He wasn't the Lion she hoped he was. He was something else.
“Sergeant Corvin!” The Battle-net lit up with her marking the new danger on everyone's HUD. “Incoming!”
Tai came over the Battle-net. “Ho, Sarge! You could have at least given me two or three more seconds to shape the charge a bit more. That was some ride!”
“Stow it for a sec, Tai.” Corvin had his dad voice on. “Say again, Marshal!”
The Marshal's shrill warning added to the blaring holograph in his HUD, jerking his attention to the smoldering walls of the fort. The cloud parted, coughing out a demon from some unnamed pit of Hells. It was a large and muscular man wearing hate for a face. This was the fugitive. The apprentice. The mongrel.
Wearing only fatigue-pants, his reddish skin was covered in scars. Swirling tribal tattoos covered his upper chest and arms, radiating down the center of his torso. His roar broke the silence that usually followed an explosion, descending like a wolf on unwitting prey.
Corvin fired several shots with his CR-51 blaster carbine. One shot was all it took to have the rest of the squad shredding the air with blaster fire. Each shot came within a hair’s breadth of touching the descending monster, only to flow around him like they were on rails.
The apprentice hit the center of the skiff, behind Tai. A pressure wave erupted from the point of impact, knocking all of the lancers from their feet. Only Siggs was able to remain standing on the pilot’s rig, holding on to the controls.
The mongrel leveled a thrust kick into Corvin's mid-section, blasting him into Siggs, knocking both to the deck. As the other lancers jumped to their feet, the monster raised an arm and flicked his wrist toward the edge of the cliff.
The control arm for the skiff jerked to the side of its own accord, shooting the vehicle toward the cliff face. Ramming into the rock was a quick method to dislodge everyone from their tenuous purchase on the deck. Another flick of the wrist and the skiff rose next to the blasted-out wall.
The apprentice turned in time to see Tai had regained his feet, advancing on him. The armored trooper launched a fist directly toward his face. He dodged the first blow, covered his face and neck to absorb the second, and then ducked under a hooking punch that could have cut down a rhinosaur. The apprentice returned fire with an uppercut, assisted by the Way, which cracked the abdominal plating of his opponent.
Tai let out a tortured scream. He dropped from the pain, grabbing the apprentice around the neck with one hand. With the other, he clenched his fist, ejecting a wrist-mounted blade from the armor. He rammed the blade into his opponent.
If the apprentice was hurt by the stab, he didn’t show it. He chopped down at the big trooper's wrist, snapping the armor, bone and the blade simultaneously. He grabbed the man by his neck. Summoning the Way, the apprentice roared, throwing the armored giant through the hole in the wall.
“Off!” The apprentice's voice flew with the strength of a battering ram. He dropped into a low stance and stretched out both arms. The Crucible formed into a maelstrom, blowing the rest of the squad from the deck. They tumbled through the air, landing in a heap at the base of the fort's interior wall.
Four
Marshal Truveau jumped through the hole in the floor. It was easy for anyone to see that she was strong in the Way by how soft she landed. That is, those that were in a position to notice.
An entire squad lay in a heap at her feet. They were trying to right themselves or struggling to stand. She was in the cell that was formerly occupied by the wayward apprentice. The explosion from the spider-mines had also ripped down the dividing wall to the other cell. Dirt and smoke were thick in the air.
Two unarmored lancers burst into the room, CR-51s aimed directly at her.
“Stand down!” Truveau shouted.
Frazier sent his rifle to the patrol-ready position. “Sorry, Marshal. We thought you were him.”
Marshal Truveau relaxed, only to watch both lancers raise their rifles again. The smoke swirled out of the way for the giant apprentice to land right behind her.
A brilliant light exploded from her hip. She ignited her plasma blade, the shiny metal burned black before being engulfed in a brilliant red corona of destruction.
The apprentice grabbed her forearm, arresting the weapon's arc from coming to bear. Moving in the same direction, he brought her arm straight, her elbow facing up. He leaned into it with his ribs, aiming the blade toward the floor. His weight dropped against her arm, sending the sword ripping into the stone in a shower of sparks and magma. He thrust backwards with a push to the side of her head, sending the marshal stumbling to the wall.
