by Candace Sams
Ambassador Caul, joined by the hiding Ussarians, had approached and fired on them with stun blasters. Why they hadn’t been killed outright was no mystery. Ussarians liked to torment their captives. It would have been better for his friends if they’d died. Torture was one of the many qualities that made the Ussarians so dangerous and loathed by inhabitants of other planets.
When he could lift his head without queasiness overwhelming him, he saw his three comrades tied to heavy wooden beams equal distances apart. They seemed to be in varying degrees of ascertaining their own situation.
Their fate was his responsibility and he hadn’t a clue as to how to get himself, let alone them, out of this mess.
The mission was a failure.
Worse, unless some miracle occurred, his friends were about to meet their end.
He accepted his own demise. Every law enforcer faced this possibility at some point in their career. What made him utterly heartsick was the thought that Electra, Gilla, and Clitus had to die with him. There’d be no bargaining for their safety as Ussarians would see that tactic as weakness. The bastards would torture them even slower if he begged for his crew.
And this mess had to happen just when life was turning around, just when he’d found a woman who’d captured his heart.
Beautiful little Charlie!
She’d be left wondering what happened to him. He’d never have the chance to say all the things that might have cemented their relationship.
“Thank God!” Electra whispered as she raised her head. “Is everyone all right?”
“I seem to be in one piece,” Gilla responded, “though I’m not quite sure why.”
Clitus pulled at the restraints holding him to his post. “If I could get free, I’d take a few of the sons-of-bitches with me!”
Datron pulled at his own, heavy ropes but they didn’t give an inch. “I knew something was wrong. I should’ve listened to my gut.”
Electra immediately put her attention on Datron. “If you’re to blame then so are we. No one could have guessed that Caul would betray us, not even Kryllian.”
Datron was fully aware of the unsaid words that hung in the air.
Keir Trask would never have flown into a trap so easily.
Though his loyal crew and friends would die without uttering that simple truth, it still remained. He felt the full weight of his not having an alternate plan. Even now, better options filtered into his brain though too late to be of any use.
He might have approached and landed from a different direction. He could have moved in on the original landing coordinates on foot, to ascertain the situation. The Ussarians would have obviously detected the Hyperion’s landing, but they’d have only located an empty vessel. He and his crew could have been somewhere in the surrounding hillsides witnessing the Ussarians’ approach, but capable of planning a counter-attack.
Instead, he’d negated instincts and had blindly taken an official’s word all was well. To make matters worse, the Ussarians would abscond with the Lucent Stones, and use the crushed gems to control anyone who breathed in their dust. The gems could even be sold to the highest bidders among their cutthroat cohorts, and no sector of space would be spared the resulting chaos.
“Whatever happens…I beg your forgiveness,” he softly apologized. “There’s no excuse for not having a backup plan.”
Gilla shook his head. “We have always been at liberty to discuss our options with you, Captain. That we did not do so was due to our having believed what we were told, as did you. There is no shame in trusting. The infamy lies with Ambassador Caul. I believe his greed outweighed his conscience.”
“I’m responsible,” Datron countered. “But we are still alive.”
“And as long as we are,” Clitus added, “we’re behind you no matter what. I say we find a way to free ourselves and die fighting!”
Datron glanced behind him and pulled once more at the thick ropes binding his arms and hands. “Well, I’m open to suggestions. Whatever we decide, it’d better be quick. The Ussarians won’t waste time having fun with us. Their fleet is still on its way.”
The sizzling pop of a fire in the distance alerted him as it did the other three captives. Datron watched the Ussarians approach and steeled himself for what was to come. Some ancient, defensive instinct took hold and his immediate concern was for Electra. He’d rather break her neck himself than let the Ussarians have her.
He turned his head in her direction only to see Clitus and Gilla staring at her as well. The half-light wasn’t bright enough to discern fine details, but he had no problem seeing the looks of utter concern on his men’s faces.
Electra arched one brow and glared back at each of them in turn. “If one of you so much as thinks of treating me differently, I’ll find a way to cut your balls off even if it’s the last thing I do! So, take those worried looks off your faces. I didn’t accept this mission so some man could throw himself in harm’s way on my behalf. Good God! The Ussarians are nothing compared to hundreds of inane males vying for the Mr. Interstellar Feller title. If I could deal with them every year for the past three decades, then I can certainly handle a few brain-dead thugs.”
Datron felt the corner of his mouth lift at her sincere, but jesting outrage. Ever the personification of stoicism, the lovely diva was prepared for the worst. Whatever he might have said in return was lost to time as a large, lumbering presence stalked closer, eventually standing directly in front of him.
He felt a thousand regrets for all the things he and Charlie would never do together, the children he’d never have, and the life that might have been his back on Oceanus.
However, he could do one last thing to honor himself. The one duty Keir Trask had never performed.
He could die bravely.
Datron lifted his head and stared straight into his nemesis’ eyes. He and his enemy were evenly matched in size and weight. But he counted himself at least a bit more intelligent than the muscle-bound criminal trying to stare him down.
Since the fool clearly wanted him to speak first, he relented if only to get the damned torture underway. They’d have nothing to say to one another once that began.
