by Anna Carven
“That damn Kordolian,” I mutter, fishing for a fluffy white bathrobe, which I pull over my naked body, belting it. This early in the morning, it will still be chilly outside.
I slip on a pair of utility shoes as I head downstairs, bursting out the front door. I stomp across the orchard, where morning dew still covers the ground, shivering slightly as the cold morning air brushes against my bare legs.
I tramp across the red soil, heading towards the cluster of mysterious boxes. There are around ten in total. A shimmer of air at the edge of this makeshift Kordolian Stonehenge is the only clue that Darkshadow is parked beyond, the menacing craft hidden by some kind of optical illusion technology.
Is there anything these Kordolians can’t do?
“Tarak!” I yell. My voice sounds tiny as the morning breeze steals it away, but if Tarak’s around, I know he’ll hear me. He could hear a pin drop in an avalanche.
Sure enough, Big Bad appears a moment later, stepping out from inside one of the crate-things.
I gesture wildly towards all the boxes. “What’s all this?”
He’s crossing the ground, walking towards me in that soundless way of his. Any trace of the fatigue he displayed yesterday is gone. He’s back to his usual self. “I am making some modifications and improvements and adding to the existing infrastructure.”
“You’re what?” Okay, so this is a surprise. Yesterday, I decided to be considerate and not ask any questions, because he looked tired.
What do I get? I wake up the next morning and find the front yard full of alien shipping containers.
That’s what happens when you drop your guard around Kordolians. I remind myself that from now on, I’m always going to ask questions.
I walk up to Tarak and put my fists on his chest as he takes me into his arms. “What are you doing?” I ask him. “Where did these come from? What’s inside them?”
He stares down at me through his dark glasses, a hint of a smile forming. “I arranged for a supply drop. It happened at night, while you were asleep. There are construction materials inside those boxes, along with terraforming equipment, communication devices, and weapons. I thought it necessary to make our arrangement here more permanent and secure.”
“Won’t this upset the Federation?”
“They can’t be upset if they don’t know about it.”
“Wouldn’t this have been picked up on the satellites?”
“It was a stealth drop,” he says smugly. “And even if they have tracked it somehow, what can they possibly do about it?” He pulls me closer, and I can’t help but snuggle up to him, grateful for his warmth. “See, amina? I always answer your questions.”
“Aunt Kenna’s going to be furious,” I sigh. “How are we going to explain this to her?”
“The old woman and I have come to an agreement,” he says, surprising me.
“You have?”
“Indeed.” He buries his nose in my hair. “You smell good.”
“B-but-”
“No buts. You always smell good to me.”
His low, rumbling voice, his warmth, and his masculine scent all have the effect of scrambling my brains a little. I close my eyes, indulging in a quiet moment with him. It’s too early in the morning for me to process all this, and I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.
Tarak runs an affectionate hand through my hair, but as I snuggle up to him, all hell breaks loose.
An explosion erupts, sending a flock of squawking birds flying. A plume of smoke rises from the direction of the orchard, as Tarak stiffens and spins around. Cold, terrifying fury crosses his features. He snaps orders into his comm in rapid-fire Kordolian. Seconds later, the three Kordolian soldiers appear, as if out of nowhere, fully armored and packing enough firepower to assault a small city.
A small silver landflyer streaks overhead, dropping a bomb-shaped object from its metal belly. Tarak’s already moving, his armor clicking into place underneath his robes as he picks me up and runs behind one of the giant black boxes. He shields me with his large frame me as white smoke blankets the area, making me cough. It’s becoming thicker by the second, stinging my eyes and burning my throat. It’s some kind of smokescreen, designed to obscure everything. The other Kordolians have disappeared into the mist, and there’s no way I can make out Darkshadow.
I hear the sound of a plasma gun being fired, just as Tarak turns, the bolt hitting him in the back. A jolt goes through his body, but most of the impact is absorbed by his exo-armor as he shields me. He takes a moment to recover as I stare up at him, frozen in shock. Then, to my relief, he starts moving again.
He’s swearing profusely in Kordolian. “I can’t get you to Darkshadow right now, amina,” he whispers. “It’s too risky, and someone very dangerous is almost on top of us right now. I’m going to try and draw him away.”
Terrified, I nod, before a coughing fit overtakes me.
Tarak tears off his robes and covers my nose and mouth with a strip of fabric, tying it around my face. He takes me around to the entrance of one of the black boxes. The door slides open and he gently urges me inside. “Go in and don’t come out until I tell you to,” he says. His voice is gentle, but he can’t disguise the cold anger in his eyes. They seem to glow red in the dim, hazy light.
I’m pretty sure that whoever’s responsible for this is going to die.
“You have to get Aunt Kenna,” I gasp, worry surging through me as I step inside the box. It’s dark inside. I shudder as my fear of enclosed spaces is rekindled.
“I will send Lodan to get her,” Tarak assures me, squeezing my hand. “Do not come out, no matter what, until I say so,” he repeats, whispering now. A sense of urgency has entered his voice. A plasma gun has appeared in his hand, and he presses it into my palm. At the same time he presses his lips to my forehead. “I will be back.” He discards the rest of his robes, the black, seamless exo-suit rippling over his body, concealing his features behind a menacing looking helm. He stalks out into the thick white smoke, the door closing behind him, leaving me in total darkness.
