by G J Ogden
Werner appeared not to have suspected anything, and casually handed the sidearm back to the guard. He then pressed his hands behind his back, and glanced at Cutler. “Well, Mr. Wendell, shall we conclude our business?”
Cutler smiled and stepped forward. Hudson saw that he had Tory’s Colt Frontier six-shooter in his hand.
“It is a shame I won’t get to kill Logan Griff at the same time, but that buffoon won’t get far,” Cutler began, patting the barrel of the weapon against his palm. Then he turned to Tory and shook his head, slowly. “No, using this would be too quick and easy,” he said, tossing the weapon to the dirt like a piece of garbage, and drawing a knife from a scabbard on his belt. “Because of your betrayals, your death deserves to be slow and painful,” he continued, his monotone voice full of bile. Then his eyes flicked across to Hudson. “And he is going to watch every second of your suffering.”
Tory stood up, causing the guard behind her to flinch anxiously, then she slowly extended her arms out wide, as if surrendering to her fate. Her boot was now only a couple of inches from the concealed pressure plate.
“You’ve already stabbed me in the back once, like the coward you are,” Tory said, locking eyes with Cutler. “But you didn’t kill me then, and you’re not going to kill me now.”
Cutler aimed the tip of the blade a Tory. “I used to admire your unyielding tenacity,” he snarled, “but now I just find you tiresome. Goodbye, Tory. And this time, it really is the end.”
Tory smiled. “Yes, it is,” she said, and stomped on the pressure plate.
Tory threw herself to the ground, squeezing her eyes shut and covering her ears. Hudson did the same, managing to close his eyes a fraction of a second before the glimmer detonated. Even with his quick reactions, Hudson wasn’t fully shielded from the intense sound and flash of the stun weapon, and it was several seconds before he could get his bearings. He rose and saw Werner, lying on the ground. The Council boss had fallen against a cluster of rocks, and blood was pouring from a fracture to his skull. Cutler and the other guards had also fallen, but the Council goons that had been further from the blast were only lightly stunned, and already several were climbing back to their feet.
Tory wasted no time, stripping the sub-machine gun from the prone body of the guard to her rear, before ferociously kicking him in the head.
Ma also seemed to have suffered less from the effects of the glimmer. She was grappling with one of the other guards, and winning the fight.
Three of the other Council goons who had been further away from the glimmer trap opened fire, but while they were not as badly afflicted as those who were close to the explosion, they were still dazed and their aim was wild.
Hudson stayed low as the bullets whistled overhead, but Tory stood tall, defying the Council guards to shoot her. Incredibly, due to either fate or fortune, the storm of bullets all missed her. Separate volleys hit a guard near Hudson, while another sprayed across the back of the guard that Ma was fighting. The pair fell, and Ma was thrown against the rocks.
Hudson tried to run to Ma’s side, but then Tory raised the sub-machine gun and opened fire at the guards, forcing him down again. Tory’s aim was laser precise, and the remaining guards were all hit and killed instantly, before they had a chance to fully recover their senses.
As the sub-machine gun clicked empty, Cutler suddenly sprang up and pounced at Tory, tackling her to the ground. She fell hard, and the weapon slipped from her hands. In a near frenzy, and with his face contorted in rage, Cutler grabbed a rock and raised it above Tory’s head. Hudson rushed at the mercenary and tackled Cutler a mere fraction of a second before he could crack Tory’s head open like an egg.
Hudson and Cutler fought wildly, tumbling across the rocky terrain, grappling and punching at each other like savages. Then Cutler got the upper hand, managing to throw Hudson aside, before scrambling across the dirt to recover his knife.
“I should have killed you the first second I saw you!” snarled Cutler, aiming the blade at Hudson, and spitting blood onto the soil.
Hudson shook his head to clear it, then looked up to see the knife glinting in the sun. He was still on the ground, but there was something solid pressing against his leg. He shifted position slightly and saw that it was Tory’s six-shooter.
“You have interfered in my affairs for the last time,” Cutler growled, slowly stalking towards Hudson. “I would have preferred that you watched Tory die first, but I will settle for her reaction to me slitting your throat instead.”
