by Chris Fox
"Then let's get moving," Nolan said, starting up the corridor.
Chapter 64- Dryker
"Move us closer to the 11th," Dryker ordered, pacing back and forth as he studied the battle. "Order all the ships joining us to cluster behind the Primo, and have your vessels form a line. Move them slowly toward the battle."
"As you wish, Admiral," Celendra said, but there was a note of dissent in her voice.
"You have a comment on my orders?" Dryker asked, probably more defensively than he should have.
"The Primo are not here to get involved in your war, Admiral. Asking us to approach the battle is dangerous," Celendra said, mouth turning down into a tiny scowl.
"Put me on an open channel to all races," Dryker ordered. He didn't bother addressing her comment, because she was right. He was risking the Primo. It was the last card he had to play.
"Done," Celendra said, looking away from him. She stalked to the far side of the dais, barely within earshot. It was the angriest he'd seen her.
"Attention, vessels of the 11th fleet, and vessels of the Leonis Pride. Disengage, or you will both be fired upon," Dryker ordered. He paused, then added a bit more weight. "You all know what Primo weaponry can do. The vessels of the 14th have been outfitted with plasma cannons. Cease. Fire."
Now all Dryker could do was wait. He stared at the sea of triangles and squares crawling across the screen. The Tigris and the humans were in the thick of it, tearing each other apart. It would be difficult to disengage, and even if captains were willing they might not have a choice but to continue fighting.
He straightened, staring hard as he saw new movement. Seven ships in the 11th's backline were breaking off and heading in his direction. That was nearly a quarter of the remaining human vessels.
"Dryker, is that you?" a friendly voice called. It called to mind late-night poker games in the Johnston's officer lounge.
"Hello, Captain Lang," Dryker said, smiling in spite of himself. Sarah had been the only officer he'd ever seen escape the 14th. She'd been the reason there was an opening for Nolan. "I'm glad you and your companions are willing to see reason."
"Command has had some pretty odd orders lately, and this isn't what we signed on for. Might be we're committing mutiny, but I can't be a party to this, and most of the 11th feels the same way," she explained over the comm. "I don't know that they'll be able to break away though. They're getting pounded, and if you can't get the cats to play nice, they're going to slaughter most of my people."
Dryker clenched a fist, looking at the beleaguered 11th. Their lines were collapsing, and the Tigris showed no sign of breaking off.
Chapter 64- Mow
Fizgig kicked off the bulkhead, twisting in midair to deliver a quick strike with her plasma blade. It severed the unsuspecting male's spinal cord, punching through armor and bone alike. He slumped to the deck as she landed on the other side of his body.
"Mowwwwww," she howled up the corridor. They were closing on the bridge, and she knew he was close enough to hear her. "I'm coming for you. Tell your warriors to stand aside, or I will cut down every last one."
The only answer was a shotgun blast from a single Tigris warrior sheltering behind the corner. Fizgig dropped prone, and the blast cratered the wall behind her. Before she could rise, Khar leapt forward, sprinting down the hall.
The warrior with the shotgun popped out of cover for another shot, just in time for Khar to plant his plasma blade in the warrior's skull. The white-furred beast gave a brief cry, the smell of burnt fur filling the corridor as he died.
"Mighty Fizgig," Khar called, peering around the corner. "The bridge is directly ahead. They are well fortified."
Fizgig walked calmly to Khar's side, aware of the cluster of warriors behind her. Only five were still with her. Five, out of the dozen who'd started out. Yet they'd killed three times their number, a full thirty-six of Leonis' best warriors. It was a legendary assault, one for the annals.
"Leonis Pride warriors!" Fizgig roared, her voice echoing down the hall. "Mow is a coward. First, he cut off life support. When we escaped, he sent dozens of your brothers and sisters to die, all to avoid my challenge. All are dead now, at my hand. Are you Tigris? Do you not follow the strongest warrior? If Mow is your leader, then let him face me. Put down your arms, and we will accept your surrender. Let Mow fight, instead of cowering behind proud Leonis warriors."
