by Paul Barrett
“What now?” Thomas asked.
Before Hawk could answer, the portcullis gave out a metallic groan. With a clanking of chain and gears, the iron gate ascended, disappearing into the archway. “Advance to the center of the courtyard and wait,” a voice boomed from a speaker below the camera.
When they reached the dark tunnel, Hawk said, “‘Once more into the breach, dear friends.’”
The jittery Thomas followed. Hawk moved through the pitch-black arch and stepped into a well-lit courtyard. Spotlights situated on top of the walls brightened the quadrangle like the noonday sun, leaving few shadows. Hawk scanned the courtyard, searching for signs of life. The lights above made seeing the roof impossible with natural vision, so he switched to heat vision. The lighting went blue. Human-shaped blurs of red stood between most of them.
“Gerard?” Hawk asked.
“Picking up eighteen guards on the roof and another eighty individuals gathered in various sectors of the fortress. You want real-time?”
“No,” Hawk said. “That many targets on my HUD would blind me. I’ll do it the old- fashioned way if I have to.”
Ninety-eight people? Hawk thought. Minus Yonath and his family, that still leaves ninety-four possible dangers. “Sitting ducks,” he muttered. He hoped the element of surprise would suffice, even though ‘hope’ was a piss-poor strategy.
“What did you say?” Thomas asked.
“Nothing,” The short hairs on the back of his neck grew rigid as he approached the courtyard’s center. “It just doesn’t get any better than this.”
Onboard Ship, Gerard monitored Hawk’s progress, screens filled with various views from the cameras attached to Hawk and Thomas’s clothing, as well as the drones flying above the fortress.
“Gerard?” Ship asked
“Yes?”
“What do you make of this?” A holographic grid map appeared in front of Gerard’s monitor.
Gerard studied the control map, which showed all other ships in a five thousand kilometer radius. “I’m not seeing it.”
“Let me show you the screen a half hour ago.”
When it came up, he immediately saw what she had in mind. “What are those ships up to?”
“They have pulled out of their regular orbit and started on their present course.”
Gerard studied the map carefully. “I’d think it was a coincidence if I believed in those. Change your orbit to here.” He touched the map so Ship could sense the coordinates. “If they make any course change at all toward our location, we have problems.”
Ship maneuvered toward her new course. Gerard turned his attention back to Hawk, intuition telling him things were soon going to turn bad.
In the fortress courtyard, a figure emerged from an opening that the spotlights conveniently left unlit. It was like a black hole in a sea of light, a darkness that seemed to radiate from the man. Though the effect was meant to be dramatic, Hawk had seen the heat signature well before the man drew close. He turned his contacts back to normal vision as the shadow came forward, stepping into the light. Hawk finally learned the identity of One-Eye.
His stomach clenched. Emotions too muddled and complex to sort out chattered in his mind, but he kept his face neutral. “Moran?”
“Surprised?” the man asked, his jewel-encrusted eye patch glittering under the light.
Hawk couldn’t let Moran see how this turn of events rattled him. Keeping his voice light, he said, “A little. I assumed you were dead. My mistake. Nice patch.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“So much for the formalities. Let’s get this over with. Where are the Maratais?”
“Not so fast. I want to enjoy this. The leader of the great Knights of The Flaming Star.” He paused and then spit, his face a snarl of contempt. “Helpless. There was a time when I respected your abilities, even to the point of wanting to be like you. Even when we no longer saw eye to eye, if you’ll pardon the pun, I still respected you.” He put his hand under the eye patch and scratched. “Of course, you never could throw a dagger.”
“You’ll be happy to know that I haven’t gotten any better.”
“Of course not. Look at you. You’ve grown soft. Too much high living from all that money you squandered and never shared.”
“I gave you plenty,” Hawk said. “Your problem was that you always wanted more than you had.”
“You have no right to tell me my problems!” Moran shouted. “Who do you think you are? You’re nothing but a Council delivery boy. Useless.”
