Shalia's Diary #7

by Tracy St. John

  The booming sound of heavy feet running nearby made my heart skip a beat. The Tragooms were definitely in, and they were hunting. I really hoped if they were going in Resan’s direction they would decide it was too devastated to bother with. If they got to him, he didn’t have a chance in hell.

  Fortunately for him and much less fortunate for me, booms shivered the door to the store room. Knock, knock, little Shalia, the piggy faces want to come in. I was betting they knew a bunch of weapons were in here.

  I hunkered down behind a rack of laser rifles as heavy hoof-like fists continued to beat on the door. I stayed close to my one hope of exit. It would be an easy run if they got far enough into the room to give me the chance of escape. Hopefully I wasn’t close enough for them to smell my exact location right away. Tragooms have awful eyesight but an insanely good sense of smell.

  The banging stopped. I heard movement continuing, snorting and chuffing. I didn’t know if the Tragooms talked to each other or just made noise. It didn’t matter. The door abruptly opened and the stench of rotting sewage preceded their entrance into the room.

  I held my breath and crouched as still as possible. The first one stomped past, its heavy tree-trunk arms cradling the biggest damned blaster I’d ever seen. The Tragoom strode straight to the middle of the room, its snouted nostrils flaring and pointed ears swiveling on top of its head.

  A second one followed it in, coming a few steps within, just enough to put its back to me. It raised its nose towards the ceiling, snuffling hard. No way it wasn’t going to pinpoint my scent within a few seconds.

  It wasn’t far enough in for me to get out the door before it snagged me. I was about to become a snack.

  I didn’t give myself time to think. I rose up, simultaneously pulling my knife from my belt with my non-dominant hand. Larten had warned me to train with both hands, and Idow had drummed the lessons into me until I was almost equally good fighting with both. It was a blessing they’d insisted. If I could take at least one of these bastards out without alerting the rest of the boarding party, I stood a better chance of living for a few more minutes.

  None of that was on my mind as I launched myself at the Tragoom now turning in my direction with a snort. If he’d been wearing protective chest armor, I’d have been well and truly dead.

  Once in a great while I get lucky. This was one of those times.

  I never paused, trusting the Tragoom to complete its turn as I got to it. My blade slid into the vulnerable soft part of flesh just under its sternum. I drove it up into the creature’s heart.

  It made a soft grunting noise as it slid to the floor. I darted towards the other Tragoom and fired my blaster a mere foot from its skull. The distinctive shoo-wup sound of the blaster echoed in the room, making my ears ring and shattering the Tragoom’s face.

  I had no time to hang around and think. I’d fired, alerting the others that someone hostile to their invasion attempt was about. I ran out of the armory’s storage room, rolled over the countertop in the front room, and raced out of the room. A quick look at the corridor showed me where the pair of scouts had cleared a path back to the rehab area, and I could hear a lot of squalling in that direction, along with the thud of approaching Tragooms.

  I turned and vaulted over a heap of wreckage. I hid behind it, not wanting to go too far back for fear of leading the Tragooms to Resan. I snuck a look through the debris I hid behind to see how many were coming for me.

  Four Tragooms hove into view, shoving their way through the enlarged hole in the pile of debris between the training and rehab sections. I noted how the lighting panel shards didn’t cut their rock-hard hides. I was so jealous of those bastards.

  Then I thought of how I’d stabbed their cohort in one of the three places they were vulnerable. I’d been face to face with it, vulnerable as hell. Then I blasted another one into the hereafter. Shit, I’d killed two Tragooms all by myself. Me, Shalia Monroe.

  Unfortunately, I had no time to feel triumph. Enemies were on their way towards me, the odds four-to-one. Can you say screwed? I knew you could.

  They stalked towards me, their noses sniffing the air as they came. They paused in front of the armory and softly grunted at each other. One in particular made a bunch of noise. I don’t know Tragoom, so whatever words he slobbered between those curved yellowed tusks growing from his lower gums was unintelligible to me. I watched and waited to see what they would do.

  After a moment, the speaker and a second Tragoom went into the armory to investigate. The other two kept coming in my direction.

  Okay, so the odds had just gotten a little better. It would have been nice to blow the pair away while they were still at a distance, but I wanted to give the two in the armory time to get past the counter. The longer it took for them to come running, the better my chances of picking them off and staying alive.

  A smidge of a plan to do just that had formed in my mind. Not a great plan by any means, but the only plan I had. A girl takes what she can get.

  I waited as long as possible, letting the Tragooms moving down the corridor get barely a yard from the pile of wreckage I hid behind. They stomped slower and slower, no doubt discerning my scent was strong. They had to know I was nearby. Their heads strained forward on their almost non-existent necks as they peered uncertainly behind heaps of debris.

  I didn’t give myself time to think. I lunged and opened fire, the wide blast range and their close proximity my best hope. I moved fast.