With her hand no longer on the hilt, the blade's plasma field dissipated, hushing its defiant growl. It remained embedded in the floor like a fabled blade from another time.
Everyone that could hold a weapon was pointing it at the apprentice. Multiple shouts of “Freeze!” and “Get on the ground” came out like a torrent from a broken dam.
“Lasher!” The word broke into the room like an uninvited guest. Aided by the Way, Truveau's voice broke through the tension and fear, freezing almost everyone in place.
“Marshal Truveau, it is good to see you again.”
“Please stop, Lasher. She wouldn't want this.”
The words seemed to calm the apprentice from the feral demeanor that had knocked squads of men to the deck. His expression was blank with a hint of sadness creeping in around the eyes. He scanned the room to the door. Two lancers stepped aside, allowing Marshal Brand into the cell.
“This place is going to get much too crowded if we keep this up,” the apprentice said.
Brand nodded to Truveau then turned to address the apprentice formally. “Deputy Marshal Lasher, we need to take you into custody so you may be questioned by Commander Hylaeus. Please, for all of our sakes, stop this.”
Tai raised a hand as though he were in school, waiting to be called on by a teacher. Everyone regarded the fallen titan with looks of disdain and amusement.
Corvin, who lay on the ground, nursing a sore belly and broken pride, asked, “Really, Tai? Jokes now?”
“I was just going to ask that if all of the people with super powers were going to have an epic dust-up, that possibly the injured people could limp out before it starts?”
Stunned silence replaced the tension in the room. No one knew whether to rage or have a good laugh.
Lasher spoke first. “I think that's a great idea, sir.” He spun and darted through the hole in the wall back onto the waiting hover-skiff. Hitting the control, the vehicle dropped like its repulsors had failed.
Truveau flew to the opening in the wall to see what had happened. A piece of the debris that had been blown into the room started to tremble. Corvin looked down at the offensive piece of brick that lay near his foot. “Marshal!”
Corvin scrambled to reach the trembling rock. Seemingly on its own, the large stone flew across the room and blasted her in the breastplate of her armor. The force of the impact sent Truveau tumbling over the wall onto the stone lip just ahead of the cliff. She whirled in mid-tumble to try and catch the edge but just missed. Her feet smacked the rock face, causing her upper body to bounce outward, plummeting from sight.
The wind rushed by, taking Truveau's thick braided hair and tossing it into her face. She whirled to see Lasher kneeling just behind her with the criminal at the controls.
“Good morning, Marshal! Enjoying the flight so far?” The criminal was using Trade-1 to speak to her. His accent was thick. Although he was human, he probably grew up here. He was large for a human, with a blocky frame and dark hair cut close near the temples. He had a beard that was thicker at the jaw with fringe whiskers growing around the regular hair. He probably groomed it daily but had not had the chance since enjoying lancer hospitality.
He saluted her in a mock version of the Templar Salute. She frowned to show her displeasure.
“Lasher. Bring us back,” Truveau said.
The apprentice looked at
her for a moment and then returned his gaze to the stolen equipment harness from Corporal LaGarron. “Don't worry, Marshal. We are bringing you back.”
She looked at the terrain cruising by. They were skirting the ridgeline that was a part of the cliff face. The smell of moisture already evaporating on the scrub grass in the early morning sun was vaguely reminiscent of a failed garden she once had as a child on Elysium. It brought a hint of a smile to her face. She noticed they were making a large loop and were already heading back to the base.
“I don't have a lot of time for this.” Lasher was fishing for something near his hip. A grunt slipped by his grim facade as he fished out a piece of Tai's wrist blade from his gut. The thing clanked on the deck, only to bounce up and be taken by the wind.
Blood seeped from the wound onto the deck. Lasher let out a deep breath and looked like he would vomit, pass out, or both. He fished out a palm-sized cylinder from the med kit in LaGarron's gear, slammed it into his gut and closed his eyes. Even over the rushing breeze, both lawman and criminal heard the heavy gush of something leaving the tube and pushing its way into his flesh.
