“Alright. That hurt.”
Nathen circled to Lupell’s right, cutting off his only exit in case he decided to run. “You’ve got a lot to answer for.”
Lupell shook his head and sidestepped away from Nathen. “Not to you.”
The two men circled each other, staring so hard there might as well have been lighting bolts lancing between their eyes. Lupell was in form, but it was clear he’d never thrown a punch in his adult life. This was no fight, but with nothing to lose, Lupell made for a quick lunge at Nathen, drawing his arm back to swing. Nathen shocked him once in the throat with a half-closed fist before the traitor had even finished drawing his arm back, and Lupell’s eyes bulged as he tumbled into the conference chairs.
Nathen rolled his fingers in and out of a fist. “You might as well talk now. Because when you meet with God, excuses will mean nothing.”
It took Lupell a moment to choke out an answer, leaning heavily on the tabletop. “If… there’s a God… he’ll thank me for what I’ve done.”
Lupell pulled himself upright, and his eyes suddenly darted sideways as he spotted Nathen’s Dunchura, almost within arm’s reach on the table. The captain licked at his dry upper lip, contemplating.
“Touch that gun,” Nathen rumbled, lethally. “And there won’t be an unbroken bone in your body.”
Lupell looked at Nathen, glanced at the gun, then smiled wide and slid away from the table. “I don’t need a gun. Unlike you.”
Nathen remained in control, though he wanted to tear that smile off of Lupell's face with his bare fingernails. “I don’t know why you’re helping the Yew… and right now, I don’t care. But it ends here.”
Nathen grabbed Lupell by the shoulder and spun him toward the door, picking up his pistol at the same time. “Now come on. We’re going to the bridge.”
Lupell smirked, crossing his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Nathen responded with a brutal bash to the back of the traitor’s head with the butt end of his Denchura. Lupell stumbled forward, crashed into the wall and sank to his knees, dazed. Nathen exploded.
“Who do you think you are!?”
Lupell spat up a bit of blood into his fingers and used the wall to steady himself as he shakily got up. “I’m a patriot.”
Nathen stepped forward and struck a blow across Lupell’s face with his fist. Lupell reeled from the blow and thumped back against the wall, almost passing out. Somehow, he managed a sickening smile as blood trickled from his nostril.
“G-get your licks in n-now. While you s-still can!”
Nathen raised his knee, about to smash his heel down on the traitor’s crotch, but he stopped himself. After a second, Nathen put his foot down and backed a step away, clicking the safety off his pistol.
“You’ve come a long way to fail now, Lupell,” Nathen said, checking his sidearm as he calmed down.
Lupell’s smile melted into a scowl. “You don’t get it, do you? We’ve already won. You’re not stopping us today. Today, the war ends.”
Nathen had to restrain himself from killing Lupell with his next blow. The traitor collapsed like his knees were made of toothpicks as Nathen’s pistol whip cut a gash in the side of his head. The man in the captain’s uniform trembled against the wall as Nathen shouted.
“There are hundreds of men and women on this station! When the Yew come, every one of them is going to die!”
“Not… not true,” choked Lupell, trying to keep an outstretched hand between himself and Nathen. “The Yew just want Humanity to stay out of the war. They can do that without killing… if we don’t resist.”
“Are you insane?” roared Nathen, grabbing Lupell by the throat. “The Alliance invited us into war! They will turn this station into a prisoner processing station! Anyone they don’t kill will be enslaved! Why would you want to help them with that?”
Lupell choked out his words, clawing at Nathen’s death grip.
“This… This isn’t a war the Humans can win. The Human race is addicted to war. We should never have gotten involved! If we let the Yew win, we can at least catch ourselves before our entire race is destroyed! Can’t, can’t you… see…”
Lupell gasped and his eyes rolled into his head. Nathen stared hatefully at the traitor for another full second, teeth gritted and arm shaking. Then the commander threw him onto the floor in disgust. Lupell crumpled and gasped, groping at his throat where Nathen’s steel grip had left its mark. The ESC leveled his pistol and put his finger to the trigger.
