Blood Thirsty (Tri System's Edge Series Book 2)

by Ron Schrader

  “I scope things out. No big deal.”

  Kalla nodded. “Alright, but just be careful.”

  “Of course,” Jarek smiled before pulling her in for a kiss.

  “I’ll . . . uh . . . wait by the door in back,” Davis awkwardly said.

  Kalla barely paid attention, caught up in the physical pleasure of Jarek’s lips against her own.

  Jarek slowly pulled away and their eyes met, locked in a gaze for nearly a minute.

  “Go,” she finally said in a low, soft tone. She had to force her hands to let go, wanting him to stay. But she also knew this task, this mission, was important. She knew General Quinn needed to be stopped.

  Jarek backed away. “Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be back before you know it,” he said.

  She nodded, then turned and looked out the cockpit window to distract herself. The empty field in front of her, scattered with brush and sporadic trees that spanned the landscape as far as she could see, helped to calm her emotions. She admired the pleasant scenery, trying to ignore the sound of Jarek walking out of the cockpit.

  Once alone, surrounded by silence, she sat back down in the captain’s chair and closed her eyes. In her mind, she began concentrating, focusing her thoughts on Jarek, trying to connect with him.

  ~

  When Jarek reached the cargo hold, Davis had already opened the door and was standing outside the ship. “So I just need to find out where he is and what he’s up to, right?” Jarek said as he approached Davis.

  “I didn’t want to say anything to Kalla about this,” Davis said, “because it’s a risky move, but if you can manage to get drafted into his militia, this might go a lot easier.”

  “Drafted?” Jarek tried acting surprised, but couldn’t keep from smiling. “Kalla may not like that idea, but I think it sounds fun,” he added.

  “Here’s the thing. If you can get in, you might be able to get close enough to take him out, and without drawing too much attention to yourself.”

  “Not sure the attention thing matters,” Jarek said, “but I like the idea. Only, won’t that take some time?”

  “Yeah, it could take weeks, but with their recent losses, they might be willing to let just about anyone in right now. Might not mean you’ll get anywhere near the general for a while, or ever, but I think it’s our best bet. Worth trying, anyway.”

  Jarek nodded. “So, what do I need to do then? How do I get drafted?”

  “Okay, see that small mountain range?” Davis turned his back to the ship and pointed off in the distance. “There’s a pass between those two lower peaks. Follow the pass until you hit the river. You’ll have to find a way across, but there’s a dirt road on the other side, and it leads to a small, secluded town . . . if you can really call it that. There’s a saloon there, and a few other establishments to keep the soldiers entertained. But the entire place is pretty much run by the militia. If you want in, that’s the place to go.”

  “Sounds easy enough.”

  “It might be. Might also end up being a lot harder than we think.”

  Jarek folded his arms and let his eyes wander as he digested the information. “Any other advice?” he finally asked.

  “Yeah, Quinn’s the kind of guy who’s always changing his own rules. So just watch your back and try not to let on that you’re . . . different. And if he does happen to find out that Kalla and I are here . . . well, let’s just say things will probably get complicated fast.”

  Jarek laughed. “You worry too much. I don’t care how many there are, we can still take ’em.” He looked Davis in the eyes. “Remember, he didn’t kill me last time, just ticked me off.”

  “Maybe, but now that he knows what he’s up against, I guarantee you he’s going to be a lot more prepared. Trust me on that.”

  “More guns?”

  “Yeah, probably bigger guns, too.”

  Jarek could see that Davis was serious, and rather than argue with him, he said, “I get it, I’ll be careful.”

  Davis nodded. “Well, good luck then. We’ll hang out here as long as we need to. Shouldn’t have problems here.”

  Jarek nodded in response, then started to walk toward the mountains. “Later,” he called out.

  “Good luck,” Davis replied.

  ~

  Not long into his journey, Jarek recognized that the landscape here was very different from his home on Paradise. The massive mountain range travelled as far as he could see in both directions, with peaks reaching high into the sky. The upper reaches of the mountains were lined with thick stands of green trees and bushes, occasionally interrupted by random patches of grayish-white rock. The lower half was mostly covered in grass, with patches of brush and trees scattered about.

  Jarek admired the majesty of it all and regretted that such a beautiful planet could harbor so much evil. What a waste, he thought.

  Before long, he reached a vantage point where he could see two mountain peaks that slopped down and met in a narrow basin; it was the entrance of the pass.

  As he approached, a light breeze carried the scent of something he didn’t recognize. His right hand instinctively reached for the grip of his sword as he slowed his pace and paid close attention to everything around him, watching for movement of any kind. Suddenly, a small, white animal—something he’d never seen before—jumped out from a bush. Its long, drooping ears dragged along the ground as it frantically scurried up the one side of the mountain, until it was out of sight.