  They moved faster. Had it not been for the suddenness of my attack, the fact I’d kept low to the ground, and that most of me remained behind cover, they would have been quick enough to get me. As it was, the percussion blast shots they got off took my cover away and grazed my shoulder. Shrapnel from the blasted wall of rubble peppered the exposed parts of my skin.

  It didn’t matter. They fell dead seconds later. I did not. Now I had to get the fuck out of there before the other two came after me.

  I ran deeper into the training section. Seconds later the air shivered about me and more wreckage went flying as the other two Tragooms fired, thundering after me.

  I didn’t have time to look back and see how close they were. I sprinted all out, weaving among the piles of trashed corridor, expecting to get hit at any moment. I ran faster than I’d ever run before. I had the crazed idea that Resan’s esteemed grandmother, may she live forever, would have been proud.

  Then one of the walls of debris I’d barely been able to tunnel through before was in front of me. I didn’t pause for an instant. I dove into the small channel through broken bits of ceiling and wall and crawled as fast as I could go.

  When I arrived at the other side, when I pulled myself clear and rolled away from the small opening, I couldn’t believe it. I was still alive. By the prophets, I hadn’t been killed! It was a miracle, one I didn’t have a moment to spend being properly grateful for.

  I peeked through my just-big-enough-for-Shalia passageway. No sign of the Tragooms yet from my vantage point, but I could hear them still coming. I grinned and pointed my blaster. I was about to add to my kill count.

  The first one rounded the last pile. I opened fire. My aim wasn’t very good as I didn’t have much range due to the gap I shot through. I hit the Tragoom, knocking it back into its companion which had followed it two steps later. I didn’t kill it though. My victim squalled, hitting the floor and jerking all over the place, squealing in pain. I shot it again. A mistake.

  Instead of going after the healthy one, the one still on its feet, I killed the one I’d already injured. Dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb. I realized that as soon as the able-body Tragoom wheeled around and ran out of sight.

  Fuck. If Resan had seen me do that, he would have piled on the insults. And he would have been right to do so. If there was anything I hated more than proving Resan correct about anything, I couldn’t think of it at the moment.

  Thinking of Resan reminded me that he was in big trouble. If I was going to get him out of it, I needed to stop
playing target practice with Tragooms. I needed to get my ass to Medical.

  I listened hard. Alarms continued to sound in the background, the clamor familiar now. In the distance I heard things crashing. More walls and ceiling coming apart, no doubt. There was no sign of the Tragoom I’d let get away.

  I crawled back through the hole in the wreckage. The odor coming from the Tragoom I’d killed was easily the worst stench I’d ever had the displeasure of inhaling. I gagged silently, trying hard not to give my position away if its buddy remained in the vicinity. I was thankful I hadn’t had much to eat in the last couple of days.

  I stepped carefully over the corpse, moving as quietly as I possibly could. Staying low to the ground, I edged my way around the first pile of debris. Nothing waited for me there, and I let a little of the tension in my shoulders loosen.

  I kept going, heading back towards Rehab. I stayed cautious, but I could have done better. I was halfway there when I walked into the damned Tragoom I’d let escape.

  The Tragoom grabbed me, knocking the blaster out of my hand. The heavy trunk arm circled my waist, pinning my stabbing arm to my side and imprisoning me. I was caught. Worse still, the Tragoom pressed its blaster to the side of my skull.

  A funny thing happened then. Time seemed to slow down. Each second was like ten. It was like I had all the time in the world to act. That had never happened to me before.

  However, the position I was in had happened in the past. It had happened in training with Oses more times than I could count. We had drilled on this very scenario to the point that my body went into action long before my brain knew what was up.

  I did not strain to get away from my assailant, as the Tragoom expected me to do. His whole focus was on keeping me from springing forward and breaking free. After all, that’s the instinct of anyone in the position I was in. Anyone who had not trained her ass off in defensive techniques, that is.

  I lunged back towards my captor and dropped down. Because he was not expecting it, I slid right through his arm to the floor and simultaneously disturbed his balance. As he grabbed at me, I twisted around, coming to my hands and knees to face him. Then I drove forward with all my power, thrusting my knife into the second vulnerable part in a Tragoom’s anatomy – the crotch.

  Oses and I had practiced me powering my head into that delicate area, not a knife. Attacking with the blade had been Idow’s contribution, using Larten’s technique which came after rolling into position when fighting an opponent with a longer reach. Thanks to the two blade experts, I’d gotten my lessons in knife fighting from a low posture just in time for the real thing.

  Shoving a blade in a Tragoom’s babymaker wasn’t enough to kill it, just make it vulnerable. That was fine. While it rolled around on its back, clutching its crotch and kicking the air while making breathless chuffing noises, I recovered my blaster and blew its midsection out. I did my best to ignore the new stench of blood and released bowels as I yanked my knife free of the nasty thing and wiped it off on the floor.

  I noted how many wounds I’d sustained. I bled heavily. My sight seemed a tad blurred too. Dizziness came and went. God, I was tired. But I’d been tired before, particularly when fighting to get through Resan’s workouts. At least I didn’t have to listen to him yelling in my ear. That was a blessing.

