“Good luck with the crash landing,” she said, then pressed the small button that she had gripped in her left hand. The booster pak burned, and she propelled forward, flying up and out of the ship as it barreled forward in the opposite direction. She was only seconds into her flight when she heard metal scream and fire erupt from an explosion. Kira righted her trajectory and looked to the ground. There, not far from where she was hovering, she saw a blazing plume rising from the ground, the orange and black and gray intermingling in a deadly cloud before the entire thing dissipated just as quickly as it had ignited.
Somehow, they’d escaped, and for a moment—hardly longer than a blink of an eye—Kira felt like she could relax.
But then, from the ash and the smoke that wafted from the ground, Kira spotted something unbelievable: a figure getting bigger and bigger as it headed in her direction.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” an exasperated Kira said.
Ortzo, a booster pak strapped to his back, was racing toward her. And he wasn’t slowing down.
Kira, stunned, didn’t respond quickly enough. By the time she ignited more power into her booster pak, Ortzo was on her. He crashed into her and sent them both barreling through the sky.
Booster paks, though, were designed strictly for short bursts of flight, which meant they didn’t last long. As luck would have it, both Kira’s and Ortzo’s paks began to run out of juice at the same time. Their barreling through the sky, entangled in one another, soon turned into them falling from the sky.
It was, to a degree, a controlled fall. The booster paks were programmed to reserve enough fuel to allow the wearer to land or at least get closer to landing. Kira and Ortzo were descending, but it was a slow enough fall for them to exchange blows as they neared the ground below.
Ortzo struck first, disengaging enough from Kira to deliver an elbow against the side of her head. She reared back, but she kept a tight hold on his armor with her left hand; she used her grip to pull herself forward, and she returned leading with her fist. She popped Ortzo directly in his face, and he groaned in pain. Kobe had done a number on him, and Kira was more than happy to pour salt in his wounds.
Kira punched him again, but when she tried her luck a third time, Ortzo was ready. He swallowed her fist in his much larger hand and squeezed it hard.
“You are no match!” Ortzo yelled as he head-butted Kira.
The blow sent her head spinning, and in her daze, she realized something important: The surface was coming on fast. She noticed its rapidly increasing proximity just as she saw Ortzo reach to his side, going for his shido. Kira couldn’t have that, and she couldn’t be tied up with this Fatebreaker if she wanted to give herself the best chance of landing safely. Hitting the ground uncontrollably and against the pillow of Ortzo’s impenetrable armor wouldn’t be the best way to end this flight. In fact, it would probably kill her.
As Ortzo pulled up his arm, shido in hand, Kira swung her fist in a powerful arc, down on his elbow. The blow swatted his hand back, and it gave Kira enough time to unholster her sidewinder and shove its barrel against Ortzo’s armor.
“So long, Fatebreaker,” she said and fired three shots point-blank into Ortzo’s chest.
The force of the blast propelled Ortzo away from Kira; he flipped head over heels and continued to drop down to the ground, only now he had no control over his descent. Still, Kira angled her booster pak and pursued his trajectory; she wouldn’t be satisfied until she was absolutely certain the bastard Fatebreaker was dead.
Her own descent to Olanus wasn’t what she’d call graceful; the booster pak was nearly out of fuel, and when she hit the rolling green pasture, she landed hard. Her body somersaulted and spun through the tall grass, but she never lost sight of Ortzo. Not for one second.
Kira sprang to her feet, sidewinder in hand. She was knee-deep in a lush, idyllic field of tall, green grass that blossomed violet poppies at its tips. In the distance, waterfalls cascaded over a ridge, reflecting the star that was setting just over the horizon. Though Kira had never been on Olanus, she’d heard of its boundless beauty. Unfortunately, that beauty was limited to the dry season, and that only lasted about six weeks out of the year. The rest of the year, Olanus was swallowed by torrential rains and rapidly descending temperatures that led to dangerous and deadly ice storms. Kira was very, very happy to have arrived on the moon during its dry season.
