On Point

by J. Clifton Slater

  Apparently, the Constabulary Escort’s entire mission, from slipping away from a space battle to the initial orbit, was to locate the Druid valley. The targeting ignored military installations and industrial complexes. The Empress’ hatred guided this warship. All its missiles were designated for the valley bringing destruction and death to the Heart plants and the Druids.

  As if my hand were guided by an invisible force, I reached under the doublet and drew my forty-five. Of the nine remaining Constabulary Troops on the weapon’s deck, five were under the walkway. My kinetic rounds slammed into the tightly packed bodies of the four I could see. They fell from three or four hits each. Another Troop stuck his head above the walkway. I double tapped his face. Then I marched to the next open hatch and leaped down to the lower deck. Four Troops fought to reach me in the confined space. All four died as I came at them.

  The Empress desired a personal war. She would find it in the guise of a nightmare of blood and vengeance. Her Royal Constabulary would feel it from a Knight Protector of the Clan.

  ***

  I strolled down the center of the warship’s corridor. Six times Troops had entered my kill zone. The bodies of the six creatures were shot or stabbed, and dead on the floor behind me.

  Turning a corner, I approached a pair of lifts. Before reaching them, two Travelers stepped from a car. Constabulary officers, descents of the traitors exiled with the Empress. To take their lives was a direct assault on their leader. I snapped open both Knight fighting sticks and ran at them.

  One Traveler was quick but, the Knight was agile. Her pistol discharged. I twisted my hips out of the line of fire. Then I leaped and fell upon them.

  The shooter retreated to the back of the elevator car. While she attempted to draw a bead on my shimmering shape, I pummeled her companion. Strikes to his arms, his head, legs, ribs then back to his arms and his head.

  “Vengeance,” I screamed as his body broke under my onslaught. “Blood for blood.”

  Before he could wilt to the floor, I grabbed him and shoved his body into the female Traveler.

  “Where is your Empress now?” I yelled over the dying man’s shoulder. I shook the body that pinned her to the back wall of the elevator. “Him, and everyone on board this doomed ship will die. And you? You are next.”

  My fighting stick tapped out a rhythm on the broken man’s shoulder. The officer with the gun fixated on the black alloy tip. Then I shoved it in her eye. Her cry for mercy lasted for two seconds before I granted it. The tip entered her brain ending her pleas.

  I punched the button for the Bridge deck. Then I squatted and carved ‘C’ into the foreheads of the two Constabulary officers. Let all who stumble on these war people know they died for threatening the Clan. After marking my prey, my hand brushed my side. It came up stained with red and a sharp pain stitched my side.

  Although the Traveler wounded me, her shot failed to stop the Knight Protector of the Clan. As the car rose to the Bridge deck, I faced the elevator doors. Crouching down as would a space cat, I prepared to pounce on more Constabulary vermin.

  ***

  The empty corridor presented me no quarry. I stepped from the car swung left and, around the bend, located five war people. Far down the passageway, they sat or stood on the Bridge. Let the Strikers fail to disable the Ion Wall, it mattered not. I would remove the ship’s drivers and command staff. After rendering the Escort leaderless, the shadow of death would hunt every Troop and Traveler remaining on the Empress’ warship.

  I stalked to the Bridge identifying the order of kills as I moved.

  ***

  The first kill paced with his hands clasped behind his back. A slash to his face cut through skin, tendons, and muscle. The flesh parted to the bone and the Captain attempted to stem the flow of blood and the pain by clasping his hands to his face. I’d revisit him later.

  A traveler at the helm asked in his ignorance, “Did you say something Captain?”

  Turning from his control panel wouldn’t have saved the helmsman. I sailed to the top of the control board and speared his left carotid artery. Blood gushed from the wound in spurts and flowed through his fingers and down his arm. My foot connected with his head and he tumbled from his chair. While he struggled and died, I vaulted across the Bridge to the engineering panel.

