A Show of Force

by Ryk Brown

  A minute later, he heard Deliza’s voice.

  “Father!” Deliza called out, running toward him.

  Casimir put his right arm around his oldest daughter, she in turn with both arms around him and Nalaya. Casimir looked at Yanni standing against the wall not four meters distant. He looked frazzled, with blood strewn across his body, and a deep burn across his left arm, which he held gingerly. He made eye contact with the young man, the two of them passing an unspoken message of concern for one another.

  Casimir heard more Ghatazhak coming up the corridor from behind him. He turned and saw five men, one of which was their leader. He put Nalaya down, passing her to Deliza, who took her hand and pulled her in close to her.

  “Sire,” the lieutenant said as he approached.

  “Lieutenant,” Casimir replied, regaining his composure. “Is the area secure?”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “And the data cores?”

  “We are preparing to move them to a safe location as we speak.”

  “A safe location?” Casimir asked, becoming suspicious.

  “Of course,” the lieutenant replied. “With House Ta’Akar in ruin, and Prince Casimir and his heirs dead at the hands of terrorists, the responsibility for the safekeeping of the data cores now falls upon House Dahra.” The lieutenant looked around at the bodies of the dead men. “It is a shame, really, that the once strong empire has fallen into such disrepair. Such acts of terrorism would not be possible…” The lieutenant’s eyes returned to Casimir as he finished his sentence, “…under stronger leadership.”

  “What?” Deliza mumbled, confused. She looked at her father. “What’s he saying?”

  “Sergeant, kill them all, using that man’s weapon,” the lieutenant said, pointing at the nearest dead intruder, “then return it to his hand.”

  “What?” Deliza repeated, not believing what she was hearing. “Father? What’s going on?”

  “It’s alright, Deliza,” he told her in hushed tones. He turned and put his arms around his daughters, accepting his fate. If they were to die, they would do so together. “I love you both, so much,” he told them, tears forming in his eyes. “Soon, we shall all be together, with your mother.”

  One of the other guards pushed Yanni toward them, forcing them to all stand together in the middle of the corridor. Casimir turned back to face the sergeant who was picking up the dead attacker’s weapon. Yanni put his arms around Deliza, trying to stand tall in the face of certain death for her. Deliza began sobbing openly, as did Nalaya, even though she did not understand what was about to happen.

  Casimir faced his executioners. “You shall all burn in hell for betraying your people.”

  The lieutenant smiled. “You are correct, Casimir. We shall all most definitely burn in hell. However, you are not our people.”

  Casimir turned his eyes toward the sergeant as the man raised the energy weapon and pointed it toward them. Casimir proudly looked the sergeant in the eyes as the man pulled the trigger.

  A brilliant red flash appeared from the barrel of the weapon, nearly blinding Casimir and causing him to cringe. There was also a terrible whine, a piercing sound that seemed wholly unnatural, followed by a cry of pain.

  Casimir opened his eyes again, and saw his would-be executioner, his hand deformed and melting, after his weapon had malfunctioned and emitted tremendous amounts of heat from the battery pack located in its grip.

  A brilliant blue-white flash flooded the corridor, spilling in from the open doorways of adjacent rooms, as well as the exit into the courtyard from the end of the corridor.

  Casimir lunged forward into the sergeant, who was still holding his melted hand and screaming in pain, knocking him backward. The lieutenant, whose head was turned in search of the source of the light did not see the attack coming, and took the full force of the falling sergeant, tripping over the dead body behind him, and toppling over. The sound of men hitting the ground outside, and the cacophony of weapons fire reverberated through the corridor, eclipsed only by the sound of Casimir’s own voice as he yelled to his children, “Run!”

  As the other Ghatazhak soldiers went charging outside to meet the new threat, Casimir scrambled over the sergeant’s writhing body and grabbed at the lieutenant. The Ghatazhak officer reacted instantly, rolling away from Casimir and drawing his weapon as he climbed back to his feet. Casimir, also climbing to his feet, picked up the helmet of the fallen sergeant on his way up and swung it upward and to his left with all his might, striking the lieutenant in his face and bloodying his nose. The lieutenant stumbled backward for a moment, but recovered with all the speed and precision of a Ghatazhak. Before he could react, Casimir felt the lieutenant’s boot strike his chest, knocking him backward.

