by Brian Dorsey
“Let’s get enough of their clothes to pass for Maxa’s men,” said Martin, pulling at the driver’s coat.
“Hopefully they won’t notice the blood.”
“We just need to get through the gate and we’ll be good.” Martin paused, looking up toward Thay. “Then the blood won’t matter.”
Chapter 2
The side-to-side motion of the wipers pushed the thick streams of rainwater away from the windshield as the command post came into sight. Glancing away from the road, Martin looked down to the rifle laying on the seat between her and Thay. “Ready?”
Thay responded with a smile.
“All right…let’s do this,” said Martin as the truck approached the security checkpoint.
Martin slid her right hand to the pistol in her lap as she let her foot slide off the accelerator, slowing the truck.
A guard near the gate quickly stepped into the rain from a covered shack and waved the truck forward.
“Alright then,” said Martin out loud as the gate began to slide open.
“Guess he didn’t want to get wet,” added Thay.
“His laziness might’ve just saved his life,” replied Martin as she began to increase the speed of the truck and passed through the gate.
Thay positioned his rifle in preparation to exit the truck. “Maybe…maybe not.”
With the mental map of the camp solid in her head from three days of observation, Martin drove the truck through the camp to the back of a small utility building and stopped.
“This is you.”
“Comms good?” Thay spoke into the link over his throat.
“Good,” replied Martin, hearing Thay’s voice in her earpiece. “Happy hunting.”
Thay gave her a smile and jumped from the truck into the downpour.
With Thay off to plant diversionary explosives and cover their escape, Martin pulled the truck into the parking area behind the building they’d identified as Maxa’s headquarters. Turning off the engine, Martin stepped out of the truck with a splash as her feet hit the small river of water flowing through the parking lot. Closing the door, she sensed someone behind her and turned to see a man wearing an officer’s uniform.
“You can’t park that here,” barked the man. “This area’s for officers only.”
Martin’s hand gripped her pistol underneath the raincoat. “I’m sorry…I was just—”
“You’re a woman,” said the man, his brow furrowed. “What unit are you with?” demanded the officer.
“I…uh…fuck it,” grunted Martin as she crashed her boot into the man’s knee, causing him to fall to his knees. As he fell, she grabbed the side of his head and slammed it against the truck. Pulling his torso away from the truck, Martin wrapped her arms around his neck and locked them in place. She grunted as she tightened her muscles around his neck.
In a few seconds, he was unconscious.
Martin scanned the area. There was nothing but the rain and windswept puddles of water. She examined the man’s overcoat then glanced at the one she was wearing. Hers was muddy and still had remnants of blood despite the deluge.
Martin tossed her coat into the truck and pulled the raincoat off the man. Lifting him into her arms, she shoved the officer into the cab of the truck. Slamming the door, Martin turned into a wave of water as another truck splashed to a stop next to her.
“Shit,” she cursed, turning away from the wall of water as it crashed against her coat.
The icy water soaked through her pants and down to her socks as she faced the truck.
The passenger door swung open and a stocky man leapt out, sending another splash of water against her legs. She glanced down toward her soaked pants and then slowly raised her head until she met the gaze of the man standing across from her. She stared quietly at him as the rain pelted her face. Looking past the man, she saw another soldier appear from the front of the truck.
“Faris,” said a tall, wiry soldier as he sloshed through the puddles. “Get our cargo. General Maxa is—” He paused when he saw Martin. “And who is this?”
“I’m new,” replied Martin. “Just transferred—”
“There’s no women in Maxa’s army,” said the stocky soldier, his eyes tightening.
“I…I’m the general’s new secretary.” Martin wrapped her hand around the handle of her knife underneath her coat as she visualized how she would kill both of them.
“Secretary,” laughed the stocky soldier. “Sure.”
“Well,” said the other soldier. “Must be good to be the king.” He turned toward his companion. “Guess we should get the other one up there.”
Martin watched as the men walked to the back of the covered truck and emerged with a young woman in tow.
“Another one for the collection,” said the stocky soldier with a glance toward Martin as they passed.
The woman’s face was twisted with anxiety and fear as the two soldiers led her past Martin and toward the rear entrance of the building. Releasing the grip on her knife and sliding her hand to her pistol, Martin followed them.
As they entered the building, the low roar of the rain disappeared and the cold bite of the wind was replaced with a warmth she hadn’t felt in days.
“You’re a lucky one. At least you don’t have to stay in the stables,” said the tall soldier.
“Stables?” asked Martin.
Both soldiers laughed.
Martin knew what they meant. She looked toward the woman; she knew too.
Without a word the four walked up a set of stairs, stopping near a set of double doors.
“Here ya go, sweetheart,” said the stocky guard to the woman. “And I guess you’ll be heading up to take some…dictation,” he smiled as he looked toward Martin.
Ignoring the man, Martin glanced toward the young woman. Her eyes screamed for help—for someone to save her from what was to come.
The tall guard opened the doors. Inside, another guard stood in the middle of a large room with cages along the walls. Most of them contained women.
Martin’s body tightened with anger but she couldn’t react without giving herself away. With a sigh, she stepped around the soldiers to continue her search for Maxa.