Lasher rolled over to his back, giving his fellow passengers a glimpse of white foam bubbling around the injury. After a second, the blood flow slowed to a trickle and then stopped altogether.
“There's more gear back here, if you need it. Looks like they had some assault packs, which they strapped to the rails of the skiff.” Kel was pointing and motioning. At least he had been reliable so far.
Lasher wondered how long that would last. “While the knitters are doing their job, I need you to listen, Mara.”
The sound of her given name jarred Truveau from the fascination of watching the tiny nanites do their grizzly work. She glared at him while he was on his back facing her the wrong way, his shoulder-length black hair whipping as much as hers.
“We were set up. Betrayed.”
“What are you talking about?” Truveau asked.
Lasher continued. “I know you sensed it when you entered the fort. Fear. Hatred. Guilt. We have a traitor among us.”
“Who?”
Lasher shook his head. “I don't know. The tribal delegations chose a spot for their peace talks that was far too perfect for an ambush. They weren't concerned about it, as tribal law prohibits combat under flags of truce. Still, the Surando would not have chosen that place unless they were guaranteed their safety by someone like Seladriel. She told me that we would have robot and drone assets watching the peace talks so we could be warned of attack by either side.”
The Marshal's expression softened.“So what happened?”
“Surando and Hidek were sitting down and talking. A Hidek war party came in on blast-shielded war gliders, similar to our combat skiffs. They were using M-715s. The Hidek barely have space flight and use bows and sluggers on each other. Where did they get Core Space energy weapons?”
“No warning?” Truveau asked.
“Any drone or bot assets that were there when we arrived were gone when they attacked.”
The marshal saw the loop they were flying rapidly coming to a close. She figured the tale was also.
Lasher gritted his teeth against the RAT kit doing its job. “During the fighting, Marshal Ferrand sent me and a few lancers to flank the Hidek, trying to get the Surando out. Some of the M-715s were the 21 variant. They have a built-in 20mm grenade launcher. We encountered one of those on one of the gliders. Shooting from behind the blast shields, they had all the cover in the world to take us out. My lancers were picked off and I was blown clear into the river at the bottom of the ravine. The last thing I remember was Seladriel Ferrand fighting off a horde of Hidek trying to overwhelm her position. When I woke up on the banks of the river, I had two things burned into my mind. An image of her holding me as a boy, the day she rescued me from the pits. The other was for me to survive. Those were her final gifts to me.”
The nanites hardened into a scab over his wound amid tears streaking down his face onto the deck. There was a flash and the smell of burning flesh signaling the end of the micro-surgical bots' work. As the pain and grunting subsided, Lasher rolled over to see Mara Truveau, Marshal Templar, a Lion of Athalon, mourning a friend closer to her than any sister.
“Here.” Lasher pressed a data stick into her hand. “I went back after the fight. This is the location of where she's buried.”
Marshal Truveau wiped tears from her face. She let out a tiny laugh. “Where were you hiding that?”
“You don't want to know.”
“Getting close, my friend. Still not too late,” Kel called over the wind. “You sure you want to do this?”
Lasher pointed toward the rapidly approaching fort. “I am. Just make sure you grab a couple of packs on your way out.”
Truveau looked at the apprentice quizzically.
“He says I could be useful to him and he thinks I'm wasting my talents with what I am about to do.”
“And what are you about to do, Orin?”
“Mara, it's better that you don't know. “
“Come back with me. We can find out what happened, together, and then face the consequences of what you've done.”
Lasher bent down and pressed his forehead to hers. “Find her. Bring her home and see that she's honored. Tell people of the amazing life she led and the people she helped along the way.”
Truveau's lip began to quiver. “I'm sorry this happened to you both. You've been through so much.”
“A strong ingot, forged in the hottest fires, gleams in its strength when the Forge is done.”
