Star Brigade: The Supremacy (SB3)

by C. C. Ekeke

  “Huh.” Khal shrugged casually. “I knew something about her was familiar. You told Nwosu?”

  “No.” Lily shook her head. “Not unless you stop acting up. Hopefully Uarya wasn’t a spy—”

  Khal stared at her as if she had grown a third eye. “Relax, Mom! That highborn slut has too much at stake to open her mouth. She liked what she saw, not that I blame her, and we had fun. End of story.”

  His unrepentant arrogance left Lily breathless. “What if some Ttaunz official had seen you and told that creepy Defense Minister? Do you even care how that could compromise Star Brigade’s mission…or your career?”

  Khal leaned back with a knowing wink. “Obviously, someone cares about me and my career.”

  Liliana rolled her eyes. No, she didn’t care. Not at all.

  Before she could vocalize that sentiment, a scraping of stone on hard earth interrupted. She turned in the sound’s direction and her eyes bulged. A tall slit in the red wall next to her abruptly jutted out and slid toward her.

  Liliana scrambled to her feet. Khal, already standing, grabbed the doctor by the arm and yanked her behind him. His demeanor shifted to commanding and protective.

  The scraping continued as the stone slid left on its own accord.

  “Stay behind me,” Khal ordered tersely. The doctor, too frightened to argue, squinted as her eyes adjusted to the flood of smeary crimson and gold sunset lancing into their prison cell. Khal’s lithe and wiry build stood just under three inches taller than her, not providing much protection—especially without his telekinesis. But he stood ready to defend her.

  That didn’t stop Liliana’s heart from pounding as the first silhouette stepped through.

  Chapter 45

  Habraum awoke in a haze of fog, with no clue where he was or how he got there. Then, the events of Inorskii Fields bludgeoned his mind like a full-speed hovercar—the failed confrontation with Ghuj’aega, fighting the jusha beasts, and Uyull’s demise. He quickly sat up, noting his missing uniform. Instead, the Cerc sported a dark t-shirt and cargos taken from their ruined transport.

  He was in a prison cell—the dim lighting enough to grasp his surroundings. The Ghebrekh can’t be our captors. Why would they change his clothes or keep him alive?

  And unshackled. He aimed a fist at the reddish wall to blow it wide open. Nothing happened. “What the...” Habraum aimed again, and again, getting the same results. Something had suppressed his biokinetic abilities…

  Another figure sprawled a few feet away distracted him from this new obstacle. Marguliese.

  Relieved to see someone from CT-1, Habraum scrambled over to the unmoving Cybernarr. She looked asleep, her long red locks fanned out. A thin slash across her right cheek revealed angular circuit-like cyberorganics underneath.

  “Maggie?” the Cerc whispered, shaking her gently to no response. He shook harder. She stayed limp.

  What if she’s... Habraum squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to believe the Cybernarr dead like Uyull, because of his failings. The colossal guilt impaled him through the chest.

  “No.” Habraum shook his head. “She’s alive.” He would not wallow. This mission needed completing, and CT-1 needed their field commander resolute. Habraum steeled himself and shook Marguliese again.

  “Marguliese, get the fekt up now!” The Cerc shook her so hard this time he heard a spongy squish beneath her. Frowning, he rolled the Cybernarr on her side, jarred by how floppy she felt. Black, oily goo of some sort was lodged onto the middle of her back, shifting in shape.

  Not sure what this material was, Habraum reached down to pull the goo off. One touch shot a cold shiver through his forearm, bone deep. The Cerc gasped but didn’t let go, getting a firmer grip. The oily substance stretched with a strident whine as he pulled, the numbing chill now seeping past his forearm.

  Finally, Habraum yanked the substance off and tossed it across the cell.

  From afar, the oily goo slithered and spasmed, shifting in shape with wild abandon. Ignoring it, the Cerc shook some feeling back into his forearm before laying Marguliese on her back.

  Her hand snaked out and caught his wrist.

  “Easy!” Habraum yelped in surprise. “It’s me.”

  Her drowsy, probing eyes flicked from him to his hand. “What happened?” she asked hoarsely.

  After Marguliese released his arm, Habraum filled her in on their situation.

  “It cannot be the Ghebrekh,” she declared, regaining her smooth and mechanical cadence. “They would have eliminated us on the Inorskii Fields.”

