“Was there a question in that sentence?”
“An observation.”
The man smiled again, his eyes shining with playful joy. “Consortium Special Forces Operational Detachment.”
Rebecca tried hard not to look dazed. “You were Delta?”
“Delta?” Ga’an asked, now seated near Rebecca.
“The elite group of soldiers chosen for the deepest, darkest, and most dangerous missions. This gentleman here is one of the best soldiers the Consortium has… or had.”
“You are making me blush, Admiral,” the mercenary faked a smile.
She sighed. “That explains the infiltration. These thugs do not have the brains to pull this off.”
The mercenary holding the gun to her face hissed, landing a powerful kick to Rebecca’s right side, blowing all the air out of her lungs. She found herself lying face down on the cold metal tile.
A second later, her assailant lay next to her, cold, a small trail of blood moistening the back of his head.
“I apologize for my man’s behavior. They don’t know how to behave,” the mercenary sighed, holstering his gun. “Ouch. He’ll have some headache in the morning.”
“They are like untamed animals,” Ga’an sneered. “You should be ashamed of yourself, a soldier in league with thieves and thugs.”
The mercenary leader held Rebecca’s arms, leaning her body against the nearby console. “We have to adapt, Mr. Ga’an.” He checked Rebecca’s binds. “These thugs need someone to teach them how to operate, and I need to survive.”
“How—” Rebecca stopped to adjust her breathing, “—how did you end up in Mr. Lero’s crew anyway, Mr.…?”
The leader turned his stare on Rebecca. “You caught me in a good mood. Stefanu’s the name.”
“Mr. Stefanu,” Rebecca said, nodding. “I am guessing you will not kill my crew.”
“Kill your crew?” Stefanu blinked. “Why would I do that? Besides,” he shrugged, “there are thousands of you. I just need the ship. You can all go your way. Just don’t try any unnecessary heroics that would force me to depressurize the decks.”
“We should kill them,” Kirby interjected, spitting as he talked. “That flag pole over there killed three of my men. Hark and Levon are in no better shape.”
“That’s because you didn’t follow orders, you fool.”
Kirby took a step forward threateningly. “You don’t talk to me like that.”
“Or what?” Stefanu asked, not even bothering to look at Kirby. “You’ll call your dad?”
“You’re pushing your luck, Stefanu,” Kirby hissed. “One of these days… One of these days.”
“You bore me, kid. Be useful, and go check on your injured.”
Kirby tensed, then visibly forced himself to walk away, his eyes burning with hatred.
“Watch your back, Mr. Stefanu. Your friend Kirby there seems to dislike you.”
Stefanu smiled sincerely. “Don’t do it, Admiral Conway,” he said, returning to the navigation console. “Instigation doesn’t suit you.”
Rebecca hmphed. “If it saves my crew, I may even try dancing on that console.”
“I’d admire that.”
“So, what is the fate of my crew? There are close to five thousand people here.”
Stefanu pressed a few buttons and opened the star map at the main holographic display. “There,” he said, pointing to a green dot not too far from the system in the middle, representing where they were. “It’s an abandoned mining base. You should be fine there. Plenty of resources. Water-filled asteroids nearby with miner drones to operate, and two hydroponic farms, enough to feed your people.”
“So it is a prison.”
“Well,” Stefanu admitted, “unless you can construct a ship, you’re pretty much stuck with the interplanetary shuttles of the base.”
Ga’an shifted in his place, “What of the residents?”
“It’s an abandoned base. A turf war between Virm Industries and some local gangs. None of that matters now. Virm Industries left this place long ago, and the local gangs don’t bother coming here when there’s nothing to loot.”
“It is still a prison.”
“It is,” Stefanu said, wincing. “I’m sorry, Admiral.”
“You know I am right about that Kirby character.”
“You are indeed,” Stefanu nodded, leaving the navigation console and switching to tactical. A sudden rattling took them all by surprise, except for the seasoned mercenary, and the computer confirmed a successful docking procedure with a single beep. “Kirby’s the eldest son of Borjan. Not as useless as his brothers, but still an utter tool. I came here about a year ago, right after the war over Earth. He’s not too happy about me taking over the reins instead of him.”