With cautious steps, Kira crept toward where she’d seen Ortzo crash. A swath of grass had been crushed in his wake, and Kira was able to follow the path that it made to her prey. She anticipated Ortzo attacking her; she expected him to pounce at any moment. But he didn’t, and soon enough, Kira had visual on him, his body twisted in unnatural angles as he lay motionless on the ground.
As she drew closer, Kira spotted the subtle rising and falling of his chest; he was breathing. She’d figured he’d find a way to survive. Keeping a comfortable distance, she drew a circle around Ortzo, studying every inch of him to ensure he didn’t have any surprises waiting for her. He seemed unarmed, though. He seemed defenseless. In fact, when Kira stood above Ortzo’s head, she saw his shido lying in the grass just a few feet away, but out of reach. The Fatebreaker didn’t even have his precious weapon on him.
“Very careful,” Ortzo murmured, struggling to push out his words through the pain. “You’re smart.”
Kira stepped next to Ortzo and pushed him over with the ball of her foot. His body rolled over without any resistance. Kira didn’t know the extent of the Fatebreaker’s injuries, but she figured it was safe to say they were extensive. Yet still, he somehow held on.
For now.
Kira gripped her sidewinder, keeping it close to her side.
“And what do you plan on doing with that?” he snarled.
“The galaxy a favor,” she replied.
Kira fired. Three shots, and none of them missed.
“That’s for Cade’s parents, you rotten son of a—”
From behind, Kira heard footsteps. She swung around, sidewinder ready, and scared the crap out of Kay.
“Whoa!” he yelped. “It’s just us. Just us.”
And by “us,” he meant himself, a limping Kobe, and Mig, walking side by side with 4-Qel. She wanted to run and hug him, but she wasn’t certain how a killer drone would respond to that.
“Did you just kill a Fatebreaker?” 4-Qel asked, the question assuring Kira that whatever had happened to him hadn’t resulted in any permanent damage. “The one who murdered Cade’s parents?”
Kira looked down at Ortzo—or what was left of him. He was most definitely dead.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I did.”
“Impressive,” 4-Qel said, nodding his approval. “Cade’s going to be so delighted.”
At the mention of Cade, Kira felt a weight like an increase in gravity pulling her down, compressing her. She wondered where he was. She wondered if he’d found what he was looking for. But most of all, she wondered if he was okay.
Her worry, her longing, was cut short by Kay, who was all business.
“So, what’s next?” he asked.
“I’m glad you asked,” Mig interjected. “I’ve made some calculations and … well, I’m actually not glad you asked. Because according to my calculations, our forecast isn’t good.”
“But it’s not bad, right?” Kay asked, trying to sound hopeful.
“Uh, well…” Mig winced.
“Just spit it out,” Kira said.
“Right,” Mig agreed, then he began to pace, his mind working faster than his words could convey. “Okay, so, here’s the thing: Ebik needs Olanus to be at the farthest point from Praxis in order to detonate the explosives that will destroy the planet. Right? Right. So, based on a number of factors—and I won’t go into detail because I know how much you guys hate learning new things—I calculated when that window, when Olanus is farthest, is going to happen. And it’s soon.”
“How soon?” Kira asked, though she knew she wasn’t going to like
the answer.
Mig swallowed hard, and his voice went high. “About two hours. Give or take a few … seconds.”
Nobody said a word. Kira could feel the sense of hopelessness, that they’d lost before they’d begun. She felt it herself, just as she felt the weight of all the lives on Praxis, all those people going about their day not knowing that their very existence was in the hands of a gang of misfits.
But just because things looked grim didn’t mean that giving up was an option. Giving up was never an option.
“We can still do this,” Kira said, taking command of her squad and its fading morale. “The Crucible is right above that ridge; we can get there in no time at all. And once we get there—” Kira paused. She took a deep breath and looked directly in the eyes of each member of her squad. “We all knew what coming to Olanus would mean for us. Ninety minutes … we don’t need to factor in an escape. We just need to get to Ebik. We need to get to his detonator and destroy them both. We’ve been in tight jams before, and we’ve—”
“Um, Kira?” Kobe interrupted. His head was tilted up, his eyes fixed on the sky. “Is that some kind of missile?”
