by Tim Marquitz
The first chance Taj got, she would make Rolkar pay for that. She had no doubt the woman was the reason Grom had disappeared. She was working with the zealots and had to have sold Grom out to them, just like she’d tried to sell the crew out to the hooded man and his disciples when they’d first arrived.
That was something she couldn’t forgive.
Taj shifted uncomfortably as her thoughts raged. She wanted to rush into the building and confront the scarred man and those he worked for. While they hadn’t been able to ascertain who else was in the building with the would-be assassin, Taj didn’t care.
She could picture him in there alongside more of his zealot brothers and likely even their master, the mysterious man in the hood Dent had yet to find any reference of in recent news.
She wanted to kick down the door and start shooting, blast them all and sort the carnage out afterward, like the zealots had tried to do with the caravan.
Taj caught herself feeling antsy, her gun in her hand though she couldn’t remember willing it there, and she stood on the edge of the rooftop, far closer than she should be to avoid being spotted. Her hand ached around the grip of her pistol.
Fortunately, the guards shuffled about just then as if on some unseen cue, and the door to the building opened. Taj remembered her place and stepped back, letting her suit’s camo-program do its job.
She realized just how close she’d come to letting her anger overtake her, and she sighed.
All she’d been through—what they’d all been through—had changed her, she knew. She wasn’t that innocent child she’d been back on Krawlas before the invasion of the Wyyvan.
She’d seen too much since then, experienced too much. And now, she’d been given an opportunity to do more than be a victim, a survivor. While hardly a world-beater in the larger scheme of things, Taj understood she had more power now than she’d ever possessed in her entire existence. She could make a difference, not only in her life, but in those of the people around her. She could help others like she was trying to do with Grom Hadar.
Cabe set a hand on her shoulder, and Taj clasped it in hers, offering him a slight smile.
And she wasn’t alone.
Taj drew a deep breath and brought her emotions under control. She’d been scared not too long ago, weak and unsure of herself. And now she was strong and had the means to fight back, yet she was still unsure.
She needed to find the balance, the line between being the person she used to be and the person the world had made her into.
Taj had to be both, had to straddle that line to be the best version of herself that she could be.
And she would, she promised herself.
“You okay?” Cabe asked, leaning over her shoulder.
She nodded. “I’m great,” she told him, giving him a quick kiss simply because she wanted to, not because she needed to distract or shut him up.
“Who’s that?” Lina asked as another man strolled out of the building behind the scarred one.
Taj inched closer to the edge and zeroed in on the man Lina pointed out.
“I have no idea,” Taj answered, shrugging, “but he looks to be in charge.”
The man, who walked with an ease that spoke of his confidence, waved at the guards and all but two of the ten stationed in front of the building trailed off after him.
He wasn’t dressed in robes like the scarred one, but rather in a casual outfit of black shirt and pants and calf-high boots. His hair was slick and dark, and the men he’d commanded made it clear they were there for him, not the scarred one.
The grenadier marched ahead of the group, like a pet given a little bit of an extra leash. His chin hung toward the ground as he walked, his hands hanging limp at his sides.
Taj immediately pictured a man condemned and imagined he was what one would look like.
“I’m not picking this man’s face up in my scans either,” Dent informed the group. “I must not be digging far enough back or these men, this one and the hooded man, have done an excellent job of staying out of the spotlight.”
Taj sighed. She’d been hoping following the scarred zealot would lead to some big revelation. So far, they were nearly as much in the dark as they had been when they first arrived.
“What do we do?” Torbon asked. “Do we follow these guys?”
Taj made a decision right then.
“Yes,” she answered, pointing to Torbon, Lina, Cabe, and Krawg in turn. “You four, follow them and see where they go, but don’t engage them unless you absolutely have to. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”
“What are you gonna do?” Cabe asked, clearly realizing she had something in mind for her and Dent.
“We’re gonna go inside and see what we can find here,” she told him.
“I don’t like this,” he replied.
“Me either,” Lina said, shaking her head. “Splitting up’s not a good idea.”
Krawg chuckled. “She’s not exactly known for good ideas, though, is she?”
The crew turned to glare at the Ursite as he grinned and raised his hands to ward them off.
“He’s right, you know,” Dent told her with his usual bluntness. “I mean, they get there and things would work out, certainly, but I would have a hard time categorizing any of your plans as good. I’m sure the crew agrees.”
Lina, Cabe, and Torbon all turned their glare toward Dent.
“Am I wrong?” he asked.
None of the crew answered him.
Taj chuckled at their reluctance. “I never said this was a good idea.” She poked a playful finger Krawg’s direction before looking back at the rest. “But it’s something we need to do,” she told them. “We have no idea where Grom is, but his disappearance has to be connected to these people somehow. The only way we’re gonna do that is if we take a look inside this place.”
“But to split us up like this…” Cabe started. “Did you see how many guards that guy took with him? How many do you think are still in there if he can afford to have so many escort him?”
“Probably way less for exactly that reason, Cabe,” she argued. “I’m expecting resistance, of course, but that guy looked like the boss, right?”