“I see you’ve done well for yourself. Your own terrorist organization is certainly an upward career move.”
“I’ve done better than you can imagine.”
“Yeah, sure,” Hawk didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm. “Much as I’d love to rehash ancient history, I’d rather take care of the business at hand. Where’s the family?”
“Where are the plans?” Moran asked.
“I have them,” Thomas said.
Moran held out his hand.
“And you’ll get them as soon as I see the family,” Hawk said, giving a sideways glance at Thomas.
“You always did have trouble realizing when a situation wasn’t under your control. I’m in charge here. Give me the plans, and I’ll show you the family.”
“First, I want to—”
“SHUT UP! I don’t give a damn what you want. You demand nothing. Now give me the plans, or I’ll have the family destroyed. Give them to me NOW.”
Hawk stared at Moran. His one-time friend had become a man he no longer knew. A man even more over the edge than when they last confronted each other. The lunatic in front of him would carry out his threat, despite the consequences.
“Give him the plans,” he said to Thomas.
Thomas drew the metal tube from beneath his jacket and tossed it to Moran.
“You see what I mean?” Moran said, catching the cylinder and pocketing it without even bothering to check the contents. “Soft. In the old days, I would never have been able to intimidate you. You would have shot me, had the team take out the guards, and then found the family yourself. You’re pathetic.”
It took all of Hawk’s restraint to keep from shooting the man now. “You have the plans,” he said through clenched teeth. “Where’s the family?”
“Yes, I did promise I would let you see them, didn’t I? No problem.” He waved his hand. The floodlights around the quad dimmed to half intensity. Bright lights flared and illuminated the dark opening from which Moran had appeared. Hawk’s mind almost shattered from what the light revealed
Yonath and Dona hung suspended in the air, thick cord looped around their necks, their clothing tattered. Blood-soaked viscera covered the concrete beneath them. Patishi lay on the floor, slumped against the wall. Yoseph hung upside down, his legs held apart by two ropes. A star with flames extending from one end had been neatly etched into the boy’s shirtless chest; the skin was carefully peeled from the star’s interior. It exposed the muscle beneath, creating a demented badge, a torturous mockery of the Knights’ emblem.
Hawk almost froze in revulsion and despair. The lifeless people hanging before him, their bodies hideously violated, had once been living, laughing humans. People with whom he and the Knights, including Moran, had shared a significant portion of their lives. They had been present at the wedding and celebrated in the births of Patishi and Yoseph. Yonath had used his influence in the Council to get the Knights a shot at joining Force 13. The two “families” had often shared dinner together. The sudden non-existence of these people was like witnessing the disappearance of a moon.
Then he realized Yoseph and Patishi were still breathing.
Hawk pushed his horror aside as immediate need took over. Facts slammed into his consciousness in rapid-fire bursts: Yonath and Dona were dead, beyond help, but the children were alive.
And Moran laughed. He stood defiantly in front of Hawk, laughing hysterically.
He was still laughing as three energy b
ursts from Hawk’s pistol smashed into his chest. He stumbled back two meters but remained standing, his singed armor still intact. Grinning, he raised his cybernetic arm and pointed it toward Hawk.
As soon as Laura saw Moran through her sights, she expected trouble. A latecomer to the Knights, she had never been privy to the cause of Moran’s split from the group. Hawk, Gerard, and Wolf would not discuss it. She knew only that the separation had been hostile; there would be no great feeling of sorrow if Moran died today.
When the lights came on in the alcove, she still had her sights on Moran. She didn’t see what caused Hawk’s horrified reaction, but she saw Hawk’s blasts smash into Moran’s chest and dissipate. He was wearing reflective body armor. As Moran raised his arm, Laura pulled the trigger, sending a beam of focused infrared light neatly through his eye patch. A glitter of sparks showered from the patch and Moran dropped.
“Shot out,” Laura said through her headset, already aiming for her next target.
Ship sounded an alarm. “They’ve changed course to match ours.”
Gerard studied the map. “Damn. Scan.”
