The Aeolian Master Book One Revival

by John Northern

  *

  As Em, Ben and the others hurried onward, Brale cranked his head sideways and looked down the corridor. “There are two of Hurd’s elite guard in the corridor at the far end. I believe the others have gone on with the Galaef.”

  At random intervals the two guards looked around the corner and fired a red bolt, which burned into the wall of the hallway where Brale and the others were waiting and talking—formulating a plan.

  Finally, Samsung said, “I will run down the hallway zagging back and forth to dodge the phasor bolts. As I run I will stay away from the side walls. You men stay here and fire shots along the sides of the walls. This will make the enemy think before they stick their heads around the corners to fire phasor bolts. Set your phasors on kill.”

  “I will come with you,” said Brale. “To give you support.”

  “Foolish man. If you come, you come at your own risk.”

  It occurred to Brale to follow Samsung’s every move. He had a feeling that Samsung knew how to avoid phasor bolts.

  Without further talk, Samsung, with Brale right behind him started running down the hallway.

  Xilil was on the left side of the hall hiding behind the corner with Phist on the other side. They popped their heads around the corner and started firing red phasor bolts.

  Hurd’s guard, on the right peeked his head around the corner and brought his gun around with his right hand and fired a shot. He ducked back just in time to avoid a shot fired by Phist.

  The guard on the left showed himself and fired a shot at Samsung and Brale, but he wasn’t fast enough, and a shot fired by Xilil tore into his head. He was thrown backward falling to the floor, dead.

  The guard on the right wheeled around and fired another shot at Samsung.

  But Samsung seeing the guard, even before he pulled the trigger zagged to the left. The bolt missed Samsung by two feet, but only missed Brale, by one inch. Crap, thought Brale, that was too close.

  Phist fired two more bolts in an attempt to keep the guard at the far end of the corridor from getting off another shot.

  Coming close to the far end of the corridor Samsung ran to the door on the right, and hit the ‘door open’ button. As the door slid open he bolted into the room with Brale following closely.

  Samsung came to a halt and turned around in time to see Brale bolting through the doorway. “I’m impressed,” said Samsung. “You’re still alive.”

  “That’s because I followed your every move.”

  Brale watched as Samsung, without further comment, aimed his phasor at the front corner of the room, obviously where he believed the guard was hiding on the other side of the wall. He fired.

  The phasor bolt burned a hole two-thirds of the way through the wall. The second one pierced the wall and went on through. It missed the guard’s head and face, but came close enough to burn off his nose.

  The guard dropped his phasor and screamed in pain. Still screaming he ran down the corridor.

  He’s probably looking for a drinking fountain or a bathroom where he can find water to put on his face, and the hole where his nose had previously ordained his face, thought Brale.

  Samsung and Brale emerged from the office. Phist and Xilil ran down the corridor, then with Samsung leading they hurried around the corner to the right and started sprinting. They came to an open doorway on the right. Further down on the left was an elevator.

  Before anyone could run into the room, Brale yelled, “No. It’s a trap Why would they leave the door open to let us know where they have taken the Galaef?”

  Samsung looked around the opening and then pulled quickly back. Three phasor bolts tore past the spot where his head had just been.

  The red light from the phasor bolts caused a momentary red flash throughout the room. Being close to the open doorway, Brale and Samsung could see racks and racks of weapons.

  Brale shook his head. “I know he is not in there. They’re planning to use the Galaef for bargaining, in case Hurd loses the war. But in order to do that, they need a room with communications. There won’t be communications in an arsenal room.”

  Brale with the others following ran past the open doorway and down the hall to the elevator.

  “You see the floor indicator? That’s the floor where they’re hiding the Galaef.”

  Brale followed as Samsung and the others stepped onto the elevator. The got off on the thirty-fourth floor. They searched from room to room until they came to the council meeting room. When the door slid open they could see the Galaef propped up in a seat on the first tier at the far end of the room on the left. There were four guards in the room, and one of them was holding a phasor to the Galaef’s head.

  Samsung didn’t wait to negotiate. He shot the guard on the right at the far end of the room. A guard to the left on the second tier ten feet away popped up from behind the seat and fired a shot. Samsung ducked to the right, ran to the left. He jumped off the arm rest of the nearest seat. He landed on the second tier. The guard fired another shot, but Samsung, proving to be a superb athlete, performed a three hundred and sixty degree turn with his body—which will throw off the attack of any enemy in a close quarter Situation. Samsung’s foot lashed out and kicked the phasor out of the guard’s hand. He quickly moved in closer throwing a punch to the man’s solar plexus. The man went down gasping for breath.

  As another guard raised up from behind his seat to fire a shot at Samsung, Brale and Phist simultaneously let loose with their phasors tearing a hole through his chest.

  The guard holding the phasor to the Galaef’s head ducked behind the Galaef and yelled out. “If you advance any further the Galaef dies.”

  “What do you want?” asked Brale.

  The guard said, “I’ll tell you what I don’t want, I don’t want to go to prison. I want my freedom. I want to change my allegiance to your side. You grant me this, and I will let the Galaef go unharmed.”

  The Galaef was ready to agree. “You have my word on it.” he said.

  But the guard was smarter than that. “You’re a politician,” he said. “You, I don’t trust.”

  Brale put down his phasor and walked until he was but fifteen feet from the man and said, “You see, I have put down my weapon. You could kill me at any time. But I am here to tell you that if you let the Galaef go, you will have your freedom.”

  Much to Brale’s chagrin, the guard said, “I don’t trust you, either.”

  Samsung holstered his gun and walked up beside Brale. “You have my word on it,” he said.

  The guard stood up and dropped his weapon. “I don’t know you, but I know you are from Newnippon, and I know your people are honorable. So, you I trust.”

  Chapter Sixty-Seven