by C H Gideon
They were preparing their weapon once again, but they’d be too late.
The Pillar Gated away, the portal closing at its back.
“Now, Gate again here to confuse any attempt at following us,” Jora’nal ordered.
His crew did as commanded, and the Pillar appeared at the fringes of the Krokus system once more, far enough out as to foil any attempts at tracking or scanning them.
Jora’nal slumped into his seat and let out a quiet sigh that none of his crew heard.
Despite his faith in Phraim-’Eh, the situation had been tenuous.
Another blow by that mighty weapon would have annihilated the Pillar and all aboard no matter what Phraim-’Eh’s will might be.
Perhaps that was why the god had shown them they could survive a single blast—to ensure that Jora’nal did not underestimate the Federation scum. So that he could see their true potential and be ready.
And he would be.
The SD Reynolds would fall at his hands, he promised.
“Begin repairs and send a message to our benefactor,” Jora’nal said. “If we’re to do battle with that weapon we will need one of our own, and the means to withstand it for longer than a single moment.”
“Yes, Master,” XO H’ron called, issuing orders to the crew.
“Navigator V’ren,” Jora’nal called, turning to face the crewmember. “Find us a dark hole to crawl into so we might lick our wounds and give thanks to the glory of our god.”
The navigator barked an affirmative.
“We need to be renewed in both flesh and spirit before we go after the SD Reynolds again,” Jora’nal went on. “And we will,” he assured. “We will tear them from the stars at the behest of our god Phraim-’Eh.”
Jora’nal stormed off the bridge, head held high.
Although he and his crew had been forced to flee the Federation’s next attack, he had learned much in the confrontation.
The next battle would not be so decisive, nor would it go the way of the Federation.
This I swear, my lord!
Chapter Fourteen
The would-be assassins emerged from the crew’s guest chambers, fury in their eyes.
Maddox had been correct. This wasn’t a coup attempt. They had been there to kill Reynolds and the others.
The general’s cheeks warmed at the threat and he made ready to attack, but the forces of President Jaer Pon arrived first.
Weapons fire erupted, filling the hallway, and Maddox ducked behind cover to keep from getting caught up in it. Best to let the presidential guard handle it, he imagined.
The armored acolytes, however, had other ideas.
They had come prepared for a real fight. They returned fire on the few guards, immediately putting them on the defensive.
The guards fell back, firing sporadically down the hall in a weak attempt to contain the acolytes.
It wasn’t going to work, Maddox realized.
He heard the scuffle of feet close behind him.
“Trogol shit,” he muttered under his breath and darted into the shadows, ducking to keep from being detected.
As soon as he settled, more guards stormed down the corridor from the direction Maddox had come. They charged around the corner and loosed a barrage of fire on the acolytes.
Maddox had to give it to the guards. Though they were clearly outclassed, they’d engaged and distracted the would-be assassins so more guards could flank them.
Whether it would be enough was yet to be seen.
It didn’t take long for things to shake out.
The guards put up a fierce front, but they were simply unprepared for the ferocity of the acolytes, their training, and the weight of their numbers.
The crossfire between the two presidential guard squads whittled away at the acolytes, killing over half of them before they could retreat and take better cover, but the victory was short-lived.
The acolytes shifted from shooting the guards to shooting the ceiling above them.
Burst after burst of energy crashed into the ceiling, kicking up dust and debris, forcing the guards back.
Then the ceiling collapsed, dumping tons of stone and timber onto the heads of the guards hunkered down behind the wall.
There was a great rumble like an earthquake and screams followed, both going silent a moment later as the hall filled with wreckage and the guards died.
Maddox cursed under his breath as he watched the tide of battle shift.
He ducked farther into his shadowy hole and raised his weapon.
He couldn’t be seen where he was because of his cloaking device, but he knew damn well the acolytes would be marching his way in mere moments now that the threat behind them had been silenced. Better to be safe, he felt.
The nearby presidential guards either didn’t realize their time had come or were more loyal than smart. They held their ground as the acolytes turned their full focus on them and raced down the hallway, firing steadily as they moved.
To Maddox’s surprise, the results ended more evenly than he’d expected.
When the last of the guards fell, only two of the acolytes were alive to claim victory.
A Pyrrhic victory, as the Reynolds AI had taught through his endless parade of military tactical and strategic training videos. Winning at the cost of all your people wasn’t a win at all.
Both the acolytes were injured, although the wounds appeared minor.
They stumbled and cursed, kicking their way past the pile of dead guards and Maddox’s location.
His first instinct was to take them out. It was combat, after all, and the victors were about to leave the field of battle.
It would be easy enough.
Neither of the acolytes had spotted him as they stumbled along, weary and distracted. They were just grateful to be alive.
Maddox could simply step out and kill both before they realized what had happened.
But what good would that do?
These acolytes had stormed the compound simply to attack and kill the crew, that much was clear.
Why?
