by C H Gideon
Jora’nal was no coward, but Phraim-’Eh was so much more than he could comprehend. He called himself a god, and Jora’nal believed it.
The things Phraim-’Eh could do frightened him.
He’d once seen his master stroll onto the field of battle and take out a hundred enemies with a single swing of his arm. Death had radiated around him that day, the stench of charred corpses rising in the air as black smoke clawed at his lungs.
Jora’nal would never forget that smell as long as he lived.
And he feared that might not be much longer if he dissatisfied his lord again.
There’d been far too many mistakes already, and the Federation scum finding him so soon was just one more added to the list.
He couldn’t see his master forgiving him this failure.
“What would you have me do, Master?” Jora’nal asked, knowing he was likely opening the door to his own doom.
Nothing Phraim-’Eh expected would come easy…or painlessly.
His lord was silent for a moment.
Jora’nal swallowed hard, his hand trembling on the small computer, and he worried he might drop it before his lord spoke again.
He wants me afraid, Jora’nal realized to his dismay.
It was working.
It felt as if a hellish eternity had passed before Phraim-’Eh deigned to speak.
His words might well have been an epitaph.
“You will stand your ground, disciple,” Phraim-’Eh ordered. “It is in the best interests of your damned soul to adapt and overcome this trial in my name.”
The reality of what his master was telling him sank in hard. Jora’nal’s blood went cold in his veins, threatening to bring his heart to a stop.
“You will use whatever means necessary to end the threat of this Federation pawn or, at the very least, you will hold him and his people off until I arrive,” his master went on.
Jora’nal stiffened at hearing that.
His god was coming!
“You’re coming…here, Master?” Jora’nal’s lips quivered as he asked the question. His mind whirled.
“It is clear you are incapable of doing what must be done,” Phraim-’Eh explained. “As such, it is up to me if I wish to see success in this matter, and I most certainly intend to succeed. The Federation minion will die, and I will brook no more failures. The Voice will precede me to assess the situation on the ground. Pray that he brings me good news, Jora’nal.”
The line disconnected, and Jora’nal was left with his master’s threats ringing in his ears.
He would be there soon.
Jora’nal’s time was coming to a close.
He stood in place, his thoughts reeling, desperately looking for a way out of his dilemma, but there was little hope he would prevail.
The explosions that had warned of Reynolds’ arrival were slowing now, and Jora’nal knew it was only a matter of time before the real attack began. The enemy would spill inside and force Jora’nal on his heels.
That left him little choice.
Jora’nal grunted and cleared his throat, swallowing the fear that had settled over him.
He might not be able to defeat the Federation scum and end their threat, but there was something he could do.
He laughed as he imagined it.
Unlike the disciples on Muultar, Jora’nal would not surrender, would not give in and be known as a traitor, giving up his master. No, he would be remembered, if only as a martyr to the cause.
If he couldn’t send the android to Hell, he would bring Hell to the android.
Chapter Six
“What’s taking her so long?” Reynolds growled, asking no one in particular.
He and the others returned to Geroux’s side, everyone staring at the now-smoking building, except for the young tech.
Her gaze was locked on her computer.
The cultists had initially defended the building, but they’d pulled back shortly after. Reynold wasn’t entirely sure if it was because they couldn’t see an enemy to engage or if Jora’nal was trying to lure them inside, but Reynolds was already tired of waiting.
He had Jora’nal in his grasp, and he wanted to end the puke’s life.
“There!” Geroux called a long moment later. “One of the drones has reached the barrier generator. It’s flashing its way past the device’s security, and I’m getting flutters of scans as the defensive screen fluctuates.”
“How much longer until it’s down?” Reynolds questioned.
Geroux raised her hand, fingers extended to the sky. She lowered one finger, then another, performing a measured countdown, then she grinned, dropping her hand altogether.
“The barrier is gone,” she reported, tapping at her screen to get an updated and complete scan of the building in front of them.
“What are you seeing?” Maddox asked. “Any sign of Jiya?”
“Reports are coming in now and… Oh, hell,” Geroux muttered. “Look at this.”
Geroux sent the information to the crew.
Dozens upon dozens of red dots, which indicated the dug-in cultists, appeared throughout the building. The place was swarming with them.
The green dot that represented Jiya was stationed in front of a swarm of twenty enemies.
Reynolds reached out to her over the comm.
“You know there’s a score of cultists not more than two meters in front of you, right?” the AI asked.
Jiya chuckled. “I do indeed,” she replied casually, her voice quiet. “They’re in the room next to me, and don’t know I’m here. Yet,” she added with a low chuckle. “I’ve been waiting for you to make contact before I did anything stupid.”
“Define stupid,” Reynolds told her.
“I’m about to make a mess, so get ready to come in,” she answered.
Reynolds glanced at the crew. Maddox shrugged, one eyebrow raised.
Ka’nak laughed. “Something’s about to go boom!”
Jiya eased two grenades out and inched closer to the door. The cultists remained in place, hunkered down and waiting for the crew to burst in.