  Deliza also lunged at the lieutenant, screaming with all the ferocity of a Karuzari, but was knocked aside by the butt of the lieutenant’s energy pistol.

  The lieutenant smiled as Casimir scrambled to get back on his feet. He raised his weapon, taking aim at Casimir’s head as he spoke in sinister tones. “No matter what you do, House Ta’Akar dies this night… and the data cores shall go to House Dahra.”

  Deliza rolled over and kicked at the lieutenant’s leg as he fired, causing his body to dip slightly to the right. A high-pitched cry of pain was heard as another energy weapon fired from behind Casimir, striking the lieutenant in the face, instantly melting a hole through his face and superheating the tissues inside, causing them to explode out the back of his head through his helmet. The lieutenant’s body dropped to the floor in grotesque fashion, pausing on its knees and then falling toward Deliza. She screamed as she rolled out of the way.

  Casimir spun around and saw Yanni standing not three meters away, right where he had left him. The young Terran was holding an energy pistol in his hand, still aimed at the spot in the air where the Ghatazhak lieutenant’s head had once been. Casimir gazed at Yanni for what seemed like an eternity, amazed that the young data core technician had just saved his life, and that of his family.

  Then Casimir’s eyes drifted downward, and his heart sank. His hearing disappeared as he ran forward, stumbling over the body of the sergeant, not even noticing that the wounded Ghatazhak soldier was reaching for the dead lieutenant’s weapon. All that Casimir could see was the lifeless, smoldering body of his little green-eyed, golden-haired Nalaya.

  More Ghatazhak began pouring into the corridor as the last of the Ghatazhak who they had once thought their saviors fell to the overwhelming assault. Casimir never heard their rescuers yelling for Yanni to put his weapon down. He did not even hear the single shot that ended the life of the wounded sergeant who was raising his dead lieutenant’s weapon to try and obey his lieutenant’s final orders. All he could do was hold his dead child in his arms, and weep openly.

  Commander Erbe and his men came to stop behind the bodies of the lieutenant and the sergeant. “Sire! Are you injured?”

  Deliza looked at her father as he held her dead sister and wept. She turned to Commander Erbe, tears running down her cheeks. “Are you here to kill us as well?”

  Commander Erbe looked at her, unsure of what to say.

  “Go ahead then!” she continued, “You are Ghatazhak, are you not? Isn’t that what you do?”

  Commander Erbe slung his weapon back over his shoulder as he lowered himself down to one knee, bringing his face down to her level. “Princess Deliza,” he began, in as calm a fashion as possible. “Those men were not Ghatazhak, not truly. They were of the Ybaran Legions. I am Commander Erbe. I was sent by Captain Navarro of the Avendahl, at the request of your father, to protect you. I regret that I have failed you in this way,” he added gesturing at Nalaya’s body. He pulled his energy pistol and offered it to Deliza, butt first. “I offer you my life as penance for my failure. I would be honored should you take it.”

  Deliza looked into the commander’s eyes. They were strong and knowing. More importantly, they were sincere. She looked at the weapon he offered her, then at the s
ergeant standing next to the commander. The man showed no sign that he would prevent her from taking that weapon and killing the commander. She looked at the commander again. His eyes were still locked on hers, unwavering in his commitment.

  She struggled to get to her feet, wiping her eyes as she stood. “Killing you will not bring my sister back,” she began, sniffling. “She is with our mother, now.” Deliza wiped her eyes again, finding a strength she had not known before. “Besides, I believe you and your men have work to do.”

  The commander nodded gently, amazed at what he saw in the eyes of the young princess. He had never met the young woman, but he was quite certain that the events of this night had changed her forever, just as it was about to change the history of Takara, and quite possibly the entire Pentaurus cluster. “Indeed,” he agreed, placing his weapon back in its holster. “Sergeant, secure the area and ensure that the data cores are safe.”

  “Yes, sir,” the sergeant responded.

  The commander turned back to Deliza. “We should leave this place,” he urged. “It is not safe. I can have you all on the decks of the Avendahl in minutes, along with the data cores if you desire.”