Abbey
“She’s in there. That’s what the trace from her link-band says.” An unfamiliar voice filters through the walls of the container. It’s distinctly Human. I get to my feet. It’s pitch-black in here, and I can’t see a thing.
Have they been tracking me through the link this whole time? Fuck. I thought I’d set it to covert-mode. My understanding is that one can only track a link-band if its signal has been registered during a prior call, and even then, it’s highly illegal to do so.
Since we arrived on the property, I’ve only received one call.
I shake my head. There’s no time to think about that now. I press a button on the offending link-band and it illuminates the place with a soft blue light.
This giant metal box is filled with mechanical equipment of some sort.
I clutch the plasma gun Tarak’s given me tightly, checking the blue charge on the side. It’s fully loaded and ready to shoot, but the only time I’d dare use it is with my back pressed to the wall.
Otherwise, the recoil is going to send me flying.
All I can think of right now is keeping my baby safe. Someone, or something has decided to ambush us, and for some reason, the attackers are Human, not Kordolian.
Don’t they understand that they’ve practically signed their own death warrants?
Someone is banging on the outside of the container. “What the hell is this thing?”
“It’s all-Callidum, by the looks of things.” I hear an appreciative whistle. “Those Kordolian fuckers must have that stuff coming out of their ears, to be able to make shipping containers from it.”
I back away, standing against the wall with the plasma gun raised. Where the hell is Tarak? He should have easily been able to handle a bunch of Humans by now.
I don’t know what’s happened, but something’s gone very wrong.
But who the hell would be stupid or arrogant enough to try and pull off something like
this?
I have my suspicions.
With my free hand, I set the recording function on my link band. Then I unclasp it, letting it fall to the floor.
If something happens to me and my child, Tarak needs to know who is responsible.
“You know how this thing opens?”
“There’s a panel here. Can’t understand this language, hang on-”
The door slides open, revealing three Humans. White smoke pours in, making my eyes water. I search around for the bit of cloth Tarak had wrapped around my face earlier, but I’ve dropped it somewhere.
The Humans are dressed in combat gear, with respirator masks obscuring their features. They carry bolt-guns.
They’re definitely hostile.
“Fuck off or I’ll shoot,” I snarl, as they approach.
The lead guy laughs menacingly. “What are you going to do with that tiny little pistol, lady?”
“What do you want?” I gasp, as smoke enters my lungs, making me cough.
“We’re under orders to retrieve you,” the man says. “Now you can make this easy for us and nobody will get hurt, or we can do this the hard way.”
“Who sent you?”
“You’ll find out in time. Don’t resist, lady, I’m warning you. For your sake, and for your unborn child’s sake, don’t fight back.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” They are not going to lay a hand on my baby. “Don’t take another step, or I’ll shoot.”
“I’d really advise you not to do that. There are three of us and one of you. What do you think is going to happen? You probably can’t even aim that thing straight. Now put the gun down and come with us. I promise you, nobody is going to get hurt if you co-operate.”
I can barely see them now, with all the smoke in here. I’m starting to wheeze a little, my breath coming in great gasps. “Get out, assholes,” I snarl. “You’re all dead men anyway.”
The lead guy laughs. “Sounds like you’re not going to let us do this the easy way.” He takes a step forwards, a hulking black shadow amidst the smoke.
“Get back!” I scream, between coughing fits. I can barely see anything now. Still, the three masked men approach.
I can’t let them take me away from here.
I brace myself against the hard wall of the container, bringing my second arm up to steady my aim.
I’ve fired one of these before; I can do it again.
It’s going to hurt like hell, but it’s better than being nabbed by these three creepy jerks.
Tarak had better hurry the hell up. This smoke is killing me.
“Last warning,” I shout.
They ignore me, laughing.
I squeeze the trigger.
Inside the container, the sound is deafening. A blazing blue bolt of light sears across my vision as my shot gets one of the guys in the chest. It rips through him, creating a splatter of blood and gore. It hits the opposite wall of the container, in a shower of sparks.
The impact pushes me right against the wall, my back digging into the hard metal. With the noise, smoke and screams from my attackers, it’s total chaos. Pain shoots through my arms as I lower the gun.
I can smell charred flesh.
I dry-retch, fighting the urge to empty the contents of my stomach.
I’m trembling.
I just killed a man; a living, breathing Human being is now dead because of me. But they’re going to harm my baby, and I can’t let that happen.
Run, my instincts tell me.
Clutching my belly with one hand, the plasma gun in the other, I duck down and rush blindly through the smoke, heading for the patch of light at the end of the container. But because of my pregnant state, I can’t move very fast at all.
Strong arms grab me. I flail around, raising the gun, squeezing off another shot. My attacker dodges, just barely, the shot smashing into the wall again, the sound causing a loud ringing in my ears. The impact sends us both tumbling to the floor. I drop the gun and curl both arms around my belly as I fall onto my side, trying to protect my child at all costs.
