Insurrection

by James David Victor

  “You FZZT! Cannot win, Cap-FZZT!-tain,” the Alpha-drone was attempting to say, finally settling on its spin to turn its damaged nose-cone toward him—

  And thump heavily to the floor, lifeless and dead.

  “What-what happened?” Eliard said, before the sand around him once again burst with laser fire, and he realized that he was still in the middle of a warzone as the Duergar fought each other across the arena. Val. He saw the big mound of his friend and ran over the sand toward him as there was another shriek through the air. The Mercury Blade, his ship, piloted by Irie Hanson, was trying to take out the gun emplacements of the war chief around the city to free the Duergar people. Of the Alpha craft that had brought the drone-servitor 2333, there was no sign, and the captain hoped that it wasn’t somewhere about to drop a thermonuclear device on all of them.

  “Val? Val, can you hear me?” he said to his friend, whose entire chest and face was blackened and pocked with cracked scales.

  “Hgnh,” the Duergar groaned, flopping to one side. “Packs quite a punch, that thing,” he grumbled, shaking his head as he staggered to his feet.

  “Come on, Val. We need to get you out of here…” Eliard was saying, although his lungs burned and his head was starting to spin. It was almost like every time that he used the Device, things got worse.

  “Argh!”

  “Hyurk!”

  All around them, the pained shouts and yells of the Duergar could be heard, matching the tempo of energy weapons and the guard’s fists. Plumes of smoke had appeared over the walls of the arena, coming from the city, either from the Mercury Blade or from the dissidents, the captain couldn’t be sure.

  BLAM! Another errant laser blast almost took out Eliard’s legs as they crabbed and shuffled around the wreckage of the Alpha-drone.

  “I can’t do this. Not like this,” Val was saying, pushing the captain onward, into the relative safety of cover.

  “Val, what are you doing? It’s mayhem out there!” the captain shouted. And I did all this so that no more of my crew had to die, he wanted to shout.

  “These are still my people, Captain. And I know how to stop this.” He turned, walking back into the arena that had become a battleground, and raised his voice.

  “People of Dur! Brothers and sisters of Duric! Hear me, Val Pathok, who fought at the Chenga Pass!” he bellowed, and in response, two laser blasts scattered near his tree-trunk like legs as he stalked. Val did not even flinch. “I invoke the right of combat with my father, War Chief Pathok Ma. I know my father is a weak Duergar. I know that he does not deserve his office. Hear me, people of Duric!”

  One last laser shot and a few more shouts of rage, but the battle started to ebb under the gunner’s proud declaration.

  “What are you waiting for? Execute the traitor!” called another voice, and it was Pathok Ma, standing in a circle of broken and bleeding bodies.

  “Father! Will you dishonor yourself by denying me the right of combat?” Val shouted. “Does that mean that you accept my judgement? That you are weak? A coward?” Val called to him, and Eliard saw what Val was doing. He was challenging his father, and was probably the only Duergar here who had enough respect amongst both the guards and the dissidents to do so.

  “I am no coward, boy.” Pathok Ma shook blood off his clawed hands and turned, pushing aside his own guard to confront his son. “If you think you can beat me, you have another thing coming. Those long years with the humans have made you soft.” Pathok Ma laughed savagely, stripping off his tunic to stand bare-chested before his people. He might be old, but he was almost the size of his son, and his muscles were like slabs of granite. “I taught you everything you know, boy,” Pathok Ma sneered.

  “Wrong.” Val closed the gap, cracking his knuckles as he did so. “The fighting pits taught me everything I know. You were nowhere to be seen. And as for the rest…” A thumbed gesture back to the wounded Captain. “He taught me that.”

  “Gah!” Pathok Ma jumped forward faster than his size or age should have allowed, and the strike he scored to his son’s jaw sounded like a projectile gun shot.

  “Val!” Eliard half-rose from his crouch as he saw his gunner stagger under the assault from his own father. “Put up your guard!” the captain hissed as his father once again struck him, following up the first blow with another, lower and meaner, blow to his son’s stomach and ribs.

  “Urk!” Val stumbled back this time but appeared too fogged or weary to offer a defense.

  Maybe his father is faster. Was right… Eliard was starting to fear as Pathok Ma delivered blow after blow to his son’s torso and head, only for Val to be knocked back, to stumble, and once to descend on one knee.

