Shedding the Demon

by Bill Denise

  “. . . 12% . . .”

  The red numerals flashed in Damon’s HUD, giving him one more thing to worry about. He mentally added it to the many yellow warning icons telling him of all his injuries.

  Fighting with blades against this Augie was definitely a losing proposition. Only Damon’s stubbornness had kept him from quitting earlier. After he’d cut off one of the thing’s blades, he’d scored precious few hits additional hits. Meanwhile, he was losing D-SAP, power—and blood—at an alarming rate. He hadn’t bled in a long time, but he remembered some gruesome fights from his childhood. He knew his power would give out long before his spirit would.

  Time to change tactics, he thought. He charged the Augie, trying to bull his way through the attack and grapple directly. He’d tried it before to no avail, but this time it was a feint.

  As the Augie reached out to use Damon’s momentum against him, Damon twisted and grabbed the wrist. Not bothering to slow his fall, he skidded along the floor on his back, dragging the Augie on top of him. Putting all his strength into the grip, he refused to release despite blows to the head and neck from the blade in the Augie’s free hand.

  The Augie straddled his chest and chopped at his head with all its strength, but they were too close together and blows were not effective.

  Damon arched his back and yanked the Augie by his wrist over his head to dislodge him. Damon finished the move by twisting again and coming up on his knees. The Augie continued to strike with the blade, and Damon winced at the pain. More icons flashed up on his HUD and were dismissed. He stood and spun quickly in a circle, whipping the Augie around by his wrist. Damon smashed him into the floor. He then stepped on the blade and pulled upward with all his strength, straining to break something in this Kyndra-cursed beast.

  The Augie rotated at both shoulder joints and kicked Damon hard in the chest with its feet. Damon’s grip on the beast’s wrist came loose, but he also heard a rewarding popping sound as the blade broke off the other hand.

  Regardless, the beast was back on him as he hit the floor. A flurry of punches and kicks had Damon reeling, unable to regain his balance. He could barely see where the strikes were coming from, and had no way to target any of his weapons. The combat display on his HUD spun and twisted uselessly trying to acquire the target.

  The Augie laughed as he lifted Damon up the air and slammed him head-first into the concrete floor. He lifted and slammed him repeatedly until the concrete was gone and only the D-SAP defensive layer remained.

  “. . . 4% . . .”

  Damon twisted and tried to get purchase on something, anything that might give him leverage, but the Augie was too fast. Damon wanted to use grenades or other large weapons, but couldn’t risk hurting the others in the area.

  Suddenly, Damon found himself thrown through the air, but not due to the Augie’s attack. In fact, the Augie went flying with him. When they landed they both looked over at the source of the disruption. A small shuttlecraft had smashed through the glass wall and now sat embedded into the side of the Spire. It had torn a path through the concrete and the impact is what knocked the combatants apart.

  Perplexed, but realizing his opportunity, Damon rushed the Augie, connecting with a solid punch that drove it into the floor. He swung his other fist, but he hit nothing but floor as the Augie skittered away to the side. It now climbed onto Damon’s back and wrapped an arm around his neck. Placing his feet on Damon’s upper back, it strained to pull his head back and down.

  Damon screamed in pain and anger as his HUD flashed red and winked out. He saw stars as his vision blackened around the edges. He fell backward, trying to catch the Augie between himself and the floor, but the abominable creature slithered around Damon’s body to end up on his chest again. Long, slim needles extended from the Augie’s fingertips and he brandished them in front of Damon’s eyes.

  **** ****

  Joann had braced herself for the impact, but it nearly knocked her senseless anyway. She still couldn’t believe the captain had flown the shuttle directly into Renard’s office, smashing through the glass and concrete with a fearsome impact.

  Feeling groggy, she struggled out of her harness and made her way to the open door in the craft. The captain was already moving and held up a hand to stop her.

  “Give me the vials, I’ll take him on,” he said to her.

  “No.” She glanced at Renard, Jeffrey, and Avelina moving toward the craft. “You need to fly them out of here. I can’t fly this thing. Especially now that you’ve wrecked it.”

