Shalia's Diary Omnibus

by Tracy St. John

  I did not strain to flee from my assailant, as the Tragoom expected me to do. His whole focus was on keeping me from springing forward and breaking free. After all, that’s the instinct of any person in the position I was in. Anyone who had not trained her ass off in defensive techniques, that is.

  I lunged at my captor and dropped down. Because he was not expecting it, I slid right through his arm to the floor and simultaneously disturbed his balance. As he grabbed at me, I twisted, coming to my hands and knees to face him. Then I drove forward with all my power, thrusting my knife into the second vulnerable part in a Tragoom’s anatomy – the crotch.

  Oses and I had practiced me powering my head into that delicate area, not a knife. Attacking with the blade had been Idow’s contribution, using Larten’s technique of rolling into position when fighting an opponent with a longer reach. Thanks to my blade experts, I’d had my lessons in knife fighting from a low posture before dealing with the real situation.

  Shoving a blade in a Tragoom’s babymaker wasn’t enough to kill it. While it rolled on its back, clutching its crotch and kicking the air while making breathless chuffing noises, I recovered my blaster and blew its midsection out. I did my best to ignore the new stench of blood and released bowels as I yanked my knife free of the nasty bastard and wiped it off on the floor.

  I noted how many wounds I’d sustained. I bled heavily. My sight was a tad blurred too. Dizziness came and went. God, I was tired. But I’d been tired before, particularly when fighting through Resan’s workouts. At least I didn’t have to listen to him yelling in my ear. That was a blessing.

  I told the exhaustion to fuck off as I listened for the sound of reinforcements. No, only alarms. The main party of Tragooms was apparently busy doing whatever it was they’d come on board to do. If they weren’t heading toward me, that meant they were moving in the direction I wanted to go too – Medical.

  Cursing under my breath, I got my ass in gear. I went slowly, being extra careful as I went beyond the armory and to the Rehab section. I felt every instant that flew by, but I wouldn’t do Resan any good if I was caught.

  Not only did I not encounter any Tragooms on my way, but they weren’t in Rehab either. I eyed the hole in the wall worriedly, noting the Tragoom shuttle was still attached. There was no sign of life in the umbilical passage between the vessels, but who knew what lurked inside the enemy ship?

  I could hear a blaster fight nearby, punctuated by Kalquorian howls and Tragoom shrieks. The battle must have been on to protect Medical. I pointed my blaster at the breach as I crept through the main physical therapy exercise room. My head swiveled, keeping an eye on the Tragoom’s access and searching to note if they’d made it past the jammed door.

  Hell yeah, they had. They’d cut through the door and part of the wall, the way they had to break into the transport in the first place. I stared at the big gaping hole through which all the noise of war poured through.

  The smart move would have been to wait it out until the fight ended and hope like hell the good guys had won the day. After all, I was Shalia playing at guerilla fighter, not an honest-to-God Nobek warrior. I had no business sticking my stupid face where it was likely to be shot off.

  Except Resan might be alive, hoping for rescue yet. He’d jumped on me and saved my life when the ceiling fell down. I had to return the favor. I was not owing that overbearing jerk.

  Oh yeah, it was also the right thing to do. There was that part as well.

  I drew a deep breath and stepped through the gaping chasm in the wall. The cave-in had happened to this part of the corridor as well, but the Tragooms had dug through toward Medical, leaving me a decent path to travel. There was plenty of lighting panel spears to avoid, but I wasn’t moving fast. Shadows moved against the wall as the corridor bent, evidence of hulking bodies jerking about. The din of percussion blasters was deafening now. I grimaced, baring my teeth in anticipation of what I was about to encounter.

  I moved on to the area where the corridor had caved in. Three yards from the corner. Jeez, the screams. The damned wouldn’t cry out so loud in Hell. I was sure of it.

  I shoved up as close to the wall as the rubble would let me. I peeked around the corner and moaned at the carnage.

  I looked at the backs of about couple dozen Tragooms as they fired on Kalquorian defenders in front of the closed percussion-proof doors of Medical. Another couple dozen lay beyond them, dead or dying. The stench was horrific.

  More horrific was seeing how few Kalquorians were defending Medical. Half a dozen Nobek warriors? No more than eight, that was for sure. They pressed against Medical’s recessed door, popping out to fire at the Tragooms. The enemy advanced on them slowly – but they advanced. I moaned again as the line of piggy bastards held their dead comrades as shields against the Kalquorian blasters.

  As I watched, a Tragoom was hit in the head by a well-aimed blast. He dropped. But they far outnumbered the Nobeks. They continued to surge forward, gaining ground. The Kalquorians guarding Medical would soon have to retreat or they would die.

  They would never retreat. They would defend their post to their last drop of blood, no matter how hopeless the situation.

  I sheathed my knife and pulled the second blaster from my belt. A person can’t accurately aim a pair of blasters at the same time. At this close range, I wouldn’t have to. All I had to do was point in a general direction and start shooting.

  Which is what I did. The Tragooms at the rear of the group threatening my shipmates went down satisfyingly fast, the middle of their spines erupting fluids everywhere. I tore through their flanks, taking half a dozen out of the fight before they realized they had a battle on two sides.

