Homeguard

by Jason Cordova

  Until now, as Death stalked them.

  Something moved in the shadows. Two marines spotted the movement and opened fire on the area, hammering it with a barrage of fire. All around them, other marines panicked and opened fire as well, though they were shooting in different directions, and all of it was unfocused. A ricochet struck one of the subway rails and bounced back, wounding a sergeant. Terrified by the woman’s cries of pain, the shooting intensified. Nothing was hit, though, and the marines slowly ceased fire as two knelt down to attend to their injured NCO, while the others changed out their spent magazines.

  A single marine who’d stepped a little too far into the darkness saw the barest hint of movement before his head was cleanly and silently separated from his shoulders. Mouth agape in horror and surprise, the marine dropped to his knees as his head rolled off to the side. The body slumped to the ground, and blood began to pool.

  The others stared in shocked silence as they realized they were being hunted by something far more dangerous than the legends that dwelt in the subterranean tunnels. Their paranoia ratcheted up further than any thought possible, but it didn’t help. They were prey to the hunter, and every living soul in the tunnel knew it.

  Two more marines who’d been looking to the left were hit from the right by an unseen force. Their broken bodies flew through the tunnel and crashed into the walls, leaving bloody streaks as they collapsed to the ground. A junior officer suddenly screeched as his heart exploded out of his chest and onto the ground. He looked down in dazed horror, seeing the vital organ in the dirt before he fell on top of it. The PFC next to him stared blankly, uncertain of what had become of the nobleman who’d been trying to woo his way into her pants for the past three weeks. A glowing sword suddenly emerged through her ribs, the orange tint showing her the extent of the wound, and she realized she wouldn’t have to worry about the dead lieutenant trying to sleep with her anymore.

  By ones and twos the marines fell, dying to the invisible force of nature stalking them. There were flashes of orange, on occasion, as someone was run through with a sword, or a blur of black moving at the edge of the shadows just before another marine died. Soon there were only three left: a senior staff sergeant, a lowly PFC, and the captain who led them.

  The staff sergeant backed up against the PFC, looking around with beady eyes as he held his rifle up, ready to fire. He scanned the area in front of him, looking for any sign of a threat. There was nothing to be seen, however, with the light from the fire slowly dying as the last of the fuel was exhausted. His breathing was ragged, and his heart raced in his chest. The longer he looked into the darkness, the less he saw. He blinked.

  Suddenly an orange blur exploded out of the darkness. He almost had time to pull the trigger before a long blade was buried deep in his chest. Behind him, he faintly heard the PFC cry out as the weapon pierced him, as well. Both marines were stuck, dying, as the sharpest edged blade in existence slid downward as gravity took hold. Organs spilled onto the dirt as the blade finally fell out and clattered on the rail, covered in blood and glowing a sickly shade of orange.

  The captain swallowed. His bladder had emptied, and he felt sick to his stomach. He threw his rifle on the ground and turned to run away, toward the end of the tunnel that was miles away. From there, he could escape on a transport and never set foot on this godforsaken planet again.

  Something grabbed him by the throat and lifted his feet off the ground. Struggling to breathe and make sense of the situation, the captain’s vision swam as he fought for breath. The grip on his neck tightened, and something in his neck popped. Gasping, he could only manage to ask one question.

  “What are you?”

  A black face appeared out of the darkness, tinted oddly by the nearly-dead fire. Eyes glowed orange in the growing blackness. There was no mouth on the apparition, just a void, yet somehow it responded to his question.

  “I am Death.”

  The captain groaned once more, then his neck snapped, instantly killing him. The body dropped to the ground unceremoniously as the last of the fire went out. Everything was plunged into darkness. Amid the blackness, the orange eyes glittered, uncaring.

  Gabriel looked around at the bodies strewn across the tracks and lying in the dirt. It had been disturbingly easy for him to end the lives of these men and women. There had been a surprising amount of rage and hate behind his attacks. He couldn’t say he was doing his duty to the Dominion, nor to the emperor from whom he’d been freed. The marines had invaded his home, killed civilians and loyal citizenry of the Dominion, and tried to take away their freedom. Gabriel was many things, but forgiving wasn’t one of them.