The way the building was arranged forced the crew to come into a section of rooms that ran the entire length of the building, which would leave them exposed. The cultists could simply pop out and rain down fire since there would be no one there except for the enemy.
Once the fight started, they could then move out and engage the crew without being so bunched up.
It was an effective tactic.
At least it would have been if Jiya weren’t already inside the building.
She triggered the grenades and held them for a moment, then kicked the door open and flung them inside.
Gunfire erupted as soon as she stepped back out, but she’d kicked the door so hard that it hit the wall and bounced back, slamming shut an instant later.
Jiya darted across the room as the grenades went off.
Two loud explosions sounded so close together as to be one, and the door to the room she’d left behind blew open, flames and shrapnel pouring through it as though it were the mouth to hell.
Jiya freed two more grenades as debris clattered behind her.
The far door where she’d seen more of the cultists hide popped open, and a couple of surprised faces looked her way.
She grinned when she remembered they couldn’t see her with the cloak activated.
Jiya tossed the grenades into the open room.
The cultists stumbled back as the two weapons materialized out of thin air and tumbled over their heads.
It took them too long to recognize the threat they manifested.
By then, Jiya had pivoted away and around a corner.
The grenades exploded right after.
Whatever screams there might have been were drowned out by the roar.
“I’ve got their attention,” Jiya reported. “Feel free to join me any time.”
She shouldered her rifle and peered around the corner, positioning herself to cover the crew as they
entered the building.
Cultists stumbled out of the rooms, charred and wounded, and Jiya took them out.
She popped off shot after shot, putting down the injured cultists for good, shifting her aim between the first and second rooms she’d exploded.
Her scanners picked up the rest of the crew entering the building at her back, cloaked, taking advantage of the chaos she had instigated.
Cultists stormed down a flight of stairs at the back of the building, and Reynolds and Maddox turned their fire on them.
Bursts of energy brightened the room, cutting through the smoke of the explosions. The cultists couldn’t see the enemy, so they resorted to filling every open space with weapons fire and doing their best to trace the fire coming back their way.
It wasn’t the most effective effort, but it was good enough to keep the crew from advancing.
“Stay safe,” Reynolds warned as more cultists spilled down a hallway on the opposite side of the room, ramping up the threat level.
“These guys are zealots!” Ka’nak called as the cultists raced forward without fear of dying.
They crowded into the room despite their companions being gunned down all around them.
Bodies hit the floor and were trampled as the other cultists scrambled to get out in the open and be the one to kill the enemy.
Jiya chucked another grenade into the throng as the crew poured it on.
“Fire in the hole!” Jiya warned.
The crew pulled back behind cover as the grenade exploded.
Cultists shrieked and fell to the ground in pieces.
Jiya was grateful for the sound dampeners on her helmet as she squeezed off more rounds at the cluster of cultists.
She had to admire their tenacity if nothing else.
They kept coming, weapons fire ripping up the wall that shielded her.
She ducked back, realizing that her cloak was essentially useless now. With so few places to hide, the cultists had zeroed in on the crew’s locations and were massing their fire there.
“Geroux!” Reynolds called. “Watch our six,” he told her. “Scanners are picking up movement outside of the building, circling around and headed our way. Looks to be about fifteen of them.”
“On it,” the young tech replied, and she darted off, repositioning herself so she could counter anyone trying to engage the crew from behind.
She took a page from Jiya’s book and readied a grenade.
The gunfight continued.
Jiya ducked and sprayed around the corner, taking out the legs of several cultists who’d managed to close.
They went down screaming among their brethren, only to have Maddox silence them permanently as Jiya reloaded her weapon.
Scans showed more of the cultists piling up so they could force their way into the room.
Then Jiya heard Geroux’s weapon discharge.
There was a muffled explosion outside and debris rattled around, more smoke filling the room.
“That’ll dissuade them.” Geroux chuckled as she continued to fire, keeping the flanking cultists at bay.
Reynolds darted across the room and repositioned, tossing another grenade down the hall where most of the cultists were coming from.
“I don’t see Jora’nal anywhere,” he said over the sound of the explosion.
Jiya ducked away for a second, letting the wall take the beating from the blow, then leaned back out to snap shots down the hall.
“There’s no clarity to the scans,” Maddox stated. “Nothing to indicate which one of these damn red dots is him.”
“You think he’s sneaking out?” Ka’nak asked.
“He’s still here,” Geroux reported. “The drones outside have shown no one leaving the building.”
“What about those cultists you’re holding off?” Ka’nak asked. “Didn’t they come from in here?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “They were in one of the surrounding buildings, or nearby. No one’s left this place.”
“Then we need to clear the building room by room until we find that shifty motherfucker,” Reynolds stated. “Let’s take the rest of these assholes out and get to finding Jora’nal.”
The crew nodded their agreement and turned up the heat on the enemy cultists.
Ka’nak stepped out from behind cover to reposition during a short lull, only to catch a shot to the chest.