“You’re no patriot. You’re a traitor.”
For a second, the room hushed. Lupell didn’t look up into the gun. Nathen held his aim, weighing the benefits of executing him. Finally, he scowled, and lowered his arm.
“And I can’t wait to see you hang. But not here.”
Lupell spoke with struggling breath. “Where… are you going, to be when the War Hive come calling?” The traitor looked up. “We need the Alliance. And whether or not you understand, I can’t let you war-loving monsters destroy the only hope our race has for survival.”
Nathen kicked Lupell in the side, knocking the loathsome man back to the floor. “Get up, or crawl. I’m taking you to the control room.”
Lupell pushed himself onto his knees, rubbing at his throat where Nathen had grabbed him. “I told you already: I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Nathen stepped in and grabbed Lupell by the back of his uniform, hauling him to his feet and shoving him into the door. “You can go in handcuffs or a body bag. Makes no difference to me, but I’m taking you with me one way or another.”
Lupell smoothed out some wrinkles in his red captain’s uniform and looked over his shoulder. “You think I haven’t calculated my own death? Our plans will succeed, with or without me.”
Nathen pressed his gun muzzle into Lupell’s back. “I'm willing to test that hypothesis.”
Lupell reached down and touched the door controls. “That entirely depends on who else you’re willing to kill in the process.”
The door slid open.
It was like looking into a mirror. Two captains, facing each other in the doorway. Each with a gun in their back. Nathen let the shock sink in, then sighed, resignedly. Gordon stood silently in the doorway, facing Lupell’s smug and bloodied face as three of the rogue captain’s men held him from behind. Nathen’s eyes moved from one face to another, taking assessments of the Denchura pistols in the traitor’s hands. Gordon could do nothing, and his eyes apologized to Nathen through the anger directed at Lupell. They’d gotten him the second he’d left the war room. Nathen could kill Lupell… but he’d be killing the Ambassador as well. Reluctantly, Nathen turned his pistol around and handed it over Lupell’s shoulder. Lupell didn’t turn around to look at Nathen as he took his gun.
“Seems you do value some life.”
Lupell stepped out into the corridor and Nathen followed, hands held up at shoulder height. The traitors who waited all wore ship uniforms; probably from the Sledgefast. Lupell handed Nathen’s Denchura to one of his men—who stuck it in his belt—and turned around.
“This is where we part, gentlemen. I shall give your regards to the Yew when they arrive.”
Gordon slapped the hand off his shoulder and took half a step forward, cold faced.
“You’re in for a rude awakening,” the Ambassador said. “You don’t know the Alliance like I do.”
For a second, Lupell looked thoughtful, like he was considering the captain’s words. Then he sighed, with a twinge of pain from his bruised jaw.
“It’s a shame,” the traitor said. “They would have liked to see their old Ambassador from the Humans again. I might give you to them, just for the chance to witness that reunion.”
Nathen saw Gordon stiffen, either from rage or terror.
“But I’m afraid we don’t have that luxury. I’m sure we’ll all want to put this… unpleasantness behind us soon enough.”
Lupell reached over and took Gordon’s confiscated Karl 9 from one
of his men, balancing the heavy pistol in his hands and admiring the golden peace medallions.
“I’ll settle for giving them this. I’m sure the symbolism of giving them a weapon in the name of peace will not be lost on the Alliance.” Lupell waved the rocket pistol and tucked it into his uniform. “They will appreciate the gesture, Ambassador.”
Lupell gave a withering look to Nathen, then looked to one of his men.
“Keep it clean.” He pointed to Nathen. “Him you can soften up.”
Lupell turned and walked quickly away, never looking back. He disappeared around a corner, and the sound of a pressure hatch closing echoed off the walls. Lupell was gone. The three traitors left behind had total control. Gordon looked over at his fellow captive, hiding his concern. Nathen merely gave the Captain a glance in response. Behind the Elite Stellar Commando, one of Lupell’s men cleared his voice.
