by Lee Stephen
The Ithini opened its mouth, but Scott held up his hand. “You’re on my planet, you play by my rules. We can compromise or we can get nowhere. It’s all up to you.” The Ithini angled its head oddly at Scott, then Scott felt their connection sever. His nausea subsided.
The Bakma behind Gabriel looked at the Ithini. It was a slender Bakma, but it wore the insignia of a ranked officer. Its black and brown armor bore various designs. But was it in charge, or were the Ithini? As thoughts of the Ithini Control Theory flashed through Scott’s mind, the two aliens began to converse.
“Rashae mu`addma. Kon`ribilsib,” the Ithini said.
The Bakma’s face contorted in anger. Roaring, it grabbed the Ithini by the head and flung it straight back. Scott jumped as the frail alien crashed against the wall.
He realized it right then and there. The Ithini weren’t in control at all. They weren’t even on equal ground.
The Bakma leader turned to the second Ithini, a somewhat smaller one, and barked out several words.
Scott felt the prick again in his mind, and the sickening sensation returned. He was connected again—but it wasn’t an Ithini that spoke to him now.
“You will not advance,” said the Bakma. The words were in Bakmanese, yet Scott understood them in his head. It was as if the alien was speaking in English. “Any attempt at coercion will end in death.”
Scott’s eyes opened wide. The Ithini hadn’t connected itself to him; instead, it had connected him to the Bakma. The lightheaded feeling swelled and grew stronger. What do I do? Do I just speak? “What do you want?” Scott asked.
“You are unlike the warriors called EDEN.”
The Bakma was referring to the Nightmen. To hear the Bakma refer to human military factions was…strange.
“We are to bring you to Khuldaris, where you will be evaluated. Tu`hessa lach th’en…”
The alien’s words trailed into gibberish in Scott’s head. Scott felt his nausea dig deeper as his stomach convulsed. He felt pulled to the ceiling, despite the fact that his feet were grounded. His understanding of the Bakma phased in and out.
“Daash Khuladi l`gnassa ju-kelaas vasch Golathochs’ interference. Tu` will horissa rassha tul-nok salassa. Tu`vich kava indication esh allegiance, tuush-nae`cennas lae judgment.”
He couldn’t make everything out. The Bakma’s words, they began to turn garbled. They wanted Scott go to with them. Or maybe they wanted all of the Nightmen. Gathering his endurance, Scott fought through the urge to vomit. “Release Gabriel’s men first, and the four of us will go with you.” Behind him, the other Nightmen held their stance.
The Bakma cocked its head. It didn’t understand.
“Release Gabriel’s men first, and the four of us will go with you,” Scott repeated. His head felt dizzy. The walls of the transport began to fisheye. The world seemed to lean to the right.
The Bakma’s eyes widened as he began to understand. “Acceptable.” The connection broke off.
Scott stumbled forward and dropped his assault rifle. The Bakma flinched but didn’t fire, even as Svetlana dashed to his side.
He pulled off his helmet and threw up involuntarily. His head spun and his stomach was upside down. His eyes watered and his breath heaved in short gasps, natural reactions to vomiting.
Svetlana grasped him by the shoulders. “Scott, what are you doing? What have you agreed to?”
I’ve agreed to nothing, he thought as he wiped his mouth and put his helmet back on. He had no intention of going anywhere with the Bakma. This was a way to get Gabriel’s men out of whatever Noboat they were in—at least long enough for the Vindicators to strike. But he couldn’t say that out loud.
In front of them, the Bakma pushed Gabriel forward. The Australian stumbled out of the ship. As soon as he caught his footing, he turned around to Scott. “Mate…”
“Go,” Scott said, reaching up to clutch Svetlana’s hand. He needed to steady himself. “Get them and go.”
“Scott, please—” Svetlana said.
Subtly, Scott adjusted his comm, in a way that made it appear he was cradling his head. Then he whispered in a barely audible voice, “Tell the Vindicators to prepare for my mark.”
“Yes sir,” Esther replied.
Nicolai edged closer to Scott. “Commander, what is going on?”
“Be ready,” Scott said lowly.
