by Z H Brown
She felt her back hit the wall of a building, and fear blossomed in her belly. She was trapped, at the mercy of a machine that was intent on killing her and everyone she cared about, and all just as she was about to complete her mission and save the Empire. Her flood of emotions did what her attempt at concentration could not. A wave of energy exploded around her, splintering wood, kicking up dust, sending small detritus flying, and finally driving Reno back.
Ansaria pressed her advantage. She charged at the machine with a battle cry. She brought her heavy weapon down, trying to split the bot down the middle, but the agile android deflected with one of its own blades. She quickly changed track and tried to slice him horizontally, but he danced out of her reach. The strip of cloth she’d gotten from Eberius fluttered on the hilt of her blade as she lashed out again and again; each strike being blocked, deflected or avoided by the killer bot.
Finally, one of them found an opening. Reno deflected a diagonal slash from Ansaria, knocking her blade to the side and leaving her wide open. Reno drove its other sword into Ansaria’s shoulder, the razor-sharp blade slicing into her and driving her back to the wall where she was pinned.
Ansaria cried out in shock and pain while her sword fell from her grasp. Reno stared at its prey with steady, red, unblinking eyes and, keeping her firmly pinned to the wall, it raised its blade to deliver the killing blow…
A bolt of electricity suddenly struck the machine, causing it to convulse. It dropped the sword it had been about to use to kill the sergeant. Blearily, Ansaria was able to see what had saved her: Tread and Alvara had returned. Tread had hit it with his Zapper, while Alvara was taking careful aim with her sniper rifle. She fired off two quick shots and Reno’s arms exploded at the shoulder.
Ansaria knew they only had a brief moment before the bot recovered. Using her free hand, she pulled free the sword keeping her trapped. Biting back the urge to scream as the blade grudgingly came loose from her flesh, she swung the blade with all her might at the thinnest part of her opponent’s torso.
The machine split in half, its top part toppling to one side while its lower half collapsed. The exposed parts were sparking, but even so its top half was trying to crawl away. Ansaria could see the bot’s nanomachines trying to repair the damage and summoned all her energy to finish it.
She thrust out with her hand and lashed out with her mind. The shattered pieces of the hunter-killer rushed together, tightly crumpling the whole of the fallen bot into a large ball. Reno was emitting sounds, though whether it was crying out in pain, delivering a status report or just trying to relay a message to her, Ansaria couldn’t tell. She lifted the ball high into the air, keeping a tight mental hold on it.
“Tread, blast it!”
Tread quickly swapped out his weapons. Charging his plasma cannon to its full capacity, he took careful aim and fired at their adversary.
The shot engulfed the compressed killer. With a flash of light and burst of heat, Reno was reduced to a ball of molten slag, something not even its systems could recover from. Ansaria released her hold on the orb, which crashed to the ground, smoking and crackling.
Ansaria stared at the remains of the machine, almost disbelieving that it was terminated. After waiting a few seconds to make sure the remains did not begin moving, she bent down to retrieve her sword, grimacing at the pain that shot through her. A moment later, she felt herself being supported by Ansaria. She looked at her friend, her vision swimming a bit before she shook her head to clear it.
“Get me back to the ship,” she commanded, her voice low and strained. “We have a delivery to make.”
Chapter XVII
Broken Silence
Our ship is being re-supplied, restocked, and new troops and materials will be coming on-board. I have already put out a call to a full third of the ships still within our borders. Once we are assembled and prepared, we shall disembark to rendezvous with the forces fighting on the frontline. After we have gathered our full strength, we shall launch our offensive on the Golden flagship. With any luck, this long war will soon be brought to a decisive and victorious end.
--Emperor Xandarius, addressing the crew of his Throneship above Imperial Military Center Epsilon
Their ship broke atmosphere and raced toward the Throneship. The massive vessel, shaped not unlike Ansaria’s Thundersword (minus the hilt), was in synchronous orbit with the planet, slowly making its may over the north pole. Already there was a multitude of vessels coming and going from the grand ship, preparing it for its return to battle with the Imperium.