The Melowi warrior stumbled backward with a grunt, falling among the debris that cluttered the floor and kicking up dust.
“Ka’nak!” Jiya shouted.
She turned, ready to race over and help him up, but the warrior rolled behind cover and climbed to his feet, dusting himself off.
“I’m good,” he called, rejoining the melee. “Armor took the brunt of the shot. Ribs are sore, but I’ve had worse sparring in the arena.” He laughed.
Jiya turned back to the fight and took out two cultists who’d leapt over the piles of dead bodies and charged her in the short time she’d paused to check on Ka’nak.
Both died before they got close.
Maddox darted out from under cover and positioned himself on the ground behind a pile of corpses. With all the smoke, it was nearly impossible for Jiya to see him despite the vague flutter of his cloak on her scanners.
He burrowed into the bodies and inched closer to the other cultists, giving himself a better angle to shoot down the hall.
Jiya covered him, drawing the cultists’ fire her way.
Reynolds took advantage of that and eased even closer, throwing another grenade down the hall.
The explosion shook the floor and rained dust down on their heads.
Maddox opened fire in the wake of the grenade, filling the hallway with gunfire and tearing apart what remained of the enemy positioned there. The last of the cultists out in the open were gunned down.
“Help Geroux clear our way out, Ka’nak,” Reynolds ordered.
The warrior spun away, stationed himself at another of the holes in the wall, and began raining fire through it.
“Jiya! You and Maddox on me,” the AI called, waving them on.
Both complied and followed Reynolds down the wrecked hallway, each doing their best to avoid stomping on the remnants of dead bodies.
However, there were simply too many of them.
Jiya felt the cultists beneath her feet as she and the crew advanced down the hall. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience, she had to admit, but this was war.
It’s what happened.
Besides, the cultists had earned their deaths.
They’d done nothing but sow terror and pain across the universe, and Jiya didn’t feel the slightest bit of remorse for what she had to do.
Once they’d traversed the hall, the crew realized there was a door off to the side of the stairwell that had provided access to the room for the cultists.
The crew positioned themselves so they could cover both, and Jiya scanned the upper floors. She picked up another fifteen cultists making their way toward the crew.
“I’ve got a group coming down on our heads,” she reported. “They’re positioning to target this area. If we advance, we’ll be in their line of fire.”
“And there are another twenty or so in the rooms behind this door,” Reynolds told them.
“We could toss more grenades,” Maddox suggested.
Reynolds shook his head. “We risk taking out Jora’nal that way.”
Maddox shrugged, showing how little he cared about the enemy alien, but the general understood they needed the bastard alive.
The door was flung open then, and a cold voice emerged from inside.
“Unless you all want to die, I suggest you deactivate your cloaking devices and back off.”
Jiya recognized the voice as Jora’nal’s.
An overweight cultist eased out into the hall, and Jiya stared at the male. It took her a second to realize that he wasn’t actually fat, he had something wrapped about his torso.
Explosives!
A second and third cultist crept out, and Reynolds signaled for the crew to uncloak.
There wasn’t much point in being invisible then since there was nowhere for the crew to slip past without colliding with a cultist and triggering the explosives.
At a signal from the AI, the crew backed up, moving toward the front room they’d entered the building through.
“Heads up,” Reynolds warned Geroux and Ka’nak as they moved back toward them. “We’ve got cultists with enough explosives to bring this entire building down. Stay cloaked, but do not engage.”
“Fucking great,” Ka’nak grunted.
The group of cultists upstairs started down, and they, too, were swathed in explosives. They grinned wildly as they displayed the bombs they’d proudly strapped to their bodies.
More spilled from the door down below, all primed like the others, then Jora’nal stepped out behind them, using the throng of booby-trapped cultists as a shield.
“Did you think it would be so easy to kill me, Reynolds?” Jora’nal asked.
The AI shrugged. “I’d hoped.”
Jora’nal chuckled, continuing to advance behind his disciples.
“I must give you credit,” Jora’nal went on. “I had expected the disciples of Muultar to show their lord more loyalty and remain quiet. Your torture tactics must be quite refined to have broken them so quickly.”
Reynolds shook his head. “We don’t torture anyone, no matter how much they deserve it.”
Jora’nal raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing the AI. “Then how—”
“Amazing what landing a superdreadnought on top of their homes will do for morale.” Maddox laughed.
Jora’nal snorted, clearly disappointed in his people.
“How…unfortunate,” he muttered. “I had hoped our disciples would prove more capable than that.”
“Hope in one hand, shit in the other,” Ka’nak told him. “See which one fills up faster.”
Jora’nal snarled at the Melowi.
“No matter, though,” the cultist went on as he eased forward, he and his weaponized disciples filling the room in front of the crew. “We were prepared for you.”
Reynolds laughed. “Which is why you trapped yourself in a building with no alternate exits and your people are strapped with explosives,” the AI said. “Sounds more like we caught you with your pants down around your ankles, and you’re trying to make yourself feel better about recreating the Alamo.”