“Quoting scripture?” Truveau asked. He was staring at her, his resolve, carved into him by a hard life. He had the look of a predator about to hunt. A terrible thing unleashed.
“We're almost back at the fort. Take the skiff. Bring her home.” Lasher said
“What about our friend here?”
Kel cocked his head, a crooked smile playing across his face. “I'm right here! I can hear you!”
“He has things to take care of,” Lasher replied flatly.
The marshal squared herself to the fugitive. “ And what do you have to take care of?”
The mongrel apprentice smiled, exposing the wicked canines born from half his parentage. “I'm going to find out who betrayed us and why. But before that, Marshal Brand has something that belongs to me.”
Five
The soldiers out of their armor pressed against the door leading to the cell. Williams and Frazier remained in the room along with Brand and the skiff squad. The ones in the hall were vigilant while contemplating the fallen marshal's fate. Everyone was primed for action.
“Hand me another mag; this one's fried.”
“Did you see the size of that guy?”
“I didn't hear an explosion, so they must have gotten away.”
Brand walked from the room. “Corvin, do you have anyone to take a look at that bot and figure out what happened?”
“On it, sir. Hey, Siggs.”
The troopers in the hall spun at the sound of impending footsteps. They locked up, saluted, and then moved to the outside of the hall. Commander Hylaeus walked up to the entrance of the cells. “LANCE report, please.”
Brand came forward. “Good on the first two, sir. Network is down after Lasher's little grenade trick using LaGarron's munitions from his chest rig. Tai has a broken arm and First Squad's armor needs a hard reset. We also lost Marshal Truveau and a combat skiff to the mongrel.”
“You could have led with that, Marshal.” The gruffness was clear in his voice when he spoke. The commander was not happy. “Where is Corporal LaGarron now?”
“Upstairs somehow.,” Brand answered. “He was tied up with the same gear we used to secure Lasher. Other than a sore neck and a battered ego, Doc said he’d be just fine.”
Hylaeus gestured to the tattered android. “What's going on with this thing?”
“It was an old bot that the garrison was using as a camera inside the cells, sir. Plus the thing
looked creepy as hell. Good to put in there with a criminal and have them unsettled by it.”
The commander leaned down and put his finger under the bot’s chin. “You said that it talked?”
Brand nodded. “Yes, sir. Right before they blew the grenades. The thing is probably fried now. No way old sim-tech like this has enough shielding to keep that much charge from shutting it down. In any case, I talked to the garrison commander. The thing was here in an old part of the building when they took over the fort. Strange that it talked. Maybe Lasher programmed it to be creepy as a distraction.
“Looks like I’m on the hook for another camera.” Hylaeus stood, ignoring the protest of stiff joints. “Have Tom take a look at it. See if there is anything we can learn.”
“Aye, sir.” Brand said, motioning for two of the unarmored privates to secure the rotting piece of tech. “Where is the rest of the garrison? We could use their help on this.”
Hylaeus smirked. “Did I just hear the leader of the Devil Hunters ask for help?”
The tattered robot was being carried past the two Templars as they joked. Somewhere, in the recesses of its mind, it lamented another broken promise. The two men had left her here with these fleshy monsters. They’d just left her. She was alone again. She would be poked and prodded again. She would pray for it all to end, again.
The door to one of the rooms in the fort slipped open. It was on the third floor, in a corner that not many traveled through, so the occupying lancers had little use for it. It had become a spare parts room of sorts, where unwanted bits and bobs came to rest until someone remembered they were there.
A ladder stood just inside the door. It made getting into the room difficult but not impossible. The ladder was probably the most used of the dusty treasures within. Multiple drag marks from it being moved and slammed back marred the floor.
Boxes of varying sizes and shapes lined the room. Stacked without consideration to how boxes of different dimensions might rest on one another, they were one nudge away from toppling into chaos. A small stack that was not leaned into a wall had fallen over from the explosion earlier. Some of the contents lay strewn about. Various rolls of tape, wire, and odd fasteners were scattered on the floor.
The Mongrel: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Hunter's Moon Book 1) Page 4