  “Now you see, don’t you, boy? You cannot beat me!” Pathok was wheezing and panting with the effort, his great shoulders heaving up and down as Val Pathok, his face a mess of green blood and broken scales, stood up once more. Eliard was surprised, and it appeared that the entire crowd was too, as gasps swept over the arena. No Duergar should have been able to put up with that level of beating, and considering the burn marks across his chest, and the fact that everyone had already seen him battle just recently, it was a wonder that Val could stand at all.

  “What is this trickery? You pleading for their mercy, are you?” Pathok winced and wheezed. “You think the Duergar—my Duergar—care for mercy?”

  “No.” Val’s voice was thick from the swelling of his face and neck from all of the blows. “I was the one being merciful, because you were my father.”

  “Lies!” Pathok once again charged him, but Val reacted in that same primal, instinctual way that Eliard had seen him kill the bird-lizard just a few days ago. His great fist jumped out as he lunged, faster than his father, faster than a striking snake, to connect with the war chief as he ran forward.

  WHAP! The blow was like a crack of lightening, or the splitting of rocks, as his father, the War Chief Pathok Ma, fell to the floor, stone dead. The whole arena fell silent at this display. It seemed to the captain that no one had ever seen such a masterful exhibition of strength. If the Duergar valued might and power, then Val Pathok had displayed that he had it in carrier ships.

  But Val Pathok was also very badly beaten as he swayed on his feet, regarding his dead father below him. “People of Duric,” he called. “The war is over. The war chief is dead. He was weak and not fit to lead you. Tomorrow, the Duergar will travel in a new direction. We will once again fight the Valyien.”

  THANK YOU

  Thank you so much for reading Insurrection, the fifth story in the Valyien series. The adventure continues in the next book. What dangers will Ponos throw at Captain Ponos and Eliard next?

  At the end of the book, I have included a preview of Recruit: A Space Marines Novella, the first book in the Jack Forge, Fleet Marine series which is an action packed space Marines saga. This first story tells how Jack was plucked from the University and sent to basic training, essentially against his will. After you read the preview, you can download the book on Amazon

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  Jack Forge sat in the lecture theater watching the hands on his small silver pocket watch tick across its shimmering pearl face. The latest grades would be revealed in a fe
w moments. The room was silent as the students counted down the seconds.

  Attendance at his brother’s funeral had been authorized, so he had been free to leave his studies and attend. Jack knew missing time would count against his grade, but he was on top of his studies and his grades were excellent. He could afford to drop a few points and still maintain his two-plus student rating.

  The recruiting sergeant stood at the front of the theater next to Professor Bowen. One of these men wanted the students to maintain their two-plus, the other did not. His classmates watched the seconds tick down on the large display. Jack watched on his small family heirloom. It was all he had left of his family.

  The second hand reached the top of its final round. Jack heard the ripples of distress and gasps of horror as the students whose grades had dropped realized they were now the property of the military.

  Jack looked up to the display. He picked out his name. He saw it there pulsing on the screen in red, a pattern that could only mean one thing. He scanned across to his grade. Two. Only two. The plus was missing for the first time in his three semesters. Three other names pulsed. Jack knew them all. He’d studied with them, socialized with them, laughed with them. He would most likely never see them again.

  The sergeant barked out transfer orders to the first name on the list. Jack watched as the second hand ticked along. He was only seventeen seconds into his new life when his name was called out by the recruiting sergeant.

  “Jack Forge. Fleet Marine training.”

  Jack looked up from his watch. He looked at Professor Bowen. The old man was slumped in a chair, his eyes averted as his class was further reduced in number.

  The doors to the lecture theater opened and military police entered. Jack had seen this before. Students had complained and argued, fought and resisted their removal from university to the ranks of the military or some war production facility. The arguments were familiar to Jack. He heard the most common of them now from across the lecture theatre.

  The students being drafted into service promised to pull their grades back up. They argued that it was only a small drop. They argued that they were too smart to be sent to the military. The arguments and complaints descended into shouts and screams as the former students were dragged away. Friends shouted their good-byes. Lovers kissed and cried. As a guard came toward Jack, he tucked away his watch and stood. With a nod to his escort, he walked down the steps at the side of the lecture theater toward the open door.

  Read the rest of the story here:

  amazon.com/dp/B07695FRGG