  The Cerc couldn’t dispute that truth. To his surprise, the Cybernarr struggled to sit upright. He swooped in to assist. Her unbound hair spilled down her back in scarlet waves.

  Now seated, Marguliese’s cerulean eyes glazed over. “Self-diagnostic complete. Systems at 54.343 percent efficiency and rising. Purging of paralytic toxins commencing.”

  “Maggie?” Habraum stared at her, trying to bring her back to the now.

  Her ocean-blue eyes refocused on him, and melted. “Systems should normalize in twenty-two macroms. With your powers suppressed, operating at optimum capacity is essential for our escape...” Her golden visage twisted with bewilderment, as if the Cerc had asked her something beyond her understanding. She looked surprisingly…human.

  “Maggie, what’s wrong?” he asked softly, taking her face in his hands without thought.

  She shook her head. “Watching Corporal Uyull was my responsibility, and I…failed.”

  Habraum blinked, that name knotting up his insides. He swallowed his regret with great difficulty. “Maggie, you were nearly overwhelmed during that battle. We all were.”

  “Irrelevant,” Marguliese retorted, almost sounding angry. “I was assigned to guard his blindsides and I could not complete my task—”

  “Marguliese.” Habraum sighed as she met his gaze. “I could tell you the blunders I’ve made on this mission. But what does that accomplish? Mistakes happen. Beings die, despite how hard we try to prevent that.”

  Marguliese listened, her gaze stabbing into his brain. She knew his words were as much for himself as for her. The Cerc pressed on to his point, “This isn’t the end. Ghuj’aega is still out there. I need you sorted when we escape, find our team, and take Ghuj’aega down.”

  She nodded, her left eye flashing like a sapphire starburst, features going blank. “Understood.”

  Habraum, realizing his hands still cradled the Cybernarr’s face, awkwardly let go and gripped her waist, pulling them both upright. “C’mon.”

  His head swam. Was this because of whatever drug his captors dosed him with, or because of how deeply Marguliese gazed back? Her face remained impassive, her eyes unreadable save their bright, ocean-blue intensity. The gash on her cheek had completely healed.

  Shifting uneasily, Habraum let his hands slip off her waist. The Cybernarr pulled away as well. “Systems at 85.98 percent efficacy and rising.”

  Way to break the tension, Habraum mused in relief. A scraping noise interrupted his thoughts.

  Habraum and Marguliese both turned. A narrow shaft of light accompanied the noise from the cell’s left sidewall, widening as it shifted right... A doorway?

  Habraum glanced at the Cybernarr and gestured left of the opening. With a terse nod, she rushed in that direction while he dashed right. Both stood mute and coiled, ready to attack as the door opened fully.

  A skinny arm reached around the doorframe. And Marguliese struck.

  She grabbed the arm and yanked its owner inside. By the time the being cried out, the Cybernarr had their petite visitor slammed into a wall, pressing the Farooqua’s arm against its own neck like a guillotine.

  The Farooqua’s cry cut off into a panicked gurgle as its feet dangled far off the ground. Marguliese stood statuesque as always, unmoved by her captive’s struggles. Habraum inched forward to check for any other “guests.” The answer came from a sharp whistle.

  The Cerc lurched back—right as a large, paddle-like blu
dgeon struck where his upper body had just been. The crude weapon wedged against the wall briefly, giving Habraum a good look at the serrated teeth lining its wooden paddle’s round edges. He gulped. The weapon’s wielder, a tall and wiry male Farooqua, sprang into the room, expertly brandishing a toothed bludgeon in each hand. By the tawny pelt or the pitch-black circular tattoos on his chest and arms, he wasn’t Ghebrekh. His braided mohawk whipped about wildly as he spied Marguliese choking his cohort.

  Without powers or field armor, Habraum knew he was exposed against those spiked paddles. Have to end this quick. The Cerc aimed a side kick at his head. Sensing the motion, the warrior spun and raised a forearm to block Habraum’s kick. But the force from the strike sent the Farooqua’s bludgeon flying from his grasp. In lightning-like defense, the warrior lashed out with his other bludgeon, forcing Habraum deeper into the cell.

  This fighter was skilled; Habraum could barely duck and sidestep the flurry of swipes whistling at his head and torso. With his big, crimson eyes watching Habraum’s every movement, the Farooqua swung his paddle in wide, slicing arcs to force the Cerc further back. After each slash, his wiry arm recoiled like a snake for another strike.