“Say hello to the general for us,” said the tall soldier as he shoved the woman into the room.
Martin continued to walk away, closing her eyes in an attempt to clear her mind of the woman’s fate.
She heard the soldiers continue to talk.
“Sergeant said he gives his leftovers to his officers after he’s done with them,” said the stocky soldier as he closed the door behind them.
Martin stopped.
She paced in a circle in the passageway before facing the double doors. “Damn it,” she grumbled as she let her overcoat fall to the floor.
Martin drew her sword as she crept toward the door. Maybe by saving the young woman she could make up for what had happened in another room on a cold, remote planet years before. She placed her hand on the handle but paused as the vision of the young Phelian girl from so long ago flashed into her consciousness. Her pulse quickened.
She turned the handle and burst into the room.
The stocky soldier, still holding the woman’s arm, turned toward the door just as Martin drove her sword through his side. Feeling the hilt contact the soldier’s ribs, she twisted her hips, jerked the sword from his body, and sliced through the other soldier’s chest in one motion.
Martin shifted her weight to her back foot and then thrust forward, plunging her sword into the abdomen of the last guard. As he gasped, she withdrew the sword, cocked it above her head, and slashed downward, laying open the man’s torso.
Martin turned toward the woman, who stumbled backwards, falling to the ground.
“Stop!” ordered Martin, seeing the woman brought in by the guards was about to scream. “Stop!” she said again, lowering her sword.
The woman complied but scooted away from Martin. She jerked when her back made contact with one of the c
ages. She saw a woman curled in the corner of the cage and let out a gasp before turning back toward Martin with wide, frightened eyes.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” said Martin. “Just stay calm,” she continued as she turned to shut the door.
“I need to get out of here,” cried the woman as she pulled herself to her feet. “I have to go.” She rushed for the exit.
“I know,” said Martin as she stepped in front of the door. Martin placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “But I need you to stay here for just a minute.”
“Stay? I—”
“I’ll help you get out of here. I promise. But I have to do something first and can’t have you and the others running around alerting anyone…just please wait so I—”
“Emily?”
A familiar voice caused Martin to spin around to one of the cages. Her sword fell to the floor. “Aria?”
Despite the tangled hair and filth, Martin recognized the woman in a torn and tattered dress. The eyes were unmistakable. Martin forgot about the woman trying to escape as she realized she was looking at her cousin, Aria. “What—how did you get here? Are you okay?”
“How did you know I was here?” huffed Aria, tears flowing down her face. “I never thought—”
“I’m here for Maxa…I didn’t know…what happened?”
“What happened?” repeated Aria, her pitch higher.
Martin had not seen Aria since the day the suicide bomber had killed so many on Alpha Humana. “How did you—?”
Aria’s expression tightened. “You happened,” she snapped, anger replacing relief.
“What?”
“What do you think would happen when you took the ProConsul’s son?”
“I—” Martin paused. She hadn’t thought about—. “Wait!” she ordered turning back to the captive woman as Martin saw her step toward the door. “Please.”
The woman stopped and Martin turned back toward Aria. “She had my father killed and I—”
“Your father,” grumbled Aria. “That alcoholic was already dead; he just didn’t know it…but the rest of us…” Aria gripped the bars of her cell. “When you took the ProConsul’s son she focused all of her rage on the Martin family.”
Martin involuntarily took a step backwards. She’d never really cared too much about most of her family but she hadn’t thought about what Astra Varus would do to her kin in the name of vengeance. “I didn’t—”
“Half the men just disappeared and the children were placed in rural orphanages.”
“No,” mouthed Martin. How could she have not realized what Astra Varus would do?
“Yes,” growled Aria. “And then she…” Aria lowered her head momentarily. When she raised her head to meet Martin’s gaze, her eyes were distant, reliving a pain that tore at her soul. “…she gave me to Maxa as a present for telling her about the attack.”
“I—”
“When he had enough of me…he gave me to his officers for their…for their…” Aria fell silent.
“I’m sorry. I—”
“You’ve destroyed your entire family with your actions, Emily,” continued Aria, her eyes still locked on her past horror. “Your treason has ended us…” Aria turned her gaze to Martin, the pain and anger burned at Martin’s soul. “…I just wasn’t lucky enough to die.”
“I…I’ll get you out of here.”
“And where will I go?”
Martin stepped toward the cage. “I’ll get you to safety, Aria. I—”
“Just do the one thing you’re good at, Emily…”
“Aria? What do you—”
“Killing, my dear cousin,” spat Aria. “Killing is what you are good at. So kill Maxa and…all of them.”
Martin lowered her head, her heart aching. She couldn’t take back all of the pain her actions had caused her family.
But she could avenge it.
She raised her head. “I will kill him,” she said softly.
Martin took the keys from the dead guard and opened Aria’s cell. “Let the others free and stay here until I come back. I promise—”
Martin saw the young woman moving toward the door again. “Wait please.” She turned and rushed to the door, grabbing the woman’s arm. “Please…just a few minutes.”
“Emily…”
Martin turned toward Aria.