She didn’t give them time to answer before she went on.
“That means he is gonna have the bigger entourage than anyone he leaves behind.”
“Logic is not your friend, it seems,” Dent told her.
“Well, it sort of makes sense,” Torbon said. “I can see it when you put it like that, yeah.”
“Thus proving my point,” Dent replied.
“Hey!” Torbon complained, suddenly realizing what the AI meant.
Taj waved them all to silence. “It’s not a discussion, guys,” she told them. “We need to both search this place and follow those two. Because there are so many of them, I want to be sure there are enough of you should something go wrong and you need to fight.” She motioned to the building across the way. “Dent and I can handle whatever’s in there.” She reached out and patted Dent on the shoulder proudly. “Dent is the one who took out Warpath, remember?”
“All manipulative efforts at trying to get me to agree with her aside,” Dent said, “I believe Taj is correct about this course of action.” He winked at her, not even bothering to try and hide it from the others.
“You suck at subterfuge,” Taj told him. Then before the others could start arguing again, she leaned in and kissed Cabe hard on the mouth. “Go before you guys lose them,” she said, pushing him back gently.
“There you go,” Torbon muttered. “The kiss of death has been invoked. Cabe has lost all ability to reason, so let’s just go do this.”
Lina chuckled and started off, Torbon alongside her. Krawg grunted and followed after, snapping his fingers for Cabe to follow along. Cabe sighed after a moment’s indecision and spun around, jogging to catch up with the others.
“Why does that always work?” Taj heard him ask as they leapt off the building and went in pursuit of the scarre
d zealot and the man with him.
Taj blushed at hearing Torbon’s answer drift to her across the comm.
Dent chuckled. “On that note, how about we assault a building?”
“Gladly,” Taj answered, letting her mask come up over her face to hide her embarrassment.
She drew in a deep breath, waited until the two guards at the door looked away, then signaled for Dent to move.
The pair of them leapt off the edge of the building and sailed straight toward the pair of guards. Before either knew what was happening, Taj had clobbered the first of the men, and Dent had knocked the second out with a downward angled blow.
Both guards crumpled to the ground in contorted heaps.
“Should we just leave them here?” Dent asked.
Taj shook her head. “I learned from the last time, believe it or not.” She grabbed her man and returned to the building they’d just jumped off, then tossed the unconscious guard onto the roof.
“Again, logic is not your strong suit,” Dent argued, following her example.
Taj grinned. “Who needs logic when you have powered armor?”
“Both are best,” he answered.
She shrugged. “Maybe, but we’ll have to agree to disagree,” she said as she went over to the door and examined it, realizing it was unlocked when she went to test the handle.
“That’s convenient,” she said, easing the door open.
“It likely means whoever is here is deemed sufficient for the defense of this place or they would have secured it better,” Dent countered, pointing at Taj with an aha face. “Now that is logic in action.”
“No, that’s just like…your opinion,” she told him, walking inside without another word.
“You realize, of course, that I can’t have the ship fire its gun on a building to rescue us should something bad occur this time, right?” Dent said to her back before joining her.
Taj didn’t bother to reply.
She crept through the hall with her gun drawn, wondering just what they might run into inside the old building.
A narrow hallway stretched out a short distance before them, and there were two doors off to each side before the hall terminated and led out into what appeared to be a large room, though Taj could only see a small portion of it from her position. A pair of view screens were partially visible on the far wall, though both were black and lifeless.
Other than that, there was nothing to be seen.
Both Dent and she crept to the edge of the open doors in the hall and glanced inside. Taj’s room, a tiny office-looking space, was empty, nothing more than a small desk with a folding chair set behind it.
Dent’s room, however, appeared to have an occupant.
“Hey!” a man shouted in a surprised voice.
And then there was a meaty thud, and the man grunted in pain. One last thud rounded out the series, and Taj turned around in time to see the man slump over a desk similar to the one in the opposite room.
“See?” Taj said. “Who needs spaceship guns when you have fists?”
“Again, both are always nice.”
This time, she agreed with a nod. Both were nice.
The pair crept to the edge of the hall, and Taj peeked around the corner. She’d been right. The room was large, a singular open space that likely took up the vast majority of the building’s floor plan.
Across from the view screens mounted on the wall, there was a worn but comfortable-looking chair that looked as if it got plenty of use. It sat upon a short dais that might more appropriately be called a step. It didn’t raise the chair high off the floor, but it still gave enough of the impression that it was intended for someone of stature.
Taj presumed it belonged to the man who’d left with the zealot.
Not seeing anyone in the room, she stepped inside and moved toward an open door that loomed to her left. To the right, the room stretched on, and there was what appeared to be an elevator on that side.
That part of the room was dark and gloomy, but her eyepiece made it easy to see, just as it had with the smoke when the caravan had been attacked.
Once more, Taj marveled at the technology Dent had been able to supply them with, thanks to the Federation’s help.
“We’ve company,” Dent said over the comm.
