Worlds Without End: Aftermath (Book 2)
Page 15
Sean turned back and yelled to Ariauna, “There’s a Gnol after us!”
Ariauna slipped to a stop, almost losing her own balance, and turned back toward him. The young girl who had been shot landed at her feet. Sean watched as he continued to run toward them. Ariauna knelt down and then looked back up at him and shook her head, telling Sean that the young girl was dead. Ariauna turned back around and began to run again. A plasma blast whizzed past her head and exploded into a nearby tree.
Sean heard another blast and dove to his left, splashing head first into a muddy hole. The blast splintered a tree directly ahead of him. Jumping to his feet and grabbing the dagger he had taken off a dead guard, he swung around and charged toward the pursuing Gnol. They were now within fifty yards of one another.
The guard, recognizing that he was now on the defensive, fired another plasma blast toward him. Sean veered behind another jungle tree for protection. The blast skipped off the edge of the tree. As soon as it did, he began sprinting up the hill again. His legs burned and were beginning to cramp from the ascent. He and the guard were now within twenty yards of each other. Another blast echoed through the jungle air. Sean ducked just in time before the oncoming blast hit him in the head.
The guard, now realizing that he could not get an accurate shot off, dropped his rifle and grabbed his own dagger. With both daggers raised above their heads, Sean and the guard collided. They rolled down the hill, crashing into a tree. The guard’s back hit the tree first. He let out a shriek of pain.
Sean jumped to his feet, but his back was to the guard. As he turned around, the guard’s dagger sliced through his cheek. He fell to the ground, grabbing his wound. Blood gushed onto the jungle floor.
Understanding that he was now vulnerable to another attack, he staggered to his feet and quickly swirled around just in time to avoid his spine being severed from the Gnol’s blade. He parried the Gnol’s jab by swinging his right arm down. Spinning around, he caught the guard around his head, grabbing his chin. In one swift motion, he sliced his dagger through the guard’s throat.
* * * * *
Bantyr tried to conceal his panting as he heaved for air. He had completed the two-mile run down to the airfield in a dead sprint. His slave uniform was drenched from sweat and the hot, humid air. Concealing himself behind two large trees, he scanned the airfield. There were more Gnol guards than what Skip had told him.
As he surveyed the layout, he saw three hangars, each one containing Gnol transport shuttles, the kind in which he had arrived. In the center was a paved landing pad for any incoming ships. Two single-story Omutx buildings, each one no more than about two thousand square feet, stood to the right of the landing pad. Four guard towers, one at each corner of the airfield, stood thirty feet in the air, protecting the small airfield. The perimeter formed a perfect square, fenced off with thick interwoven barbed wire ten feet in height. The barbed wire hummed with the sound of electrical energy surging through its barbs.
He looked back at the guard towers. Each tower had two guards posted. One guard in each tower carried a sniper plasma rifle strapped to each one of their shoulders. The other guard manned a double-barreled plasma cannon in each tower.
Bantyr grabbed the small two-way radio that Skip had given him. With a strong whisper, he said, “Skip, this is Bantyr. Come in.”
He waited a few seconds for Skip to respond, but the response did not come. He tried again. “Skip, come in. Do you copy?”
Again, there was no answer.
Frustrated, Bantyr jabbed the radio back into the pocket of his slave uniform and continued to survey the situation. The airfield seemed quiet. It was obvious that they had not yet been alerted about the rebellion at the slave camp on the plateau above. He then looked toward the sky. A thick storm cloud was moving in from the west. He just hoped that Jake got Skip’s message.
As he watched, the front gate to the airfield opened. A hovercraft, carrying supplies, exited and began its journey up a trail on the opposite side that he came down. Panic swept through his body as he grabbed the radio again. “Skip. Come in. I don’t know if you’re getting this, but a transport has just left for the camp. In a few minutes, they will know there was a revolt.”
Bantyr looked at the radio, waiting for Skip to respond, only to be disappointed again. The panic began to worsen. What was he supposed to do? Within minutes, there would be thousands of slaves coming through the jungle trees, vulnerable to attack from the guard towers of the airfield. Bantyr decided that he needed to try and stop the horde of slaves running down the canopy-covered hill. He knew they were close because he could hear them running through the foliage of the jungle.
He turned around, but met the nose of a plasma rifle, held by a mammoth Gnol, pointed directly between his eyes.
“What have we got here?” the Gnol questioned. “An escaped slave. How did you get out of your cage?”
Bantyr did not respond. The Gnol sneered at him and pressed the button on the two-way earpiece within his ear. “Com—”
But before the guard could alert his commander of an escaped slave, a man – much bigger than Bantyr – punched through the thick jungle foliage. The Gnol swung around just as the large man caught him in the abdomen with his left shoulder. Bantyr sidestepped to his right just before the Gnol guard and the man came barreling into him. The man pinned the Gnol against the trees that Bantyr was using as cover and swung a hard right hook into the Gnol’s face. The guard slid down the tree, unconscious. The man picked up the Gnol’s rifle and looked at Bantyr.
