by S M Briscoe
One, the bounty hunter had some form of energy based weaponry equipped on his person, which was undetectable to standard scanners.
Or Two, he was in fact the weapon and the discharge had originated from within him naturally somehow.
Both possibilities were intriguing. And both could yield very valuable outcomes . . . if Traug could only manage to take possession of the specimen. That was the dilemma. His mind worked feverishly, scheming, calculating, searching for some way to take possession of the most profitable asset. But his thoughts were interrupted.
“Sir, I have just received a most urgent communication.”
Traug did not turn to face Praxis, who had wisely remained quiet and inconspicuous during the event and in the presence of the volatile Rai Chi, but waived the mech away.
“Not now, Praxis.”
“But, sir. It is most urg-”
Traug turned on the mech, sharply and scowled. “Not now!”
Praxis appeared to shrink even more in stature and backed away, allowing Traug to return his attention to the scene in the arena and his thoughts to the task of making the difficult acquisition, and of course, extracting the great deal of profit he saw in exploiting it.
RYZA
When the alarm sequence began to wail over the amplification system, Elora rightly feared the worst. Their escape attempt, expanded by her brother to everyone being held in the waste facility, had been discovered. Ethan had already disappeared from her view once the alarm had sounded and to her dismay, he did not immediately return. As more time had passed, her anxiety increased with it, and once the last of the escapees was clear of the facility and aboard the waiting bulk freighter, she had begun to make her way down the corridor after him. She had travelled only half the distance to the lift when she caught site of the dozen additional escapees, all sprinting toward her, Tarik and Ethan following close behind them, the site easing her anxiety somewhat. The feeling didn’t last.
“Run!” Ethan cried out to her, waving his hands vehemently, or attempting to as best he could, the assault rifle he carried awkwardly with both hands, and another slung over his shoulder, preventing him from extending his arms fully.
“What is it?” she asked, ignoring his directive and meeting him part way up the corridor. Her eyes drifting to the weapons he was holding, her mind whirling with questions.
“We’ve . . . got company!” he answered, between labored breaths. “Sect troops . . . ambushed us at the lift . . . freed the security-mechs.”
Elora took the rifle from his grip, her anxiety rising quickly once more. “Get to the freighter!” she ordered, pulling him forward with her free hand. As grown up as he seemed to have become, she wasn’t going to have him entering into a fire fight with elite Sect soldiers. She didn’t intend on getting into one herself either, if it could be avoided.
Together they ran back towards the dock silo, Mac meeting them just outside the open hatchway, approaching from the freighter.
“What’s going on?” he asked, the frightened escapees rushing past him on a direct line for the boarding ramp.
“Sect troops!” she returned, catching the widening of his eyes as they focused on something over her shoulder. The flurry of laser blasts that singed the air around them confirmed what he was seeing without her having to turn around to look for herself.
“Move!” Mac shouted, Elora spinning to fire a spread of shots up the corridor while moving to a covered position to one side of the wide entry hatch.
“Get on board!” she called back, directing the order to Mac and Ethan both.
Mac confiscated Ethan’s second rifle from him and took up a position opposite Elora, pushing him towards the freighter first. “Get going, kid.”
“Now!” Elora shouted, as Ethan appeared to hesitate. He met her gaze, looking torn, before turning and making a run for the boarding ramp.
“Tarik,” Elora called to the stalky grey Toguai situated next to her at the entry hatch. “Keep him safe.”
Tarik looked back at her, his expression conveying first something akin to confusion or disbelief, the fierceness in his features appearing to diminish as understanding began to take hold and his eyes shifted to where Ethan was quickly departing.
“Please,” she implored him, the Toguai meeting her gaze. He softened then, acceptance appearing to overcome his more animal instinct to stay and fight and he finally left Elora’s side, crossing the bay floor to Ethan before he had made it to the freighter’s boarding ramp.
Elora watched them go, relieved to have Ethan out the immediate danger of their attackers. And as fierce as the Toguai was, he wouldn’t accomplish much by charging directly into the lines of enemy fire, beyond getting himself killed. If the troops managed to get past her and board the ship, Tarik would be the last line of defense for the others . . . and her brother. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
A quick glance back around the corner showed that the advancing force had progressed half way up the corridor and Elora fired another spread to slow them down, burning a hole through the eye socket of one of the security-mechs. She backed away again as their returning fire scorched the hatchway next to her position, her eyes darting across the hatchway.
“You too, Mac,” she directed the man that had so recently been Jarred’s bounty. “I need you to pilot us out of here.”
“You can’t hold them off by yourself,” he replied, firing a few shots around the corner, another enemy flurry burning holes into the hatchway next to him a fraction of a second after he had pulled back behind it. “And we won’t be going anywhere with those troops baring down on u.”
It was true of course. She couldn’t hold the advancing soldiers and mechs on her own. The both of them combined would only delay the inevitable, though. The fact of the matter was they wouldn’t be flying anywhere without a pilot. And Mac wouldn’t be able to get them off the ground with a swarm of hostiles lacing them with laser blasts. If their attackers made it out into the open dock silo it would be over for them. They had to hold them here. Until . . .