“So, you fought the war?”
“We all did,” Stefanu said. “I know of your exploits, Admiral. Everyone knew it was Deviator that turned the tide. I don’t know what you did, but that light show you pulled off was nothing short of miraculous.”
“You fought the battle of survival to become a thief?” Ga’an said, disgust still hanging on his face.
“My XO has a point, you know. How did you end up here?” Rebecca shifted to ease her hands. The aching was slowly taking over.
Stefanu stopped fiddling with the computers. “I was on board Wellington. We were evacuating women and children from Florence under my supervision when we got hit by that wormlike thing.”
“The enemy mothership,” Ga’an said with a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
Stefanu nodded and took one of the officer chairs. “We were left crippled, adrift in space. Most of the decks depressurized with the blow, but we still had over fifty survivors, most of them under fifteen.” He let out a heavy sigh, “A transport launched from the planet was passing by. The Jewel Prize.”
“The Jewel Prize?” Ga’an asked, knitting his burrows.
Rebecca sighed heavily. “The personal transport of Eberhardt. Consortium’s big boss.”
“Yes,” Stefanu said. “We hailed, asked, and begged for help,” he looked at his hands in black fingerless gloves. “Take the children…”
“…and he passed right by you, without a word,” Rebecca completed. “How typical of the man.”
“What would you do, Admiral Conway? Mr. Ga’an?”
Ga’an didn’t say a word. His face no longer showed hatred, but he hid his feelings behind a stern expression.
“A misfired mortar, perhaps,” Rebecca shrugged, wincing with the accompanying ache.
Stefanu smiled.
The bridge elevators opened, and Kirby returned with another mercenary a step behind. “Dad wants you to hasten the procedure.”
Stefanu stood up from his chair, taking his time in his moves. “He didn’t contact me.”
“Maybe you aren’t his favorite, after all, soldier boy.” Kirby grinned. “The second team isn’t responding to hails anymore. He wants the woman brought to him as well.”
“Have they made it to the ship?” Rebecca looked at Ga’an, shifting in her place. Her first officer had the same concerned look.
“Shut up, you hag,” Kirby started, but Stefanu silenced him with a firm move of his hand.
“Do you know something, Admiral Conway?”
Rebecca licked her lips, choosing her words. “We had to abandon the ship because something came on board.”
“Something?”
“I cannot explain it to you, and you would not believe me even if I did.” Rebecca nodded at the captain’s chair. “Check the logs of the last week. Actually, when you have the time, check the last year since the war.”
Stefanu’s gaze met Rebecca’s, and he made for the logs, but Kirby grabbed his shoulder to turn him. “She’s lying, Stefanu-aargh!”
Stefanu caught Kirby’s hand, twisting the chubby man’s right wrist with a popping sound as disgusting as it was pleasing to Rebecca’s ears. “Don’t touch me, Kirby.”
“You dislocated my wrist!”<
br />
“It can be relocated. No big deal.” He let Kirby fall to his knees. The mercenary guards gaped at the exchange. Stefanu pressed a few buttons and brought up a small holographic display, showing video captures and images taken by Deviator’s external sensors. His face didn’t give away much, but Rebecca was sure the seasoned Delta operative was deep in thought. “Is this why you had to abandon your husk?” he said as he reached the images of the last day’s events, showing Vengeance and her minions battling in the corridors of the superdreadnought. “The logs suggest there was an explosion. The husk’s gone—all space debris now.”
“Yes,” Rebecca said. “It should have been—but apparently, was not—enough to stop the invader. And believe me when I say this; we really need to be out of here before she comes back.”
Stefanu was silent. At last, he grimaced and shook his head. “Well, if five thousand personnel couldn’t stop the thing. I don’t think Borjan has any chance with a few thugs.”
“We need to leave while we have jump capability, Stefanu,” Rebecca said.
“I most certainly do not wish to have another encounter with the creatures, mercenary,” Ga’an concurred.
Stefanu looked at the five mercenary guards and Kirby. “Guards, stand down and untie these people.”