Hudson grabbed the six-shooter and aimed it at Cutler. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you again,” he said, pulling the hammer back.
Cutler stopped dead, glancing at the weapon, then back at Hudson, before he laughed. “You won’t shoot me,” he sneered. “It is like Griff always said. You don’t have the guts.”
Cutler advanced again, driving the blade towards Hudson, but then a single crack pierced the air. Hudson watched as Cutler Wendell pressed a hand to his chest, before seeing it soaked with blood. The mercenary held his hand up and peered at it, a look of complete bewilderment overtaking his normally expressionless face, before raising his eyes to Hudson. The look on his face then shifted, but it wasn’t pain, or anger, or even surprise. It was a look of humiliation and embarrassment. Hudson lowered the smoking six-shooter to his side, as Cutler opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The mercenary fell forward, his face driving into the dirt. He twitched twice, and didn’t move again.
Hudson continued to stare down at Cutler’s body for a few seconds, before he noticed that Tory had shuffled across to his side.
“He won’t be the last monster we kill before this is all over,” said Tory, flatly. Then she held Hudson’s shoulders and turned him towards her. “Hey, are you okay?”
Hudson flipped the six-shooter and slotted it back into Tory’s holster. “I wish it hadn’t come to this,” he said, managing a weak smile. “But I won’t be shedding a tear for Cutler Wendell.”
Tory nodded, then walked up to where Werner Nest lay with his head cracked open against the rocks. “And no-one will miss this low-life either,” she said, looking at the dead criminal impassively. She then crouched down and fished the alien crystal fragment out of the Council boss’s pocket.
“I hope this thing is worth all the trouble it’s caused,” said Tory, returning to Hudson and holding out the crystal.
Hudson took the alien relic, and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket. “I think it’s about time we find out,” he replied. “I just hope that Trent was wrong about Morphus, and that they’re on their way here too.”
There was a groan from behind them, and both turned to see Ma getting up, rubbing her head. “What the hell hit me?” she said, groggily. “I feel like I drank an entire bottle of my own whiskey.”
Hudson and Tory helped Ma to stand. Along with her wounded shoulder, she now had a dozen other knocks and a nasty cut to her head. It was likely she also had a concussion, Hudson guessed.
“If you’d drunk an entire bottle of your own whiskey, you’d be as dead as this lot,” Hudson said, holding the veteran hunter’s shoulders to help steady her.
Ma seemed not to hear Hudson’s reply, and was instead blinking at the corpses lying all around them. She let out a low whistle. “Speaking of the dead, it looks like I missed the party.”
Hudson nodded. “Most of it, but as parties go, this one wasn’t much fun.”
“What about that snake, Logan Griff?” asked Ma, wavering a little, so that Tory also had to hold her steady. “I see the other two scumbags, but not him.”
Hudson looked off towards the tree line that he vaguely remembered Griff running towards, before the fight had started. “He’s still out there somewhere,” he said, wistfully. “But Griff will have to wait. We need to get this crystal to Morphus, before it’s too late.”
Ma let out a heavy sigh and rubbed her head again. “Let’s get to it then,” she said, trying to take a step forwards, b
ut her legs immediately gave way.
“Woah, you’ve done more than enough, already, Ma,” replied Hudson, throwing Ma’s arm over his shoulder, and hauling her back upright. “I think you can sit this last part out.”
Ma shrugged off the support of Tory and Hudson. “Don’t talk nonsense, I’m fighting fit!” she protested. Ma again tried to head off towards the cabin, but staggered and nearly fell again, before Tory rushed forward to catch her.
“Just get me a weapon, and… show…” Suddenly Ma’s words started to slur, and she became limp in Tory’s arms.
Hudson helped Tory lowered Ma to the ground, before they rested her gently onto the grass.
“What’s wrong?” said Hudson, meeting Tory’s concerned-looking eyes. “Please tell me she’s not dying?”
