“Tell me Krun,” Drah growled once the weakling had regained his feet. “What happened at the ship? Where did your squad go?”
Krun shook his head slightly and ran his purplish tongue over dry lips. He was stalling for time. Drah knew he was searching for the best way to relay what took place, while putting himself in the best possible light.
The desire for information overcame his desire to punish, and Drah restrained himself from delivering a second blow to the side of Krun’s injured head. Instead, he waited not so patiently for the other to speak.
Krun finally started, slowly. In a monotone voice, he relayed the events of the day: arrival at the crash site, Sergeant Drek’s assignment of guard positions, the sound they’d heard in the ship’s corridor, and his rush to investigate. He paused for a moment before relaying the surprise he’d felt at seeing a suited ranger in the corridor. His surprise was followed by . . . darkness.
He recounted waking up in the middle of the night, his failed struggle to free himself from his bonds, and finally being found by the relief team.
“You’re certain about the human ranger?” Drah asked.
“Yes, sir. I got a good look at him before he hit me.”
“And your team. What do you think happened to them?”
Krun hesitated and shuffled his feet. His eyes refused to meet Drah’s.
Drah lifted his right hand again, his palm cocked flat for another blow. Krun got the message.
“I think they deserted to accompany the ranger,” he blurted out, eager to avoid another slap. “Drek was always talking about getting back to his family on Telgora. I think . . . I think he may have looked at this as an opportunity to do just that. The others may have followed his lead.”
Drah bristled at the announcement, his anger suddenly flooding his senses again.
He lowered his hand back to his side. He saw the relief in Krun’s eyes at not being hit.
When he lifted his hand again, it was filled with his personal sidearm.
Without hesitating, Drah pushed the barrel of weapon to the welt on Krun’s head. The corporal opened his mouth, perhaps to protest, but Drah didn’t wait for the empty plea.
Purple blood splashed across the wall to his left and the corporal’s body collapsed in a heap. Chall stepped back and away from the mess. Drah calmly reholstered his weapon, circled his desk, and sat back down.
“Get him out of here,” he waved to the body. Chall nodded quickly, eager to please. “Make sure everyone knows what happened at the ship and that deserters won’t be tolerated. If anyone has information about traitors, they are to come forward at once. Understood?”
“Ye—yes, Colonel,” Chall stuttered.
“Good,” Drah stated simply, then turned to the window and looked outward while the lieutenant went about the business of cleaning up.
Another example had been made.
Chapter 26
Crud.
The scene playing out below was getting old.
Arrival, assembly, and departure. Arrival, assembly, and departure.
Benson estimated that more than one hundred fifty thousand Zrthn fighters already had arrived at the mining base below, assembled into formation, and departed for the ocean to the east. He and his rotating two-person teams had observed them all, helpless to do anything more than keep a running tally and wait for . . . something. What that something was he didn’t exactly know. Rescue by the Alliance, attack from the Zrthns, or death through boredom all seemed like possibilities, with death from boredom the current odds-on favorite.
He stifled a yawn and watched the latest formation depart the facility through the eastern gate.
“—nson . . . Agate . . . there . . .”
The lieutenant’s thoughts were interrupted by the unexpected communication coming through the team channel. His soldiers had been ordered to follow radio silence procedures, unless there was an emergency.
It hadn’t been clear, but the voice had sounded like . . .
Benson looked sideways at Ming and saw the ranger’s widened eyes staring back at him. He didn’t have to ask if the other had also heard the broadcast. The surprise on the soldier’s face showed that answer clearly.
The ranger opened his comm mic. He felt an excited rush of hope and wonder, which was immediately tempered by trepidation.
How the flock is this possible?
Unable to wait another moment, Benson transmitted his voice across the forest.
“EJ?”
Silence.
“Captain Justice, can you read me?” He tried again.
More silence.
“Do you really think that was the Captain?” Ming asked. His faceplate was raised so he didn’t have to use the comm channel. “How’s that possible?”
Benson lifted his own face shield.
“It’s not,” he answered. A fall from the ship like EJ experienced just wasn’t survivable.
But, as soon as he had the thought, Benson felt tendrils of doubt encroaching. EJ had pulled off the near-impossible before. Some might argue he was a master at accomplishing the impossible. In basic training, he’d beaten an exercise designed to be unbeaten. He’d survived a court martial that had been brought about as a result of his actions during that episode. He’d won the Sift competition at the end of training, despite an entire cadre of Minith NCOs stacking the deck against him. And then the real kicker: negotiating the surrender of the Zrthn forces who had invaded Telgora.
Benson knew his friend was compelled by the need to live up to his father’s reputation. He had studied fighting, war history, and combat tactics his entire life, and was driven to prove himself worthy of the name “Justice.” It couldn’t be easy being the only son of the most famous soldier in the Alliance, but—as far as Benson was concerned—EJ had excelled in every capacity.
Yes, if any man could survive a kilometer-high fall it would be Eli Justice.
Are you out there EJ?
He sent another message over the comms. Heard only silence in return.
* * *
Apparently, not all of the suit’s systems worked, after all.