  Behind them Marguliese stood like a golden statue, still holding her captive but not moving to intervene. Habraum knew she would assist if needed.

  As the Cerc arched back from another slash aimed at his throat, he recalled how Farooqua read body movement the way other species read written languages, which was how they communicated.

  Body language was also how they outmatched opponents in combat, reading strengths and weaknesses like holobooks in order to pick said opponents apart.

  Habraum recalled Tyris conveying this to CT-1 during their flight to Faroor, making his unease blossom into full-grown horror. The Farooqua warrior had almost driven the Cerc into the cell’s furthest corner where he could no longer dodge those ferocious swings.

  Habraum arched his head away from another slash—leaving his abdomen exposed. Rogguts!

  The Farooqua seized advantage with a piston-like front kick. But Habraum threw himself forward, tightening his stomach to absorb the attack.

  The Farooqua didn’t expect that, Habraum’s sudden charge staggering him backward. Still, the swift blow and the resultant flare of pain shook through Habraum and dropped him to one knee. Your move. He looked up at his opponent, feigning defeat.

  The Farooqua switched his grip on the paddle-like bludgeon with lightning quickness, pointing the toothed edge at the Cerc’s head and stabbing downward—as Habraum expected.

  The Cerc clasped his hands together as if to pray, stabbing them up between the Farooqua’s. Springing to his feet, Habraum swung his forearms outward, forcefully breaking the Farooqua’s grip apart. The toothed bludgeon flew from the warrior’s hands as he stumbled back.

  Without a break in motion, Habraum rammed a vicious double palm thrust into the Farooqua’s chest, knocking air out of his adversary with a whoosh. The Cerc immediately exploded upward with a knee to the Farooqua’s jaw.

  The warrior’s mouth snapped shut with a clack of teeth, and the Farooqua collapsed in a heap. Habraum grimaced at the dull ache in his abdomen, turning over the tooth-lined weapon in his palm by the handle. “Glad I did my sit-ups,” he muttered.

  “Habraum.” Marguliese’s voice drew his attention to where she still calmly choked her victim against the wall. He approached the Cybernarr and the pinned Farooqua, doing a double take.

  “Mhir’ujiid.” Displeasure rose sharply in Habraum upon seeing the neon-green mohawk and bulged red eyes. Uyull and the others were right about her.

  “She undoubtedly orchestrated our abduction,” Marguliese stated flatly. “I can throttle her slowly—”

  The Cerc cut her off with a sharp hand gesture. He wanted answers. “Let her loose.”

  “As you command.” Marguliese released Mhir’ujiid like a toddler suddenly bored with her toy. Mhir’ujiid dropped to all fours, coughing violently for air. The Farooqua was now cleaned up, her neon-green mohawk tied in a series of elegant knots.

  Habraum circled her menacingly. “Where’s my team?”

  The Farooqua rubbed her throat as she struggled to breathe, shooting a baleful look up at Marguliese. “Caff I...didn’t plan anything. I’m why you’re not dead!”

  “Look at me.” The Cerc’s patience was at an end. “My team. Where. Are. They?”

  “Alive... cough ...unharmed.” Mhir’ujiid raised a reassuring hand.

  Seeing Habraum’s lingering doubt, she added, “And your powers will return soon. We’ve encountered beings like you before, so we created a suppressant. You, Cortes, and Khal were injected.”

  Palpable relief rushed through the Cerc, but there were still more blanks to be filled. The young Farooqua rose to one knee and turned to Marguliese.

  “And I apologize for the igavii we stuck on you.” She gestured her head toward the spastic black puddle of goo in the corner. “Our past encounters with Ttaunz have forced us to develop ways to disable technology, which we had to use given your...uniqueness.” Mhir’ujiid drew in more air, becoming more self-possessed again.

  Marguliese arched an eyebrow. “Sergeant Fiyan and Specialist Byzlar?”

  “Unharmed.” The Farooqua threw an uneasy glance between the Cerc and the Cybernarr before continuing, “We also retrieved Uyull’s body.”

  Her last comment took Habraum by surprise. He realized he was gaping.

  “What?” Mhir’ujiid asked curtly, as if the Cerc should have expected this. Using the wall as support, she slowly pulled herself up. “We couldn’t leave it out there for scavengers…”

  “Thank you for that. Sergeant Fiyan will be grateful,” Habraum replied, glad he had been right about her. His eyes now drifted to the open door, spying a short spread of land around the cell. Beyond that only a thick haze of mist was visible. They were clearly nowhere near Inorskii Fields.