The Bakma raised a device to its mouth—the alien equivalent of a comm. “Olassi daal ve`cha.” Affirmation came a moment later, and the leader stepped forward. Grabbing Scott by the collar, the Bakma pulled him up.
The fact that Scott had just negotiated with extraterrestrials hadn’t hit him yet. Too much else demanded his immediate concern, from Pelican Squad to his own teammates. His stomach was returning to normal.
The Bakma shoved Scott forward, and he stumbled out of the Vulture. He scanned the area where the hidden Noboats resided, but he couldn’t locate them.
Suddenly an odd shimmer sparked in the air, as if electricity were surging through glass. The Noboat faded into existence before him.
It was the first time Scott had seen a functional Noboat up close. The only ones he’d encountered before were always damaged and torn as a result of Vindicator interceptions. This one was not.
They were actually fairly sleek vessels, considering their size, with ray-like wings and hulls that almost resembled New Era shuttles. Dual plasma cannons were mounted beneath their forward hulls, and the rear engine resembled the grill of a car. They were fittingly dark gray.
The Noboat’s side door opened, and the remnants of Pelican Squad were shoved out. They stumbled to the ground as the Bakma kept them in check.
The Bakma in the Vulture reached out for Nicolai, Auric, and Egor. The three slayers raised their hands to protest, but a sharp word from Scott forced them to comply. They were confused. Nightmen and surrender didn’t mesh. They didn’t realize what Scott had in mind, but they’d understand soon. The moment Scott’s offensive presented itself, the Nightmen would go with it—they always did.
He surveyed the battered operatives of Pelican Squad. He could make out roughly ten of them, but he didn’t have time for an exact head count. Svetlana began tending to them, while William watched her from the side.
Take care of her, Harbinger.
The Vindicators were waiting for the order to strike. They knew the locations of the Noboats; they’d fire at once.
The timing had to be perfect. Pelican Squad was headed away from their Noboat, and Scott and his slayers were heading toward it. He couldn’t order the aerial assault until they all had some measure of distance, or they’d get consumed in the explosion themselves.
Scott slowed his pace as the Pelican Squadders were escorted away. When the Bakma behind Scott pushed him forward, he fell purposely into the snow. Stall for time. Take a second or two to stand up again.
“Nivaash!” the Bakma ordered. “Tu`etakka.” The alien grabbed him and pulled him to his feet.
It was almost the right time. Scott was still a touch lightheaded, but not enough to stop his combat instincts from kicking in.
We can take them down quickly in the wake of the explosion. They won’t know what hit them. We’ll hit the ones behind us, then focus on the survivors of the Noboat strikes.
Svetlana was leading Pelican Squad to the forest, but she kept looking back—looking at him. She was doing what he’d told her to do. She had no idea this was a plan.
Once again, the Bakma pushed Scott. Once again, he fell on purpose. Looking up from the ground, he watched the Pelican Squad prisoners. They were far enough away. So were the Nightmen. The Bakma suspected nothing. It was time.
“Mark,” he said into his comm, neither loudly nor forcefully. The Bakma behind him waited impatiently.
Scott placed his palms on the ground. His knees were already bent from the shove. He lowered his head.
“Nivaash,” the Bakma said. “Nivaash!”
Scott didn’t rise up or acknowledge. He only waited fo
r the blast.
“Nivaash!”
Then they heard it. It was faint—barely a sound at all, like fleeting whispers of wind. The Bakma looked up.
The first missile struck the farthest Noboat. The next was struck a half-second later. As the fiery booms shook the earth, the Bakma leapt back. When the nearest Noboat was bombarded, Scott was blown back violently through the air. His helmet blew off, as did several pieces of his armor. A deafening ring replaced the sounds of the world.
He hit the ground like it was made of concrete, rolling several times before hitting the Vulture’s ramp. There was blood on his face and his hands and his skin burned. He’d been too close to the nearest Noboat. He’d been caught in the blast. As dirt and snow rained on his head, the ringing subsided to gunfire. He shook his head and looked up.
The gunfire was coming from the slayers. They were farther away than he’d been to the alien ships. The blasts hadn’t blown them away. They’d taken to the offensive with their own weapons—just as he’d hoped. He pushed up to his feet.