Until what?
Another barrage of fiery blasts burned the ground and hatchway around Elora’s position and she was torn from her thoughts by the necessity of the moment, returning the salvo with a suppressive flurry of her own.
The answer to that question would, unfortunately, have to wait.
Ethan charged up the ramp of the bulk freighter that Mac was supposed to fly them out of here on, obeying his sister’s direction, though he wasn’t happy about it. Usually he would have put up a stronger fight, but in this case, he had come to a conclusion he doubted his sister had, considering the pressing matter of the Sect troops and security-mechs she was attempting to hold off.
All of the escapees were aboard. The engines were warmed. They were ready to lift off. The problem was, Mac wasn’t here. He was out in the dock silo with Elora, and by the looks of things, they had their hands full. The two of them together were keeping their quarry at bay, though they wouldn’t be able to keep it up forever, but more importantly, neither could retreat to the ship without giving up the advantage. If Mac made a run for the freighter, Elora would be overrun. With the scenario as it was, they were at a stalemate and that meant they weren’t going anywhere. Unless Ethan tipped the scales in their favor. Maybe he couldn’t be much help to Mac and his sister out there, but he could do something in here. Sparing a final glance back down at his sister, he started off through the mass of escapees that filled the entire cargo hold, even more tightly packed than on Ethan’s original flight in on the ship. “Come on, Tarik,” he called back to his recent rescuer, the Toguai already close behind him. “We’ve got to get to the flight deck.”
With Tarik’s aid, most of the escapees pressing into each other to make room for the Toguai’s passing, they cut a path through the fearful passengers quickly. At the head of the cargo area they moved through an open portal, which had been sealed on Ethan’s first journey aboard the vessel, and ascended the small ramp corridor
that led to the flight deck. Once inside, he stood on the large cockpit floor a moment, feeling a bit overwhelmed as his vision passed over the various control stations. It was very likely he was getting himself into more than he could handle. But that wasn’t anything new for him.
Pushing aside any doubts, he threw himself into one of the two piloting seats, Tarik taking up the one opposite to him. He recognized a number of the instruments and controls, many looking similar to those aboard the Taliss Runner, though just as many were completely foreign to him. He focused in on what he did know, locating the repulsers and basic thrust and attitude controls. The functions he would need to get them off the ground and moving. Working quickly, he identified all of the crucial readouts and control systems related to those key functions, committing their locations to memory. Once he was sure he had an adequate understanding of where everything was, he shifted his attention out through the viewport, finding Mac and his sister, still flanking either side of the silo hatchway on the deck below. They continued to send alternating volleys of suppressive fire up the corridor, a steady stream of returning blasts coming from inside the facility. They were running out time. Ethan had to act now.
Turning back to the piloting controls, Ethan ran through a quick checklist, recounting all of the steps Jarred had guided him through on their flight into Trycon. Mac having already prepped the ship, the reactor core was registering optimal power output levels to all key systems. The engines were primed, repulsers charged and online. Everything looked good. He adjusted the pilot seat to accommodate his smaller stature and clipped on his crash restraints.
“You better buckle up,” he suggested to Tarik, who was eyeing him, cautiously. “This could get rough.” Taking a deep breath, he then reached out for the control yoke, letting his right hand slide over to the repulser field actuator. Another glance towards the Toguai confirmed that Tarik had followed his advice. “Here goes nothing.”
Pressing the repulser power forward, he felt the ship lurch beneath him, along with the odd feeling of queasiness that came with the initial jostle and lift off from the deck. He immediately felt the great mass of the ship sway and lean to one side. Gritting his teeth, Ethan fought to regain control and steady the yoke, reaching out a hand to even out the repulser power. Not having accounted for the primary repulser feed being routed to the center mass field generator, he redistributed power evenly beneath the ship, the vessel responding by tipping back into a balanced hovering position, though not before colliding with the dock silo wall. Ethan cringed and looked back out through the viewport, relieved to find he had not crushed his sister or Mac. He had hit the wall a good ten meters from their position, though he did note that they were staring up at the craft in surprise . . . or maybe it was confusion. He couldn’t be sure at this distance.
What Ethan was certain of was that he had their attention, though that wouldn’t be enough. He noticed them returning to the task of holding the silo hatchway and then they disappeared from his view as he began to pull the freighter about. They would’t be able to leave their position to make a run for the ramp. Not without being exposed to enemy fire. He would need to help them with that part. He considered trying to turn the ship around to bring the boarding ramp into a position close enough for them to board, but that plan had a good chance of crushing them in the process. Even of he didn’t, they would still be exposed to the attacking troops and mechs.
Running short on time, Ethan’s mind raced with plans of action. He needed to find a way to get Mac and his sister on board while keeping their attackers at bay. Short of Elora and Mac taking them all out, he couldn’t conceive of anything that would work. And then it hit him. He knew exactly what needed to be done.
Grinning, Ethan put the freighter into a slow turn. His timing would have to be just right.