Tory slid her hand out from behind Ma’s back. In it was a small device with a round head that ended in a sharp point. “It’s like a sedative,” explained Tory, waving the device at Hudson. “It’s more designed for silent takedowns, but in this case, it’s for obstinate, badly injured ex-relic hunters.”
Hudson laughed, “You do realize that she’s going to be mightily pissed off when she wakes up?”
Tory shrugged, “I know. But I also know what it’s like to be as stubborn as a mule,” she replied. “And you’re right, she’s in no condition to fight on.”
Hudson looked around the site, before glancing up into the sky. There was still no sign of Goliath, but the air felt charged, as if a storm was on its way.
“We can set her down in the cabin, then head back to the Orion,” said Hudson. “I sure as hell don’t want to be around when she wakes up and realizes that we’ve gone without her.”
Tory smiled, then also looked up into the sky. “Considering where we’re going, what we need to do, and what we’re about to face, I’d rather be in Ma’s boots right now.”
Hudson smiled and put his arm around Tory’s waist. “Who are you trying to kid?” he said, coyly. “You wouldn’t miss a chance to take down Goliath for all the bourbon in Kentucky.”
CHAPTER 26
Hudson knew something was wrong from the moment he and Tory set foot back inside the cockpit of the Orion. They could see dozens of ships climbing into the air on the horizon all around their remote location, ignoring the laws and regulations that governed powered flight. The data from the navigation scanner painted an even grimmer picture. Thousands of ships were fleeing the cities all across Canada and the United States. It was like Brahms Three all over again, except the number of ships, and the degree of chaos, was amplified by an order of magnitude or more.
Hudson was in the second seat, since Tory had recovered more swiftly from the effects of the glimmers. She explained it as being due to the number of times she’d been hit with the stun weapons in her adventurous past. Continual exposure gave her a sort of acquired resilience to their effects, like how the body naturally builds up a resistance to common diseases.
While Tory lifted them into orbit, Hudson turned his attention from the navigation scanner to the news feeds. It was a mess of frantic reporting, with the only reliable data streams coming from the planet’s surface. The armada of five hundred CET military vessels in orbit were clogging up the space-based comms stations and satellites, but the interference was still far more severe than he expected.
“I can’t get a clear signal out to anyone through this EM soup,” complained Hudson. “I’ve been trying to raise Commodore Trent, but all of the civilian channels are a mess.”
“Oh shit…” said Tory.
This was not the reply Hudson was expecting, and he looked up from his console to see what had prompted Tory’s perturbing reaction. He had been so engrossed in the news reports, and with trying to raise Commodore Trent, that he’d not looked outside for some time. What he saw left him almost speechless.
“Damn, it looks like the battle is already over,” said Hudson, as Tory weaved through the maze of burning hulks of metal; the remains of dozens of CET warships.
“It’s not over yet,” replied Tory, “there’s still a sizeable CET fleet forming a blockade ahead. But it looks almost comically pointless in the face of what’s coming.”
Hudson peered further out into space and saw the giant shape of Goliath approaching. Straight away, he felt his gut tighten and pulse quicken, as if he’d just been confronted by a rattlesnake or a hungry wolf. He breathed deeply and slowly, before looking ahead of the great ship. Between Goliath and the Orion was a swarm of CET vessels; enough to decimate an entire planet. However, Tory was right – pitted against Goliath, it looked as futile as trying to catch a bullet with a spider’s web.
“There are just under three hundred CET ships still in the taskforce,” Tory continued, checking her navigation scanner. “The ones that were destroyed seem to have been smashed apart, rather than destroyed with any kind of projectile or energy weapon.”
“Seed ships,” said Hudson, recognizing the modus operandi of Goliath’s minions. Concerned they may also be in danger of attack from the arrow-like ships, Hudson quickly checked his navigation scanner, but he couldn’t see any of the vessels nearby. “But it they were attacked by seed drones, where are they all now? Has the CET fleet managed to destroy them?”