Ansaria watched their destination draw closer and closer from the bridge. Tread was piloting while Alvara was doing what she could for Slog with the med kit on board. The simple fact was that they did not have the proper facilities aboard to reattach Slog’s arm; just one more reason to hurry to the Throneship. Ansaria had bandaged her own wound as best she could, but she knew that she, too, needed proper medical attention before her wound became worse. Still, she’d refused to allow Alvara or Tread to help her. Their attention was needed elsewhere.
As they came within visual range of the Throneship, Ansaria knew it was time to make their presence known. Fighting back the fatigue, lingering pain and mild clouding of the drugs she had administered, she gathered her thoughts. When she was ready, she nodded to Tread to open a communications channel.
“Imperial Throneship, this is Sergeant Ansaria Dormus of His Majesty’s Imperial Army. We have information vital to the Emperor’s safety and request immediate permission to dock. Be advised, we also have wounded on board that require immediate medical attention. Please respond.”
On board the Throneship, Diamond was trying his level best to keep his mind together. For the last few days, he had become less and less coherent, his thoughts more and more muddled as his mind tried to process the orders that had become hardwired into him. The voice was drowning out everything around him, but the message he received managed to penetrate the confused mess of his mind. Still, since he was far too distracted to handle the message, he did the only thing he could: referred it up.
“Administrator, incoming message for you.”
Delta accessed the communication network and appraised the message.
“Say again, this is Sergeant Ansaria Dormus of His Majesty’s Imperial Army. We have information vital to the Emperor’s safety and request immediate permission to dock. Be advised, we also have wounded on board that require immediate medical attention. Please respond.”
It took Delta nanoseconds to access the file he needed. Sergeant Dormus; assigned to a backwater colony; wanted in connection to the destruction of private property, the theft of private property, and dereliction of duty. By all rights, she should be blown out of the sky. Still, if what she said was true, he couldn’t very well ignore her request. He contacted the officer in charge of the hangar bay.
“Commander Alked, there is a ship requesting permission to dock with us. Tell them permission is granted, but that they are to remain on their ship until we say otherwise.”
“As you wish, Administrator,” came the reply.
This development would be dealt with in due time, thought Delta. After all, there was so much to do before the final battle.
Diamond’s thoughts continued to be drowned out by the voices.
Ansaria’s stomach was twisting itself into knots. So far there had been no reply, and if they got too close to the ship, the patrol fighters would attempt to intercept them. Just as she was wondering if their ship had the speed and shields to make it through the patrol in one piece, their comm. crackled to life.
“Attention, incoming ship, you have been granted permission to land. You are to use Docking Bay One on the starboard side. Once there, you are to await further instructions. Do you copy?”
Ansaria breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, we copy Throneship; heading to Docking Bay One. Over and out.”
She allowed herself to rest against the wall as Tread brought the ship around. A trio of razor-winge
d Xenlongian Dragon Fang fighters swooped by, flying a protective patrol around the massive ship. A large, blocky cargo ship flew under them, heading for another nearby docking bay. From this close, they could see repair crews doing touch up work on the outside of the huge vessel.
As they neared their destination, the massive door to the docking bay opened to allow them inside. The only other craft within was a Harbinger-class troop transport, heavily armored and armed. As the craft set down and the hangar bay doors slowly sealed again, Ansaria decided to check on Slog. She headed to the back of the ship, where the wounded private had been taken to the room he’d had during their journey.
As Ansaria entered the room, the smell of blood nearly overwhelmed her. The bed sheets had been soaked with Slog’s purplish-gray blood; Alvara had bandaged her teammate up as best she could, but even with her skills and the med kit, it was clear things were not good. Slog’s bandage was already stained dark and it would likely need to be replaced soon. Slog himself lay unconscious on the bed, his skin slick with sweat. His breathing was slow and labored.