Not knowing the answer to that made Maddox’s stomach churn. He had to know!
Being a soldier, he’d been targeted for death more times than he could rightly remember. And although he could understand why an enemy would want him dead, the fact that these nameless, faceless assassins had come after the crew without any provocation pissed him off.
They had to have a reason.
This hadn’t been some wrong place, wrong time scenario. No, the acolytes had come here purposely to attack and kill the crew.
Maddox wanted to know where they would go and what they would do now that their mission had failed.
He knew there was a chance they might return to the building where he’d seen them stage before the attack. If so, it would give him no new intel, but he needed to learn all he could. Reward outweighed the risk.
So, instead of killing them, he followed the pair as they limped out of the compound and back into the dark city streets.
They left the same way they’d entered, but it wasn’t long before Maddox realized he’d made the right choice.
The pair veered off, heading a different direction than the one they’d come from. He followed them, still cloaked but careful nevertheless.
He couldn’t afford for them to realize he was there. While he wasn’t threatened by the two wounded acolytes, Maddox understood the chaos of combat.
As long as he remained invisible and undetected, he controlled the confrontation. He could step in and take out one of the acolytes before the other realized it had happened. Then he could capture the second of the pair easily enough and hope he could get what he wanted from him, but his military mind embraced the saying that hope was a lousy plan.
He had to avoid confrontation where there would always be uncertainty. They could get off a lucky shot, or he could be forced to kill them both. They could suicide if threatened with overwhelming force.
He didn’t want that
, so he followed at a discreet distance, watching where each foot fell so he could step in their tracks. He stayed away in case the stalwart suit’s cloaking failed. It was already well past when he had expected to be revealed.
The general’s decision and patience were rewarded a short time later when the two acolytes stumbled into a dark alley and slumped against the wall. While one caught his breath, the other dug in the trash at their feet.
He lifted a small device from the garbage and dusted it off. Maddox recognized it as a comm device.
“We have failed,” the acolyte announced after triggering the device.
Only static answered him.
He waited a moment, casting furtive glances around him, before engaging the device once again.
“I repeat, we have failed,” he said. “The off-worlders were gone when we arrived. We’ve lost all but two of our number. Please advise.”
Maddox hunkered down and waited as the two acolytes fidgeted in anticipation of an answer.
Just when the general believed it wouldn’t be coming, a crackly voice resounded across the comm.
“Phraim-’Eh is disappointed in your failure,” the voice announced with a sharpened edge. “The master is as well.”
Phraim-’Eh? The master?
Maddox’s thoughts whirled. He had no idea who either of those people might be or why they’d want the crew dead so badly.
He had to think these people were from Loran, given that the ship stalking them through space was. That couldn’t be a coincidence, but how had they managed to reach out to the Krokans to pull off this attack?
And why?
There were far too many questions for Maddox to begin to answer on his own. Nothing made sense.
“Return to the manor,” the voice went on, casting a chill in the air with its finality. “You must atone for your failure.”
The acolyte holding the comm slumped against the wall beside his companion, the two sharing disappointed looks, shoulders hunched.
Maddox was surprised to see the acolyte lift the device to his mouth. “We are on our way,” he announced, silencing the device and tossing it back into the trash.
The general couldn’t imagine the consequence of failure as being anything less than death, yet these two marched away, clearly willing to accept their fate.
He was both impressed and annoyed by what that meant.
He’d expected to question to the two acolytes and pry what they knew out of them before they returned to their people. That the pair would willingly march back to their masters to face death meant they would not be easily broken, even by a person of Maddox’s talents and experience.
These people were true disciples of a faith they wholeheartedly believed in.
Maddox had to act. The alley was dark and the pair hung their heads, unaware and vulnerable.
The general ran at them, body-blocking one into the wall. He punched the other in the gut, folding the shocked male in half. The first acolyte crumpled to the ground as Maddox turned off the cloak, grabbed the one standing, and pulled him upright until the two were face to face.
“Explain Phraim-’Eh,” the general demanded, his knife hanging casually in his hand as the enforcer of his words. The acolyte lunged forward, and the general’s training and reflexes took over. Maddox crouched and aimed the knife at his exposed midsection. The acolyte threw himself onto the blade and twisted. The knife pulled free when he fell to the ground.
“Zealots.” The general growled his dismay before checking the surroundings to make sure he hadn’t been seen. He stuffed the body behind the trash receptacle and lifted the other over his shoulder. “At least your master will think your courage failed you and you ran.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Grenade!” Jiya shouted as she hurled the device and ducked.
“Wait!” Ka’nak called, one eye closed in contemplation. “I thought we didn’t have any—”
Jiya grabbed his arm and hauled him behind cover.
Geroux and Reynolds did the same, the young tech covering her head as she curled up, near fetal.
Given what Jiya had done she thought that a bit excessive, but she couldn’t blame her friend.
The Orau pushed their native shield forward and dove for cover as the metal device hurtled their direction. The captives stumbled and fell to the ground, entangled in their ropes.