* * *
Squatting low against the silo hatchway, Elora looked towards Mac and gave him a signaling nod. He returned the gesture and readied himself, giving her a three count before directing his rifle around the hatchway and firing off a blind spread up the corridor. Returning fire spattered against the wall next to his position and Elora made her move. Ducking out around the hatchway, her rifle shouldered, she picked out the first target to come into her scope and fired. The mech went down in a shower of sparks with a good portion of it’s head blown away. She continued the quick pan, hoping to catch another target, but only caught sight of the attacking figures ducking back behind the regular bulkheads that lined the corridor. Backing away, she nodded to Mac, holding up a finger to signify her kill.
They had used the distraction technique, along with a few others, a couple of times so far, with varying success. Mac had downed a pair of mechs. That had been her third. A decent tally, considering neither of them were soldiers, though they had yet to take out one of the troopers. They were the ones directing the assault, using the mechs as decoys to continue their advance. And they were on to her tactics. They had advanced to within fifteen meters now, Elora knowing a full frontal charge was inevitable at this point. It would come soon. She was out of time.
Her gaze shifted to Mac again, expecting to see his knowing stare in return, but instead he was looking away from the fight, towards the center of the silo. Her eyes tracked his line of sight around and she was shocked to see their heavy freighter, the one Mac meant to fly them free of this place on, hovering off the deck. Her surprise changed to horror as the ship tipped to one side and began to glide towards them, crashing into the silo wall only a short distance away. The shriek of grinding metal made her eyes water and she stared up towards the cockpit viewport, unable to make out who was attempting to pilot the ship, though she had a sinking feeling of who it might be.
As the freighter backed off of the silo wall and began to right itself Elora was forced to return her attention to the attacking squad, tracing a zig zagging line of fire up the corridor to sent the advancing party back behind cover. With only ten meters separating them now, the situation was dire. They were close enough to throw any charges they might have, or simply send the mechs charging forward to overwhelm them. She and Mac alone wouldn’t be able to stop them. Desperately, she glanced back over her shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of her brother in the freighter’s viewport. To be able to warn him away. To leave them and get free of what was coming.
To her surprise, the freighter had turned fully about, the ship’s stern pointed directly at them. Her confusion evaporated as the exhaust ports began to flare, a blinding maelstrom of ionic power buildup, accompanied by the thunderous sound of the engines preparing to surge. Turning to Mac, his eyes as wide as she imagined her own were, she knew they were both expecting the same thing. As he turned to run in the opposite direction, she did the same, moving as quickly as she could along the silo wall, diving as she heard the loud pop of the ion engine blast. Landing hard on the deck, the shock wave sending her sliding another meter along the ground, she rolled over to see flames and smoke pouring out from inside complex corridor. The freighter still hovered in place, the controlled engine flare doing little to actually propel the vessel, though it did produce a massive thrust of superheated backwash.
Uninterested in whether or not any of their pursuers had survived the blast, Elora scrambled to her feet and made a run for the still lowered boarding ramp, Mac meeting her there and boosting her up to the hovering platform. In turn she helped him climb aboard and then entered the tightly packed hold, sealing the ramp behind them. Feeling the engines surge, Elora braced herself against the hull framing, the inertia of the ship accelerating keeping her pinned in place for a few moments. Once she had regained her footing she joined Mac in cutting a path through the multitude of passengers towards the entry portal to the flight deck.
Once aboard, she was not at all surprised to find her brother at the controls, Tarik in the seat next to him. Ethan looked back over her shoulder and Mac and herself, the boyish grin she had knew so well spread across his face.
“Oh, hey, you guys,” he said,
casually, returning his attention to the controls and the open sky view ahead of them. “It looked like you could use a hand. Welcome aboard.”
Chapter 37
RYDEL
Shu'ma had recovered from Jarred's miraculous energy discharge, the charred and useless remains of his body armor removed and lying at his feet. Appearing rightly wary for the experience, he stood at the ready with the half of spear he had managed to hold on to while being hurled across the arena.
Jarred held the other half, still able to feel it’s barb, which had broken off in his shoulder. Little more than a nuisance at this point, he left it and set off towards Shu’ma at a jog, the warrior doing the same. By the time they met, both had come to a full sprint. Shu’ma leapt, with his section of spear held high to drive down into him. Jarred dropped to his knees and slid across the sand beneath the warrior, striking out with his own spear half to take out his legs, causing Shu’ma to collapse to the ground with an angry growl.
Jarred was back to his feet and charging before Shu’ma could fully rise, unleashing a flurry of slashes at him with the bladed end of his spear. Though the warrior was able to deflect the attacks, Jarred’s quick assault put him on an immediate backward defensive. He felt rejuvenated, a whirlwind of energy surging through him that erased the pain and fatigue he had felt only moments earlier, allowing him to press forward with his attack. And he was holding nothing back. Shu’ma was a skilled opponent and it would take everything Jarred could give to finish him. If he let up, even for an instant, the warrior would recover and he might not be able to regain the advantage. There was no telling when his inexplicable energy rush would subside. He had to finish this now, while he still could.