“What?” Kirby yelled. “You double-crossing scum! You can’t simply change sides because you’re afraid of some bugs on a screen. Guards, at him!” Borjan’s son pulled his gun with the off-hand, but before he could raise it, Stefanu rushed him, punching Kirby’s throat with his left elbow while his right hand pushed up the gun.
Kirby stuttered and fired into the ceiling. One of the guards fired his rifle, but Stefanu was already behind Kirby with one swift move, using him as a human shield. The mercenary’s shot took Kirby in the heart, sealing his fate. The guard looked at Borjan’s now-dead son in shock, and Stefanu pushed Kirby’s body toward the man, toppling the mercenary. He rolled to the left, avoiding another thug’s gunshot, and pulled a throwing knife from his ankle pouch, returning fire on his own terms. His knife took the second guard in the throat, leaving the man gasping for air as blood filled his mouth.
With the heat of battle so near, Ga’an found the necessary adrenaline rush, roaring as he broke his bonds, jumping forward to pull the third guard’s legs out from under him. As his body met the floor, Ga’an grabbed the guard’s head and smashed it hard on the metal surface.
Stefanu faced the two remaining goons pointing their rifles at the ex-Delta. “Come on now, boys, you two against us two is hardly fair for you.”
Ga’an freed the binds from his legs and stood near Stefanu as if to prove his point, soaring over everyone in the room. “It is best to surrender now, or you will perish here. Or better”—the tall Nucteel narrowed his eyes—“I beg you not to surrender.”
The two guards looked at each other for a brief moment, then raced to put down their weapons.
“Smart,” Stefanu smiled. “Now be kind and move over there. Tie yourselves with the cuffs.”
Ga’an’s recorded voice echoing from the speaker stopped the interaction. “Hostile signal detected. Soldiers, prepare for battle.” Stefanu and Ga’an turned to Rebecca to confirm their thoughts.
She nodded, “I think we overstayed our welcome, gentlemen.”
THE FOUNDATION OF ROME
“We are all set, son. Fox is fueled up, filled with rations, and even the cat is itching to be on our way.”
“Good, old man. We shall depart within the hour. We’ve lost enough days.”
“We had to make sure the boy healed up nicely, Raymond. It was our responsibility. Too many lives are hurt because of this. We should at least comfort the ones we can.”
Ray nodded. They had lost four precious days before Eras was back on his feet, but it was necessary. He owed the boy that much. Or I need forgiveness.
Brother Cavil scratched his head. “Do we know how we will find our way?”
“Archibald’s giving us a guide to take us through uncharted jump points.”
Captain Samir puffed, dropping a crate of supplies near the ramp of the gunship. “Wine,” he said, smiling as he wiped his forehead. “I’m guessing we’ll be needing lots of booze before the end of this thing. I’m making sure we have plenty.” He nodded at the figure patiently waiting in silence at the other side of the ramp, his hood covering his face. “Are you comfortable with having one of those freaks on board?”
“No, I’m not. But I’m sure he’ll behave. Otherwise, I’ll rip him apart.”
“Raymond! I am not sure if I am comfortable with your violent thoughts.”
Ray sighed. “All right, old man. I’ll toss him out, better?”
Brother Cavil entertained the idea before he snapped out of it and shook his head vigorously.
“What about the boy?” Captain Samir sat on the crate, still wiping the sweat with his shirt. “He seemed like a nice kid.”
“Which boy?”
“The one they’ve beaten. Eras, I believe. We’ve waited this long for him to recover. We may very well take him with us. No telling what they’ll do to him after you leave. Rules or not, a grudge’s a grudge, and I’m guessing the boy will experience the results after we’re gone.”
Ray didn’t say a word, focusing his attention on the figure standing at the other end of the ramp. He felt responsible for the boy’s fate. Although he had delivered justice on his own terms to the boy’s wrongdoer, that didn’t change the fact the boy had been tortured. Perhaps it was the Lohil’s fate that bonded Eras to their trek.
“Boss?”
“Huh?” Ray blinked. “Yeah, sure. If the boy wants to, we can have him instead. Elaine seems fond of him, anyway.”