“Alright,” he said, tensely. “Let’s take a walk, you two.”
Nathen casually turned around and killed him.
The man’s throat was torn open before the look of shock registered on his face. He’d been watching for an attack; the tensing of a muscle, the jerk of a head. But the traitor didn’t register Nathen’s relaxed movement as anything hostile. He’d just killed him as casually as saying hello. Red drops speckled the white and black mercenary uniform. By the time the other two traitors reacted, their friend was dead.
The second traitor barely reacted before Nathen turned and grabbed his wrist, pointing it downwards. The bloody retractable dagger shot out from beneath Nathen's sleeve and sliced the man’s jugular vein. The traitor jolted, and his gun went off, the bullet ricocheting off the deck and down the corridor. Nathen pulled his dagger out, making a mess in the process.
The third traitor was yelling, about to shoot when Gordon jumped into action and grabbed the man’s face from behind, smothering him. The traitor had no time to struggle before Gordon snapped up Nathen’s pistol from the traitor’s belt and blasted the man twice in the midsection, rupturing multiple internal organs from point-blank range with the magnetic discharge. Despite the lethal damage, the traitor hung on for a few more seconds until at last the man collapsed, and Gordon dumped him on the floor. The Captain kicked the pistol away just in case, breathing hard from the exertion as Nathen cleaned the blood off his blade.
“Amateurs...” Nathen muttered.
“You make it look so easy,” Gordon said, once he swallowed down his aggression. Nathen just shrugged. The Captain looked down at the commander’s pistol in his hand and turned the gun over, stepping around the pools of blood to return it to its owner. “Was that your plan?”
Nathen took his pistol back and retracted his dagger. “Plans take too long. We don’t have that kind of time.”
“So what now?”
Nathen collected magazines of .45 ammo from all his victims. “We get ready to fight.”
Nathen tossed one of the Denchuras to Gordon who caught it and inspected it with expert hands.
“If the Yew are already in the system,” Gordon said. “Then we can expect the first boarders any minute now.”
“Agreed,” Nathen said, tucking the last of the clips away in his uniform and grabbing one traitor’s comm. unit. “Get moving. I’ll meet up with you at Central Command.”
Nathen started moving away, but Gordon stopped him. “Wait. Where are you going?”
Nathen looked back, motioning with his pistol hand. “I’m going after Lupell. He went this way.”
“There isn’t time for that,” Gordon warned. “We have to rally the station.”
Down the corridor, out of sight, several men yelled excitedly with a trample of boots. Echoes from deeper in the station brought the sounds of squads and panicked hustling to Nathen’s ears as word rapidly spread of the imminent danger.
“You do that on your own,” Nathen said, seriously. “But I am not letting that man get away.”
“The Yew boarding parties are going to cut you off before you catch him.”
Nathen was unphased as a proximity alarm started shrieking overhead. The Elite Stellar Commando turned and jogged off after the traitor.
“We’ll see.”
Within minutes, hollow clangs like cathedral bells vibrated all over the station. Then came the screams, and the bloodshed, as power discharges raked across the Orbit Angel.
The Yew Alliance had arrived.
Chapter 41
Phillip didn’t move, keeping his hands suspended out in front of him where his captor could see them. He wasn’t about to try and jump the man before the trigger was pulled, not in his current condition. Phillip knew he was tired, teetering on exhaustion. He also knew that if the gun wielder moved just a little closer...
Unfortunately, Phillip’s captor wasn’t a fool and remained a good five feet to Phillip’s left side, gun trained on him constantly. The only thing currently going in Phillip’s favor was that the gun handler’s attention was divided; half on Phillip and half on accessing the computer mainframe. After several minutes, Phillip’s captor turned his steely eyes fully back to Phillip.
“There,” he said, the smirking attitude he’d had before now completely gone. “That should disable the automatic countermeasures. We didn’t need those anyway.”
Phillip arched an eyebrow, not liking where things were going. “We don’t?”
