by C H Gideon
“But I’m capable of punching a hole in the wall and slipping out, or at least reaching out past the barrier to send a message if the drones don’t succeed,” she argued. “It also minimizes the risk to the crew if Jora’nal and his minions take me out. There’s still enough of you to do something about it.”
Jiya looked at Reynolds.
“It also keeps you in touch with the SD Reynolds the entire time so you’re apprised of what’s going on with regards to the Pillar and whatever is happening up there,” she told him.
“I don’t like it, but it makes sense,” Geroux admitted. She hugged her friend.
“Besides,” Jiya went on, “you get to blow a bunch of holes in the wall. What’s not to like about the plan?”
“Always a bonus in my book,” Ka’nak said with a grin.
“If you punch enough of them, not only do I have a better chance of slipping inside unnoticed, but the cultists will likely engage you, thinking you’re trying to bring the building down on them.”
“That’s true,” Maddox said, nodding. “They don’t know we’re looking to bring Jora’nal in alive. They might suspect, but if we turn up the heat enough to rattle them, we might just bypass whatever plans they’ve worked up and make them desperate enough to do something stupid.”
“Takal,” the AI said across the comm, opening a link to the inventor. “Is it possible to transport us inside the building with the Gulg system?”
“Afraid not,” he came back a moment later. “The barrier Geroux reported isn’t like a shield. There’s no way to punch a hole in it to gain access to the interior of the building. While I could transport you without problem, the issue would be once you arrived. With no way of knowing the layout, I might land you inside a wall or, heaven forbid, a person,” he explained. “That would be a horrific way to die, and not instant, I’m afraid.”
Reynolds considered it for a second, thinking he could take the chance, but dismissed it immediately.
Even though a glitch in the transport might not kill him, the damage to his android body might be sufficient to cripple him and make it so he was useless even if he survived.
Jiya’s plan was their best option.
He nodded at her. “Looks like it’s up to you.”
“And my little friends,” she joked as Geroux handed her three of the programmed mini-drones.
Jiya checked to make sure they were deactivated, then stuffed them inside her armor for safekeeping, hiding them where the armor would best defend them against the barrier’s effect.
Once she was ready, she nodded to Reynolds. “Let’s do this.”
He acknowledged her, then cloaked. Maddox and Ka’nak did the same, and all three of them ran off to approach the building from different angles.
“Be safe,” Geroux warned.
“Always.” Jiya hugged her friend. “Be back soon.”
The first officer cloaked, and Geroux followed suit to keep from being the only one visible once she was left behind.
A creepy silence settled over the street as Jiya waited for the crew to start punching holes in the building.
Reynolds broke the silence first.
He let loose a barrage of weapons fire, blowing holes in the wall to the east, then darted off to find a new location to do it again. Ka’nak and Maddox did the same on opposite sides of the building as Geroux kept watch with the drones to ensure that none of the cultists tried to flee.
Jiya waited as the crew broke through the walls, chewing them apart in random locations to keep the cultists from guessing where they might come through.
Frantic return fire came back at the crew as the cultists tried to stop Reynolds from bringing the building down on them.
Jiya held her ground for a few more seconds, waiting to find the best entry, and when it appeared, she ran as fast as she could and slipped inside. She felt the slight tingle of the barrier being triggered, and she dodged to the side to avoid fire in case the barrier doubled as an alarm system.
She didn’t sit still for more than a second as she gained her bearings.
Jiya had emerged in a small room on the west side, which was filled with crates and boxes that looked as if they’d been there a long time. There was the slight whiff of mildew in the air, and Jiya spied mold growing on some of the boxes.
Low-rent bad-guy hideout, check, she remarked in her head as she crept along the floor while Reynolds and Ka’nak continued to blast the building from outside.
At the door to the room, she stopped and listened. Though she could hear little over the explosions of rock and rubble and the furious shouts of the cultists, she didn’t believe anyone was stationed just outside the door. She eased it open and peeked, grateful that the door didn’t protest its motion.
Beyond it, she saw a large room, mostly barren of furniture, but it became instantly clear she’d made the right choice coming in alone.
There on the floor were dozens of makeshift beds constructed of simple mats with thin sheets, wadded pillows topping each of them off.
Cultists filled the room, weapons at the ready, but only two of them stood near the hole punched in the closest wall, returning fire at Reynolds and the others. From the angle of the hole, it was clear the crew couldn’t see inside well enough to realize just how many were crowded into the room.
And it wasn’t the only one filled with cultists.
One of them ducked into the room from an adjoining room on the far side of the chamber, leaving the door open in his wake. That room was also covered in bedding, soldiers kneeling all around in tight clusters as they stayed low.
“Draw them in,” she heard a cultist she couldn’t identify say. “Pull back.”
