Galactic Champion

by Dante King

  I caught sight of Yaltu almost 30 feet ahead of me. She’d partially fallen from the dragon yet again, and Beatrix was holding on to her by one arm. Yaltu’s other arm was tucked close to keep it from scraping against the ground as they rode. Beatrix, the woman who’d been trying to kill me not too long ago, was holding on to someone I cared deeply for. She literally had Yaltu’s life in her hand.

  Beatrix looked back at Yaltu, tugged a little, but had to return her attention in front of them so that she could guide her dragon. When she looked back a second time, our eyes met.

  She nodded to me, as if to say, “I’ve got her.”

  A second later, Beatrix shifted her body weight hard to the side. With one final tug, she pulled Yaltu back into place.

  Yaltu sagged against Beatrix, obviously spent, and I wondered if she was still making pheromones. If so, she had to be close to fainting.

  We needed to find a vehicle and send the dragons away before she was out of action and the pheromones wore off. We sure as hell couldn’t get out of Brazud on foot.

  Wind whistled in one of my ears as Skrew wailed in the other. Yaltu slipped again, but Beatrix had been ready and prevented her from falling more than a few inches.

  We surged through a marketplace. Tents, stalls, and the occasional cart gave way as our tiring dragons forged onward. I ducked under an archway as I heard Beatrix urge Yaltu to stay awake.

  The tight streets of Brazud led into a central section of the city. A wide steel wall barred our progress, but it was no match for two furious dragons with surgical augmentation. I clamped down on the dragon’s hide as Reaver urged our mount straight over the top of it. The tight streets vanished as we crashed into an abandoned square.

  “We’re here,” Beatrix panted.

  “Right into the frying pan,” Reaver muttered.

  “We go in, we get a ride, we get the hell out,” I said. “Any questions?”

  “Skrew has question—”

  “Glad to hear it,” I interrupted. “Let’s move.”

  We dismounted the dragons. There weren’t any guards visible in the square, but it was likely most of them were dead, fighting the other two dragons, or scouring the city for us. There were no shop stalls or vendors here, nor was there anyone else around. I could hear sirens blaring and see smoke drifting from the path of chaos we’d left behind us, but this area was eerily quiet.

  Yaltu turned and touched a black dragon’s chin gently to lift her head. The scaled woman looked dead on her feet. The dragon could have bitten her in half, but the creature was genteel, even though her small pupils were dilated like a cat ready to pounce.

  “I’m so sorry for what has happened to you,” Yaltu whispered as tears formed in her eyes. “But now, you are free.” She paused for a moment. I thought the dragon must have been speaking to her privately. In response, she nodded and took a few steps away.

  “Free,” the black dragons chanted. “Because of you, free.”

  “Not if you stay here, you’re not,” I said. “Thank you for your help, but you better get out of here.”

  “Luck, great one,” they said.

  The dragons glanced at each other before peppering us with dust and gravel as they charged back over the walls and deeper into the city to wreak their own havoc on their torturers.

  Yaltu stumbled, and I jumped to catch her in my arms. She stared up at me with half-closed eyes.

  “We need to keep going,” I said. “Can you walk?”

  She swallowed before getting on her feet. “Now that I am not using my pheromones, I will become stronger.” The color in her face returned, and she swallowed. “I can walk.”

  “The city guard barracks are not far from here,” Beatrix said as she gestured for us to follow. “Come.”

  We followed her through a number of small alleys while aliens stared down at us from the windowed buildings flanking. After a few right turns and a single left turn, we arrived outside a squat stone building constructed similarly to the arena.

  I’d figured it would be, well, guarded, but we didn’t encounter any trouble outside the structure. The front double door was wooden with thick metal bands reinforcing it both vertically and horizontally.

  The reinforcement didn’t help at all; I broke the locking pawl between the doors with a swift kick. The two vrak guards inside were frozen with surprise. I doubted they ever expected anyone to kick their front doors in. As they reached for their weapons, I also kicked their front teeth in.