  The confusion allowed the Kalquorian squad to mow down even more. When I had to duck behind the corner to avoid being blasted in half, at least two-thirds of the enemy was dead. I popped out to take a few more shots and saw only five left, struggling through the obstacle course of bodies to flee the screaming Kalquorians now advancing on them. It looked like the boys had the situation well in hand. I sure as hell hadn’t come all this way to be killed by friendly fire. I darted into my quiet section of the hall and waited for the shooting to stop.

  One Tragoom broke through, however, barreling a retreat so quickly that it nearly trampled me in its rush to escape. I blasted it as I jumped away. Then Kalquorians rounded the corner, and they blasted it too in a roaring volley. It was barely recognizable as any species when all was said and done.

  A man turned to me, his features Nobek-rabid with fighting passion. I recognized him as Weapons Subcommander Ebnad, second in ship’s security only to Oses.

  “Where are the rest? Who came with you?” he demanded.

  “You’re looking at all three of us,” I said. “Me, myself, and I. Excuse me, Subcommander. I have to go to Medical asap.”

  He grimaced as he searched my face, but that didn’t erase the shock that crossed his handsome finely-boned visage. “I agree.”

  As I moved through the staring Nobeks, their mouths hanging open (I guess I looked pretty messed up) I called over my shoulder, “I’m not heading to Medical for myself. Dramok Resan is dying in his training room. He needs to be rescued right away.”

  I slowed as I wove through the obstacle course of Tragoom bodies. Beyond them, carpeting the floor in front of Medical, were about eight dead Kalquorians, all wearing security insignia. I recognized a couple of them. My heart lurched.

  The door was open, and medical personnel had moved into the corridor. They checked the bodies, gently but quickly moving those who could no longer feel to the sides of the corridor. This part of the ship was not wrecked. Only a few lighting panels had cracked. It was weird how different the section was from the one I’d come from.

  Among those declaring the dead was Tep. I went straight to him, glad to finish my mission. He did a double take when he noticed me, going from crouching next to a deceased warrior to his feet in an instant. “Shalia! Mother of All, look at you! Get her in
an examination room!”

  “No time,” I said urgently. I grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the heaps of Tragoom bodies that Ebnad’s team were checking to verify they were dead. “Resan’s in a lot of trouble. He’s badly hurt. He may already be dead, but you have to try.”

  “Of course.” Tep swung about to call to an orderly named Oti. “Grab a hover stretcher, a trauma kit, and hurry down to the training section.”

  As the orderly ran into Medical to carry out Tep’s orders, Ebnad approached with his hands in a slow down gesture. “Doctor, the ship is full of enemy attackers. I can’t send warriors with your orderly into that section yet. We could barely hold Medical with a full complement, and we’re less than half that now.” He darted a funny expression at me again. “Without Matara Shalia’s assistance, we wouldn’t have kept the Tragooms off you and your staff. We have to remain here in case more infiltrators make it to this section.”

  “No one asked you to go,” Tep said. He turned to the returning orderly who had a huge medical kit on top of a floating hover stretcher. “Oti, do you know the which training room is Dramok Resan’s?”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  “It’s a bad idea to send anyone that direction without security escort,” Ebnad insisted. “That’s the direction the attack came from.”

  “Their shuttle is attached to the hull outside the main physical therapy room,” I reported. “I saw no signs of anyone there.” I handed Oti a blaster. “Here. I’ll go with you.”

  Oti took the blaster and checked the remaining power. “Half. Works for me.”

  He was a young guy, but the Imdiko had been medical support on the ground at some pretty horrific battles during the war. Because of that, he was fully trained in defensive fighting.

  Tep and Ebnad didn’t appear half as sure as Oti looked and I felt. The doctor said, “Shalia, you need medical attention yourself.”

  I waved him off. “I’m alive and on my feet. This is an emergency. If Subcommander Ebnad can’t spare a man, then I’m what Oti’s got.”

  Tep turned to Ebnad. “You can’t sanction this.”

  Ebnad scowled. “No, but she’s right. I can’t let any of my force leave this section, not over a lone Dramok. Did you see anyone else there alive, Matara?”

  I shook my head. “There were some doors that were closed. I was in too much of a hurry to check for survivors.”

  “No one besides you and Resan answered our coms from that section.” He raked fingers through his hair. “I can order you to stay behind. You can ignore me and do what you feel you need to.” Ebnad quirked a humorless smile at Tep. “And you are free to try and stop her, though you might think twice about going up against such a woman.”

  Tep threw up his hands. “Time’s against Resan. At least give her an escort as far as where that Tragoom ship has docked, in case there are more of them.”

  “I can do that and I will, personally.” Ebnad nodded at me and Oti. “Let’s go.”

  Ebnad’s men had dragged the Tragooms out of our path as we spoke. It was a heck of a lot easier getting to the rehab section.