  “Where are we exactly?” inquired the Cerc, tossing aside the toothed bludgeon he held.

  Mhir’ujiid straightened up with pride. “Qiidr Ol-Chaeda.”

  Habraum heard the words, but could only reply with, “Saywhatthen?”

  Qiidr Ol-Chaeda, capital city of the Quud Tribal Nation, lay deep within the Qiidr Mountains, far from Inorskii Fields. There was no way they had traveled so far in a few days without a ship or transmatter.

  Marguliese, unflappable by default, now expressed the closest equivalent to shock. “Impossible,” she avowed, as if denial alone would invalidate Mhir’ujiid’s claim. “You are implying that we are halfway across Faroor by way of the Quud’s antiquated transport.”

  “If we had used Quud ‘antiquated means,’ you’d be right.” Mhir’ujiid looked gallingly pleased with herself. “But make no mistake. We are in Quud lands.”

  Habraum only felt fury as he took in the full weight of the Farooqua’s words. He strode forward with a threatening scowl that wiped the smirk off her face. “So the Quud captured us at Inorskii?”

  “Yes. I stopped them from doing any of your group harm, made sure you didn’t stay covered in jusha blood,” Mhir’ujiid shot back with authoritative and measured gestures. “But let’s take this one step at a time, Nwosu.” Back in her homeland, Mhir’ujiid spoke with clear supremacy and arrogance, which Habraum cared little for.

  She continued, “We reunite you with your team and the TerraTroopers. Then we meet with my father. He’s anxious to discuss our mutual... ‘Ghuj’aega’ dilemma.”

  Habraum snorted at such a sugarcoated portrayal. “Fine.” He strode toward the open exit with Marguliese close behind, stepping over the unconscious Farooqua warrior. Mhir’ujiid scurried ahead and blocked them.

  “At least twenty Quud warriors are hiding in the surrounding cliffs,” the Farooqua cautioned, “ordered to shoot anyone other than myself or my escort full of poisoned harpoons if they exit this prison cell. I should probably leave first.”

  “Good call.” Habraum grimaced, following Mhir’ujiid and
Marguliese into the daylight.

  Chapter 46

  Once outside, Habraum squinted under the glare of Herope’s burnt-pink afternoon light, barely dulled by thick, dirty smears of clouds hanging overhead. Surrounding them on all sides were the towering chalk-grey cliffs of a sinkhole like those of Gajj territory. The exterior of their holding cell was painted red, donut-shaped and domed, appearing smaller as Habraum eyed it from outside. The cell sat on a small landmass jutting out from one of the sinkhole’s walls. The Cerc spied several similar prisons attached to their own rocky ledges around them.

  He peeked over the edge he stood on, seeing nothing but a pallid mist. “Rogguts,” he murmured.

  “This way,” Mhir’ujiid called out. Thiswaythiswaythisway… Her voice echoed off the cliff walls.

  Habraum and Marguliese followed her to where the cell’s ledge merged into the cliff face on a crescent-like ledge some distance away. Habraum glanced about the cliffs for the guards Mhir’ujiid had mentioned.

  “Twenty-three on this level, Captain, concealed within the cliffs,” Marguliese stated over her shoulder. “More are undoubtedly situated on the lower levels.”

  Mhir’ujiid wheeled about to gawk at the Cybernarr.

  Habraum shrugged knowningly. “You get used to her eagle eye.” Eagleeyeeagleeyeeagleeye…

  The Farooqua shook her head with an admiring smile and rapped a fist five times on the bowing stonewall before her. Soon after, the wall lowered into the ground, and the trio walked outside.

  A semi-paved pathway with short violet ubrui grass on either side greeted Habraum. It led them into a highland valley, featuring a babbling river crisscrossed through the sprawl of hills and stone structures like a crooked amber smile.

  Habraum would have soaked in the wondrous surroundings, if not for zeroing in on CT-1 a few feet down the path.

  The Cerc and Marguliese quickened their pace to meet Liliana, Khal, Tyris, and V’Korram—as well as Specialist Byzlar and Sergeant Fiyan. Flanked by a dozen tattooed Quud warriors hefting spear-like weapons, Habraum’s Brigadiers and the TerraTroopers appeared unharmed. Like Habraum and Marguliese, they were also dressed in casual attire salvaged from the ruined transport.