  “No,” Deliza said firmly. “House Ta’Akar still stands, as do its leaders. We shall not run.”

  “Princess, please,” the commander pleaded. “I understand your…”

  “My daughter is correct,” Casimir mumbled. He gently set Nalaya’s body back down on the floor, kneeling beside her. “I made a mistake. A terrible mistake.” He turned and looked at the commander, his eyes ablaze with anger and determination. “I should have killed the entire dragon.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Commander Atlee, chief of the watch for House Dahra burst into his lord’s bedroom, with two heavily armed members of his team in tow. “My lord!” he called out as he crossed the expanse of finely crafted Sullienne carpeting that covered Lord Dahra’s private chambers. “Pardon the intrusion…”

  “What… What is the meaning of this? Why have…”

  “Lord Dahra,” the commander interrupted, knowing full well that the urgency of the situation negated the usual need to follow protocol. “Takaran security forces are at the gate! They are demanding your surrender. They threaten to storm the compound if you do…”

  “What is going on?” his wife asked, still half asleep.

  “That is preposterous!” Lord Dahra exclaimed as he rose from his bed. “What right do they think they have to…”

  “They claim to have a warrant for your arrest, my lord,” the commander explained further.

  Lord Dahra looked at the commander, surprise on his face. “On what charges?”

  “Treason,” the commander replied, with equal surprise.

  Lord Dahra looked at his wife, then back at the commander. “Our forces?”

  “On alert. They are taking up defensive positions as we speak.”

  Lord Dahra grabbed his robe from the side chair and slipped it on. “You should get dressed,” he told his wife. He turned back to the commander. “How many?”

  “At least twenty armed men, most of them in full tactical gear.”

  “What about our reserve contingent?”

  “They are in the underground bunkers, ready to respond.”

  “Tammer and Markly?”

  “We can raise neither, secure or unsecure,” the commander told him.

  “Have you checked your sources?” Lord Dahra wondered. “News feeds?”

  “You do not understand, my lord. We have been cut off… isolated from the whole of Takara.”

  Lord Dahra tried to remain calm, but it was obvious that the commander’s last statement had been unexpected, even more so than the charges being brought against him. “This is Casimir’s doing,” he began as he headed for the door to his closet. “Stall them. Tell them I am dressing and will be available shortly. Meanwhile, move our reserve contingent into position, but do not reveal their presence until I give the word.” He stopped at the entrance to his closet, turning back to face the commander. “House Dahra shall not be run over by House Ta’Akar!”

  Inspector Blythe stood at the gates to House Dahra, located in the northern hills far outside of Answari. The main house stood in the middle of the Dahra lands, meaning that should Lord Dahra’s thousands of subjects decide to actively defend their lord, the inspector and his tactical team would be severely outnumbered. Such had not been the case with either of Lord Dahra’s accomplices. However, the Dahra family was second only to House Ta’Akar, and even then only by a slim margin.

  “Something is happening, sir,” the inspector’s assistant said.

  Inspector Blythe turned to look back at the main house, some forty meters up a long, curving driveway. Four men had come down the steps from the main entrance and were headed down the driveway toward them. Two of the four men were in full tactical combat gear, each of them more heavily armed than any of his own men. The third man appeared to be the same commander whom the inspector had spoken to nearly thirty minutes earlier, when they had first demanded entry. The fourth man was the one they sought, Lord Dahra himself, fully dressed in his house colors, as if he were on his way to a meeting of Parliament. The inspector smiled, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Who the hell is he trying to impress? There are no news cameras within a hundred kilometers of this place.”

  “Perhaps he wishes to look good for his day in court?” the inspector’s assistant suggested.

  “Nobles,” the inspector mumbled, rolling his eyes.

  Lord Dahra and his men walked up to the gate confidently, just as the inspector expected. Then the large gates split down the middle and began to part at a slow and steady rate, retracting into the massive stone walls that surrounded the compound.

  The inspector was taken aback by the opening of the gates. He looked at the leader of the tactical teams standing not five meters away, next to the mobile command post. He signaled him to wait.

