Walsh, again, had his shit-eating grin. Okafor smiled as well. The rest nodded and talked amongst themselves, not watching us as we were marched out of the room.
Bello cried as we were paraded down the halls. Yazov tried to strike up a conversation with the guard posted to him. To what end I didn’t know, but when his guard didn’t respond Yazov started to curse her out. Shaaban walked. His shoulders were hunched, and his gaze cast on the floor. I couldn’t read his face to understand what he thought because it showed no emotion.
My mind raced. The Hive wouldn’t be coming to our rescue this time. There would be no mind control of the guards letting me escape. The guards walked, just out of reach. If I were to lunge towards them they could take a step back and put me down. I had no delusions that they wouldn’t.
The next logical place to set up an escape would have to be our cells, so I continued to walk. No reason to make the guards angry or upset them in some way. Who knows how violent they would get if one of us set them off. It seemed unlikely that would happen since Yazov seemed to be directing every insult in the book towards them. However, one never knew. He might touch on a raw nerve.
“Shut it, Yazov,” I said. “Don’t say another word.”
Yazov hissed at me. “You got us in this mess,” he said. “I should have never followed you.”
“And I’m going to get us out of it,” I said.
“How?” said Yazov in a mocking tone.
We came to an intersection of hallways. A group of people came from each direction, talking within their groups. They started to part as we began to pass through them, the guards closing ranks around us.
Bello screamed as one of the guards froze up. He shook and became rigid. His tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth. His jaw clamped down and sent a stream of blood cascading down the side of his face. He fell to the floor, flopping and moaning.
One of the other guards reached out, but she too was sent to the ground. The other four raised their weapons but as a group they fell to the ground immobilized. It happened so fast that I didn’t have a chance to move. The entire scene took place around me, and I didn’t have time to react.
The groups of people looked at the unmoving guards on the ground. Stun guns clattered to the ground. I waited for one of them to say something, but the lone conversation took place amongst them.
One group parted, and Admiral Varma stepped forward. I took a step back, unsure of what she meant to do. I knew she supported us, but I still didn’t know what her intentions were. She reached out lightening quick, and grabbed my manacles, unlocking them and letting the devices fall to the floor. The other three were released in short order.
I rubbed my wrists. “Thank you,” I said, my intonation rising at the end suggesting a question.
“You’re not free yet,” said Varma. She pressed something into my hand. “Take this to the main broadcasting room and play it for the entire fleet.”
I looked down at the small black object in my hand. “What is it?”
“It’s a recording of the session you just left,” said Varma. “Make sure you make an intro or something because the people need to know you’re the one sending it out.”
“Why?” I said. I had the feeling that the Admiral Board had been working in the shadows. Did it have to be me to shine a light on their activities?
“The people are ready for new leadership,” said Varma. “The Admiral Board dictates. They make decisions based upon the highest bidder. Most don’t know the extent, but they still don’t think that the board is leading them in the right direction, and they know they don’t have a say in how things are done.”
“So why not you?” I said. “Why don’t you lead the reform?” I looked at the object then squeezed it tight in my hand. If I did what she asked I was afraid it would lead to bloodshed, to a civil war that humans couldn’t stand to wage right now. “You could do it from the inside.”
Varma laughed and said, “Did you see how well I did?” She poked me in the chest. “You do it. People support your message of fighting back. They support you. You’re seen as neutral, untouched by their corruption. If you show them what the Admiral Board has admitted to doing we can overthrow the board and install new leadership. Take this chance to guide the remaining human population.”
I looked at my hand, unsure of what to do. Since finding the Terran Fleet all I had wanted to do was free us from Braxa and the Vantagax. All I had wanted was for everyone to come together and stand up and take our rightful place in the galaxy.
Admiral Varma had literally handed me that chance.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
Chapter Seventeen
Varma smiled. Weapons were produced from the crowd and shoved in our hands. Yazov looked his over and grinned. Shaaban made the motions of checking his, but he still didn’t wear any emotion on his face. Bello held her weapon as gingerly as possible.
“You’re going to meet resistance,” said Varma.
I looked down at my small side arm then back at Varma and said, “I don’t want to kill anybody just to overthrow the board.”
“Non-lethal,” said Varma pointing at the guards on the floor who were now restrained but awake. “Slow velocity so they won’t puncture the hulls. They’ve got a charge that will freeze up suits. Make the user go rigid; knock them out for a few seconds. Worst case is a few bumps and bruises and bitten tongues. When they come to they won’t be able to move because of their suit.”
“Okay,” I said and took a deep breath noticing that no one in Varma’s entourage had armor or weapons. “Are you coming with us?”
“No,” said Varma. “We’re not fighters.”
“I’m not either,” said Bello. Snot ran from her nose, her eyes were red and puffy and tears dripped off her chin leaving small wet spots on the chest of her shirt.
Varma continued without looking at Bello. “We had the drop on these guards,” she said. “We wouldn’t be that lucky in the future.” She patted me on the shoulder. “You’ve been through worse. You can handle a few Terran Security Forces.”
“We need to go,” said Shaaban. His voice was flat, monotone and unemotional. “An alarm will go off when we don’t reach our destination at the appropriate time.”