  “You were always the best among us,” a voice said over the comms. Beeker. Gabriel had a feeling in his gut that his old friend was somewhere nearby. He began to scan the tunnel, but saw nothing. Beeker continued, “Keep walking down the tunnel. You’ll come upon a light. There’s a room to the side, large enough for our business. I, chosen son of Shaka and mighty Zulu warrior, will be waiting inside.”

  Not one to turn down an invitation like this, Gabriel recovered his sword and followed the directions Beeker had given him. He didn’t fear a trap of any kind. That wasn’t Beeker’s way. The Zulu preferred to stand and fight face to face, honorably. Claiming it was his people’s cultural heritage, Gabriel and the others who’d been in his squad had eventually figured out it was simply an excuse for the strong man to fight in close quarters. Missing from that range was difficult. Even with the assistance of his Wraith suit, Beeker had been a terrible shot.

  It bothered him a little that Beeker knew precisely where he was in the tunnel. Guessing there were security cameras throughout that he hadn’t bothered looking for, he continued down the long tunnel, following the rail line as it moved further away from the downtown area of Marigold City. It was a long walk, so Gabriel began to send out querying pings with the suit, looking for remote cameras. He wasn’t disappointed, and one more mystery disappeared.

  Why didn’t Beeker warn the marines about me? Gabriel wondered as he trudged along. Surely the Zulu had watched him the entire time he’d been stalking them, yet no warning had been issued. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became of the reason. It was simple, really, once he recalled how Beeker thought. The Imperfect from Anvil hadn’t warned anyone because he wanted to be the one to kill Gabriel. Viewing combat as a rite of passage into manhood, it made sense that Beeker wanted to be the one to kill the man many viewed as the most dangerous Darkling in recent memory.

  Ahead, a solitary light shone in the darkness. Gabriel saw a small tunnel just beyond it, where he presumed his old friend would be waiting for him. Cautiously making his way forward, he looked around the tunnel for any sign of an ambush. Seeing none, he slowly stepped into the small, dark area. He found a doorway in the shadows. Nervous, he stepped through.

  “Hello, my brother,” Bekha Msizi greeted Gabriel as he entered the room. Gabriel saw Beeker crouched on the far side of the room. The Darksuit across from him was nearly identical in design and shape, save the eyes. They glowed bright yellow in the dark, a slight contrast to Gabriel’s orange. He wondered if every Darksuit was different in this way. The self-proclaimed descendent of Shaka continued to speak in a calm, reasonable voice, “I’m sorry it has come to this. I have my orders. Those orders are to kill you.”

  “You’d kill your own brother?” Gabriel asked him, looking around the open area. There wasn’t much cover for either man, and though they both carried the glowing orange blade of the Darksuit, Beeker definitely had the advantage with his Velico pistol over Gabriel’s appropriated Han-24 rifle. If a fight was going to happen, Gabriel knew he’d be dead quickly if he allowed the Zulu to fire. Closing quickly and getting into a duel with his sword would be the only chance he had to live.

  “This is where you’re broken, Omelet,” Beeker replied as he drew his Velico from its holster. He aimed it at Gabriel. Though Gabriel knew Beeker was feeling exactly what he was at
that moment, the gun didn’t waver. His hand steady, Beeker spoke, “My emperor commanded me to kill you for treason.”

  “How?” Gabriel asked. “The emperor…he’s dead, Beeker.”

  “Ezekiel lives, Omelet,” Beeker stated as he took a step closer, “and he’s our emperor. I’m his sword, just as you’re supposed to be. You must obey. We all must obey, lest we become something horrible.”

  “Yeah, about that…” Gabriel’s voice trailed off. He shook his head. Words meant nothing at this point, but he tried one final time to get through to his Wraith kin. Gabriel bared his soul to his battle brother of old. “This is wrong, all wrong. We aren’t just instruments of chaos and destruction, brother. We’re human beings. We’re more than mindless killing machines. Please, reconsider. Don’t make me kill you, Beeker.”