Eli heard every word Benson said, but apparently it had been mostly a one-way conversation since the other man hadn’t acknowledged his replies.
Still, Eli was elated.
Benson was alive. He was out there somewhere, and he was close.
Eli hadn’t realized until this moment just how starved he had become for the company of his fellow soldiers. Sergeant Drek and his team helped, but they weren’t rangers—weren’t really even Alliance soldiers any longer. Most importantly, they hadn’t been a part of his life for the past eighteen months like Benson, Ming, and . . . Samna.
The thought of the dead private, buried thirty kilometers to the east, wiped the smile from Eli’s face. It was good to know Benson and other survivors were out there, and that he’d be seeing them soon, but he couldn’t forget her sacrifice, or the sacrifices of the others who had or would lose their lives on this planet.
Eli held no illusions that they’d all make it off Cerbius alive. There were too many obstacles, too many hurdles in their path: Colonel Drah and his forces, the Zrthns he had observed moving east, and the forest and its inhabitants. All of those, plus the fact that the nearest Alliance ship was still several weeks away, lowered the odds of survival more than he cared to calculate.
“They couldn’t hear you?” Drek asked. The rest of the Minith squad were aligned in a column. Quiet, alert, and awaiting their orders.
“No sergeant,” Eli replied. “The suit can receive but can’t transmit. At least, not over this distance.”
Drek nodded. His lip curled upward, and his right ear quivered. Eli recognized the reaction as mirth.
“Forgive me for saying so, Captain,” the alien warrior said. “But your armor has seen better days.”
Eli chuckled. “This suit might be dented, and her paint may be a bit scratched, but she’s taken very good care of me so far.”
“Ah, so the suit is a female, eh? That would explain her toughness.”
Eli looked at Drek sideways. He knew the Minith proclivity for dismissing their females and wondered if the sergeant was joking. Eli certainly didn’t share the notion that women were lesser beings; in fact, he knew otherwise from his own experience. Colonel Conway, Adrienne Tenney, his mother . . . all were examples that any male—human or Minith—would have a hard time matching up against.
“My mate is strong, capable, and wise, Captain,” the sergeant said, apparently reading Eli’s uncertainty about his intentions. “She may not be a soldier, but she could best most of the males in the Alliance in a battle of staffs. She is also a wonderful mother, cooks the best ninal on Telgora, and keeps me headed on an upward path at all times. She’s the reason I’m here with you now, instead of with that fool, Drah.”
Eli nodded. He thought again of Adrienne and wondered briefly where she was at this moment. He wondered what she was doing. Was she worried? Hopeful? Angry that he’d left her? He imagined that similar questions ate at Drek.
“I’ll do my best to get you back to your mate, Drek,” Eli promised. “What’s her name?”
“Her name is Nilla.” Drek looked at the ground for a moment and then back at Eli. His lip was curled upward again. “I want to see her. But I’m worried.”
Eli tilted his head to peer up at the green giant. “Worried?”
“Yes,” Drek replied with a chuckle. “She will probably want to beat me with her staff for leaving her alone with our little warriors for so long.”
Eli laughed. He was distressed about Adrienne more than he cared to admit, but at least he didn’t have to worry about that.
He did have to worry about the comm problems he was having, though. He could hear Benson, but the other man couldn’t hear him. They were close, though, which gave Eli a shot of much-needed adrenalin. It was just a matter of time before he was reunited with the survivors of the downed scout ship.
He was pondering how to speed the reunion up when he thought of Aank. If he could hear Benson, there was a chance he could reach Aank.
Aank! Eli focused all of his thoughts into sending the one-word message.
He waited.
Nothing.
Then . . .
Eli.
The response was thin but clear, and the ranger danced up and down, unable to contain his excitement.
Drek looked at him, confusion written in large, visual strokes across his countenance. The ears, eyes, and lips coalescing into the standard Minith version of what the flock?
Eli slowed the bouncing as much as he could, lifted his pointing finger to give the sergeant the universal sign for “wait,” and then spoke excitedly into his headset.
“This is Captain Justice. I can read you.” He made sure to send the same message using the same mental contortions he’d used to send the original message. The mental message was for Aank’s benefit. The verbal one for Drek’s.
Aank, he continued silently. Can you guide me to your location?
The response was immediate.
Of course.
A flood of images and instructions flowed into Eli’s head. They provided a map of sorts that—along with the mental connection he now shared with Aank—he could easily follow. In addition to directions, Aank’s mental link was filled with an intense combination of feelings. Joy and relief at learning Eli was alive were tinged with tendrils of sadness that were quickly diminishing. It took Eli a few moments, but he understood that those disappearing tendrils were all that was left of the sadness Aank had felt at the notion of Eli’s death. Apparently, the little green alien had missed Eli as much as Eli had missed him. Not one to hold back, Eli returned his own feelings of relief, happiness, and loss to the Waa engineer. It was a fleeting, but powerful moment.
We’re headed your way, Aank.
Eli sent a mental vision of Drek and the team huddled in the jungle around them. He didn’t want any unwelcome surprises—by way of friendly fire—when he entered camp accompanied by a half-dozen Minith warriors.