The people did as they were ordered and eased away from the holes in the wall as if retreating, their return fire slowing dramatically. One of the cultists at the far end of the room opened another door, and the disciples backed through it.
Jiya spied even more of the cultists in the far room.
There had to be over fifty she could see, and who knew just how many there were positioned around the rest of the building?
The fire outside came to a halt, and she knew Reynolds and the rest of the crew were pulling back to observe and await her signal.
She thought about going back the way she’d come in and letting them know what she’d found, but that would ruin what little surprise they still had in their favor.
No, she needed to continue with the plan.
Jiya slipped behind a broken set of freestanding shelves and hunkered down. Despite being cloaked, she felt more comfortable there while digging out the drones.
She pulled them out and examined each, activating them with a touch. Two of them sparked to life immediately, but the third had been fried by the barrier. She released the two operational drones to do their work, and they hummed off and disappeared. She stuffed the scorched one back into her armor to make sure it didn’t get left behind.
She didn’t want the cultists stumbling across it and taking advantage of the tech.
Once it was secured, she crept across the room, angling toward the doorway the last of the cultists had gone through. She inched up to the edge and glanced inside to get the layout of the room.
It was half the size of the room she was in, and there were overturned tables taking up what little space was left after all the cultists had squeezed inside. The disciples, easily twenty of them, crouched behind the tables, using them for cover, and remained quiet as they watched the door she peeked in through. It was the only exit out of the room. Their weapons were trained on the door, and nervous fingers hovered over their triggers. Sweat beaded their brows.
Jiya drew a deep breath at seeing just how many of them there were in the room, not even counting how many were stashed about the rest of the building.
There were simply too many to take them head-on.
Then she had an idea.
Chapter Five
Jora’nal snarled as his minions reported the arrival o
f the SD Reynolds’ crew outside their temporary headquarters.
Explosions rattled the walls moments after. It felt as if they were tearing the building down around him.
Jora’nal growled low in his throat.
While he’d expected them to arrive at some point since Reynolds and his people were wily and resourceful, Jora’nal had believed he’d have more time before they showed up.
He hadn’t expected to be cornered, and he hadn’t prepared for it.
Now it was too late.
The disciples on Muultar failed him. They had given in to fear and offered Jora’nal’s location to the android, and now, here they were.
The Pillar had been severely damaged in its last contact with the SD Reynolds, and it had taken far longer for him to gather the necessary tools and materials needed to attend to the damage than he had thought it would.
As necessary as it had been to see the Pillar fully repaired, Jora’nal regretted that he hadn’t packed up and finished the work elsewhere. He’d been too comfortable here.
He’d also trusted the terror evoked by Phraim-’Eh’s name to keep the disciples loyal.
That had been his biggest mistake.
And now the enemy was upon them, and he could think of no easy clear way out of this mess.
It didn’t help that the SD Reynolds had positioned itself in a way that essentially locked the Pillar into its berth at the space dock. The only way out would be to fight, if he could even make it back to the ship, and that would trigger the automated response of the Asparian defense system. Being caught in the middle of the dock with all the other ships squeezed in alongside them made that an unenviable proposition.
The Pillar could handle the defense system and locals long enough to Gate away before becoming too damaged, but with the SD Reynolds looming over them, there was no way that would happen.
At best, his ship would be destroyed after wounding the SD Reynolds. At worst, and also the most likely outcome, given that the enemy had armed its most vicious of weapons, the Pillar would die a miserable death without dealing a substantive blow in return.
And with Reynolds outside his headquarters, it would only be a matter of time before they made a push inside.
Jora’nal didn’t think his minions could take out the android or his people, despite their numerical superiority. He was a rat, trapped in a hole.
He clutched his small computer, which doubled as a communication device, hesitating to activate it. Explosions continued rattling the building as he debated, and Jora’nal knew his time was running out. He had to reach out to the master.
There was no longer a choice in the matter.
Jora’nal triggered the comm program and held his breath as he waited for the device to relay the signal to the hardwired system he’d run beneath the building, triggering the transmission across the Etheric.
Moments seemed to stretch into decades as he waited, but at last, Phraim-’Eh’s voice sounded across the Etheric.
“Given you are using the backup communication device, I presume this contact is not of a positive nature,” Phraim-’Eh stated, his voice icy.
Jora’nal swallowed hard, clearing his throat before he managed to speak. “Master, the Federation android has found us earlier than predicted,” he reported, doing his best to not stutter. “I have enough people to—”
“If you believed you had enough disciples to prevail over them, you would not have dared to reach out to me, now would you?” Phraim-’Eh asked, a snarl evident in his tone.
“No, Master,” Jora’nal admitted, hating the terror leaking into his voice.
He bit back a growl at his submissiveness, but he made certain not to let his master hear any of it.
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.