“How’s he doing?” she asked Alvara, who was wiping Slog’s forehead with a cool compress.
“I’ve bandaged him as best I could. The pain killers I gave him knocked him out, but I’m worried the coagulate might be too much for his system. Without it, though, he’s liable to bleed out before help arrives.”
“Where’s his…arm?” asked Ansaria. Part of her wanted to laugh at how ridiculous the question sounded. She was sure that if Slog had been conscious, he would’ve laughed too.
Alvara silently pointed to a small case on the floor. Ansaria went over and opened the lid. Ice-cold mist rolled out of it and beneath the freezing air was the severed limb. Ansaria grimaced then put the case down.
She bent over friend and said softly, “I’m going to get you help, Slog,” With that, she exited the room.
Once she was outside Slog’s cabin, she contacted the same frequency that had let them know they could land.
“This is Sergeant Ansaria, we have safely landed and powered down our ship. What is our next course of action?”
The reply came quicker than Ansaria had expected. “Sergeant Ansaria, this is Commander Alked. You were told to await further instructions after you had landed; that is your course of action.”
“Commander, sir, I have a wounded soldier on board that requires immediate medical attention. We’ve done all we can for him, but if we don’t get him to the infirmary, he is going to die, sir.”
The other end remained quiet for so long, that Ansaria thought they had decided to ignore her. She was about to close the channel to come up with a new plan when the commander replied.
“I’m sending a security detachment to escort your wounded to the med bay, sergeant. You are to follow Captain Lumis’ orders to the letter, is that understood?”
“Understood, sir.”
“Good. Commander Alked, out.”
Ansaria went to tell Alvara and the others about her conversation. Just as she had everyone gathered outside Slog’s room, there was a pounding on the hull. Ansaria went to open the hatch. Standing outside, flanked by a dozen soldiers in standard Imperial combat armor was a bot almost as tall as she was with glowing blue eyes. For a moment, her mind flashed back to Eberius before she brought herself back into the here and now. She saluted.
“Captain Lumis, sir?”
The bot returned the salute. “At ease, sergeant,” its voice was much slower and more monotone than Tread’s “We are here to escort you to the medical wing. Where is the patient?”
Ansaria told him were to find Slog. Lumis gestured to two of his troops. “You two, proceed with the grav-gurney.”
Two helmeted soldiers nodded then entered the ship, followed by a floating apparatus. Captain Lumis addressed Ansaria’s squad.
“I’ll need all of you to step out of the craft and line up for our trip to the doctor.” Ansaria nodded and gestured for Tread to follow her. As they stood next to the ship, the soldiers emerged, one in front of the antigravity gurney, one behind it, with Alvara bringing up the rear with Slog’s arm box. Lumis held out his hand for the box.
“What are the contents of this container?”
“Slog’s…missing limb, sir,” said Alvara.
“I’ll take that, private. Fall in with the rest of your squad.”
After Alvara handed over the box and took her position between Ansaria and Tread, the soldiers accompanying them snapped into position all around them, hemming them in, while Lumis and the soldiers with the grav-gurney leading the way.
“We are heading to the medical wing. Do not deviate from the course. All troops, forward march.”
With that, the group proceeded through the hangar into a long hallway. At the end of the hall was a lift that would take its passengers anywhere on the ship. They stepped on in groups; Lumis, the gurney and the soldiers with it went on the first lift, while Ansaria was taken in the next with a quartet of soldiers. As the doors closed with only the smallest ‘hiss,’ the lift took off. Ansaria noticed she was the tallest person present; all the guards with her were at least a full head shorter. If she wasn’t so exhausted and unwell, she probably would’ve chuckled.