“Just so you know…you’re under arrest.”
“You don’t know who I am, do you, Valkyrian?”
Datron rolled his eyes and sighed. “What’s to know? If you’ve seen one Ussarian, you’ve seen them all.”
“I am Goron of Ussar,” his foe growled. Then he lifted his fist and backhanded Datron. “You murdered my brother! And I will have vengeance.”
Aware his friends had winced on his behalf and were straining at their bonds, he looked over Goron’s shoulder and shook his head at them. The Ussarian leader’s attention was on him, and he wanted things to stay that way. There was no debating the shirtless, tattooed brute before him was the leader. His star-shaped tribal markings pegged him as such if nothing else did.
“I don’t know you. I don’t know your brother,” Datron countered, aggressively. “Since it makes no difference just get down to business, unless you intend to bore us to death.”
Goron put his face just a breath away from the Valkyrian’s. “My brother’s name was Burl.”
Datron nonchalantly lifted one brow, but boldly met the Ussarian’s stare. “Oh…that brother.”
Goron snarled. “Though I know Trask committed the actual murder, you were his second-in-command and equally responsible. Since I cannot have your former captain’s blood and that of the Earth Protectorate woman he married, I’ll take yours instead. Trask will know the grief of losing his friend just as I have grieved for my dead sibling.” He shoved a finger under Datron’s nose. “Mark me well, Valkyrian! One day I will track Keir Trask and have my vengeance on him, his mate and seed. For now, you will do.”
Taking a deep breath, Datron met the other man’s glare. “I don’t know what you’ve been told but your brother committed suicide when he was caught smuggling. He chose a dishonorable end because he wasn’t man enough to
face the consequences.”
Once again, Goron struck Datron.
The copper taste of blood filled Datron’s mouth.
“You are a liar. The men under my brother’s command were incarcerated on Lucent Colony. They told Ambassador Caul they were tortured, and that Trask—an officer sworn to uphold the law and protect those within his charge—was responsible for their torment. Caul has told me how my brother was killed, and he did not commit suicide. To do so would have dishonored his entire clan.”
“Caul is a lying, betraying son-of-a-bitch.”
“He has no reason to lie. He would gain nothing from the falsehood,” Goron angrily argued.
When Datron’s friends opened their mouths in his defense, he glared at them. There was no arguing with an Ussarian out for blood.
Clearly Caul said whatever he needed to, in order to gain favor with the Ussarians. Most likely the ambassador wanted a share of the stones or had another goal in mind.
Nothing anyone said would make any difference. Goron wanted them dead. The only questions were when and how.
Intent on keeping Goron’s rage on himself Datron let his mouth run.
“We’re never coming to a meeting of the minds since one of us has none.” He moved his face closer to his antagonist’s and spoke slowly, as if communicating with someone with no brains. “The only good part about your family tree is one of its branches is dead. Frankly, trying to see things from your point of view is useless. I can’t seem to get my head that far up my ass!”
His comment did the trick.
Datron simply smiled when Goron vented his anger in Ussarian. He didn’t resist when the clansmen untied him and brutally pushed him into a ring of furious, thieving warriors.
His hands were now free. He could at least fight.
****
Something was happening outside the Hyperion.
When the Ussarians halted their scavenging efforts and left the ship unguarded, Charlie saw her chance. She didn’t know why they walked out, but didn’t think it’d be long before they came back.
She opened an air duct grate and dropped down onto a crate once more. Then she hopped from one crate top to the next. With the need to be out of there before she was discovered, she took no time half-shimmying down the side of one big bin until she successfully landed on the deck.
With no one to stop her, much less witness her exit, she crept through the cargo hold using support beams and debris left by the Ussarians’ plundering.
Her quick thinking paid off.
Basically, she got off the ship the same way she got on it. Small enough to hide behind almost anything that carried supplies, she made her way outside the Hyperion. Then she bolted into the Chiron landscape.
From her position behind a boulder, every word floated on the thin air as if speech was being magnified for her benefit. The reason the Ussarians left their booty behind became quite clear.
Datron was either the stupidest man she’d ever known or the bravest. His face-off with the Ussarian leader would surely get him killed in the most horrific way.
Tears filled her eyes and pride swelled within her breast. No matter what his motivation was, she loved him for his swaggering courage. At the same time, her heart shattered because he was about to meet his maker.
She swiped at tears with her jumpsuit sleeve. Whatever happened, she still had time to make sure the Ussarians failed. Datron would want her to try. So far, they knew nothing of her presence and this gave her and her friends a slight advantage.
Gilla, Clitus and Electra were tied to beams facing away from her. The entire Ussarian contingent was focused on the captain of the Hyperion. And he was focused on Goron and his doomed crew.
Nobody gave a damn about what was happening in the vicinity of the Hyperion’s cargo bay.
The Ussarians murmured vengeful oaths when her lover showed Goron no respect. Caul stood in the middle of the thugs, smirking like a cat.
Charlie scanned the area to figure out her next move.
Some distance to the west of her bound friends were two craft. One was an Ussarian war bird. Its silvery hull and outstretched wings resembled an Earth vulture. Just behind and to the left of that vessel sat a smaller, triangular-shaped, interplanetary transport. It had a large ambassadorial symbol on the side.