Bantyr was speechless for a moment. “Uh … thanks.”
The man, standing about a foot taller than Bantyr and obviously a hundred pounds heavier, offered his hand. He gave Bantyr an ungainly smile through the thick beard on his face. “I’m Elias.”
Bantyr grabbed the man’s hand. “I’m Bantyr.”
“I know who you are,” Elias said as he turned and looked at the airfield. “Do you think they heard anything?”
Bantyr looked back at the airfield as well. Everything still seemed quiet. “From the looks of it, I don’t think so. But they’re going to know soon because a supply transport just left for the camp.”
The jungle foliage behind them began to rustle as several more slaves ran through. Elias and Bantyr turned and held their arms up to stop and quiet them. The slaves, in turn, quieted other slaves that came through as well. Within minutes, Bantyr and Elias had thousands of slaves pushing at their backs. Bantyr worried that they were visible and whispered through the ranks for them to kneel down and remain quiet. The canopy from the thick jungle trees kept them somewhat hidden.
Soon, Ariauna and Sean had made their way up to the front, joining him and Elias. Both were drenched with sweat, and Sean had a large gash on his right cheek, dripping with blood. “Are you okay?” Bantyr asked.
Sean nodded. “Yeah. … Any word from Skip? And where’s Skyler?”
Bantyr glanced to his right, where a couple of slaves had just set down the unconscious Skyler Green. “I’ve tried several times to reach Skip on his radio, but he hasn’t responded.”
Bantyr looked back toward the airfield. “What do we do, Sean?”
Sean, looking at the airfield as well, shook his head in frustration. “We wait. What’s it been … about two hours since Skip sent that message to Jake? If they got it, then they should be here soon.”
“That’s if Jake and Adrian are still alive,” Ariauna interjected.
The reality of Ariauna’s statement hit Bantyr like a hot knife through his heart. All hope seemed to drain out of him. What if Ariauna was right? What if the rebellion against the Gnols on Terrest had been destroyed? Then he, along with Sean, Ariauna, and the rest of the slaves would suffer the worst deaths possible at the hands of the Gnols for their rebellion.
Bantyr bowed his head and closed his eyes hard, trying to think of a way out of their situation. The hopelessness was almost too much to bear. Moreover, the sense of dread was intensified when the
alarms to the airbase bellowed through the thick, jungle air.
Many of the slaves began to panic. Elias turned to calm them.
“Well, they know we’re not at the camp anymore,” Sean said.
“What do we do?” Bantyr questioned.
Sean, now with a look of fear on his face as well, shook his head. He seemed frozen, unsure of what to do.
Several more of the slaves began to get restless. Bantyr turned back to the airfield and watched as the gates opened and about fifty Gnol guards ran through, carrying assault rifles. The guards were heading in their direction.
“Hold your positions,” Sean ordered in a loud whisper to the slaves.
Bantyr turned back and looked at the frightened slaves. Just then, another slave rushed through the foliage behind the thousands of slaves packed in the small canopy-covered clearing. It was Skip.
He did not look well. Sweat dripped from his head, and dried blood caked his hands, arms, and parts of his face. Ariauna lunged forward, throwing herself into Skip’s arms. At first, Skip seemed surprised, but then he relaxed and the both of them hugged each other only for a few seconds. “I’m okay,” he said as the two pulled away from one another.
Ariauna did not respond. She just smiled at him, relieved that he was alive.
Skip looked at Bantyr. “What’s going on?”
Bantyr pointed toward the oncoming Gnol guards who were now within twenty-five yards of their canopy-covered position. “We’ve got company.”
Skip looked through the foliage and pulled the sword from its sheath as he made his way next to Bantyr. The air sizzled and popped as the energy from the sword permeated through its blade. “I still say the odds are in our favor. On my order, we overrun these guards and the base.”
* * * * *
Celeste heard Jake’s voice through her headset. He was flying one of the three Wildcats, escorting the four transport shuttles to the location that Skip had transmitted in his message. Celeste sat in the copilot’s seat of the lead shuttle; a silver, glossy replica of the old Mars I space shuttle. The new Terrestrian symbol, designed by a young female officer, was emblazoned on each wing and tail of the shuttle.
The new emblem of freedom, inspired from a dream that the officer had, was similar to the Eagle of Freedom symbol that Jake had described to Celeste for his country on Earth. This symbol was a star with five points. Within the star was a bald eagle. Its wings were outstretched and in its talons, the eagle carried a gold spear, and from the spear hung the new Terrestrian flag, flowing through the air. The flag, designed after the American colors that Jake and Adrian had spoken so much about, had twenty-two alternating red and blue stripes extending out from the center of the flag, each stripe representing the original twenty-two provinces that Juzs Lza Bmail established when he unified Terrest five hundred years ago. In the middle of the flag was a large yellow star, symbolizing Terrest as one united free world, where people could choose for themselves: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. A ribbon also waved in the air; above the eagle’s head, it wrapped around the eagle and the flag. On the part of the ribbon above the eagle, it said in Terrestrian: Esolad Ra Ylisd. Os Uem Jud Ra Lmeyl. Written on the ribbon under the flag it read in English: United We Stand. In Our God, We Trust.