  He looked like he would say more, protest somehow, but he couldn’t argue with her logic.

  “Mr. Allen,” she said as Jeffrey entered the craft, “can I have your gun, please?”

  “It’s no good against that thing.”

  “It will be when loaded with this,” she replied, holding up one of the vials. “This will kill the Augies almost immediately.” She handed him the vials. “Get these to the soldiers, but be careful, it’s lethal to humans too.”

  Jeffrey quickly loaded the contents of one vial into the chamber of the weapon. From there, it would automatically be added to the needles in the active cartridge. “I’ll go back and take care of him,” Jeffrey said.

  “No, you have to stay with Renard and Avelina. And you need to finish this war.”

  He hesitated a moment, then handed her the gun.

  “Thank you,” she said and she strode into the wreckage of Renard’s office. She entered in time to see Reave threatening Damon with the nanoblades from his fingers.

  “REAVE!” she yelled, and he froze.

  Now she wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t trust herself to shoot and not hit Damon along with Reave. She knew it would kill him and she wasn’t ready to make that sacrifice.

  “Back away from him,” she said moving forward another step.

  Reave stood up and Joann saw that he was bleeding from both hands. Surprised, she felt somewhat encouraged. “Back. Away.” She raised the weapon.

  “Stupid bitch!” Reave said as he quickly raised his hand and fired a laser before she could even pull the trigger.

  Joann screamed as half of her hand burned away and she dropped the gun without firing a shot. She fell to her knees, cradling her injured hand.

  Reave laughed. “After I kill your boyfriend here, you and I’ll have a long talk. Yeah, real long!” He laughed harder, a sickly, inhuman sound that made Joann cringe.

  As she curled up on the floor, she cradled the gun beneath her. She knew she’d never have a clear shot at Reave, and she could not trust her one-handed aim now in any case. If I could only get this stupid thing open. She pried and twisted with her one good hand, finally getting a loaded cartridge out.

  Glancing up at Damon and Reave she realized she was out of time.

  She jammed the exposed shell into her maimed hand and whimpered as the needles penetrated her flesh, injecting her with the virus.

  The pain made her vision misty, but she stood and approached Reave. He was fighting off Damon’s last attempts to dislodge him, while probing with his nanoblades to find a soft spot in the armor. She forced herself into a run and threw herself at Reave. He reacted exactly as expected, catching her in mid-leap, impaling her on his nanoblades.

  Her blood flowed down his arm, mingling with the blood from his wounds. Her tainted blood mixing with his.

  Despite the intense pain flaring through her body, she smiled. She slumped over his hand, her head falling near his ear, where she whispered “You lose.”

  “Oh you pitiful slut!” He yelled as he pulled his hand free and stood up. “You’ve ruined my fun! Now I—” he staggered as a convulsion shook him. His eyes widened and he stared at Joann, who managed to stay on her knees, breathing in short gasps.

  He moved to finish her off with the blades, but Damon raised his hand and fired his slug guns into his chest, knocking him over backwards. Reave flopped around on the ground, trying to stand but unable to control his limbs.

  Joan
n had fallen onto her side, and Damon kneeled next to her, cradling her head. “It’s all right, Joann, I’ll get you to help. They’ll fix you. Ken’s got doctors you wouldn’t believe—”

  “Shhh.” She placed a finger on his lips. “It’s too late.” She breathed as deeply as she could, and weakly finished, “I didn’t have time to make an antidote.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Damon sat on the edge of the caldera looking out at the Spire. It looked surprisingly normal, except for the smoking hole near the top, and a few smaller holes along the waterline. Inside, he knew, it was a torn-up mess that might never be cleaned up. Sort of like me, he thought.

  He was slightly damaged on the outside, but Dr. Baksa promised she could get him back to new with little trouble at all. Inside, however, he was in turmoil. He could only relive the last moments of Joann’s life over and over again, trying to figure out what he could have done differently, how he might have avoided her sacrifice.