Goron ordered his men to drag Datron away from his companions.
Torn between getting to the enemy ships and watching what would surely be the worst beating of Datron’s life―and one from which he’d never recover―she asked herself what he’d want her to do.
The answer was simple.
She couldn’t help him or the other three. With everyone fixated on Datron and Goron, she ran for the Ussarian ship—while she had the chance.
****
Datron gamely faced the leader of the Ussarians not allowing his gaze to falter. The only option he had was to buy time. The longer he could last in the upcoming fight, the more respect he’d gain from his enemies. Hopefully, one of his comrades might be able to free themselves. Probably a futile hope, but it was all he had. At the very least, he might garner his crew a quick death if he fought well.
Goron struck him again. His body was knocked backward by the blow to his face, but he remained on his feet.
The pain rocked him.
It felt as though someone had slammed him with a large, old-fashioned hammer. He wasn’t sure if parts of his nose, cheeks and chin were still intact or if bone had broken loose. No matter. He couldn’t let the agony show. He simply righted himself, spat out a mouthful of blood and stood his ground.
“You will bow before me, Valkyrian.”
“Not in this life or the next.”
Goron let out a roar of rage causing his nearby crewmen to cringe. Once finished, he took a deep breath. “You will not anger me to such a point that I kill you outright. I will not be denied the slow death my brother’s spirit requires. By the time my admiral arrives, he and his crewmen will see you on the ground begging. Only then will I kill you. Only then will I squash you like an insect.”
He moved swiftly forward until he stood within a few inches of Datron.
“It would be easy for me to crush one of the Lucent Stones and use it against you and your friends, Valkyrian. You would then be my slaves forever. You’d have no free will and always be at my beck and call.”
Datron shook his head. “If you’d wanted that, you’d have already used the stones.” He took a deep breath and tried to stem his pain. “You want to see me beaten. You want to see me crawl, but that’s not going to happen, Goron. I don’t kneel to men like you.”
“Do you think I will not get what I want?”
Datron lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, but remained silent.
“What would you do for your friends’ sake, Captain? How far would you go to save their lives?”
Again, Datron held his tongue. Clitus and Gilla were dead no matter what he did. They knew it. As for Electra, his conscience shattered. No decent man would stand by and allow a woman to be raped. She, too, had accepted that outcome. It wasn’t right. “I demand a challenge match. If I win, I’m to be given one boon. That’s the rule.”
Goron narrowed his gaze. “You know our customs?”
“I’m familiar with your brutality.” Once more, Datron took a deep steadying breath and tried to remain on his feet—though his vision blurred and then dimmed. His ears rang, and dizziness made the surrounding landscape reel. But the longer he stalled, the better he felt. “I know, since the challenge has been made, you must act on it or lose honor before your men. It’ll get back to your admiral. You’ll suffer loss of rank and the command of your ship.”
Goron visibly trembled with fury. “You are not one of us, but are craftier than I surmised. Still, I need not honor any request from a captive.”
“Well…if you’re afraid.” He let the loudly spoken insult stand.
His words had the desired effect. Goron’s men began to murmur among themselves. T
he Ussarian leader took note of their censure. Goron finally spoke.
“I will accept a challenge fight, Valkyrian. But I will be the last fighter in the ring. You will not die at anyone’s hands but mine. And my admiral will arrive just in time to see me deliver the death blow.”
Surprised he’d gotten so far without having his head removed Datron stood a bit taller and pulled his wings back. The stretching action allowed him to breathe easier.
Ussarians were nothing if not predictable. His knowledge of their ways would give his crew a few extra minutes to live. That, at least, was something he could do on their behalf.
Nearby, fires were lit by a few Ussarians to ward off the moon’s chill, and so they could watch the match in better light. He readied himself—mentally and physically. The pain in his head diminished.
By the light of the newly illuminated landscape, he saw his friends’ faces. Did admiration infuse their expressions? Or was it fear and disbelief at his audacity?
They were his responsibility. Stupidity caused him to land blindly. But nothing could be done to correct his mistake.
Once the Ussarians were settled with food and drink and assumed their places to watch the sport, Goron chose his warriors.
As their customs dictated, he would have to battle each of them without allowing one knee to touch the ground. If that happened, everyone he cared about would die. That wasn’t his reason for making the challenge, however. He waited to be asked his one boon. When Goron was through picking his fighters, he’d voice his desire.
His foe turned to face him again. Datron licked his dry lips.
“What do you require if you win, Valkyrian? Remember, to gain the boon, you must outlast all the warriors and still be standing for our battle,” Goron instructed.
“You will kill my friends quickly, without touching their flesh in any way.”
“That is not possible.”
“Yes it is,” Datron argued. “You can blast them with your photon-rifles. Right where they stand.”
Realizing he’d been tricked out of a torture session didn’t sit well with Goron. He scowled and clenched his hands into fists. But he’d already accepted the challenge. The boon must be given or he’d lose face in front of his men. Datron waited for his answer. He didn’t like the sickening smile suddenly lighting the Ussarian leader’s face.