“Coming up now. Two class four Borlan Frigates, one Lorothian Corsair and a Krizan class bulk freighter.”
“Origin?”
“Good question. There are no exterior markings. I’m running a check of the port to see if they’re registered.”
“Don’t bother,” Gerard told her. “They’re moving into attack formation. You better strap in,” he told Trey. “This could get rough.”
As Moran fell with a smoking hole in his eye, Hawk hit the ground rolling. With Moran down, his next priority was to get to the children and protect them. The thunder of gunfire erupted around him. He dashed for the alcove and activated his shield dynamo, but not before one bolt caught him low and on the side, and another smashed into his shin. Immediate, intense pain radiated from the hits. He staggered; the chemical armor coating kept the skin from breaking. Thomas drew his gun and ran for the nook. A blast grazed him across the neck and blood welled out, splashing onto his shirt. Putting his free hand up to the wound, he fired randomly and kept moving.
As Hawk reached the alcove, a man came from either side with his weapons raised. They fired. One slammed into Hawk’s shield. His ears buzzed with static overload and he staggered back several steps. The other shot plowed up concrete half a meter from his feet.
Hawk returned fire, taking off one man’s head in a splatter of red. The other man fired again. Heat blistered Hawk’s face as the energy bolt glanced off the shield centimeters from his head.
Hawk moved to shoot when a screaming Thomas plowed into the man. They went down in a heap. Thomas put the gun in the other man’s face and fired. The backblast shattered concrete and threw the courier against the wall. He slid down, stunned and covered with his victim’s gore.
Hawk stood and resumed his interrupted entrance into the alcove. He slid Patishi to the back wall as carefully as he could. He ran to Yoseph, placing himself between the boy and the courtyard. “Don’t shoot quite so close next time,” he told the dazed Thomas.
“Good advice,” Thomas said as he pushed himself up using the wall as a brace. “What do you need?” He activated his shield.
“Stay in cover as much as possible and shoot at anything unfriendly,” Hawk said as he worked with a knife to cut Yoseph loose.
Another bolt caught him in the back. Shuddering pain seared through his body. The shield dissipated most of the energy, and the armor stayed intact. Furious noise filled the room as Thomas returned fire. Yoseph came loose. Hawk held him, preventing the boy from hitting the gore-covered floor. As gently as possible, he ran back to Patishi and laid her brother beside her.
“Status?” he yelled to Thomas.
“Intact,” Thomas shouted back over the hail of laser and slug fire. A beam struck the wall above his head, showering him with mortar. Spotting a soldier, he took quick aim and fired. The bolt caught the other man in the face; he went down.
The children as safe as they could be in the situation, Hawk took up a firing position at the doorway. Hoping the concrete wall held up under the fusillade of energy raining against it, and filling the alcove with choking dust, Hawk began shouting into the headset.
A burst of racket echoed over his headset. Ashron set his jar of mustard in his cup holder. “It always comes to a fight, doesn’t it?” He asked no one as he jerked back on the joystick. The Little Star launched into the air, hell-bent towards the trouble area. A small war raged over his headset. Ashron could barely hear Hawk’s voice over the din of exploding gunfire. Despite the garbled content, the tone came through crystal clear. It was time to leave.
As soon as the muted crack of fired weapons reached Wolf’s ears, he powered up the Minigun of Awesomeness, activated his shield, stepped back three meters, and ran at the concrete wall in front of him. Cement shattered and flew out in huge chunks into the adjoining room. Wolf stormed through the wall without slowing his stride. As the mortar dust settled, he opened fire with the MGoA. Twenty surprised men turned from the open bay to face him. They had been crouching behind cover, facing the other direction. They tried to bring their weapons around, but the high-powered minigun ripped through armor, flesh, and wall. A few managed to get off wild shots that struck nowhere near the large Uraxian.
When the smoke cleared, only Wolf stood. He loaded another hopper into his weapon.