Where? she asked, using the mental link instinctively, forgetting that her voice wouldn’t carry outside of the suit’s mask without her wanting it to.
Dent pointed with his gun as a handful of men walked into the room from the open door she’d been moving to inspect. They drew and raised their weapons in response, causing a bit of a standoff.
Taj eased to her right a little and followed suit, aiming her gun at the men.
“This is unfortunate,” the man in the middle of the group said. His voice sounded as if he was gargling shards of glass.
Taj found herself wondering what had happened to him to make him sound that way. She glanced at his throat but saw no indication of a wound that might be the cause.
“We weren’t expecting company,” the man went on. “We’ll have to see you out, I’m afraid.” He motioned with the gun toward the exit, but it was clear to Taj he would gladly shoot them in the back the second they turned around.
The broad, pleasant smile on his face never reached his eyes. They stared back cold and devoid of feeling, and Taj felt as if the man was staring right through her.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“You don’t get to ask questions,” he told her matter-of-factly, the veneer slipping slightly. “Please, the door, if you will.” He motioned toward the exit with his gun once more.
That was when Taj spied the red staining his hand.
She focused in with her eyepiece and the suit’s scanners confirmed her suspicions. It was blood.
“Hurt anyone nice lately?” Taj asked flippantly, knowing damn well that he had.
The man’s lower set of eyes narrowed, but Taj had seen enough to decide on her course of action.
She would shoot first and ask questions later.
Except she’d actually shot second and asked a question first, but she was still quicker on the draw.
She tapped the trigger and blasted the raw-throated man in the hand that held his weapon. He shrieked and stumbled back, clutching his wounded fingers, and his gun clattered to the floor.
Everyone else opened fire then.
Taj caught a blast against her armor and grunted as it took the brunt easily enough. It still hurt, but it hadn’t penetrated.
Dent shot down two of the men in rapid succession by spraying shots from left to right, his android reflexes hitting the trigger so quickly so that his finger was a blur of motion.
Taj dodged a second shot from the man who’d hit her the first time around and retaliated, shooting him dead center in the face.
With no helmet to protect him, he flopped to the ground with a smoking crater in his head.
Dent shot the last of the men, killing him before he had time to do anything but graze Dent with his own gunfire. Before the man collapsed, Dent ran over to the group and aimed his pistol at the raw-throated man who’d threatened them
Taj came over and kicked his gun away from him, listening as it skittered across the floor and thumped into the distant wall.
“You see his hands?” Taj asked the AI.
Dent nodded, inching forward with his gun barrel leading the way. “Where’s the blood from?”
“Do you think you scare me?” he asked in reply.
“We should,” Taj said, letting her weapon slip back into the suit and hunkering down in front of the man.
She made the suit peel away from the tips of her fingers on one hand and rested her palm on his cheek, her sharp claws hovering just in front of two of his eyes.
Hold him, she told the AI.
The man swallowed hard and tried to flinch away, but Dent reached over and wrapped his free hand around the back of the man’s neck, holding him in place.
“Wher
e’s the blood from?” Taj asked again, letting a hint of fire slip into her tone. She fought to keep her hand from trembling.
The man glared at her for a long moment, seeming to question her willingness to back up her threat, but when she eased forward and scraped his eyelid with the tip of her claw, drawing a dot of blood that ran over his eyelashes, he acquiesced.
“There’s a captive downstairs,” he said in his raw voice, glancing toward the elevator. “That’s where the blood is from.”
“See, that wasn’t too hard, was it?” Taj asked. “Who’s the captive?” she asked, but she had a pretty good idea as to who it was already.
The man swallowed once more, a hint of defiance in his eyes, but he’d already given up the important information. Taj could tell he was stalling simply to make himself feel better about his situation.
“Grom Hadar,” he answered, spitting out the name.
Taj fought back the urge to sigh at hearing the man’s name. Instead, she forced a growl out, her whiskers fluttering in the man’s face.
“If you’ve hurt him…” she started, an inner voice telling her how stupid that sounded given that the man had just admitted the blood on his hands was Grom’s. Of course he’d hurt him.
Taj whipped back her arm and howled. The man screamed as her claws raked towards his face, but Dent held him still.
Then, at the very last moment, she clenched her fist and punched the man in the jaw.
There was a brittle crack, like twigs snapping, and the man slumped into Dent’s hand. The AI let the man go a second later, and he flopped to the ground, his head thudding on the cold concrete.
“I thought for a second there you were actually going to take his eyes,” Dent admitted, looking at Taj.
She drew in a deep breath and forced a smile onto her lips. “Me too,” she told him.
The pair stood there staring at each other for a moment before Taj turned away and started across the room toward the elevator. Dent trailed along, dragging the man’s unconscious body behind him.
Taj glanced over her shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow and wondering what he was doing.
“I presume the mechanism to operate the elevator is bio-oriented based on that scanner alongside the door,” he answered without her having to actually ask the question. “And I figure this is easier, and far less messy, than lopping off his hand or trying to hack the system.”