“I’ll see to it. By the way, did you talk with that Hanker guy about the torture?” Samir asked.
Ray gave a curt nod. He still saw the terror on Protodeacon Hanker’s face as the light of Serhmana washed over him, tearing him apart, a piece at a time whenever he closed his eyes. He didn’t enjoy it, but it was necessary. It was vigilante justice, but justice non-the-less.
“The girls are on board.” Brother Cavil pulled out an apple from his robe’s pocket, taking a bite. “I really miss my kumats. Maybe we can get some while we are that close to home. I miss my forests and the little foxes that visited my tent every year. Perhaps I can even see them, eh?”
“Maybe,” Ray smiled. “What about Sim’Ra?” Besides them and the gunship, a few of Archibald Cosmon’s men were present in the hangar bay. Two technicians were fixing cables at a nearby terminal, and a woman was welding the railing along with one of the platforms attached to the rock walls. The towering Baeal, however, was nowhere to be found.
“He said he will be here shortly. He had a small piece of unfinished business. Between you and me,” Brother Cavil leaned closer, his breath in Ray’s beard, “I believe he is up to something. I am not trusting that creature of the dark.”
“You think? Here I was, wondering why Sim’Ra would join us through this dangerous journey. I almost thought it was because he liked your chatter.”
“Bah!” Brother Cavil slapped Ray’s shoulder, muttering to himself as he made way hastily into the ship. Something about showing respect to elders.
Captain Samir chuckled, standing up to carry his crate of goods inside. “I’ll take care of Eras.”
“I’ll find our dark friend, and we’ll be on our way.”
***
Archibald narrowed his eyes, lifting his chin. “Did you or did you not use this terminal, Sim’Ra? Two of my men saw you entering my study late at night the day you arrived.”
Sim’Ra turned his stare to the terminal slowly, uncaring. “Maybe I did. What about it?”
Archibald closed his eyes, sighing. “What have you used it for?” He opened his eyes, now glowing with rage. “What!”
Sim’Ra wasn’t interested in his brother’s rage. He shrugged and made his way, very leisurely, to the cabinet. “I may have pressed a button or two. Se
nt a few messages here and there.”
“There are eremites out there with orders to kill people. To sabotage ships. Those buttons are confirmation signals!”
“Your orders, not mine.” Sim’Ra smiled. “I may have accidentally activated some of your sleeper agents on board Deviator. I need to make sure certain people will not interfere with my… delicate work. And having the terminal blood coded was a wise move. Although I think you did not expect your brother to show up at your door with the same blood.”
“You…” Archibald started but cut short when a knock on the door interrupted their exchange. “What?” he snarled.
A servant girl entered the room, bowing, carrying a leather-wrapped object in her arms. “Here is the spear as you wished.”
“Spear?” Archibald lowered his brows. “I did not—”
Before he could finish, Sim’Ra snatched the Algh’ham Marak weapon, Aram, from the servant with his left hand and grabbed the poor girl’s neck with his right, twisting it violently.
“Sim’Ra—oof!”
Sim’Ra swung the spear even before the servant's dead body reached the floor and hit his brother hard in the stomach with the end, continuing his salvo with another fierce hit to his head, incapacitating Archibald.
“Why?” Archibald’s voice trembled, and he lost control of his appearance, turning into his original form.
“That is better.” Sim’Ra looked at his brother without the slightest hint of compassion. The veins on his neck throbbed. “You are a disgrace to the Empire. To our father, not that he deserved much respect, to begin with.”
“I—” Dalant’has coughed. “I only did what I thought was best for our race.”
“Our race?” Sim’Ra looked around the study room before turning his gaze back on his brother. “There are two things Baeal here, brother. This spear and myself.” He hit Dalant’has with the hilt of the spear one more time, hearing the cracking of his ribs.
“Ugh!”
“You are weak. Pathetic even. And I had to put up with your failure for days.” Sim’Ra flinched. He turned his attention to the glass cabinet. “Do you know of this one, Dalant’has?” He opened the glass case and pulled out a leather-bound book. “The Founding of Rome.”
Balance of Power: The Blackened Prophecy Book 2 Page 19