  He looked over at the “portable” charger that was now getting him up to full power in case he was needed for mop-up in the Spire. It turned out to be unneeded, since Leland had just reported taking down the last Augie. They had physically accounted for all of the Augies. Well, almost all, he thought, there were only a few pieces of the one I blasted.

  For the hundredth time he wished he’d saved that shot for Reave.

  Reave Nachman. He hadn’t known the name before, but he hated him.

  Joann Tashus. He barely knew her, but felt like he might have loved her.

  Andrea. He sighed. She might as well be dead.

  “. . . 100% . . .”

  He unplugged the machine and walked over to the small shuttlecraft, which was still smoking from a gaping tear across the front-right side.

  “This power supply is completely worthless,” he said to Dr. Baksa, and laughed to take the sting out of his words. Her two bodyguards glared at him. Where did they come from? he wondered absently.

  She mumbled something about street punks under her breath and Damon walked on.

  “Leland is on his way over,” Ken’s voice said in Damon’s ear.

  “Now you show up!” Damon replied over the communication channel. “Where were you when I needed your help earlier?”

  “Ha!” Ken grunted, “We were busy keeping you invisible, which is no easy task since you sneak about as well as an elephant!”

  Damon smiled. He knew that Ken and Ted had kept him alive in the Spire, wreaking havoc on the Trueblood defensive systems. Another small craft landed nearby. Leland, his leadership team, and the commander of the mercenary squads disembarked and made their way over, looking battered, but in good spirits.

  Damon waited for them to arrive and held out his hand for Leland to shake. The man batted his hand away and gave him a big hug. Even in his combat armor he looked small next to Damon. Everyone started laughing, talking, and hugging all at once. Damon introduced Leland to Captain Fischoff and they briefly discussed his blatant disregard for safe flying regulations. Renard, Jeffrey, and Dr. Baksa joined them, made introductions and shook hands all around.

  “I’m known for my long-winded speeches,” Reverend Trueblood said to the assembled group, “but today, right now, words cannot express the feelings I have for you people.” He pointedly looked at each individual as he spoke. “Your personal sacrifices humble me, and I beg your forgiveness for my actions while I misunderstood your motives.”

  Leland spoke into the ensuing silence. “Thank you Reverend, your reactions were perfectly understandable. We realized how our actions would appear to you. Please forgive us for not coming up with a better alternative.”

  Damon spoke up as Ken prompted him. “Um, could we grab a screen from somewhere? Ken wants to say something.”

  Jeffrey produced a screen, making Damon wonder how he’d carried it through the mayhem, but accepted it and shunted Ken’s transmission through it.

  “Hello, Reverend,” Ken said as his face appeared on the screen. “We were glad to help, but our motives were also personal. No one wanted to see the Prykes take over the Consensus. However, we’re not, well, completely enamored of your leadership, either. I have some ideas . . .”

  Leland placed a hand on Damon’s arm, and Damon shut down the transmission. “I think we can address this later, right?” he said. “I believe we still have some major military activities going on in other systems. Mr. Allen, if you would join me and the Commander here, we can get things rolling. Damon? Will you be joining in?”

  “Of course,” Damon said, “I’m insulted that you have to ask.”

  Leland smiled. “Well, you are no longer under any obligation to serve the Council. Am I correct Reverend?”

  Reverend Trueblood looked surprised, but quickly assented.

  “Thank you,” Leland said to Renard. “You could have your conversation with Ken now. I think you’ll find him very interesting.”

  “I’m sure I will,” he said sarcastically, and sighed. “But, a good idea nonetheless, and it pales in comparison to what I owe you all.” Damon handed him the screen as he headed toward the undamaged shuttlecraft.

  Dr. Baksa, with her two bodyguards helping her, headed toward another small shuttle parked off to the side.

  “All right,” Jeffrey said, “now let’s get this rebellion under control.”

  **** ****

  It took two weeks to break the siege of Dhanna. The Burdekin fleet had grown substantially since the initial invasion force, and their warships in-system numbered in the hundreds.