The symbol represented the liberties that they were fighting for from Celeste’s own father. Moreover, all rebels wore it proudly as a badge of honor on their military uniforms. A surge of anger shot through Celeste’s body upon the thought of her father. A Gnol who had once been so loving and peaceful had transformed into a Gnol who was now one of the most evil beings she had ever met.
“Celeste, E.T.A. five minutes,” Jake said.
Celeste turned her head and looked out the right cockpit window of the shuttle. She saw Jake looking at her as well through the tinted visor of his flight helmet. The anger she felt toward her father quickly abated and was replaced with a longing for the man she now loved more than anything else in the universe. “Roger that. But it looks like a storm is coming in from the west,” she replied, pointing ahead.
The thick clouds of the storm were beginning to accumulate around their rendezvous point to which Skip had sent them. Lightning exploded through the dense clouds.
“Hopefully, we can get to them before the storm prevents us from escaping,” Jake said as he sped his Wildcat ahead. He then ordered the other two Wildcat pilots to follow to provide cover fire for the four shuttles in case there was any resistance.
Within minutes, the Wildcats were to the rendezvous point. Celeste could see red plasma blasts fired from the Wildcat’s gun turrets, letting her know that resistance was met.
She turned and looked at the young pilot on her left, a young boy no more than sixteen years of age. His flight helmet covered his short dark hair. His eyes were fixed straight ahead, staring through the tinted visor of his helmet.
“Relax, Captain,” Celeste said, trying to calm his nerves.
The captain gave a silent nod in return.
“See if you can find a safe spot to land the shuttle, away from any gun fire, so we can get these slaves safely onto the ship.” She then repeated the order to the other three shuttles, following behind.
Soon, the four shuttles were hovering above the airfield. Small gun turrets, built into the sides of the shuttles, began firing red-hot, plasma blasts into Gnol forces on the ground while Jake and his Wildcat team provided cover fire. Celeste just hoped that they were not hitting any of the slaves.
As she looked down, heavy rain and hail began to pelt the shuttle. The young pilot held onto the controls tightly to maintain its position as the wind began to whip through the air. She looked to her right and saw the landing pad of the airbase, large enough for each one of the shuttles to land. “Land over there,” she said, pointing to her right.
The young pilot veered the shuttle to the right just before a large lightning bolt streaked past them. The bolt, instantly followed by an ear-piercing clap of thunder, hit one of the airbase’s buildings. The building exploded into a brilliant yellow and orange fireball.
Celeste jerked her head back in awe. How was that possible? she wondered. The buildings were made entirely of Omutx and were supposed to absorb the energy from lightning blasts.
The young pilot held the shuttle steady as he maneuvered over to the pad. Just then, Celeste heard an ear-shattering blast from her left. Wrenching her head around, she saw that one of the plasma turrets on the far side tower had just fired in their direction.
* * * * *
“Celeste!” Jake shrieked as the red, searing blast hit the left wing of Celeste’s shuttle, erupting into a bright fireball and severing the wing from the rest of the shuttle. The shuttle spun out of control and veered into the jungle trees below. The nose of the ship hit first, crushing the trees and foliage underneath. The main fuselage was split in two by a massive jungle tree, which refused to succumb to destruction from intense heat and twisted metal.
Jake clenched his jaw. He knew there was no possible way Celeste could have survived the crash. He circled his Wildcat around the crash site for a few seconds, frozen in despair.
His radio crackled. On the other end was Nichelle Kreuk, who was in one of the other shuttles. “Jake!”
Choking back the emotion, he tried to respond. But his vocal cords were strangled, as if they were tied together in an unbreakable knot.
“Jake!” Nichelle stuttered, her own voice trembling.
Clearing his throat, he responded, “N-Nichelle, she’s dead. There’s no way she could have survived.”
“I-I know, Jake. We can’t save her now. We need to take out those gun turrets on the towers. They are firing into the slaves and we can’t land until the towers are destroyed.”
Jake heard the words, but they didn’t register. He continued to circle around the crash site, scanning the ground for any sign of his fiancée. Maybe she had survived and was trying to escape the mangled mass of metal and fire.
“Jake!”
With a sense of urgency, he barrel-rolled his Wildcat this time to the left and sped his way toward the landing pad. As he hovered above the pad, he fired red-hot plasma blasts into several Gnol guards who were charging toward his aircraft, firing their own plasma blasts. He landed his Wildcat with a thud on the concrete and popped open his canopy. Throwing off his helmet and grabbing his pistol, he leapt from the cockpit – landing on his feet – and then he sprinted toward the crash site.
* * * * *
Skip ran toward Ariauna and a small gathering of about ten slaves who were being attacked by four Gnol guards. The guards were unarmed, but with their superior strength and telekinetic abilities, they were easily beating down the slaves. Skip waved the sword in his hand and heard it buzz and crackle through the air.