Then it hit him.
The butt of a plasma rifle slammed him right in the face. He felt his cheekbone tremble as his vision blurred, and he landed flat on his back. The next thing he saw was a Bakma towering over him. The alien aimed its plasma gun at Scott’s chest.
Scott had never moved faster in his life. He rolled frantically to the side just fast enough to avoid a direct hit. He could feel the heat from the alien weapon, and his vision flashed white. He felt his back burn.
Then Auric appeared. The German slayer dove at the Bakma from behind, knocking it forward into the snow. Scott scrambled to his feet.
The moment the missiles struck, Esther sprung into action. She made a beeline for the fourth Noboat—the lone vessel nearest to her. It had been left alone in the Vindicator attack. “This is Private Brooking to all Vindicators. Do not engage the easternmost Noboat. I repeat, do not engage the easternmost Noboat. It’s too close to Pelican Squad’s Vulture. I am attempting to infiltrate and deactivate.”
The Noboat materialized just as Esther leapt against it from the side opposite the battle. Grabbing hold of the side of the vessel, she climbed nimbly to the ship’s roof, making her way to the stern section. Readying her pistol in one hand, she used the other to steady herself. She dashed above an obscure impression in the middle of the ship’s aft. It wasn’t a hatch but a weapons panel where an optional third plasma cannon could have been mounted. But just like a hatch, it could be opened.
Manipulating several of the exterior controls, she leaned back as the panel slid away. She slid through the hole into the maintenance shaft within.
As soon as Gabriel’s crew was safely escorted away, William readied his hand cannon. “I’m goin’ back.”
Gabriel was quick to speak up. “I’m coming, too. Who else is able to fight?” He looked at his squad. Several of the lesser injured stepped forward.
“Go,” said Svetlana. “Hurry and help them!”
Scott retrieved his pistol from the ground as Auric and the Bakma wrestled. He could feel scorch marks and burnt flesh all over his body—even on his face. But adrenaline held off the pain.
Something caught Scott’s eye out of his peripherals. The fourth Noboat had materialized. Bakma were pouring from its doors. “They’re coming from the far one!” he yelled. His face hurt the moment his jaw moved. He forced the pain aside and turned to help Auric. Several gunshots later, the Bakma attacker was dead. The German hurried to his feet.
Dashing into the Vulture, Scott grabbed his previously abandoned assault rifle, immediately gunning down the two Ithini. They’d already invaded his mind twice—that was enough.
From the smoldering wreckages of the other three alien ships, wounded and burned Bakma screamed in agony.
Auric almost ran into Scott when the latter emerged from the Vulture. Nicolai and Egor were not far behind as a barrage of plasma poured from the fourth Noboat. The four men took cover inside the Vulture.
“Commander,” Egor said, his eyes widening as he looked at Scott’s face. “You do not look very good!”
Scott didn’t have time to be concerned. “Meet them head on. Gun for their leaders. Don’t let that Noboat lift off.” The transport’s hull shook with plasma blasts. “Go!”
Bursting from the transport, the four Nightmen turned the corner into the open, firing furiously. That was the difference between EDEN and the Nightmen—four Nightmen could make such a charge, something EDEN could never hope to do.
As they dodged, they fired. As they fired, they acquired new targets. As they acquired new targets, they aggressively pressed on. Plasma bolts neared them and occasionally scraped them, but never hit them dead on. The Nightmen knew how to anticipate. They knew how to get the jump on tactical instinct; they were collectively three steps ahead. They weren’t special forces—they were killing machines.
New voices emerged from behind. Scott glanced back, where William and Gabriel ran in tandem. A half dozen others were with them. They fired everything from assault rifles to plasma rifles—whatever they could find on the ground. Pelican Squad was coming to help.
Bakma were plowed down as the tide of momentum reversed. The aliens had anticipated everything but the skill of the Nightmen. Now they realized their mistake, but it was too late. Aliens no longer poured from the vessel, they struggled to escape back into it. Blood spewed as the melee continued until the Nightmen reached the Noboat’s main door.