  The room was small, no more than a small foyer—a first-line of defense in case the barracks was ever attacked. But the defense of any building was only as effective as those who were defending it. The vrak weren’t big on discipline. Skrew was a testament to that.

  The walls and floors were completely unadorned. There were no paintings, plaques, or anything else that might fall during a battle. At least that part had been done right. Every yard or so, a bluish-hued light about the size of my fist was mounted to the wall. Its piercing pinpoint of illumination reminded me of a welding arc. It was probably efficient, though. All militaries gave lip service to efficiency at the very least.

  “Close the doors and bar them!” I ordered. I’d only broken the pawls on the door, so we’d still be able to prevent anything else from entering if we stacked enough stuff behind them.

  Reaver rushed to the entrance and began stacking furniture in front to slow down anyone who might try to get in. I didn’t think we’d see anyone too soon because the barracks was completely quiet and devoid of any soldiers. I figured the two I’d just killed had drawn the short straws, and all the other guards were dealing with a little dragon problem. Still, there were probably stragglers around. The guards might not have been disciplined, but any punk with a gun and a lucky shot still spelled problem.

  “Where are the vehicles?” I asked, quickly scanning the room. There were dozens of doors leading into more rooms.

  “They come from underneath the streets,” Beatrix said quickly. “Then, they keep them underground. Everyone, look for the entrance.”

  “Watch your sixes,” I said.

  Skrew lifted all four of his arms. “Skrew only has four.”

  I shook my head. “There may be more guards we haven’t seen yet.”

  I held Ebon low and peeked through the doorway on the opposite side of me. I heard Reaver move in behind me and stack up like a typical room breach.

  Across the hallway, inset in the wall, was another double-door.

  This one was clearly marked “ARMORY.” I was surprised I could read the text, but then it seemed the Lakunae had not only gifted me with the ability to speak different alien languages, but also read them.

  “Maybe there’s something in there a little less primitive than a sword or halberd,” I whispered to Reaver.

  “I would kill for a rifle,” she muttered.

  The hallway extended an equal distance in both directions. To my left, there were two doors along the same wall and one at the end. To my right, there were the same doors, but there was also an extra one on the opposite wall from me, not too far from the armory. Asymmetrical architecture usually hid something important. Though it appeared that most of the people on the planet were alien, I was certain we had enough in common that we both enjoyed symmetry.

  I was almost certain the extra doorway would be my way underground.

  But, first, we needed some firepower.

  “Reaver,” I said. “Cover me.”

  “Got it.”

  I kicked the center of the double doors to the armory. Sparks cascaded off the steel as the flimsy locks disintegrated.

  In the center of the stone-walled room was a stout wooden table. On top were a few close combat weapons, but scattered on the floor around the table—mostly against the back wall—were discarded pieces of junk that may at one time have been working components of firearms.

  “These lazy bastards never threw anything away!” Reaver said as she picked through heavy-duty wall cabinets. “There isn�
�t much here to take, and, of course, all the halberds are gone.” She gestured with one hand at a collection of welded metal pipes. If I turned my head to one side and squinted, they kind of resembled a serviceable weapons rack.

  “There isn’t much here to choose from,” she continued, “but there’s enough for each of us. Everyone pick something.”

  I knelt beneath the table and found a locked cabinet. I gripped the lock and pried it off with a decisive tug. My lips widened when I saw what was inside.

  Pistols.

  My eyes were drawn to an over-under double-barrelled pistol. Of all of them, it appeared to be the one most purpose-built. Its wooden housing, robust design, and finely machined parts told me that it wasn’t constructed the same way the others were and may have been captured when someone crashed onto the planet. But it was too small in my grip.

  “Here,” I told Reaver, “take this one. It’s nice, but my hands are too big for it.”

  She took it from me, tested the grip, and nodded. “Feels good. I hope it shoots.”

  So did I.