  The Trueblood ships took heavy losses, but eventually drove off the invaders. In the last few days of the battle, Stacey Magourik came out of hiding and arrived with her fleet to save the day. Renard traveled to the system specifically to thank her.

  He asked to meet her on her flagship, the Gallant Endeavor, and she readily agreed. He arrived with ceremony and an honor guard of fifteen armored marines. She awaited him in the mess hall, decorated for the occasion. Her officers and crew stood at attention in their dress uniforms as the Trueblood party arrived.

  “Stacey Magourik,” Renard intoned in his famous speaking voice, “in light of your recent activities, I hereby declare you under arrest for treason.”

  A shocked silence followed while two of the armored soldiers advanced and stood next to her. No one moved. Stacey gaped at Renard.

  Her voice broke as she spoke, “You . . . what?”

  Renard proceeded to read the formal charges. By failing to defend her fellow Council members, her actions were legally construed as supporting the rebellious factions. Therefore, she was under arrest and faced criminal charges at the highest court in the Consensus.

  At one point during the pronouncement, her knees gave out and she collapsed to the floor. Someone brought a chair out to her.

  “However,” Renard added after the reading of charges was complete, “I also have within my power to defer your sentencing, leaving you free, but under a series of stipulations. We can discuss them in private if you prefer.”

  “No, I’ll hear them here,” she replied in a small, tremulous voice, her hand on her forehead as is shading her eyes from the glare.

  “So be it. First, you will relinquish the Magourik seat on the Council, and agree to a complete restructuring under more representative terms. You may be involved in the process if you so desire, but you will carry no voting privileges. Second, you shall provide naval support in the effort to repel all invaders in Kline-held systems. And finally, all Magourik businesses will be placed under supervision of Jonathan Kline. The Magourik family maintains ownership and profits, but Kline will be given oversight to ensure legality.”

  Stacey showed surprise at the mention of Kline oversight, clearly she anticipated Trueblood control. She thought for only a moment before nodding. “all right, fine, I agree.”

  “Duly noted.” Renard turned and left with his contingent.

  “Kyndra weeps,” he heard her say as he walked out.

  **** ****
<
br />   Renard waited in the meeting room of a hastily repaired lower section of the Spire. He had decided that he would be punctual to meetings from now on. This was the first formal meeting of the Council since the attack on the Spire nearly four months ago. He was nervous about today, since it would be the first step toward big changes to the Council, and eventually to the Consensus as a whole.

  It had taken countless hours of conversation with Ken Westron and the others to convince him that the Consensus would be better off with a more representative form of government. He had the hardest time releasing the reins on research and development; it just ran contrary to all of his core beliefs. In the end, he relented, but he also had to consider stepping down as the leader of the Council, since he could not whole-heartedly embrace the necessary changes.

  Now that the day had finally arrived, he felt more relief than regret, and he actually looked forward to shifting the burden to others.

  He stood to greet to first person to arrive.

  “Hello, Ken, it’s good to see you . . . in person. And thank you,” he stopped for moment as a sudden tightness grabbed his throat. “Thank you for everything.”

  Ken Westron looked more than a little uncomfortable in his suit, which appeared to be brand-new.

  Jonathan Kline walked in with Stacey Magourik, talking amicably. Ken looked like he was about to bolt for the door. Renard greeted them both warmly.

  Leland McKrae came in by himself, also looking uncomfortable, and quickly sat down across from Ken. They immediately struck up a conversation, to Ken’s obvious relief.

  Finally Jeffrey Allen arrived, and Renard stepped up to give him a hug.

  “Now we can get started with the representative restructuring of the Consensus Council. I would like to open with a prayer . . .” He glanced quickly around the room before continuing “Pastor Leland, if you wouldn’t mind doing the honors.”

  Leland, looking surprised, cleared his throat and began, “Dear Lord, God of Jacob and Israel, you are Holy above all others. We call upon your mercy today, Father, for your divine guidance and leadership. Let your will be done through us, and grant us the wisdom to return to a right and just path. Amen.”