  “I’m going to hate doing this,” Beeker stated, “but I’ll sleep well after. Do you know why?”

  “Loyalty,” Gabriel responded, already knowing the answer. He’d been that way, too, once, long ago. Before the emperor had told him the truth. Before his loss of innocence.

  “Loyalty,” Beeker echoed, nodding. The Zulu tossed the handgun aside and grabbed his hip. The Darksuit’s blade appeared in his hand. “But we are also Wraith kin. We handle it our way, umfo.”

  “Yeah, we do,” Gabriel agreed and grabbed his blade. It glowed in the darkness, matching its brother. Gabriel sighed before steeling his heart for what was to come. “It has to be handled our way.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Ten

  Aurelia

  “Aurelia? Talk to me, girl,” a voice interrupted a rather pleasant dream involving cats chasing laser dots. Aurelia groaned sleepily.

  “Cinco minutos, por favor, abuela?”

  “No, Aurelia, you need to wake up,” the now-familiar voice insisted. It was Collyn, Aurelia realized.

  “What?” Aurelia opened her eyes and looked around in confusion. “Where are we?”

  “On a freighter,” came the reply. “Are you okay?”

  “I have a headache,” Aurelia complained, “and I’m really sore all over. Why?”

  “Because you got stuck in a tree,” Collyn told her, “and you passed out.”

  “Whoa,” Aurelia closed her eyes for a moment as the pain in her head increased. “I don’t remember that.”

  “Thank God for small favors,” Collyn said. “We’re in the cargo hold, for now. The ship’s captain is trying to get us to Anvil. Once we’re there, we can put out a general SOS broadcast and warn the Second Regiment about what’s coming for them.”

  “Wait…did we get bombed?” Aurelia asked, her eyes snapping back open. It dawned on her that her helmet was off. “Sfyri?”

  “Yes, Aurelia?” the AI responded. Aurelia sighed in relief.

  “Why is my helmet off?”

  “Due to the injuries sustained during your impact with the tree, Commander Loftis decided it was in your best interests to have a second set of eyes inspect your head,” Sfyri explained. “I concurred, since you do not have an implant node for me to use for a more in-depth examination.”

  “Okay,” Aurelia sighed. She tested her arms, but found herself restrained.

  “The commander also counseled me to keep your arms and legs restrained until you were fully awake and conscious,” Sfyri continued. “This was wise, since your special abilities might make you more susceptible to the erratic movements of the freighter as it tried to run the naval blockade.”

  “Naval blockade? What does that mean?”

  “What it means is there are certain parts of the Dominion Navy that don’t want us to get away,” Collyn informed her calmly. “My guess is this group split off from the group your dad was going to deal with on Belleza Sutil, though I don’t know how they got past Fifth Fleet.”

  “Why is Sfyri calling you commander?” Aurelia asked as she struggled to process the information. Her head hurt badly, and she knew if she reached out to get the information, it would only get worse. It had happened before a few times, when she’d first moved in with her grandparents after being rescued from Ptolemy.

  “Any time a temporary base commander leaves with a group of more than a squad, they’re promoted in rank,” Collyn said as she gently touched Aurelia’s head. “Since we’re on this freighter, and there’re eight of us, counting you, that’s more than a squad. So…yay me, commander rank.”

  “You don’t seem happy,” Aurelia pointed out.

  “I’m not,” Collyn admitted in an irritated tone, “but that’s neither here nor there. Sfyri, unlock the suit and give her back movement. I think our girl’s awake and coherent enough to go about the ship. Just remember to be careful.”

  Aurelia suddenly had control of the suit once more. Turning her body around, she found that she was indeed in a large cargo hold of some sort. There wasn’t much else in the room, except eight Wraith suits, which were all secured to the deck with strong ropes of some sort.

  “Where are we going after Anvil?” Aurelia asked. Collyn shook her head slowly.