Khar gave her an approving nod, his tail rising, even as his chest puffed out. "Well said, Mighty Fizgig."
"Mow has been challenged," boomed a voice from the bridge. "We know Mighty Fizgig. Some of us have fought beside her. She is honorable, and it is not right that Mow has refused this challenge. If he is truly the warrior he claims to be, truly worthy of leading Leonis, then let him step forward and fight."
She recognized that voice. It was Kallas. She'd served under Fizgig's first command, three decades prior. Fizgig smiled, waiting for the inevitable. After several moments, a rhythmic stomping began from the bridge. Fizgig took it up, as did the the warriors around her. It spread from warrior to warrior, until the thud of a hundred feet echoed around them.
Fizgig stepped from cover, walking proudly onto the bridge. There was a chance that this was a trick, but she refused to believe it. No one would dishonor a formal challenge, except perhaps for Mow. She took a deep breath as she passed onto the bridge's command deck.
A dozen warriors dotted the room, every last one of them stomping. The only one not stomping was the male in the captain's chair. Mow's eyes blazed as he stared at her. His mane had more white in it than the last she'd seen him. He rose slowly to his feet, taking a step down to the command deck. The stomping stopped, plunging the bridge into relative silence.
"You've endangered our race for the last time. Even now our world burns, yet you seek challenge? Very well," Mow said, stalking toward her. "I accept your challenge. I will eat your heart, Fizgig."
Chapter 65- The Bridge
Nolan panted as he rested against the wall next to the wide hatch leading to the next room. He was less winded than he'd have been a few months ago, but the constant combat was still taking a toll. It just underscored how much more conditioning he really needed.
"These should be handy," Hannan said, picking up a pair of grenades from one of the corpses.
She walked to the hatch where Nolan crouched, popped the pin, then threw the grenade. It pinged off the wall, clinked its way into the distance. There was a sudden scramble of footsteps pounding across the deck from that direction.
"Grenade," someone yelled.
"Take cover," someone else yelled at the same time.
By the time the grenade detonated, Hannan was sprinting around the corner. She slowed her advance when they reached the next corner, peeking around with her rifle. She fired a quick shot, then ducked back behind cover.
"There are at least eight of them, probably closer to a dozen," Hannan said. "They've erected full barricades, and are using them as cover. Chu was expecting an attack."
"Doesn't change anything, unfortunately," Nolan said, dropping to one knee and taking a quick peek around the corner. He ducked back, and an instant later a rifle cracked. The bullet glanced off the wall right next to where his face had been. Nolan glanced up at Hannan. "How do you want to approach this?"
"Well, we've still got our friends," she said, nodding at the trio of Judicators. Thus far, the Judicators had mostly hung back, picking off targets of opportunity.
"Sounds like as good a use as any," Nolan said, turning to the Judicators. "You three, move around that corner, and cut down all defenders."
Hannan popped the second pin, lobbing it around the corner. Nolan held up a hand, and the Judicators waited. When the grenade detonated, Hannan motioned for the Judicators to move forward, and move they did. They faded from sight, their cloaked forms firing the instant they'd rounded the corner.
"Give it a three count," Hannan said. "Then we're going to rush in and pick up the pieces."
; The telltale plasma fire of Judicators came from around the corner, following by automatic weapons fire. Nolan was relieved to be on this side of the Judicators, as he remembered how terrifying they'd been when they boarded the Johnston. He only wished he had more than three to work with.
Hannan leaped from cover, darting around the corner. The instant she disappeared from sight, he caught the bright flash of plasma as she engaged the enemy. Delta and Annie were next, each adding their weapons into the mix.
Then it was Nolan's turn, and he leapt into the fray. He scanned the situation, the moment seeming to stretch as his mind catalogued targets. Seven Marines dotted the three barricades on the other side of the door leading onto the bridge. The barricades were waist-high, and each Marine was taking advantage of that cover. Hannan had moved to one side of the hallway, Delta and Annie the other. All three were lobbing potshots at the barricade, areas of white ferroconcrete flowing like lava where their blasts hit.