  Ebnad motioned for me and Oti to stay back as we neared the main rehab room. He picked a route to the hole the Tragooms had cut. I watched him slip through the door and then I followed, peering through the opening. Oti left the stretcher to dart to the opposite side of the cavity in the wall. He too peered in after Ebnad. We held our blasters at the ready.

  Ebnad silently approached the opening where the Tragoom vessel remained attached and paused. I was reminded of how superior Kalquorian senses were to mine as I watched him inhale and listen.

  Ebnad turned to glance at us. He jerked his chin at the passage to the Tragoom shuttle and nodded, his eyes dark. With the hand that wasn’t holding his blaster, he put up a couple of fingers, closed his fist, and then showed us four fingers.

  Oti whispered, “He thinks there are two to four Tragooms still on board.”

  Ebnad snapped a nod at us and then tilted his head, staring at the opposite end of the area. Then he shook his fist twice and pointed to me and Oti.

  Oti murmured, “I’m going to the other door and hide behind it. Once I’m in position, Ebnad will try to draw the Tragooms out. Shoot to kill once he gives you the signal.”

  “Got it.”

  With Ebnad covering the opening to the enemy shuttle, Oti slipped in. The medic put on a burst of speed, turning into a blur for an instant before reappearing at the door that opened into the rest of Rehab. He went through it.

  Ebnad looked at me, and I nodded. I pointed my blaster at the hole in the hull, keeping as much of my body shielded by the wall as I could.

  Ebnad took a deep breath and chuff-squealed some garbled noises. Holy crap, he sounded like a Tragoom. Even as I blinked in surprised admiration, he dashed for the cover of a large scanning machine to hide.

  Return grunts wafted from the umbilical. Ebnad was a badass, all right. The thud of heavy footsteps sounded, at least three pairs of them by my reckoning.

  The hog-faced bastards trooped in, their ears swiveling, nostrils twitching. My first instinct was to fire at the first ugly creature that disembarked, but I didn’t. Oti had said to wait, and I quickly appreciated the wisdom of that. Luring the Tragooms out in the open simplified finishing them. I held as still as I could, watching for Ebnad to move.

  Four of them shuffled in, peered around, and squinted their tiny eyes at the hole where I stood. Thank the prophets their sight was so damned bad. As little of a target as I’d made myself, any human or Kalquorian would have spotted me within a second. The Tragooms did not.

  As they stalked from their ship, moving toward me, Ebnad jumped out from behind the scanner. He started blasting, so I did too. It was a pretty obvious signal to me. Oti fired from his position as well.

  The Tragooms never had a chance. I think Ebnad hit three of them in his first volley. I’m not sure which of us took out the fourth. Ebnad probably could have taken all of them out by himself. Oti and I just added insult to the ambush.

  Ebnad’s expression was all Nobek as he grinned at us. “All right, let me check the corridor in case they sent a squad that way. Then you two are off.”

  His bloodthirsty leer faded when he saw the mess in the hall. Oti was similarly taken aback. “You got through this?”

  “Fun, huh?” I sighed, thinking I was re-entering a bad dream. “Grab the stretcher, Oti. Let’s find out if Resan pulled the ultimate stunt on me by dying when I went through so much to save his bastard ass.”

  Oti crooked a brow at me as he turned to claim the emergency conveyance. “I heard you hated each other before this.”

  “We still do. Having to spend time in close quarters upped the animosity.”

  Ebnad snorted as he accompanied Oti through the wrecked and now bloodied rehab room on his return to Medical. Since there were no sounds of fighting coming from that quarter, it was a safe bet the section remained secure.

  Oti jogged to me, the hover stretcher keeping up with him. We set off.

  Our journey was painfully slow what with the many piles of debris blocking our path. When we reached the wall of wreckage with the jagged opening through which I’d crawled, Oti blinked. “Neither I nor this stretcher will fit through that.”

  I holstered my blaster and swung the egg launcher from my shoulder. “I have this to clear the hall.”

  Oti’s eyes went big. “Or finish off demolishing the area.”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  “Unfortunately, no. Let me hide behind some of this other debris. Once you fire it, run like hell.”

  “That’s my modus operandi lately.”

  Oti disappeared beyond the heaps of junk. I backed up as far as I could and fired an explosive. The trigger clicked an unimportant sound. There was a soft puff of wind as the egg launched from the chamber. Then I was off and running.

  When the first tremor went off, I dove for cover. I landed facedown in rubble. There was a big boom that made m
y ears pop. When my hearing recovered, I noted particles sprinkling, with the sound of rain in the trees.

  Oti peered at me from the heap of wreckage he’d hid behind. “Are you all right, Shalia?”

  I gave him a thumbs up. “Let’s see if we can get through now.”

  Ha! I wish I’d had the egg shooter earlier. The blockage was cleared, all right. A good portion of it had vaporized, the rest rendered into smaller chunks. We even had a little bit of level floor to walk on. We enjoyed the couple of yards we didn’t have to pick our way through.

  There was another spot in the corridor that I had to repeat the performance. Then we were miraculously at the crumpled door to Resan’s training room.

  I handed Oti the egg launcher. “Let me make sure he’s alive. If he is, I’ll cover him as much as possible before you blast a hole through.”