  Leading with my knee, I smashed him from his chair. Following him to the deck, my fist crushed his nose. I rose up and dropped a knee breaking ribs. As he fought to inhale past the shattered chest bones, my head snapped up seeking my next kill.

  ***

  The lights over the Bridge winked out. Replaced by the shadow of a big body that a millisecond later plowed into me. Rolling while hammering each other, the Troop and I battled for a firm hold or a solid punch. His mighty struggle paused when we rolled and the side of his head slammed into the corner of the engineering cabinet.

  His hesitation before shaking off the effects of the impact was all the Knight required. I drove the butt end of my left fighting stick into his arm. The alloy tip ripped flesh and severed the brachial artery just above his elbow. Dark rich blood sprayed in cascading arcs and the struggle continued with his strength draining after every punch. When he faltered, I pushed away from the weakening grasp of the creature.

  Back on my feet, my breath came in gasps as I searched the Bridge. There was a fifth kill to execute but the Traveler had vanished.

  ***

  I spun around seeking the Traveler. He must die. But a though slipped in and disrupted the Knight’s blood lust. Something else? I couldn’t remember. There was more to protecting the valley. The course of the Constabulary warship! I shoved the Knight aside and marched to the helm’s control panel.

  After shutting down the portside and the center ion cannons, I turned the starboard side cannons outward. Although there was no sensation of movement, the Escort ship began circling. Big loops that prohibited it from reaching planet Uno. And, gave the small fleet of Navy ships from the Transfer station a chance to reach and board the Constabulary warship.

  I lifted my foot and drove the heel of my boot into the panel. Again and again, I smashed the control board. After wrecking the helm, I jumped over to engineering and repeated the assault. If the Constabulary wanted to regain control of their ship, they needed to do it from Combat Control or the engineering deck. Hopefully the Strikers had secured engineering by now. With my job on the Bridge done, I decided Combat Control required a visit.

  The tube from the Bridge directly to Combat Control resembled the Galactic Council Navy’s system. Even the single purpose handle worked the same way although it was labeled in symbols not Realm. I stepped on the platform in the round tube and pulled the control lever.

  There was a sensation of falling as the platform dropped and, a moment of darkness, before the lift settled in a room cast in pools of blue, red and green lights.

  ***

  Compared to a Heavy Cruiser, the Constabulary’s Combat Control Center was miniscule. But without flight assets, there was no reason for a cavernous space.

  I stepped off the platform and moved to the side of the tube. While the size was different, this was unmistakably Combat Control. Raised platforms for each center of control floated adjacent to a command station and the handlers spoke in hushed tones. Thankfully, the lighting was low which was perfect for my reflective camouflage.

  It wasn’t difficult to locate the helm center. The Traveler and two Troops waved their arms in a frantic display of frustration. Without a clean handoff from the Bridge, their navigation of the ship was limited. They would eventually complete a work around and begin steering the Escort. They would have, if I hadn’t interceded.

  A body in motion tended to stay in motion. And when the body is kicked in the shoulder and falls into another body, both Troops stay in motion right off the side of their control platform. The fall was only about three meters and wouldn’t kill them. But it did remove them and allow me a clean shot at their officer. He died from lack of air as I st
rangled him.

  I slung his body off the platform and smashed the control board. All the noise of snapping desk tops and twisting metal plates in the hushed atmosphere drew unwanted attention. Once satisfied with the amount of destruction, I leaped up and grabbed the edge of the adjacent platform.

  A sharp pain flashed down my side and for a second I struggled to pull my weight up. Ignoring the pain, I pulled and mounted the platform.

  On the platform, I rammed a Troop with my shoulder and he tumbled to where the first two in the bottom of the center’s steel orb walked to an access ladder. To spare time, I pushed the officer off the platform as well. A cry of pain carried from below. He must have landed wrong. Then, I smashed the missile control panel.

  Lights were coming on and pistols were drawn letting me know it was time to make my exit. I decided finding the Strikers and having support was a good idea. There were only two ways to leave, the hatch or the tube. Seeing a couple of Troops blocking the hatch, I headed for the tube. As I dodged Troops and Travelers on the way, I glanced at the big screens. They displayed the circular tract of the Escort warship and a group of approaching Navy vessels.