“Bridge! Corridor!” Scott ordered. His words, though brief, had meaning. Nicolai and Auric—paired together since the beginning—would storm the bridge. Scott and Egor would storm the hallway.
Esther’s voice emerged over the airwaves. “Ship drive deactivated!”
Scott blinked in the midst of his assault. Surely she didn’t mean inside that very Noboat. That would have been impossible. How would she have gotten inside?
When Scott reached the hallway with Egor, he could hear the sound of a lone pistol in the engine room. Esther was there.
Scott rolled forward as plasma fire followed him. Egor crouched and fired from behind. By the time Scott was on his knees, Egor had slain two Bakma and raced into the living quarters of the ship.
“Living area clear,” he said moments later.
Scott had to get to Esther. Noboat engine rooms were large, but cramped. The quartz crystal occupied the center of the room, with machinery taking up the remainder of the space. The many pipes, devices, and control panels formed snaking, narrow corridors.
The moment he entered the engine room, he saw her. She was firing her pistol desperately at a pair of Bakma farther in the room. A plasma bolt skimmed past her head, and she screamed.
Her vision flashed white, Scott thought. Diving over her, he shielded her body then pulled her behind cover.
Esther blinked hard several times.
Scott knew he was still good on ammunition. He also knew the two Bakma were scared. They’d have to be—their Noboat was being captured. An idea popped into his head. Readying his assault rifle, he screamed aloud. “Grrashna?”
“Grrashna!” the Bakma complied.
They were agreeing to surrender. They’d been defeated, and they valued their lives. They were giving up the fight. That was all Scott wanted them to do.
Rising suddenly from behind their cover, Scott swiveled his assault rifle to fire. The two Bakma came into view. Die, you dreggs. He pressed in the trigger.
Then she hit him. “Scott, no!” Esther’s body collided against his, and his aim was thrown off. A staccato of bullets tattered against the ceiling and wall. The Bakma covered their heads.
Scott released the trigger and the room suddenly went silent. As Egor and Auric turned the corner into the engine room, Scott’s focus shifted solely to Esther.
Her eyes were wide open. She wore a mixture of compassion and shock, the former for the state of his mind, the latter for what could only be the state of his face. She addressed him through both emotions. “Please don
’t.”
Don’t kill the Bakma. She was stopping him from killing the Bakma—Bakma who’d willingly surrendered because he’d made them say grrashna.
All at once it hit him. I almost did it. I almost cut them down, right then and there. I almost became a monster again. He’d just saved Pelican Squad. He’d just overcome a Bakma ambush and captured a fully functional Noboat. Yet still the rage was inside him. It had almost overwhelmed all the good he had done.
“Commander,” said Nicolai from the doorway. “The Noboat is clear.”
Esther stifled a horrified tear. She was still looking at his face.
Auric cleared his throat. “Most of the Bakma have surrendered—”
“Then take them into custody, you noodle!” Esther screamed. She looked back at Scott, but he was already walking out of the room. He didn’t look at her again.
When Scott emerged outdoors, Captain Gabriel was standing with his men. The moment the Australian saw him, his mouth fell.
“Scott!” said Svetlana, running his way. She’d returned to the battle scene, too. “Are you okay?” The moment she saw his face, her eyes flashed with an urgent new fear.
“Is everyone safe?” Scott asked. As he said it, he registered his body’s pain for the first time. He cringed, stumbled forward, and fell.
The ground was not all that hit him. Something was in his head. His nausea and dizziness returned.
Something is wrong.
Svetlana pulled off her helmet and knelt. “Let me see you!”
His palms were burnt badly, and the rest of his body felt the same. But nothing hurt as bad as his face.
Svetlana opened her medical kit. “Tell me what happened.”
He felt around his eye. He’d been hit with the butt of a plasma rifle—he’d almost forgotten. That was when his cheekbone had trembled. The area around his eye was already swollen. He felt dizzy. “I’m fine,” he lied.
“You are not fine!”
She smeared something slimy and cold into his face. He winced and shrunk back.
“Stop moving,” she said, grabbing his arm. “This is cold gel. It will stop the swelling in your cheek.”