  Lord Dahra and his men stopped five meters from the gates, after which Lord Dahra took two more steps forward. “I understand you wish to speak with me.”

  Inspector Blythe looked at Lord Dahra and his men. “That is correct, sir.” The inspector began to walk toward Lord Dahra, albeit at a very relaxed pace. “Actually, that is not entirely correct. I came here to arrest you. Conversation is more of a side effect, really. Not unexpected, but also not required.”

  “So I have been told,” Lord Dahra replied, “and for treason, no less.”

  “I fail to see the humor in this,” Inspector Blythe said, noting the lyrical nature of Lord Dahra’s delivery.

  “The humor is that Casimir Ta’Akar believes that he can get away with such a stunt,” Lord Dahra explained. “The humor is that he thinks he, or anyone else, can push around House Dahra.”

  “Regardless, Lord Dahra, I have a legal warrant for your arrest, and I intend to carry it out,” Inspector Blythe stated confidently.

  Lord Dahra looked the inspector squarely in the eyes. “Need I remind you, my dear inspector, that you are on Dahran soil? Soil that belongs to House Dahra, and legally does not answer to Takara?”

  “Need I remind you, my dear Lord Dahra, that you are allowed to hold such lands only under the laws of Takara, as well as the Charter of Torrence, under which you are bound to adhere to the warrant which I now hold.”

  Lord Dahra waved his hand in dismissal. “The Charter of Torrence has not been enforced in centuries. Besides, had I wanted to take out House Ta’Akar, I would have done so with ease, especially since Casimir has liquidated so many of his assets in order to support his friends in the Sol sector.”

  “I would advise you not to speak any further without proper representation,” the inspector warned.

  “The hour is late, Inspector,” Lord Dahra said as he turned to head back to his home, “and I grow weary of this conversation.”

  “Are you refusing to abide by a legal warrant issued by a senior judge of Takara?” the inspector asked.

  “I will dea
l with this in the morning,” Lord Dahra replied.

  “You shall surrender yourself now, Lord Dahra, or my men shall take you by force!” the inspector insisted. He raised his hand to signal his tactical teams. The sound of sixteen men clad in tactical armor raising their weapons and activating their weapons’ charges could be heard from all directions.

  “Sergeant!” Commander Atlee barked.

  The sergeant barked orders of his own over his comm-set. A moment later, men appeared everywhere. Along the roofline of the main house. Along walkways. Popping up from hidden hatches in the perfectly manicured grass, and along the heavy stone walls. There were over twenty of them, all in addition to the ten security guards already in position. And all of these men wore the familiar battle armor of the Ghatazhak.

  Lord Dahra turned back toward Inspector Blythe, casting a menacing look. “If you are going to try and give orders to the leader of House Dahra, it would help if you brought more men.”

  Inspector Blythe did not react, or otherwise show any signs of weakness. He only replied, “I did.” He raised his hand again and snapped his fingers once, after which he closed his eyes tightly.

  Six flashes of blue-white light appeared all around them, not more than ten meters above. A second later, twelve more flashes appeared further out, forming a circle around the main compound. The second set of flashes was perfectly timed, creating a distraction that had allowed six Ghatazhak from each of the six combat jump shuttles to quickly descend to the surface and take up positions among Lord Dahra’s forces.

  Lord Dahra found himself crouching in fear in reaction to the sudden thunderous clap of displaced air, and the appearance of airborne forces overhead. He had not yet witnessed a jump flash, let alone eighteen of them, and in such close proximity. Now, there were six heavily armed combat shuttles hovering overhead, all of them with their weapons trained on Dahra’s forces. In addition, there were twelve more Takaran fighters, a type that he had not seen since his youth, hovering just beyond his walls, their weapons similarly aimed. The effect of the jump flashes and the roar of all those engines around him as the eighteen combat spacecraft maintained hovering positions, in itself, was enough to make any man surrender. He looked around him in fear and near panic. His contingent of personal Ghatazhak soldiers, ones who had been obtained at great risk and expense, were of little use in the face of such forces. All around him, Ghatazhak had weapons trained on one another. His forces were strong, but they were outnumbered, even without the ships hovering overhead. If he did not surrender, the blood bath that followed would forever be associated with his family’s name.