  I selected a pistol of simple construction that was a good deal less impressive than Reaver’s. It was a scrapyard copy of some energy weapon, painted black with a few accents that glowed blue. I wasn’t sure if the gun still had some juice left in it, but I hoped so. I noticed a small icon on each side near the trigger guard. It resembled a bird, maybe an eagle, but it didn’t mean anything to me. Again, it was probably just something captured from an unfortunate crash victim.

  Skrew squealed with joy when he saw something on the floor. He lunged for it as if he thought someone else might grab it first. When he picked the object up, I almost rolled my eyes.

  To me, it looked like a three-legged octopus some bored welder had made out of big ball-bearings and antennae. It was gold, tarnished silver, and what appeared to be roughly cast steel.

  “Skrew,” I said, drawing his attention. “Find a weapon.”

  “This better,” he whispered. He fingered the device and turned it over a few times in his hands.

  “Will it kill?” I asked.

  “It will kill,” he said.

  Something about the way he said it made a shiver run up my spine. It was like he’d been waiting to kill someone with… whatever it was… his whole life. It was like a dream come true for him.

  Everyone had a weapon. Except Yaltu. I’d seen her use a knife before, but I figured a firearm would be better against the king’s soldiers.

  I went through the pistols and couldn’t trust any of them enough for Yaltu to use. I pushed aside the cabinet and found a rifle lying behind it. From a natural-looking pistol grip, it swelled outward before ending abruptly. It looked heavier than it actually was, and I thought Yaltu might be able to carry it. Three short pipes ended in an X-shaped piece of dark metal. As I gripped the weapon, I noticed a button near my thumb and flicked it upward. The rifle extended and began to hum, its three long pipes glowing purple with some unknown power.

  “Take this one,” I said after I walked over to Yaltu. “I don’t want you to be defenseless. I’m not entirely sure how it works, but I bet this end gets pointed at the bad guy. Be careful not to shoot any of us.”

  Yaltu studied it for a second, then reached for it apprehensively. I didn’t think she had zero experience with weapons, but she was no operator. The rifle seemed like a simple enough energy weapon without too much recoil, if any.

  She inspected the device while the others made their way back to the hallway. “A Mark-1 Coupling Phase Rifle,” Yaltu whispered. “These are best for long-distances. I have never fired one, but I know what it is.”

  I stared at her in shock. “Well… uh… good,” I managed to say. “We need to keep moving. It’s only a matter of time before a guard comes back, finds the doors barred, and raises the alarm.”

  I’d just spoken the words when the telltale whine of approaching vehicles rattled the barracks. If I was feeling optimistic, I’d have said they were just here to kick back and relax.

  But we couldn't take any chances.

  “Sounds like hoverbikes,” I whispered. “We’re out of time. Let’s go!”

  I took the lead, new pistol in one hand and Ebon in the other. I took point with Beatrix behind me as we approached the door I’d noted as out-of-place earlier. I kicked it open while Reaver provided me with cover. Inside, was a stairwell. I led my team down the crude stairs. An unfortunate vrak guard happened to be walking up at the same time. He hadn’t seen or heard us, so I raised my pistol while I continued to take the stairs two at a time and as quietly as possible. I waited until he looked up and gasped before squeezing the trigger.

  The pistol worked as well as I hoped it would. There was no recoil, and its aim was true. A streak of blue light erupted from the muzzle and hit the vrak right between the eyes. He only had time to blink before his head popped like a balloon, sending brains and other bits of flesh several yards in all directions.

  Skrew laughed. “Jacob shoot! Brains explode!”

  I silenced him with a glare and resumed descending the stairs. I kept my smooth pace and covered the blindspots. We reached the end of the staircase when a hailfire of rounds sparked off the surrounding walls. Two guards were stupid enough to stand and shoot without seeking cover.

  I shot one, and Reaver got the other, while Beatrix pulled Yaltu and Skrew to the relative safety of a stack of storage boxes near a door.

  More hostiles made themselves known further down the hallway from where the two guards had appeared. They peeked out from behind wooden crates, only long enough to spot or shoot at a target, not both.