Kira turned and, following Kobe’s line of vision, saw what he was referring to: a small streak of gray cutting through the dusk sky, heading right for them.
“I guess they know we’re here,” Kira huffed. She turned back to her squad, who looked as despondent as ever. They were beyond the point of being inspired, of being galvanized by words that motivated them to fight for what was right. Right now, all any of them had was simple cause and effect.
“Look, there’s no running. There’s nowhere for us to go. Our only option is to do whatever we can to find a way into the Crucible and save the lives of millions. It’s up to us and no one else. Got it?”
Kira saw blank faces surrounding her.
“GOT IT?” she yelled, and she received uniform nods in response.
“Good, then let’s move,” Kira said, and she handed 4-Qel her sidewinder as they all started to trot ahead. “Four-Qel, take this and use that sharp vision of yours. Whatever that thing is that’s coming at us, kill it.”
4-Qel took the blaster, his attention still focused on what was streaking toward them.
“Kira, I’m not sure that’s a missile. I think … I think…,” he said, and though his inflection abilities were limited, it was clear that he was marveling at whatever the strange object was. He didn’t seem afraid of it.
“I think that’s a person.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The pain had been excruciating.
During the journey to wherever they were heading, Cade’s mind shifted between agonizing lucidity and unconsciousness filled with nightmarish visions. In his waking moments, he was visited by Ga Halle treating his wounds in the most indelicate way possible. Cade knew she wanted him alive, and he assumed she wanted him well enough to at least be able to stand on his own two feet. Her means for restoring him enough to rise for his own execution weren’t a concern; she sutured him, shot him full of meds, and did whatever else was essential to ensure he wouldn’t be taken for an invalid when the time for her to display her dominance came. She wasn’t gentle or merciful; to her, she was treating a corpse.
And when he wasn’t being made worse to eventually be made better, he dreamed. Or more appropriately, he experienced an approximation of dreaming. Visions haunted his mind—visions of Ga Halle, in all her wicked glory, using the Rokura to vanquish enemy armies in their entirety; with one mighty blast, scores of people were reduced to ash, and then that ash vanished into the galaxy’s abyss. She used it to decimate entire worlds; Cade saw her plunge the weapon into the surface of a planet, and every bit of it withered and died. Ga Halle, sheathed in the weapon’s protective shell, laughed and laughed as mayhem ruled. And finally, Cade was forced to witness the Praxian queen turning the weapon on Kira, Mig, 4-Qel, and Kobe. They writhed in agony, and as the weapon tore them apart, they screamed for Cade to save them. But there was nothing he could do.
That’s why, when Cade returned to the waking world and saw his father sitting across from him, he assumed it was just another delusion. And it was, in a manner of speaking. But it was different, and even in his weakened state, Cade recognized that. He just didn’t know if it was different with a purpose or just another vision there to torture him before death.
“Hello, Cade,” Benji said. “You’re not looking well, my son.”
Cade was lying prone on a footlocker in the cargo hold, peering at his father through glassy eyes. It took a moment, but Cade brought himself to sit up even though he hardly had the energy to do so. His wrists were shackled in ionic cuffs, which was to be expected, and as he dragged his body off the locker’s cold, hard surface, Cade realized that his vision was a fraction slower than his movements; as he sat up, the image of his father still rested at a 90-degree angle. It took a second for it to turn and click into place.
“Hey, Dad,” Cade finally said, his lips cracking from dehydration as he spoke. “How’ve you been?”
His father smiled. “Dead.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Cade agreed. “That’s right. Bummer.”
Cade dropped his head back against the Rubicon’s wall, and his brain sloshed around in his skull. Then he wheezed a raspy breath and wondered when Ga Halle would finish him off. As if the universe itself were in a generous mood—though Cade would have appreciated that generosity a lot more a few hours earlier—the ship slipped into a downward trajectory. Ga Halle was taking them in for a landing, and that meant Cade was soon to outlive his purpose. And that sated his curiosity. Ga Halle would be executing him soon enough.