Varma took a step back, and we took off down the hall.
Yazov took the lead because, as he said, “I know this fucking ship like the back of my hand.” It seemed reasonable to believe him. We didn’t have suits to wear, and therefore didn’t have HUDs. There would be no way markers or pathfinding available to us.
We ran down the halls without impediment. There were a smattering of people, but they moved out of our way. None of them looked very worried or cowered. Most leaned close to their companions, whispering and pointing as we went by, their gaze not leaving us. One man fist pumped and smiled. I didn’t think he knew the full implication of what was happening.
Yazov looked back at us, gave a head nod and said, “Just a little farther. One of the fleet broadcasting stations. We upload there, and it’ll go out to all the other ships.”
An alarm went off just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief. For once I had hoped we could gain an objective without having to resort to violence. The alert reminded me that things couldn’t be that easy.
Yazov picked up the pace. With all of my adventures I found myself to be in better condition than I expected and easily kept up with him and Shaaban. Warnings about us squawked over the intercom system. It would be an amazing stroke of luck if we still made it to the broadcasting room without running into security.
I knew we wouldn’t be that lucky.
I glanced over my shoulder as we took a right. Bello lagged behind. Her feet dragged on the floor and her handgun was held limp in her hand. She stared at the ground as she went, her body swaying back and forth. Sweat caused her hair to plaster to her face. In between ragged gasps she continued to weep.
“Come on, Bello,” I said. “We’ve got to get going.”
&nb
sp; She looked up at me. Snot crusted around her nostrils. Her face flushed, and she had large dark bags under her eyes. Strands of spit seeped out and dripped from the side of her mouth.
“Can’t,” she said. “I can’t do this.” She stopped and held up her gun in front of her. “I can’t fight. I don’t want to fight.”
I tamped the urge to yell at her. Did she think that she was always going to be behind a computer? At some point she was going to have to fight. At some point death was going to happen around her, and she would see it firsthand. Electronics couldn’t shield her forever.
Right now though, with alarms going off, and a need for speed, I couldn’t give her a lecture. I rushed back and took the gun from her. She collapsed onto me, and I had to support her with one arm lest she fall to the ground where I was sure she would remain until she was arrested.
We began to move again. I did almost all of the work. Bello wept on my shoulder as I dragged her along. Every once and a while she gave a feeble kick, gaining a tiny amount of purchase to propel herself, but in the end it was up to me to keep us going forward.
I wanted to drop her and leave her behind, but something in me wouldn’t let me abandon Bello. Even if we succeeded, and she ended up being fine the suggestion that I would leave her behind caused revulsion. The idea of “No one left behind” echoed around in my thoughts, and I couldn’t turn my back on it.
A staccato of gunfire ahead told me were headed in the right direction. Somebody howled but over the gunfire I couldn’t tell who it was. A warm, wet patch grew on the side of my pants from Bello as she began to shake and bawl once more. How I wished I had my suit right now, not just for the added defensive protection, but also for dealing with the dead weight I carried.
We made it to the next corner, and I peeked my head around to see. The hallway was empty, but the sounds of gunfire reverbed from the firefight somewhere ahead. Unintelligible shouting filled in the quieter moments. It didn’t sound like Shaaban or Yazov, so I assumed it was the security forces.
With every burst of fire Bello shook and quavered; what little support she provided for herself gave out, causing her to slump in my grip. My muscles burned from the effort of trying to hold her up. My back and shoulders ached as I walked hunched over. Soon I would have to drop Bello on the ground and drag her behind me. If that didn’t work out well enough I would have to leave her behind. I didn’t want to do that as she’d come this far with me, and I owed her a debt of loyalty, but if she stayed dead weight she’d drag the rest of us down with her.
At the next bend the gunfire became loud enough that it hurt my ears. The sounds of fighting were so much louder without my suit filtering for me.
Once more I stuck my head out around a corner just far enough to see what was happening. Yazov lay in the middle of the hallway, blood pooling around him. His weapon lay out of reach, but he stretched, making feeble grasping attempts. Shaaban pressed himself against a support beam, blind firing at random intervals. Two security personal lay face down in the hallway. Another three continued to pop out and shoot.
I caught Shaaban’s gaze. His eyes were wide, and for the first time ever he looked panicked.
“Shooting to kill,” said Shaaban. “They’re not non-lethal.” He shouted. I could just make out his words over the din.
I tried to let Bello down as gently as I could. She dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes and proceeded to curl up in a ball, hugging her knees to her chest. In my left hand I held Bello’s gun. In my right hand I held my gun. I raised them, barrel pointing to the ceiling, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, exhaled, opened my eyes and stepped out from behind the wall and into the hallway.
One security member stood in the middle of the hallway, crouched. He stopped firing and cocked his head to the side. I lowered my weapons as I moved, firing several times at him. The kickback was almost non-existent. I don’t know what shot hit him, but he went down, seizing and shaking on his back.
Shaaban’s eyes went wide as he saw me. He looked around the edge of his beam and began firing at another security member forcing them to take cover.