Tory scowled and shook her head, “I don’t think so…” she replied, ominously. “I’m reading several clusters of smaller ships ahead of Goliath.” She glanced at Hudson, still appearing confused. “It’s almost as if they’re about to collide with each other. But beyond them, I can’t get any reliable readings. Whatever is interfering with the comms systems is kicking the crap out of the long-range scanners too.”
Hudson also checked the readings, but he didn’t understand them either. “None of it matters unless Morphus gets here soon in that Revocater,” he said, starting to feel panicky. “Where the hell is that damn alien, anyway?”
Suddenly, the communications console flashed up an incoming message alert. Hudson rushed to check it, and saw that it was coming from one of the CET heavy destroyers. The signal was weak, but just enough to cut through the interference.
“This could be Trent,” said Hudson, feeling a brief swell of hope stir inside him. He pulled on his headset, and flipped open the channel. “This is Captain Powell on the Orion. Is that you, Commodore?”
The channel crackled and fizzed like an old a.m. radio, before Trent’s familiar voice came back. “It’s good to hear your voice, Captain. Did you have any luck recovering the alien crystal?”
“Yes, we have it, but so far there’s no sign of our friends,” replied Hudson.
“They’re on the way,” replied Trent. It was like Trent had announced he’d just won the lottery; Hudson couldn’t believe that four simple words could bring so much relief and optimism. Even Tory looked vaguely hopeful, instead of her usual, stoic self. “At least I assume it must be them,” Trent went on, oblivious to the surge of hope he’d just injected into Hudson’s soul, “The ship looks like those that we’ve seen crashed all over the portal worlds, and it’s coming in hot. I have no idea how the thing is moving so fast, but it will be on your scanners imminently.”
“Understood, Commodore, we’ll rendezvous as soon as we see it,” replied Hudson. “Sit tight, and just try to hold them off for as long as you can.”
There was distant, urgent chatter in the background on the channel. “Standby, Captain…” said Trent, hurriedly, before he seemed to carry on a conversation with someone on his ship. Hudson left the channel open, and waited anxiously. “We’re coming under attack; I must go,” Trent eventually said. “We’ll try to buy you some time, but in all honesty, our weapons are having barely any effect.”
Then, like a bullet train racing towards a station and rapidly coming to a stop, the Revocater sped into view and began to turn towards the battle. Hudson punched the air, and Tory instinctively accelerated towards it.
“Just hang in there, Commodore, the cavalry has arrived!” cried Hudson, “we’ll try to bring some heavier firepo
wer into the mix. Powell, out.”
The communications channel to Trent’s flagship had barely closed, before the light lit up again. This time there was no obvious source. Hudson quickly answered it, and waited. For several seconds there was only static, before a familiar voice spoke.
“Hudson Powell entity, this is Morphus, do you have the crystal?” said Morphus, getting straight to the point.
“Nice to see you again too…” quipped Hudson, buoyed enough by the ship’s arrival to let himself feel genuine hope for the first time in days. “You sure as hell know how to make an entrance, Morphus,” Hudson continued, joyfully. “And, yes, we have it.”
“I am transmitting docking instructions,” said Morphus, flatly. The fact the entity did not appear to share Hudson’s positivity and enthusiasm concerned him. “You must hurry, Hudson Powell entity. Steer clear of the infiltrators. We will protect you as best we can, as you approach.” Then the channel went dead, leaving Hudson a little shell shocked.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that thing was scared,” said Tory, inputting the new waypoint that Morphus had transmitted into the computer and immediately adjusting course.
“I wonder what it meant by ‘steer clear of the infiltrators’?” said Hudson, activating the enhanced weapons systems on the Orion.
“I hope we don’t have to find out,’ said Tory, pushing the Orion as hard as she could towards the Revocater. “But whatever they are, I’d certainly feel a lot safer inside that big ship than out here in this tin can.”
Both of their consoles chimed an alert at the same time. Tory scanned the new data, then quickly turned to Hudson. “We’ve got incoming!”
Hudson grabbed the weapons controls, and tightened his harness. “I’m on it, just line them up and I’ll do the rest.”
But Tory shook her head, “I don’t think our augmented weapons will be much help this time.”