  By the time the Travelers at the command platform realized the tube was activated, I shot up and out of the Combat Control Center.

  ***

  The communication’s officer, who had eluded me before, stood beside his chair at the control board. I ignored him figuring there wasn’t a lot one person could do to fix the damage to the Escort ship. My side hurt and I looked down to see a wet stain on the Knight’s trousers. Shifting to the backside of the tube, I squatted down, pulled up the doublet and checked my side. A wound pink and raw leaked blood droplets. The enchantments were mending the hole but I realize the blood loss had weakened me. It was time to find the Strikers.

  Then the com officer spoke loudly in the Constabulary’s accent of broken Realm, “All units to engineering. Armory, Combat Control forget.”

  I was once a Sergeant of Marines. One lesson every Marine understood, the ultimate weapon was a single Marine with a mission. Although one man, the com officer, threatened to organize the Constabulary’s forces and take back control of the warship. I debated whether to stop him or get to the Strikers.

  “We are the loyal Royal Constabulary. One pass to honor the Empress,” he encouraged into the microphone. Then he said the words that decided for me, “Die as the Empress demands. First, kill evil Druids. Burn foul plants. To her Glory!”

  I dropped the edge of my doublet. My grip tightened on the fighting sticks and the Knight Protector of the Clan ran at the communication’s officer. The Traveler was about to die.

  ***

  Five paces from the officer, with my sticks held in a guard position, I prepared to end his resistance and his life. Suddenly, my body lifted off the deck, sailed through the air and crashed in a heap by the helm station. The toe of a big boot swept into my vision and I curled away so the tip only grazed my side. Snapping out of the curled-up position, I rolled further away and vaulted to my feet.

  My experiences with Constabulary Troops included their pilots, ship’s crewmembers, guards, and a few in the worker class. They were all big and muscular. The Troop in front of me, compared to them, was a monster. Not only was he thickly muscled, he was taller and dressed differently. Black slacks with tan lines on the seams of his trousers were topped with a tan shirt with red lines on the seams. The uniform appeared more formal than the Constabulary battle dress or the black with tan and red striped duty uniforms.

  He danced forward, twisted and launched a side kick at my midsection. My fighting sticks cracked against his shin as I jumped back avoiding his boot. He smiled and charged at me.

  I launched myself sideways and he grabbed air. Tired of being out matched, I drew my forty-five and put kinetic rounds into his back. Despite the ragged holes in his shirt and the blood pouring from four separate wounds, he spun and stalked forward. Four tightly grouped rounds to his chest ended the fight. As he slumped to his knees, I swung towards the communication’s officer.

  The Traveler hadn’t watched the fight. His focus on the mission narrowed his range of attention and he was proven correct. Not only had the Empress demanded his death, so did a Knight Protector of the Clan. Two rounds to the head and he died next to the com center.

  From down the passageway, I heard boots on the deck. In time and sounding almost as one boot striking the deck, they turned a corner. Six more of the monsters dressed in the same classy uniform, all carrying assault rifles, double timed towards me. In the Galactic Council military there was only one branch that prided itself on keeping control while heading towards the sound of battle, the Galactic Council Marine Corps. It seemed the Constabulary has space Marines as well.

  Realizing I faced an elite unit, I spun and started running for the opposite corridor. Then, long fingers wrapped around my ankle and yanked my legs out from under me. I fell face first to the deck and my hood flipped up.

  ***

  Looking back, I drew up my leg and desperately kicked at the hand. Soon, understanding to came me, I was fighting a dead Troop. His fingers locked in a death grip around my ankle. With the tip of one fighting stick, I sliced the boot laces. Using the toe of the other boot, I pushed the boot and the hand off my foot and my ankle. I jumped to my feet and with one boot and one barefoot, I lopped from side to side down the hallway. Ahead, a corridor offered momentary safety. I put on a burst of speed and drew closer to the intersection when the club appeared between my legs.

