban, Yazov and I stood in an alleyway. The crowds passed along the main thoroughfares at either end of the block. The streetlights didn’t cast their glow down our passage. No one bothered to peer into the darkness. No one saw us with our weapons drawn and exo-suits on, ready to break into the building we stood outside.
“I’m picking up one life sign in the target apartment,” said Bello over the team feed. She monitored everything from a nearby rooftop. “Looks like they’ve got rudimentary security on the building.” She paused, and I heard her breathing. “Security down. Free to enter without his knowledge.”
I nodded to Shaaban who nodded back. He gripped his gun tighter. I nodded to Yazov. He nodded back. If there had been anyone else I would have taken them with us, but a doped up half-dead Yazov would have to do as there was no one else left after Braxa’s attack.
Shaaban kicked in the door. It swung open and crashed against the wall, toppling over, torn from its hinges. The ripping and clanging of thin composite hitting the ground echoed up and down the alleyway. No one from the streets slowed to look or cast a glance down the alleyway.
We hammered up the stairs, Shaaban in the lead, Yazov following me.
“He’s moving,” said Bello. “Checking security it looks like.”
“Heard the door, I guess,” I said.
We came to the fourth floor and thumped down the hall towards the third to last door on the left.
“Looks like he’s heard you,” said Bello. “Trying to barricade his door.”
Shaaban gave a shout and a quick burst of speed, lowering his shoulder and angling so that he burst through the door in a spray of shards and debris.
Our target flew across the room and hit the wall with a thump. He groaned and slid down to the floor, ending up in a crumpled heap. His makeshift barrier, which may have been a bookcase, lay broken and in pieces on the floor. One piece of the apartment’s door still hung from the frame. The rest was scattered across the small, sparsely decorated room.
The Corse, Bello’s contact, held his head and tried to move off to the side. He stood then fell to one knee and began crawling across the floor. Shaaban took two steps and placed his boot on his back, pancaking the Corse to the floor.
“Is this him?” said Shaaban, looking down at the squirming, screeching creature beneath his shoe.
“Patched in to your suit,” said Bello. “That’s Ataraskong. You’ve got him.”
Yazov galumphed into the room. He panted, and I could see through his helmet visor his face was pale and covered in a sheen of sweat.
“Skin the fucker,” said Yazov. “Make a nice fur muff for my wife.”
Ataraskong screeched and squirmed harder. Shaaban reached down and grabbed one of the Corse’s arms. He lifted his foot. The little man wriggled and writhed like a puppy trying to get free. It did no good, and Shaaban threw Ataraskong across the room.
The Corse let out a harsh cry when he hit the wall. The wall cracked and bits fluttered to the ground. Shaaban stalked over and gripped Ataraskong around the neck, picking him up and slamming him against the wall several times.
Shaaban did all of this in silence. He didn’t give so much as a grunt or a growl. I watched in silence, ready to jump in if it looked like Shaaban was about to kill Ataraskong. We needed information, and a dead man told us few things. Yazov acted as the peanut gallery, shouting encouragements to Shaaban to finish things.
“Shut it,” said Shaaban, looking over his shoulder at Yazov, who stopped mid-yell, snapping his mouth closed.
“Please don’t kill me,” said Ataraskong. His nose snuffled. Snot ran down his face and mixed with his tears. The mixture dripped off his face and landed in small spots on the ground, darkening the floor with moisture. His jaw trembled. “I had to do it.”
Shaaban turned back to him. Ataraskong gave a small, strangled squawk as Shaaban tightened his grip.
“You had to say where we were going to attack?” said Shaaban.
Ataraskong nodded and said, “The Confederacy has my family. I had to for the sake of my family.”
I stepped forward, pushing Yazov aside before he had time to say something stupid. “You mean the Vantagax Republic?” I said.
“No,” said Ataraskong. “The Confederacy. I was contacted by a Council member.” He spoke without taking his eyes off of Shaaban. “They had my family. Give them everything I had given you, and they would let my family live.”
“Why would they be working with the Vantagax?” said Shaaban.
“I don’t know,” said Ataraskong. “I just did what they asked of me.”
“He’s telling the truth as far as I can tell,” said Bello over the feed. “Based off of your suit’s readings I’m not picking up any heartbeat, breathing, pupil dilation data that would indicate he’s lying.”
“Maybe he only thinks it’s the Confederacy,” said Shaaban. “Maybe the Vantagax played him all along.”