Chapter 27
“Wait here,” Eli instructed Drek and the squad of Minith. “I’ll go in first, then call you in.”
Finding the survivors of the Agate had been a relatively simple affair with Aank guiding the way. They had set up a semipermanent camp on the jungle level about five kilometers north of Drah’s mining facility.
Thanks to Aank’s filling him in on the details, Eli had a good understanding of everything the group had been through since leaving the doomed ship. He lamented the loss of life that had taken place on carrier three, and thought back on the weeks he’d spent drilling Captain Hansen on the details of the ship. Losing the senior officer was a major blow. His counsel and the knowledge he had to share would be missed. Eli also thought of Senior Engineer Tiang and the indifference the man had shown toward him and the other rangers. Despite the man’s aloof, off-putting nature, Eli didn’t bear a grudge. The engineer was merely a product of the peace-worshiping nature of the humans on Earth.
Eli considered the losses, internalized them, and then quickly shoved them into that dark corner of his being that held all the other issues he needed to consider, but didn’t have time for: Adrienne, his parents, and Samna. All needed to be dealt with at some point. Just . . . not . . . now.
Eli pushed past a row of high ferns and stepped into the wide clearing the others had carved from the jungle. Aank had given him a mental picture of the layout, so he knew what to expect. The light, tough geo-domes that had been designed to make up their base camp while they searched for agsel had been brought up from the carriers. The green, tentlike structures were arranged in a circular pattern around the clearing. The carriers had been left on the surface level—guarded by a single ranger, but ready for a swift evacuation if needed.
A small group huddled around a portable table at the center of the clearing. They were absorbed in conversation, their heads looking down as Eli took another step toward them. Then another.
Ensign Sheen noticed him first. She cocked her head and her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Eli could imagine her trying to figure out which of the rangers she was looking at. He almost laughed.
Sergeant Jerrone, who stood next to Sheen, noticed that the ensign’s attention had shifted and turned his head to follow her glance. Eli gave a casual wave as his sergeant’s eyes landed on him. Jerrone’s mouth dropped open. Eli couldn’t help but grin as he sauntered into the camp toward the group.
By the time he crossed the twenty meters to where they stood, he had everyone’s attention. The looks on the assembled faces showed a wide range of emotions: confusion, surprise, doubt, and joy. They had all considered him dead—and rightly so. No one should have survived a fall from the ship’s underbelly. And yet, here he was.
He halted two meters from the group, released his helmet latches, and lifted the armored helmet from his head. He sucked in a long breath of fresh air, scratched a bothersome itch that had been niggling at the top of his head for the past hour, and cast his smiling face at each of the group in turn.
No one seemed capable of speaking, so he filled the silence with a question.
“Did you miss me?”
* * *
“Crud, EJ,” Benson exclaimed in his normal, eloquent manner. “So, the suit saved you?”
“Well,” Eli began. He was unsure how best to answer and decided on full disclosure. “It was a combination of the suit, the planet’s layers, and . . . Samna.”
With the exception of three rangers standing guard—two at the mine, and one below with the carriers—all of the survivors from the Agate were seated around the table where he sat, listening.
Suddenly unable to meet the eyes of those around him, Eli studied his hands and relayed, as best as he was able, the details of his fall. He explained how he’d awoken at the end of the safety line. He described how the levels of the forest had broken his fall. He described finding Samna still attached to the safe
ty line, and how her efforts had likely been the final piece of the strange puzzle that had somehow saved his life.
“I buried her on the surface,” he continued. He felt a sudden conviction, lifted his gaze, and met each set of eyes watching him in turn. “If we ever get off this planet, I’m going to do my best to take her with us.”
He was met with nods and knowing looks by the rangers. Sheen and the four other Agate crew members looked downward at their feet. They were likely thinking about their dead captain and considering the fact the there was nothing left of his remains to take off the planet. The mental scene Aank had relayed to him of the giant worm attack had been especially brutal, and he reminded himself that he wasn’t the only one who’d experienced loss on this journey.
“But that’s for another time,” he pressed forward, eager to change the topic to something they could control: their future actions. “We need to focus on what’s in front of us and be ready when the Alliance responds to what’s happening here.”
“Do you think they’ll attack, EJ?”
“I do,” Eli answered. He knew his dad and felt he had a good handle on how he’d respond. “The Alliance can’t allow the Zrthns to take Cerbius. Defending our territory is important, obviously, but when you consider the strategic significance of this place and the potential reserves of agsel, we can’t afford to let it go without a fight.”
“There’s only one problem with that, EJ,” Benson replied. “Those squids have relocated more than two hundred thousand fighters in the ocean to our east. By the time the Alliance shows up, that number will be several times larger. How do we fight against those types of numbers?”
Eli knew what the Alliance was facing with the Zrthns, thanks again to Aank’s mental updates. He was ready to lay out a plan.
“I’ve been thinking about that, lieutenant. We need to slow their troop placements,” Eli explained. “I’ve got a good idea how to do that. We also need to communicate with our side. Let them know what’s happening here, so they can plan for it.”
Stranded Justice (The Justice Trilogy Series Book 2) Page 16