The defending Marines kept up a steady staccato of fire. The lead Judicator had taken the brunt of that fire, but made it as far as the first barricade before going down. It leapt forward, its body straddling the barricade. Nolan expected the Marines to scatter, but they seemed unaware of the danger in their midst. They'd never fought Void Wraith.
He raised his rifle, firing a trio of hasty shots as he dropped into cover behind Hannan. The remaining two Judicators went down under withering fire, leaving Nolan and Hannan untouched. More importantly, it left them in the comparative shelter of the hallway.
The first Judicator detonated, sending Marines, parts of the barricade, and metallic debris in all directions. A moment later the second and third Judicators went up, finishing the grisly work. Nolan stood up slowly, realizing none of the Marines were moving.
They'd reached the bridge. It was time to deal with Chu.
Chapter 66- The Challenge
Fizgig studied Mow, watching the old cat circle warily. Mow moved like a younger cat, but there was an underlying tremor there. His golden fur had faded to a soft dun, and he didn't look so much old as he did...unhealthy. There was something wrong with him, something lurking just beyond the edge of his scent.
"Mighty Mow," a golden-furred male boomed. "You have been challenged. How will you fight?"
"Claw-to-claw," Mow said, eyes narrowing as he met Fizgig's gaze. "I want to feel your life fading. I will serve your blood to my kits in their milk, Fizgig. When I am done your name will be scoured from the sacred scrolls."
Fizgig nodded stoically. She tossed her plasma rifle to Khar, then unbuckled the bracelet from her wrist. She'd have preferred to use the plasma blade, but Mow had the right to set the terms. He'd quite wisely chosen equal footing, as he'd have had no chance against Void Wraith tech.
Claw-to-claw was another matter. Mow was larger than Fizgig, though she was undoubtedly faster. He'd taught her much of what she knew about fighting, and their styles were still quite similar. This would be the most challenging fight of her career, with the most riding it. So Fizgig cleared her mind, and focused on the battle.
Mow closed until he stood a bare three feet away. His breath was fetid, his gaze fevered. Fizgig's revulsion was palatable, and she resisted the urge to retreat a step. That would be taken as a sign of weakness, and she couldn't afford that.
"A challenge has been issued and accepted," the golden-furred male boomed. He raised both paws, one over Fizgig, and the other Mow. "When my paws descend battle will be joined. Fight well and with cunning." The warrior stepped back, lowering his paws with a flourish.
Fizgig lunged, launching a swipe at Mow's throat. Speed was her only ally, after all.
Mow shocked her, moving with explosive speed. He seized her wrist with an expression of disdain. He held her for a moment, then twisted her arm with a painful crack. Fizgig howled in agony as the bone broke the skin. Mow still held her, twisting just enough to prevent her attempts to free herself. He was far stronger than any Tigris had a right to be.
"You are weak, Fizgig," Mow said. "You always we--"
Fizgig went berserk. All the pain, all the frustration. All the humiliation, and the sadness. She channeled it all, whipping both legs up and wrapping them around Mow's neck. He tried to step back, but since he was holding her aloft he merely carried her with him.
Fizgig tightened her legs, putting immense pressure on Mow's windpipe. He released her arm, digging his claws into her leg. They dug deep, carving into the muscle as he slashed at her. She ignored the pain, swiping upward with her good hand. It caught Mow in the face, and her pinky claw pierced his right eye with a terrible pop. Mow screeched, tumbling to the deck with Fizgig atop him.
She tried to scramble backwards, knowing her injuries were crippling. Mow wouldn't let her. He seized the scruff of her neck with a paw, yanking her back. Mow leapt atop her, using his superior weight and strength. She struggled, but her right leg refused to obey her. The muscles in her thigh must have been shredded by Mow's attack. Her right arm was a shattered mass. She squirmed, but Mow held her, seemingly without effort. All she was able to manage was twisting to look him in the eye.
That eye made her blink. Green, viscous fluid leaked from the socket. Nor was she the only one who saw it. Mutters went up around the room, mutters about Mow being some sort of monster. Mow glanced around the room with his good eye, as if daring someone to say something.