  The thrown club caught on one leg which flipped it to the other leg and I got tangled up and fell. This time there was no ankle grab. This time I was hauled to my feet by two big Constabulary Troops. Before I could fight back, one landed a big fist on my sternum. I felt and heard the cartilage crack.

  ***

  Quick short breaths were the only way to draw in air but, it didn’t matter as another fist caved in the left side of my chest. Now, the shallow inhalations brought in less air while transmitting pain through my broken ribs and into my back. Darkness closed in and I wanted to crawl into the void to escape the pain.

  Just as relief pulled me down, the Druid enhancements sent a shock through my body. I came fully awake and screamed until the scream was reduced to a choking cough.

  The darkness and the void retreated as another Constabulary Troop pounded the side of my hip. I thought it would take a traumatic accident to break a pelvic bone. I heard a snap and severe pain radiated from my hip to my groin. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t muster enough air in my lungs. Instead, I whimpered.

  I hung limp in the Troops’ hands and the new agony overloaded my mind. Finally, gray spots filled my vision and I began to slip into unconsciousness. Gritting my teeth, I reached for the nothingness. My world closed down to a pinhole and I was thankful for the coming relief.

  Then adrenaline shot through my body and I threw my head back against the wall, opened my eyes wide, and opened my mouth. But the scream wouldn’t come. There wasn’t air to spare for a shout. No animal expression wild enough to express the agony racking my body came forth.

  I was fully aware when another fist punched my stomach. Being held above the deck and stretched out, there was no way to flex my abs and absorb the blow. As if I were a punching bag, the fist drove my back into the bulkhead and I felt something in my spine snap. A shooting pain shot up and down my back and I convulsed. My legs flexed to raise but didn’t move. Then the last of my will crumbled and my energy deserted me. My mind retreated, the Troops faded and the pain became a distant memory. I tumbled down a hole leaving the agony behind.

  As if a sleeping man were dunked in ice water, I came back with a jolt. My mouth worked but only a little spit responded when I attempted to cry out. While my body sent never ending signals of distress to my nerves, my mind cursed the Druid Council of Elders and their enhancements. For a brief respite from the pain, I would give anything in the Galactic Council Realm. Offer anything I could beg, borrow or steal
for just a second or two of reprieve from the agony of my broken body.

  Tears rolling down my cheeks were the only response I could muster. One of the Constabulary Troops clasped my jaw and forced my face up.

  “Most fail by now,” he growled. “Sleep or die. You, Lieutenant Piran?”

  His fist came out of my peripheral vision and I was introduced to a new pain. The roundhouse connected and my jaw cracked. Air brushed against my teeth and tongue. When I attempted to close my mouth, the mandible refused to move. Pain enveloped my face as if to peel the forward section of my skull off. Involuntarily, my eyes closed and red filled my vision. As if underwater, the red sucked me down and I gave in to the depths. For a moment, I was oblivious.

  Like a response from a sharp slap across the face, my eyes popped opened and I was back. Pain filled my mind as my body spasmed. I alternated between shivering and sweating. All the while, I hung between two monsters who easily held me off the deck.

  I haven’t been this helpless since I was a boy. A Druid candidate in a small box waiting, hungry, thirsty and alone for something to happen. Or for someone to free me. No one came then. No one would come now. But I remembered the boy, the box and how busy my mind was then. I calmed my mind and searched for a better place. One without pain or hurt, and to my joy, serenity gently floated over the pain.

  The punches to my shoulder and the shattering of my clavicle offered momentary discomfort. I collected the pain and put it in a box. A pummeling to my sides and my other shoulder hurt until I collected that pain and added it to the box.

  Raising my face to the Troops, I attempted to smile. But my lips didn’t respond so I settled for winking at them. Angerly, one Troop reached out and pulled down my hood. It was comical when four of them stepped back to examine the invisible man.

  Then kinetic rounds zinged down the corridor and I was dropped. As if I were a heavy piece of curtain material, I simply fluttered to the deck.