“No,” said Ataraskong. His whole body shook from his sobbing. “Yes. I don’t know. I just know they have my family.” He pointed with trembling finger to a computer station on a desk on the far wall. “Check there. I have all the logs saved.”
I went over and fired up the computer, scrolling through his communication. Bello tapped into my suit and downloaded the data. The only sound in the room was the now quieter sobbing of Ataraskong as I worked with Bello.
After several long minutes Bello said, “He’s telling the truth. I don’t see anything that points to the Vantagax contacting him. It’s possible that they’ve done some deep masking, but I just don’t see it.”
“Not the Braxa style,” I said.
“No,” said Shaaban.
“See?” said Ataraskong. “See? I told you the truth.”
“Yes, you did,” I said.
“You still sold us out,” said Yazov. He spoke rushed, words tumbling out on top of each other. It was like he was worried he wouldn’t be able to say anything if he didn’t speak quickly.
“Yes, you did,” I said.
Ataraskong moaned. A foul odor filled the room. He’d shit his pants.
“My family…” he said, his voice trailing off.
Shaaban leaned in, his visor almost touching Ataraskong’s nose. “You betrayed mine,” he said.
“No,” said Ataraskong, his voice no louder than a whisper. “Please don’t.”
“Yes,” said Shaaban.
He squeezed tight. Ataraskong screamed and beat at Shaaban’s arms and tried to kick him but his reach wasn’t great enough to touch Shaaban. The sound of bone crunching, pulverizing, muscle turning to pulp, filled the room for a brief, flash of a moment.
Shaaban let go and Ataraskong fell to the ground. His gaze darted around the room as his mouth worked to try and suck in air. He made strangled gasping sounds as he clawed at his throat. His feet kicked in feebler and feebler attempts to gain purchase. At last his body twitched one final time, his hands stopped clasping, and he stopped moving, but his eyes stayed open, staring, without seeing, straight ahead.
“Fuck him,” said Yazov. “Time to have a drink in victory.”
“Shut it, Yazov,” I said.
“But he deserved it, and we should –" said Yazov.
“It’s no time to celebrate,” said Shaaban, turning to us. “This is not a great victory that deserves praise.”
Yazov held his hand out towards the corpse on the ground and said, “But he deserved it. We don’t need to mourn over him. We need to mourn over our dead.”
“Shut it, Yazov,” I said.
“We should –" said Yazov.
�
��I said ‘Shut it’,” I bellowed.
I didn’t need to hear his damn voice anymore. I didn’t need to be around him anymore. I didn’t need his constant squawking in my ear anymore. I wasn’t sure about what we’d done. I wasn’t sure it was right or if it was just or if it as needed.
The only thing I was sure of was that I didn’t need Yazov talking.
“Guys,” said Bello. “I have some bad news.”
I sighed. There didn’t seem to be any other kind since I’d woken up. “What?” I said.
“I was trying to track down who in the Confederacy contacted Ataraskong,” said Bello, “and it looks like the Admiral Board was in on it.”
“What?” said Shaaban. “You’re positive? Absolutely positive because if you’re wrong…” His voice trailed off. I didn’t want to know where his mind went.
“One hundred percent,” she said. “They’re didn’t send any messages, but they’re a contact, so I’m not sure how they gave consent to this, but someone on the board at the very least knew about it.”
“We need to regroup,” I said. “Figure out what we’re going to do next.”
Everyone agreed.
“Margaret, we’re heading back,” I said.
No response.
“Margaret, do you read me?” I said.
No response. The three of us looked at each other.
We ran.
Chapter Fifteen
For the past two days Margaret’s body had sat in the freezer on the shuttle. We found her dead, her corpse strung up by the ankles, blood draining out on the floor near the pilot’s seat. A struggle had ensued with blood splatter on the consoles and objects strewn about the cabin. A small business card sat on the pilot’s seat and projected the Braxa Conglomerate’s logo. Braxa’s message was clear: he could reach out anywhere at any time and there was nothing we could do about it.
We held a wake, but it didn’t feel right doing it next to a freezer. My heart wasn’t in it. Shaaban hadn’t been seen since he left the “service”, holed up in his room. Yazov had come out of his quarters long enough to yell about Braxa, grab some food and disappear once more. For two days it had been Bello and me sitting in near silence on the shuttle bridge.
The Terran Shepherd (The Terran Series Book 2) Page 9