As the lift reached the deck leading to the medical wing, Ansaria stepped out along with her guards. The ride had taken only a few moments, and Captain Lumis and Slog were only a little ways ahead of them. She looked back as she heard another lift arriving and saw Alvara slithering out with her troop detachment, Critter riding on her shoulder. Alvara saw her looking and gave her a comforting but strained and tired smile.
By the time Slog had reached the reception area for this part of the medical wing, Tread and his escort had arrived. With the group reunited, they were led after Slog. When they finally caught up, Slog was being led away by the medical staff.
“Will he be alright?” she called after one of the retreating medics. The Xenlongian physician, who was covered head to foot in medical gear, turned back to her. “We’ll do our best,” was all he said, before the doors to the sterile environment closed.
“Feel free to have a seat,” said Lumis, gesturing to a row of chairs against the wall. “I must inform the commander that we have arrived.”
Administrator Delta was examining the timetable for troop arrivals aboard the flagship when he was contacted personally. He stopped his important work to answer the call.
“Commander Alked. Report.”
“Administrator, the incoming ship has safely docked and the occupants have been escorted to the medical wing.”
“Commander, you received specific instructions to keep them on their ship until further notice. Did you receive new orders from a superior source?”
“No, sir. The sergeant informed me they had wounded on board, so I took it upon myself to provide them with an armed escort to the med bay. I take full responsibility for the action, sir.”
“I see. Your compassion to your fellow soldiers is commendable, commander. Very well, they are to remain in the medical wing until you receive further orders. Am I understood, commander?”
“Understood, sir.”
“Good, Administrator Delta, out.”
Ansaria allowed the medics to look over her own wound while they waited for news on Slog. The medic tending her clucked her tongue at the shoddy bandage work, before skillfully cleaning and wrapping the cut then giving Ansaria an injection to help with pain and infection. Ansaria tried not to let the pleasant haze distract her too much. A small assistant bot came out of the sterile room and hovered before Ansaria.
“You are the patient’s CO?” asked the bot in a friendly, artificial voice.
Ansaria nodded. She couldn’t help thinking that if they sent such a friendly sounding machine out to tell them bad news, it was rather poor form.
“Your subordinate has been stabilized. The doctors are discussing what course of action to take next regarding the severed limb, but the important thing is: he will survive.”
> Ansaria collapsed back against her chair. Relief flooded through her faster than even the drugs had. Alvara cuddled Critter while Tread closed his eyes and smiled at the news. With the immediate worry solved, Ansaria’s mind snapped back to the larger mission.
She stood up, a little less gracefully than she’d intended, but chocked that up to the medication.
“Captain, sir, now that my soldier has been attended to, I must speak with the Emperor. I have information vital to the survival of the Empire that I must deliver to him.”
Lumis held up one hand to stop Ansaria.
“I’m sorry, sergeant, but my orders are to keep you here for the time being. I have assurances from the higher-ups that someone will be along to speak with you eventually, but for now, you and your squad are to remain here.”
“Captain, please, this information must get to Emperor Xandarius. My squad and I have been through the underworld and back to deliver this information. What possible reason could they have for keeping us here?”
“The ship is undergoing a wide variety of repairs and delivery so that it will be in top form when the fleet arrives to accompany us to the front. I’m sure you are just one of many concerns to the top brass at the moment. I understand your frustration, sergeant, but my orders stand: you and your squad will remain here until further notice.”
Ansaria couldn’t believe it. After everything they’d been through, here they were, on the Emperor’s proverbial doorstep, and they were being told to take a number?
Ansaria’s hands began to shake. Even through the pleasant haze of drugs, she could feel the anger rising inside her. She sat back down, and then turned to her squad members.
“Do you trust me?” was all she asked. The three of them nodded. Ansaria held Tread’s gaze before nodding at Lumis. Tread nodded himself, before subtly reaching back to swap out his main weapon. When he was ready, Ansaria stood up again.
“Sergeant Ansaria, please, for your own sake, sit down. I’ve already told you--” began Lumis.