In that instant Fizgig saw her chance. She lunged upwards, using her good arm to push herself up. Her fangs closed around Mow's throat, and she bit down with all her strength. Hot, disgusting fluid filled her mouth. It wasn't blood--or it wasn't only blood. Whatever was mixed in was the foulest thing Fizgig had ever tasted, and she longed to spit it out. Instead, she bit down harder.
Mow's paws shot to her shoulder, and he pushed down with all his might. He was so strong, monstrously so. Unfortunately for him, Fizgig had him in a death grip. When he forced her head down, it ripped Fizgig away from his neck, tearing out his throat in the process. Mow stumbled back from her, clutching his ruined neck with both hands.
He looked around the deck for support, finding none. Every Tigris averted their gaze, until Mow sagged to his knees. Fizgig used that to give her strength. She pulled herself to her feet, standing on her uninjured leg. Only leaning against the bulkhead prevented her from falling.
"I do not know what you've become, Mow, but you are no longer Tigris," Fizgig said, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the deck. She turned to the golden-furred warrior who'd adjudicated the fight. "You are his first?"
"Yes, Mighty Fizgig," the male said, nodding deferentially.
"Broadcast the fight to the Tigris fleet," she ordered, limping to the captain's chair. She sat heavily, not even looking when Mow's body toppled to the deck. A pool of green spread out from his body, proof of whatever physical change the Void Wraith had wrought.
"Connection established, Mighty Fizgig. They are receiving the vid of the fight now," the male said. She should learn his name, but she was too weary, and in too much pain. It would be weeks, perhaps months, before she recovered from this fight. If she ever did.
"Give me an open channel as soon as the footage has played," Fizgig ordered, aware that her words were beginning to slur. She battled past the pain, trying to remain conscious.
"Done," the male said.
"Tigris of the Leonis Pride," she said. "As you can see, I have bested Mow. As you can also see from his unclean blood, Mow has been corrupted by the Void Wraith. It is they who have forced us to war, they who have burned Tigrana." She paused for a moment as the pain became too great to continue. Sheer will drew forth the next few words. "Cease combat. Fall back to join my fleet, or be branded traitors and hunted down."
Chapter 67- Um, Eww
The Bridge of Chu's flagship was nearly deserted, as least compared to an older ship like the UFC Johnston. A handful of officers cowered behind blocky stations, clearly trying to avoid Nolan's attention. He doubted they'd be a problem, but it was better not to take chan
ces.
"Hannan, get someone on those techs," Nolan ordered, prowling across the deck toward a raised platform that butted against the rear wall.
A single chair sat atop that platform, aimed at the largest view screen Nolan had ever seen on a human vessel. Currently, that screen showed the battle raging in the system behind them. Curls of white-hot flame drifted past, evidence of how close they were to the star's corona.
"This place creeps me the hell out. These people look like war refugees. They'd wet themselves if we said boo," Hannan said, stepping up to join Nolan. Her rifle was still at her shoulder, barrel still trained on the techs.
Annie had settled into a crouch behind one of the largest remaining pieces of the barricade. Delta picked a path through the wreckage, his rifle cradled absently in his left hand. He stopped a few feet behind Nolan, his emotionless eyes scanning the room.
"Ahh," a wheezy voice called, as the chair on the platform swiveled to face them. "You must be Commander Nolan. Mendez has told me quite a lot about you. Did you know that he was your greatest supporter? He wanted to give you a ship. Mendez knew something was up, that someone was infiltrating the admiralty. He was convinced you'd be able to sniff out the traitors."
Chu's skin was translucent, a stark contrast to the dark red veins covering most of his skin. Nolan had no idea what they were, but he was positive it had something to do with the larva. The same larva that was growing inside Kathryn.
"Your guards are dead," Nolan said, raising his rifle as he approached. "Give us the chip transmitter, and surrender yourself into our custody. We have Void Wraith facilities. We can treat this. You don't have to die."