“What about the—” Ka’nak started to ask but Jiya ignored him, jumping back to her feet and racing toward the scattering Orau.
“That wasn’t really a grenade, was it?” Ka’nak asked.
Reynolds grinned and chased after Jiya, encouraging the others to follow. “Nope. It was a magazine.”
Before the Orau had hit the ground and settled, Jiya was on them, gunning them down from point-blank range. She had no mercy for them, just as they’d shown no mercy for the poor innocent people they’d been using as flesh-shields.
The Orau, still expecting an explosion, were caught off guard by her ferocity.
She ran through, offing one after another as they lay prone, covering their heads, realizing far too late that the explosion had never occurred.
Reynolds and the crew joined her, shooting down the rest of the Orau as they scrambled to try to bring their weapons to bear.
It was too little, too late.
A moment later all the Orau were dead. Jiya went to help the captive Krokans, her hands raised to assure them she meant no harm.
She holstered her pistol, pulled a knife, and immediately started cutting the captives free. Wide eyes watched her as she did, unsure how to react.
Geroux joined her as Ka’nak and Reynolds stood guard.
“Still have eyes on the assholes?” Reynolds asked San Roche over the comm.
“Yes, sir,” he answered right away, the shuttle hovering over the street and keeping the mass of Orau in hiding. “They’re moving slowly and carefully. I have them in sight.”
“Scan the streets for heat sources,” Reynolds ordered. “They might have set or triggered traps along their route if they’re going so slowly.”
“Think they’re luring us in?” Ka’nak asked.
“Entirely possible, but who knows?” Reynolds answered with a shrug. “We don’t know enough about these people to know what they want. We can’t assume they were prepared for us to be down here.”
“We also can’t presume they weren’t,” Jiya called after freeing the hostages.
“Exactly,” Reynolds fired back. “Too many questions to know anything now.”
“Do you know who any of the visitors were?” Geroux asked one of the captives.
The female shook her head, too afraid to say anything. Another stepped up in her stead.
“We’ve been hiding since the shuttle arrived,” he said, gesturing toward the Loranian ship. “We know nothing of the Orau’s visitors or their purpose here. We are but slaves.”
“Not anymore,” Jiya told them. “You and your people are free. Go tell the others,” she said, nudging the former captives toward cover.
The Krokans hesitated, then ran without a glance back.
“You’re promising them an awful lot. Are you certain they can provide for themselves?” Reynolds told her.
“I’m only offering them hope,” she replied. “But if I have to burn down this planet and escort all these people back to Krokus 4 to ensure their safety, then that’s what I’ll do.”
Reynolds raised his hands in surrender, grinning. “Fair enough, but they’re sleeping in your quarters until we get there.”
“These people shouldn’t have to live like this,” Jiya went on. “It’s bad enough that the Orau have taken over their world, turning it into a trash fire while taking them hostage. But it’s worse that Jaer Pon sent us to the planet without telling us they were here or that they had been enslaved.
“If I have to carry all of them home on my back and quarter them in the presidential suite, that’s what’s going to happen.”
“Let’s worry about
the logistics of that once we find those shuttle-jumpers,” Reynolds told her, gesturing over his shoulder.
“No traps or devices detected,” San Roche reported then. “The group of Orau and the Loranian shuttle crew have settled into a building at the edge of the outpost. Unfortunately, there are a good number of Orau soldiers between them and you, and they’re all under cover where I can’t hit them without hurting innocents.”
“Looks like we have to do this the old-fashioned way then,” Reynolds muttered.
“And what’s that?” Geroux asked.
“Run and gun,” Ka’nak answered for Reynolds, smiling.
“That sounds…crappy,” Geroux admitted.
“Not much choice unless you want to risk the shuttle landing and us flying it to our target.
“Not going to happen,” Reynolds replied. “The second it sets down, it’s vulnerable and every Orau in the area will target it. We won’t even get a chance to say goodbye to San Roche before he goes up in a magnificent fireball.”
“Then I guess that’s out,” Geroux replied, sighing.
“As long as he’s up there, San Roche can cover us and negate the numbers advantage the Orau have on us,” Reynolds explained. “Doesn’t mean we’re entirely safe, but it provides us the opportunity to go building to building and clear the enemy until we reach the one we need.”
“During which time they are preparing to meet us,” Geroux said, one eyebrow raised in concern.
“All the more reason for us to do this quickly,” Ka’nak stated.
He started off without another word, darting out around the corner and racing toward the next building in line.
“Follow him,” Reynolds ordered Jiya. “We’ll circle around the other side.”
Jiya nodded, gave her friend an enthusiastic smile, and shot off after the Melowi warrior.
Although she didn’t want to leave Geroux behind, she knew the tech was as safe with Reynolds as anyone. In fact, she was probably safer since they were taking the less occupied route around the building.
Jiya didn’t have time to worry about her friend for long, though.