Something sharp pricks me in the arm, and my vision starts to go black.
The assholes have injected me with some sort of sedative.
My last thought before I slip off into the blackness is that when Tarak finds them, they’re all going to die.
Tarak
“Show yourself, Silent One,” I snarl, as I step away from the cargo container. “You are dead anyway, so why delay the inevitable?”
The heat sensors of my visor don’t show me anything, but I know he’s there. I can sense his killing intent. He must be using an advanced cloaking device.
Explosions, smoke-bombs, the appearance of a Silent One; this is a co-ordinated attack. It’s obvious the Empire is behind it.
Those responsible are all going to die.
Thick smoke has settled across the plain, reducing the visibility to almost zero. It is too risky to get Abbey to Darkshadow when I don’t know what’s in front of us. And it’s far too risky for her to be out here with a Silent One stalking me.
At least the container is made from Callidum; it’s virtually impenetrable, so she should be safe. I was tempted to lock it, but I didn’t want to trap her inside. If something drastic happens, she needs to be able to get out.
I step into another container, which is full of weapons. I glance across the racks until I find what I’m looking for; a pair of twin Callidum longblades.
My preferred weapons.
With no visibility to speak of, guns are useless. We’re reduced to close combat.
“Open channel,” I whisper into my neuro-comm, and the triple feeds of my soldiers filter through. “What’s your status, soldiers?”
“That was a fucking Ifkin smoke bomb,” Jeral says tersely. “I know the smell. It’ll last for a few phases.” I hear a grunt. “They’re swarming all over the place. I’ve just killed three of them.”
“Same here,” Nythian chips in. “I have no idea where the fuckers came from, but I’ve killed two on my end.”
Lodan is silent.
“Lodan?” I prompt.
“Hang on, boss. Just have to shake this fucker off.” I hear a dull thud. “That’s better. Jeral and Ny are right. They’re swarming in from somewhere.”
“Lodan, go to the main house and find the old woman. All of you, keep at those Ifkin until every last one of them are dead. And keep the fighting away from crate nine, because Abbey is in there. Protect it at all costs, but don’t draw attention to it.” As long as she’s inside and it remains closed, nothing can harm her. “I’m going offline now, because I’ve got an Imperial assassin on my trail, but one of you needs to contact Silence and send for reinforcements. And get the First Division over here. Tell them this order overrides any Earth treaty or convention. We will deal with the consequences later. If the Humans try to obstruct us, you know what to do.”
“Yes, Sir!”
I terminate the comm.
I step outside of the container with my blades drawn, and I wait. There’s no use looking for him. He has to come to me, eventually. He is a slave to the mindbond that compels him to kill me, and there’s no way for him to resist it.
“Stop trying to think of ways to kill me in one hit,” I call, trying to goad him. “It’s not going to happen.”
In the distance, the dying gurgle of an Ifkin attacker reaches my ears. The loud blast of a plasma bolt echoes through the air. At the same time, I hear a sound so faint I almost miss it.
A footfall.
I whirl, drawing my swords, as Callidum meets Callidum with a sharp clang. My twin swords are crossed, and so are his.
The Silent One’s cloak of invisibility melts away, revealing a blank mask with twin slits for eyes.
As is the custom of the Imperial assassins, he wears all-white, down to his gloves.
This is the one the other assassin warned me about; the one he called a wraith. I can tell from the strength of the killing intent that spills forth. It mig
ht make a lesser warrior start to have thoughts of surrender without ever knowing why.
But he has never fought anyone like me.
Our swords are locked. As if sensing each other’s intent, we withdraw at the same time, stepping back into an attacking stance.
I move first, going for his neck, trying to draw him into my reach. He dodges the thrust and counters with one of his own, going for my arm.
To my surprise, he manages to slice my upper arm, cutting into muscle. He’s incredibly fast. I grunt as pain rips through me. But my nanites are already doing their work, healing the flesh.
Not many are able to cut through my armor on the first stroke. This Silent One is definitely more skilled than the last.
I move forward, thrusting, dodging, blocking, parrying. He does the same, and we become locked in a deadly dance of swords as we move through the dense smoke, circling around the large cargo containers. I lead him further away from the container where Abbey is hiding.
We move faster and faster, neither of us finding an opening as we move away from the cluster of containers and out into the open desert.
It has been a long, long time since I have faced such a challenging fighter. He’s going to try to cut me again, but I won’t give him an opening. And if I can’t find one myself, I will just keep fighting until I wear him down.
He goes for my abdomen, angling for a vicious cut along my belly. I leap back and execute a counter-thrust that slices through his right thigh.
A trickle of black blood stains his white clothes.
He attacks again, never relenting, never tiring, moving forward with a vicious fury as I dodge, trying to get his measure.
We’re almost evenly matched.
Almost.
I will find the advantage. I always do.
My anger mounts. The longer I’m absorbed in this fight, the longer I’m away from Abbey. I can’t afford a long, drawn out fight with this fucking assassin.
But he’s good; better than any I’ve faced in a long time.
I go on the attack, channeling my anger into my movements. I crush the restlessness; the anxiety that builds inside me. I can’t afford to become impatient.