Aria stood next to her cell with one of the soldier’s knives held to her neck.
“Aria? What are you doing?”
“There is no life for me anymore…nowhere to live where I can forget…I can’t forget…” Aria closed her eyes and raised her head toward the ceiling.
“No, Aria…you can—”
“Kill Maxa,” interrupted Aria. “And remember this when you’re doing it.”
“No!” shouted Martin as Aria pulled the blade across her throat.
Blood pumped from Aria’s neck as she fell to the floor.
Martin rushed to her cousin. Taking Aria in her arms, she tried to apply pressure to the gash in her cousin’s neck as blood sprayed over her face. “No. No. No,” panted Martin as she reached for her medical kit. “Shit!” she cursed realizing she’d left it in the truck.
Tears flowed down Martin’s face as she watched the life fade from Aria’s eyes.
Lowering her cousin’s body to the floor, she looked up toward the ceiling.
Martin exhaled heavily and rose to her feet, wiping the tears from her face. As she looked at her sleeves, Martin saw Aria’s blood smeared into the fabric. She stared at the blood; blood that was both literally and figuratively on her hands.
Then a clarity struck her.
Martin picked up her sword and looked toward the woman. “Here,” she said, tossing the keys to her. “Let the others free and get out of this building.”
Her cousin was right. Martin was good at one thing…killing.
“Thay,” she spoke into the comms link. “Change of plans—”
Martin leapt forward into a roll as another guard stepped into the room.
Before he could react, Martin knocked the rifle from the guard’s hands and landed a straight kick into his sternum, knocking him against the wall. The guard reached for his pistol but Martin lunged forward.
The guard let out a guttural groan as Martin’s sword sank into his stomach.
Martin pushed forward, driving the tip of her sword through the guard and into the wall behind him.
The man let out a cry but Martin’s pressed her hand over his mouth, silencing him. She twisted the blade, watching his face contort with pain as the warm saliva from the man’s muffled scream wet her hand.
Tears clouded Martin’s vision as she leaned in close to the guard’s face and activated her comms link. “—I’m going to kill all of them.”
***
Martin crouched low as she crept down the stairway leading to the third floor of the building where she hoped to find Maxa. Her jaw clamped tight in anger as she fought to push the vision of Aria’s vacant stare from her mind.
As she turned the corner to the stairway, Martin was met by two officers. Their eyes widened when they saw the blood-soaked Martin in front of them. “Stop!” shouted one of them as he attempted to draw his sidearm.
Martin rushed forward and leapt into the air, knocking both men through the double doors and into the vestibule for the stairway.
The officer to the right was pushing himself off the floor when Martin pivoted her body and drove her knee into his temple, driving his head against the wall. She turned toward the second man and grabbed his hand as he swung his pistol toward her.
Wrenching her opponent’s hand backwards and extending the man’s arm above his shoulder, Martin drove her knee upward, slamming it into her opponent’s chin. As his head snapped backwards, she ripped the pistol from his hand and twisted her body to drive him to the ground. When the officer’s body hit the floor, she drove her boot into his shoulder as she yanked hard on his arm. The ripping of ligaments echoed through the vestibule and her opponent l
et out a shriek of agony that was silenced when she raised her foot again and crashed it into the back of his head.
Turning back toward the first officer, Martin caught him just as he rose to his feet. He swung wildly at her but she deflected his attack, shoved him face-first against the wall, and landed two powerful blows to his kidneys.
As his body arched away from the blows, Martin grabbed his right arm and spun him away from the wall. Using the momentum she had created, she twisted his arm behind him as she kicked his leg out from under him. She spun and added her weight to the force of the man’s body as she drove his head toward the railing of the stairway. The metallic thud of her opponent’s head impacting the steel rail was overshadowed by the snap of his neck breaking.
Martin rolled off the man and caught the leg of the bloodied second opponent as he kicked toward her head.
With the officer’s leg secured, she rose up, grabbing his neck and driving him against the railing. A kick to the inside of his right knee drove him to his knees.
She grabbed her opponent’s hair and pulled his face downward as she landed a knee to his face. Then another. As the officer struggled to remain conscious, Martin pulled a knife from her vest and drove the blade into his temple.
Martin let the man’s body fall to the ground as she turned toward the stairs.
Moving to the third floor, she peered through the small window to see several men in the passageway. Halfway down the hallway, two guards were posted by one of the doors.
Martin was planning her next move when alarms began to blare across the building’s announcement system.
Someone must have found one of her victims.
“Fuck,” she cursed, pulling a grenade from her vest and tossing it down the passageway. She took cover behind the wall next to the door as she awaited the blast.
Martin’s eardrums popped from the concussion but she was prepared and burst through the doors into the carnage she’d caused.
Smoke filled the passage and debris drifted to the ground as Martin leveled her rifle at a soldier trying to push himself to his knees. A burst from her rifle tore into is body, knocking him back to the ground. She swung her rifle to the left and pulled the trigger again when her sights landed on a bloody soldier trying to raise his rifle with one hand. Her round slammed into his head, leaving a splash of red on the wall behind him.