The gunman nodded, his helmet remaining stationary while his head moved inside it. “That’s right. You’re going to play this little game one way or another. And seeing as I’m the one holding the gun, I get to make the rules. Your turn. Access the mainframe for me.”
Phillip made his first gamble. “Why not shoot me and do it yourself?”
For a moment, there was no response, and Phillip braced himself for the shock of a bullet, but it didn’t come. The man did, however, chuckle.
“It takes guts to say that to a man holding a bullet with your name on it. I respect that.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Slick.”
“You’re right, I didn’t. Okay. A: I’d like to avoid killing you if at all possible, which should be in your best interest. The idea is to keep as many Humans alive as possible during the takeover. Try anything, though, and you’ll be jetsam, understand? B: It’ll be a lot less work if we pretend we’re buddies and work on this together. If you work with me, chances are better you’ll scrape out of this alive.”
“Oh, that would be a benefit, wouldn’t it?” Phillip watched the gunman out of the corner of his eye almost closer than the man was watching him. He would have one chance to execute his plan. He had to pick the right moment.
“Just out of curiosity… what if I refuse? Sure you could shoot me, but that would mean more work for you and the fact that you’re asking for my help in the first place would indicate…”
“You’re stalling.”
Phillip sighed. “Okay, okay. But my question is still valid. What if?”
The man pulled something off his back and held it up for Phillip to see. Phillip recognized the satchel of plasmatic explosives before he even looked at it.
“Plan B,” he announced, rolling the remote detonator between his thumb and index finger.
Phillip swallowed before he said his next words. “Ah. Boy did I pick the wrong day to wear flammable aftershave.”
“You didn’t honestly think we’d waste all our stolen plasmatics on routers, did you? A smart fellow like you had to wonder at some point where all the extra explosives were going.” The gunman focused his glare on the side of Phillip’s head. “So I’d suggest you re-think turning down my demands.”
Slowly, after some serious consideration, Phillip nodded.
“Good.” The gunman returned the satchel to his backpack and jabbed the pistol at Phillip. “Now, let’s get back to work.”
Phillip rested his hands on the keyboard he’d been tapping away at for the last twenty-four hours. “Alright. What is your command, Master?”
The gunman motioned at the scr
een with his pistol. “Access the power grid and slave it to a command key. I want it so that we can throw the power off like a main switch, but keep life support on. External guns, targeting systems, docking release clamps, I want them all frozen. Do it now.”
The technician shrugged, bewildered. “A task like that will take hours of-”
The traitor waved the detonator again. Phillip swallowed.
“It'll take me a few minutes.”
“I’m patient,” the gunman replied.
Phillip paused, then nodded. “Right… As patient as a man with a bomb gets...”
***
Helen frowned as she examined what was left of the communications room. She and Doc had apparently arrived at the comm. station too late to save it. All the equipment had been sabotaged and was either un-usable or in pieces. The smell of spent plasmatics singed the air, strangling the air filters. Helen and Doc could hear sounds of struggle elsewhere in the station as early Yew boarding teams cut their way through the hull in assault shuttles. Nearby, Doc kicked a loose sheet of metal aside with the toe of his boot.
“They sure aren’t taking any chances, are they?” he said, watching a console burn.
Helen shook her head. “No.”
Doc looked at Helen with a sideways glance, bouncing the barrel of his Casper in his opposite palm. “So what do we do now? We can’t call for help.”
Helen looked sideways at Doc and activated her ESC comm. Unit.
“Bayonet to Knight.”
There was a second’s pause, then Nathen came over the other end. “I copy.”
“We were too late, Boss. Someone got here before us and decimated the communications room.”
“That’s a shame. We could have used that.”
Helen arched an eyebrow. “Did you find our traitor?”
A pause. “He got away.”
Helen and Doc exchanged surprised looks. “He? You mean it wasn’t-”
“It was Lupell.”
Prime Alpha (Planetary Powers Book 1) Page 49