  I shot the nearest offenders and dived for cover behind a pile of crates. Reaver came alongside me, and I took a rapid sweep to check my corners and get an idea of where we were fighting.

  The room looked like a garage at least 50 yard long and almost as wide. The ceiling was dark compared to the rest of the room, but it had to be at least 30 feet high. Hoverbikes were piled against the walls in haphazard rows between mountains of storage crates.

  Our way out was the gaping hole in the roof that allowed a vehicle an entry and exit into the garage.

  But the big centerpiece was the armored, octagonal structure about a third of the distance from the end of the room. I could see the heads of two vrak through a slit cut into the thick concrete, their eyes illuminated by multi-colored lights. It reminded me of data panels, but I hadn’t seen that kind of technology on the planet before.

  A beam of blue light traced its way from across a stack of small cargo containers. A moment later, the containers began to brighten, then dissolved into floating bits of glowing ash. The three guards who’d taken cover behind the boxes started darting for cover before another blue beam pulverized the boxes.

  I snapped my head to the right. Yaltu smiled and ducked back behind the container that served as her and Beatrix’s cover. Skrew only stared in wonder at the woman and her rifle, while Beatrix was busy watching the enemy and shooting at the ones who poked their heads out a little too far.

  There was silence for a few seconds before the light coming through the hole in the ceiling darkened. The sound I’d heard earlier wasn’t more hoverbikes, but an oval-shaped vehicle. It dropped into the garage and stopped only a few feet from the ground. Hatches popped open from its sides and guards jumped to the ground.

  Beatrix was the first to fire, but her weapon was ineffective against the armored hull of what I recognized as a troop transport.

  Reaver took a few shots at it and shattered a thruster.

  A squad of vrak piled out of the transport before Yaltu hauled herself out of cover and took aim with her energy weapon. A blue beam lanced into the vehicle, cutting it in two. Both halves fell hard to the ground, filling the room with acrid smoke. Two of the guards, the last to exit, were squashed under the wreckage as Yaltu dived for cover to avoid a new hail of gunfire.

  The air was thick with the smell of smoke, blood, and cordite.

  “Find the
m!” a guard said. “They have infiltrated the barracks!”

  The room was too narrow to bother trying to flank us, but he could draw us out of position and catch anyone his troops found in a crossfire. I couldn't let that happen.

  Reaver was too focused on the center of the room, where most of the unaimed enemy fire was coming from. Beatrix was engaged with troops to her right.

  It was time I showed these vrak why Martian Storm Marines were the best in the business.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I broke away from cover and took out a vrak as he aimed past a crate. Energy weapons sizzled as they blitzed past me and bathed the air with the smell of burning plasma. I kept the pressure on and forced them to switch their aim to me as I pressed toward the central control hub of the garage. I ducked behind a metal shelf, and it shuddered as it absorbed heavy fire from the enemy. I twisted out of cover, blew another vrak’s head into a smear of brains, and poured on the speed as I dodged between crates.

  A vrak’s eyes widened when I surprised him from the left and took his head off with a rapid swipe of Ebon. Another enemy screamed as I vaulted over his cover, stomped him into the concrete, and pierced his skull with my blade.

  Yaltu was holding back behind me. She had the most destructive weapon of our entire squad, but her weapon didn’t leave a lot of options for medics to fix afterward. She was probably afraid of hitting me.

  From what I’d seen, our enemy had a combination of energy weapons and laser rifles. The former was far more destructive, but laserfire drilled clean through crates like paper and fizzled out against the stone walls of the complex.

  I ducked a second before I would have lost my head to a plasma bolt. Luckily, there was enough smoke coming from the wreckage of the transport vehicle, so my enemies couldn’t get a clear shot at me.

  I dove, rolled, and came up between two vrak and promptly relieved each of them of their heads. As their bodies fell, I rolled to my left as I fired at the nearest enemy. I bored two smoking holes in the chest of a sneaky mechanic trying to brain me with his hefty firearm.