From his position against the bunker wall, Hawk hazarded a glance into the courtyard. A slug whined off his shield, the force snapping his head back like a punch to the face. He shook his head and ducked back. He had seen what he needed. He didn’t know the exact count of men that advanced on them, but it was enough. If they didn’t do something, the sheer weight of numbers would end them. All it would take was a lucky shot or enough structural damage to the building. Hawk shuddered at the thought of a grenade landing in this enclosed space. “Gerard, porcupine.”
“Porcupine away,” Gerard said.
In a few seconds, Hawk heard a whine from the sky. He chanced another glance out.
A meter-wide half-cylinder screamed through the air, dropped from one of the drones. Jets fired a meter from the ground, slowing its descent enough that it landed with a solid, non-damaging thud. Firing ceased from the thirty or so men as they took in the robot’s arrival. Apparently one of them guessed it wasn’t friendly. “Run!” he screamed.
It was futile. Hawk felt the buzz in his neck as the machine sent out a pulse of ultrasonic sound, which both identified every living thing within two hundred meters, and tagged the people with IFF responders as friends. He glanced back. A green light at Thomas’s waist confirmed he had been identified.
The few men who heeded the shouted command had gone no more than five feet when a hundred small ports irised open on the robot’s shell. A whining electromagnetic pulse made it shudder. Hundreds of sixteen-millimeter metallic needles shot forth, blossoming like a deadly dandelion. Every man in the courtyard fell, pierced by the lethal shards of duraluminum through head, heart, and stomach. Those not obliterated in the initial burst went down as the needle sought them, guided by the robot and driven by short-range guidance engines.
One man made it to the alcove before three shards struck him in the back of the head and stopped when they protruded from his face. He collapsed as blood sprayed.
Hawk threw himself over the unconscious bodies of the children. He heard the whine of flechettes and braced for impact, hoping against hope his armor would deflect them if needed.
His neck buzzed. The whine ceased, followed by five metallic clinks.
“That’s amazing,” Thomas said. Hawk saw Thomas staring at the carnage in the courtyard. Five flechettes lay on the ground centimeters from Hawk. His IFF had deactivated them.
“There,” Hawk said. “That should give us some better odds.”
Wolf saw the bloodbath in the courtyard and smiled. Much as he hated the destruction of life, he loved when one of the machines he helped Gerard
build worked without flaw.
“Wolf,” Hawk’s voice came into his head. “I’m in the alcove across from you. Can you see me?”
“HUD,” Wolf said. A display appeared over his eyes, outlining Hawk in bright green and offering relative positions indicators on Laura and Ashron. Wolf saw the lighted alcove across the courtyard.
“I see you,” Wolf said.
“We’ve still got unfriendlies, so I don’t want to come out until Ashron lands. Can you keep the courtyard clear if anyone pokes their head out?”
“Yeah.” Wolf scanned the courtyard.
The startlingly loud thunder crack of medium laser pistols erupted on his left. Several blasts struck his shield, which crackled and gave off a burnt ozone smell. One bolt broke through his shield, so expended that it caused only stinging pain to his naturally-thickened skin. He turned. Five men entered the room twenty meters away.
Wolf roared and returned fire. Smoke and thunder flew from his gun. Concrete shattered as slugs ricocheted off the soldier’s shields. Within ten rounds, the gun’s harmonic dissipater locked into the shields and shorted them. The yellow glow around the men changed to red mist as their shields collapsed and slugs struck home.
Wolf continued his scan of the courtyard. Nobody had come into the open. His HUD displayed several men hidden behind walls near the various doorways that pockmarked the quadrangle. They took haphazard pop shots at Hawk’s position. Wolf’s gun whirred to life as he laid down a barrage of suppressing fire. The shapes withdrew, and the gunfire ceased. Bullets still thundered from hidden places, aimed at Hawk’s position. Wolf stepped out of the bay doors and hugged the wall. He jogged around the courtyard perimeter, gun ready to provide more covering fire.
He had gone no more than twenty meters when ten more fighters came running out of a large door across from him.