One security guard shook their head as if to come out of a daze and shot at me. Searing pain lanced the side of my head. Warm liquid spread down my neck and trickled through my shirt causing the fabric to stick to my side. I continued to return fire, shooting without thinking, without taking proper aim.
I just fired.
Another security member fell onto the ground, shaking and flopping. The one Shaaban fired upon did the same a split second later. The gunfire stopped, but I continued to pull the triggers, dry firing until a hand clamped down on my shoulder and spun me around.
“What the hell were you doing?” said Shaaban, his face a few inches from mine.
I dropped my guns, and they clattered on the ground. My arms shook, and my whole body felt amped, ready to strike. I needed to move, but my motions were jerky and uncoordinated. The blood pumped through my veins so loud that I had trouble hearing that the alarms were still triggered or what Shaaban was saying. The ringing from the gunfire did a good job of masking anything else.
Shaaban shook me and said, “What the hell were you doing?”
I reached up and touched the side of my head. My fingers came back red. A bullet had grazed my temple and taken off the top of my ear. Shaaban tore the sleeve of his shirt off, compressed it into a ball and pressed it against the wound. He took my hand and made me hold the makeshift bandage while he ran off down the hall.
Yazov moaned in the middle of the floor. The security members were silent and unmoving. I wasn’t sure if I could have heard them through their suits anyway.
Shaaban returned with Bello over his shoulder. He went through a side door and came back out without her, grabbed Yazov and pulled him into the room leaving a red trail across the floor. I stood motionless, watching him perform.
“Come on,” said Shaaban, sticking his head out of the room to speak then ducking back inside.
His voice shook me from my daze, and I stumbled in after him. The door slid shut behind me. Bello sat in a chair at a console. Yazov lay on the ground, ashen faced, silent, blood pooling once more under him. Shaaban made a motion towards me.
“Give Bello the speech,” said Shaaban.
I sucked in a panicked breath, the information given to us by Varma forgotten in the firefight. I reached into my pocket, hoping I hadn’t dropped Varma’s gift. My hand curled around the little black object, and I exhaled.
Pounding started at the door. Muffled shouts accompanied it
“They won’t get through,” said Bello. “At least for a little while.” She gestured for the speech.
I handed it over without taking my eyes off the door. Nothing on the door indicated it was going to give way any time soon, but who knew what kind of overrides there were. With no other visible exits in the room it would be a bloodbath once they got through. Surrender didn’t seem like an option.
The alarms stopped.
“It’s going out,” said Bello.
Walsh’s words flooded over the intercom. Video of the proceedings popped up on the monitors. We watched again as the Admiral Board condemned us to Braxa.
The pounding stopped.
“I don’t believe it,” said Bello.
I moved to her side and looked at the console, unsure what I was going to see or where to look.
“The captains,” said Bello. “They’re demanding explanations, demanding answers. Some don’t believe this is real.” She looked up at me. “You have to say something.” Shaaban nodded in agreement.
Bello vacated her seat, and I sat down. She pointed to a small pinprick hole on the console in front of me. I took a deep breath, unsure if anyone would believe me in my bloody and bedraggled state.
Bello patted me on the shoulder and said, “You’re on.”
I started to talk, hoping I wasn’t rambling or missing any important points. My voice quavered in the beginning. I’d never been very good at
giving speeches, especially if it was off the cuff, but as I went my voice got stronger. I felt my convictions flow into my words. The human population needed to rally together. We needed to throw off the yoke of corruption. We needed to fight back against those who wanted to harm us. We needed to take our place in the galaxy. We needed to show the space faring races that we wouldn’t be stamped into the dirt by the likes of Braxa or anyone else, and it began with the ousting of the dishonest, dishonorable, underhanded, amoral, untrustworthy Admiral Board.
And so it began.
Chapter Eighteen
I stood next to Varma on the shuttle. We watched on the view screen as Terran ships turned as a group and disappeared into Faster than Light travel. Watching the video wasn’t going to bring Admiral Walsh and Okafor and their ships back, but Varma kept on doing it.
“They knew their people would be with them to the end,” said Varma. She sighed. “I don’t know where they’ll take them or what they’ll do, but we could definitely use their numbers.”
As the remaining captains in the fleet struggled for power, Varma had aged years. Bags hung under her eyes. Lines creased her face. Her hair was frazzled and clothes rumpled. She looked worn out because she hadn’t slept for days, and even when she did it wasn’t for more than a few hours at a time. Her attentions were needed almost every minute, and she was dragged in a thousand different directions at once. Such was the price to pay for being the lone acting admiral on the Admiral Board.
Varma rubbed her eyes with the base of her palms and then arched her back in a big stretch. A series of pops cracked up her spine. She shook her arms and waggled her head back and forth.
“Okay,” she said. “I wish they’d get on with their power plays and nominate other people for the board. I can’t do all of this by myself.” She let out a half-hearted laugh. “I’d be terrible as a dictator.”
I sat down next to her and said, “We’ve got to deal with Braxa before a new board is nominated.” I looked at her. “You’re still okay with the plan, right?”
The Terran Shepherd (The Terran Series Book 2) Page 11