  “I don’t really know,” she said. “I’m hoping they don’t follow us through the gate when we reach it.”

  “We’re not to the jump gate yet?”

  “Not yet,” Collyn stated. “We’re fifteen minutes out. You’ve been asleep for six hours.”

  “That long?” Aurelia was astonished. “How did we get off the planet?”

  Collyn told her the harrowing tale of their escape from the planet. Aurelia couldn’t believe two of the Wraiths had actually carried her five kilometers to the airfield, where the freighter Collyn had commed for was waiting. Somehow they’d made it through the atmosphere and were well on their way to the gate before the enemy fleet had detected them. They were in pursuit now, and since the Solomon gate could only go two places, it would be easy for them to split up and each take a location.

  “The captain said this ship was the best smuggling vessel in the Fringe,” Collyn said as she shook her head. “I didn’t believe him but, well, I’ve been surprised before. Sure enough, he held up his end of the bargain.”

  “What…what happens if they follow us through to Anvil and keep trying to shoot us?”

  “That’s where things get a little sticky,” Collyn admitted and sighed. “Can you walk? I want to sit down. While we can’t feel it, this ship is doing some amazing acrobatics to dodge incoming missiles, but if the compensators even blip on us, I’ll be throwing up in no time.”

  “Don’t like zero gravity?” Aurelia asked. Collyn shook her head.

  “Hate it. C’mon, the galley is forward.”

  Testing her feet, Aurelia found she really wasn’t hampered as much as she’d thought she’d be. Collyn smiled and motioned for her to follow. Together they walked to the end of the cargo hold and traversed a long corridor. It was wide enough for the two of them, though Aurelia thought the ceiling was pretty low. Her suit had no problem with it, since it was smaller than normal, but she understood why the others had removed their Wraith suits.

  Along the way, they passed smaller cargo holds similar to the one the Wraith suits were stored in, though smaller in size. Aurelia didn’t know how big a typical smuggler ship was, but if they were all this big, she couldn’t believe the Dominion Navy had a hard time capturing them all. She asked, not expecting Collyn to know. Surprisingly, the newly-appointed Wraith commander did.

  “Imagine trying to track every single ship coming in and out of a system at one time,” Collyn explained. “Space is big. The distance between Solomon and its largest moon is millions of kilometers, right? Sarah is large in the night sky on Solomon, though. This ship, which is about half a kilometer long, is barreling through wide-open space. Orbital Traffic Control on Solomon deals with thousands of vessels entering and leaving the system every day. They can’t track them all, and since any ship with a jump engine can access the gate, traffic control will try to focus more on the area closer to the planet. It’s more efficient this way, though not always as eff
ective as it could be.”

  “Then how come the Navy ships are able to keep track of us?” Aurelia wondered.

  “Because they have our ship ID’d, which means as long as they keep us on this side of the gate, they can track us,” Collyn said. Aurelia’s eyes widened as it clicked.

  “Oh. That’s why they’re shooting missiles.”

  “That’s why they’re shooting missiles,” Collyn agreed. “If we get through the gate, they have to start the process all over again. And while space traffic isn’t bad here, Anvil has ten times the amount of traffic in its system. Plus, they’ll have to deal with Sixth Fleet. No Fringe fleet admiral has declared for either prince yet; they’ve only pledged their loyalty to Commodore Reukauf and the Dominion. They’ll be hard pressed to find friends over there.”

  “All we need to do is make it through the gate.” Aurelia nodded, confirming she understood what was being said. Her headache caused her to stop trying to read minds temporarily, which limited how quickly she assimilated information. Used to being able to understand everything in an instant, it now took a few seconds for everything to sink in so she could process it all. She didn’t like that. “Then what?”

  “Depends on what our captain suggests.” Collyn shrugged. “One of the suggestions he offered, which I actually liked, was once we come out of the gate, we turn around and jump through again, this time to somewhere like Kurma or Argus. That would really throw them off, because they’d still be searching the space at Anvil, unable to find us because we aren’t there.”

  “Sneaky.” Aurelia grinned. “I like it.”