  I told the exhaustion to fuck off as I listened for the sound of reinforcements coming for me. No, just alarms. The main party of Tragooms was apparently busy doing whatever it was they’d come on board to do. But if they weren’t heading my way, that meant they were moving in the direction I wanted to go too – Medical.

  Cursing under my breath, I got moving. I went slowly, being extra careful that time as I made my way past the armory and to the Rehab section. I felt every second that flew by, but I wasn’t going to do Resan any good if I got caught.

  Not only did I not encounter any Tragooms on my way to Rehab, but they weren’t in Rehab either. I eyed the hole in the wall worriedly, noting the Tragoom shuttle was still attached. I saw no sign of life in the umbilical passage between the two vessels, but who knew what waited inside the enemy ship?

  I could hear a blaster fight going on nearby, punctuated by Kalquorian howls and Tragoom shrieks. Damn it, the battle must be on to protect Medical. I kept my blaster pointed at the breach as I crept through the main physical therapy exercise room. My head swiveled back and forth, keeping an eye on the Tragoom’s access and searching to see if they’d gotten past the jammed door.

  Hell yeah, they had. They’d cut through the door and part of the wall, just like they had to get into the ship in the first place. I stared at the big gaping hole through which all the noise of war poured through.

  The smart thing would have been to wait it out until the fight ended and hope like hell the good guys had won the day. After all, I was just Shalia playing at guerilla fighter, not an honest-to-God Nobek warrior by any means. I had no business sticking my stupid face where it was likely to get shot off.

  Except Resan might be alive and waiting for rescue yet. He’d jumped on me and saved my life when the ceiling came down. I had to return the favor. I was not going to owe that overbearing jerk anything.

  And oh yeah, it was the right thing to do. There was that part as well.

  I drew a deep breath and stepped through the gaping chasm in the wall. The cave-in had happened all the way to this part of the corridor, but the Tragooms had dug through towards Medical, leaving me a decent path to travel. There was plenty of lighting panel spears to avoid, but I wasn’t moving fast anyway. I saw shadows moving against the wall as the corridor bent, evidence of hulking bodies jerking about. The din of percussion blasters was deafening now. I grimaced, baring my teeth in anticipation of what I was about to encounter.

  I moved past the area where the corridor had caved in. Three yards from the corner. Jeez, the screams. The damned wouldn’t cry out so loud in Hell. I was sure of it.

  I got up as close to the wall as the rubble would let me. I peeked around the corner and moaned to see the carnage.

  I looked at the backs of about two dozen Tragooms as they fired on Kalquorian defenders in front of the closed percussion-proof doors of Medical. Another couple dozen lay behind them, dead or dying. The stench was horrific.

  More horrific was seeing through the constantly shifting enemy positions how few Kalquorians were defending Medical. Half a dozen Nobek warriors? No more than eight, that was for sure. They pressed against Medical’s recessed doorway, popping out to fire at the Tragooms. The enemy advanced on them slowly – but they advanced. I moaned again to see the front line of piggy bastards holding their dead comrades as shields against the Kalquorian blasters.

  As I watched, a Tragoom was hit in the head by a well-aimed blast. He dropped. But they still outnumbered the Nobeks. They kept surging forward, gaining ground. The Kalquorians guarding Medical would soon have to retreat or they would die.

  I knew they would never retreat. They would defend their post to their last drop of blood, no matter how hopeless the situation.

  I sheathed my knife and pulled the second blaster from my belt. A person can’t accurately aim two blasters at the same time. At this close range, I wouldn’t have to. All I had to do was point in a general direction and start shooting.

  Which is what I did. The Tragooms at the back of the group threatening my shipmates went down satisfyingly fast, the middle of their spines erupting fluids everywhere. I tore through their flanks, taking half a dozen out of the fight before they realized they had a battle on two sides.

  The confusion allowed the Kalquorian squad to mow down even more. By the time I had to duck behind the corner or get blasted in two, at least two-thirds of the enemy was dead. I popped out to get in a few more shots and saw only five left, struggling through the obstacle course of bodies to flee the screaming Kalquorians now advancing on them. It looked like the boys had things well in hand. I sure as hell hadn’t come all this way to get killed by friendly fire. So I darted back into
my quiet section of the hallway and waited for the shooting to stop.

  One Tragoom got through however, barreling a retreat so fast that it nearly trampled me in its rush to escape. I blasted it as I jumped back. Then Kalquorians rounded the corner and they blasted it too in a volley of roaring blasters. It was barely recognizable as any species when all was said and done.

  One man turned to me, his face Nobek-rabid with fighting passion. I recognized him as Weapons Subcommander Ebnad, second in ship’s security only to Oses.

  “Where are the rest? Who came with you?” he demanded.

  “You’re looking at all three of us,” I said. “Me, myself, and I. Excuse me, Subcommander. I have to get to Medical asap.”

  He grimaced as he searched my face, but that didn’t erase the look of shock that crossed his handsome finely-boned visage. “Yes, I would agree.”