While Cade couldn’t say that he accepted his death, he also knew he couldn’t fight it. He had no intention of exiting this world kicking and screaming, either. After all, what was there to thrash against? He only had himself to blame. Cade should have never been so stupid and arrogant to believe he could wield the Rokura. Even if what Wu-Xia had said were true, even if the myth of the Paragon was one big scam, that still didn’t mean someone like him—an adrift nobody who couldn’t win wars like Wu-Xia, couldn’t battle like Percival, and couldn’t lead like Tristan—should be the one to take the mantle. He was wrong on so many counts he was convinced he was getting exactly what he deserved.
Just be, Cade recalled with grim disdain. It made little sense to him then. It made even less now.
Cade dropped his head and tried to shove those thoughts out of his mind. None of that mattered at this point anyway. He opened his eyes, and sitting across from him, still, was his father. And Benji had the expression on his face that would be etched in Cade’s mind, forever and always: It was a look that conveyed his father’s compassion, kindness, and patience. It’d been too long, Cade rued, since he’d seen any of those things. Which made sense that he’d be seeing them now; it was the best solace his bleary mind could conjure as he cruised to his death.
“You’re a persistent hallucination, I’ll give you that,” Cade said. “So, you here to comfort me in my final hours?”
“You’ve come a long way, Cade,” Benji said. “Though I wouldn’t have guessed anything less from you.”
“That I’d foul up the entire galaxy because of my poor judgment? Yeah, I guess we all should have seen that coming.”
Benji smiled and chuckled softly. “Of course not. You’ve been a loyal, good friend, you’ve inspired people all around you—”
“Through a lie,” Cade interrupted. “That’s an important detail, Dad.”
“And,” Benji continued, without missing a beat, “you’ve shown the potential to be more than you think you’re capable of being.”
Cade gave a long, exaggerated groan. “I’m not doing it. I’m sorry, Dad, but I can’t listen to another person tell me all the things I need to be and how I have to do it. Besides, you’re just a hallucination anyway. You’re my subconscious trying to make me feel better—though, by the way, you’re doing a terrible job.”
Benji no
dded slowly as he listened. “Let me ask you one thing. What is the first line of the Galactic Treaty?”
“Uh … well, it … um—”
“‘So be it in peace or in times of conflict, this agreement will stand,’” Benji said. “Now, if I’m just a figment of your mind, how could I know something that you don’t?”
“I don’t know,” Cade huffed. “I have that stored in my brain somewhere, I just couldn’t think of it. Anyway, so what? I mean, if you’re not a hallucination, then what are you? How are you here?”
“Maybe I am just in your mind,” Benji admitted. “Or maybe I’m something you unlocked in the Chamber of Memories. Does it matter?”
Cade shrugged, though his motion was limited by the bonds around his wrists. “At this point, not really.”
Silence fell over the Rubicon’s cargo hold. Cade felt shame in having to face his father after his many failures; nevertheless, the simple occasion of seeing him again brought him joy that was so robust he was close to bursting into tears.
He sighed. He had so many things to say, so many questions to ask. About Tristan, about his mother, about what happened after … well, after you die. But one question pushed its way through the others, loud and persistent; it was an itch in his mind, one that Cade knew he had to scratch. He needed to know the truth.
“If you’re really my dad and not just, you know … my imagination, then I have a question for you.”
“Anything,” Benji said.
“Were you and Mom part of the rebellion against Praxis? Is that why they attacked that ship when you died?”
Benji sucked in a deep breath, but he didn’t take his gaze from Cade, not for one moment. There was solemnity between them; Cade felt it, and he was certain his father felt it as well.
“Your mother and I were dedicated to doing what was best to help people throughout the galaxy. In whatever form that took,” Benji said. “In our lives, we believed that it was the responsibility of anyone who recognized evil to fight it. We are the ones who must expel evil from the galaxy. And now, my son, that burden falls to you.”
We Are Mayhem--A Black Star Renegades Novel Page 27