  Jarek released his tight grip on the sword and laughed at the situation for a moment, while his eyes continued to search for anything that might pose an actual threat. After several minutes he eased up, satisfied he was indeed alone.

  Upon entering the pass, it wasn’t difficult to locate the trail that made its way between the mountains. The overgrowth around the edges was evidence that it hadn’t seen much use in some time, but the ground in the center was mostly bare, making it easy to see the path.

  He began following it, walking a fast pace at first, then accelerating into a run as he became more familiar with the terrain. His heightened senses, along with years of practice, allowed him to navigate the uneven ground with ease.

  With each step, he was continually reminded of how different this place was from his home, and he admired the beautiful scenery that surrounded him.

  As he made his way further along the trail, the mountain pass gradually began to open up, revealing a meadow full of yellow and purple flowers mixed in with tall blades of green grass. Paradise, he’d been told, was once a beautiful place, too, and he found himself imagining that it must have looked something like this.

  His thoughts were soon interrupted by the growing sound of rushing water up ahead, which meant the river wasn’t far away now.

  Jarek slowed his pace to a steady walk as he approached the river, and he began searching for a way to cross. When he reached the riverbank, he stopped and admired the power of the rapids. Even with his strength, he knew that trying to swim would most likely result in him being swept away. But jumping across, he guessed, would work just fine.

  These thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a snapping twig from behind him. Jarek’s hand instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword, but a man’s voice warned otherwise.

  “Now hold still there unless ya want an extra hole in yer head.” The voice was raspy but confident. “Slowly turn around so I can see ya.”

  Believing the owner of the voice wasn’t much of a threat to him, Jarek obeyed for the sake of protecting the plan, hoping all the while that perhaps this hostile stranger could actually help him with his cause. He moved his hand away from the sword and turned to face the man who held him at gunpoint.

  He was slightly shorter than Jarek, but had a stocky build. His face was worn and wrinkled, with graying hair that was slicked back, and his clothing didn’t look much better than the rest of him. His tattered soldier’s uniform, and cracked, dirty black boots, told Jarek that his captor lived a rough life. />
  “Wanna tell me what yer doin’ here?”

  “Just looking for a fight,” Jarek replied, with as friendly a smile as he could muster. He could see this man was not intimidated by him in the least.

  The gunman stood firm and cocked the oversized revolver in his hand. “Not with me, I hope,” he said with a confident grin.

  “Heard there’s a militia somewhere around here. Lookin’ to join.”

  Still aiming his gun at Jarek, the man rubbed the side of his face before spitting something out of the corner of his mouth. “Don’t know what yer talkin’ about.”

  “Sure you do,” Jarek replied. “But I get that you need to protect the cause. Can’t be too careful these days.” He folded his arms to show he wasn’t a threat. “Name’s Reav,” he lied, uncertain if General Quinn knew his real name or not. “So, you gonna help me out, or what?”

  Still cautious, the gunman kept his eye on Jarek, and after a couple minutes of staring him down, he finally lowered the gun. “The name’s Zeke,” he said, maintaining a safe distance just out of Jarek’s reach. “How’d you hear about this place?”

  “Spent some time in a bar east of here. Some loudmouth drunk was blabbin’ on about how he gets to kill Directive soldiers for a living.” Though it was a complete lie that he’d made up on the spot, Jarek figured that blaming it on a drunk wasn’t too far-fetched. He waited and watched as Zeke rubbed his chin and scrunched his face as though he was considering the lie Jarek had fed him.

  “Yeah, don’t surprise me,” Zeke finally said, appearing to let his guard down a touch. “Couple guys I know that’d fit the bill.” His eyes squinted, then he asked, “Was it a wiry fella, usually wears a dirty old bandanna around his wrist?”

  Jarek figured Zeke was setting a trap and shrugged his shoulders. “I’d put down a few shots myself that night, so I don’t really remember any faces, just a voice in the crowd.”

  Zeke looked Jarek up and down a little longer before finally cracking a half-smile, then walked toward him with an outstretched hand. “Like I said, I’m Zeke. Pleasure.”

  Jarek held eye contact as he reached out to shake Zeke’s hand. “Same,” he replied. “So you gonna tell the rest of your men to stand down?”

  “How did . . .?” Zeke paused and gave Jarek a confused look just before bursting into laughter. “That’s good,” he said between breaths. “I think I like you!”

  Jarek grinned.

  “Stand down,” Zeke yelled into the brush behind him. With the order given, more than a dozen camouflaged men armed with assault rifles appeared from their concealed positions and moved in toward Jarek.

  “You sure you didn’t see the blabbermouth in the bar?” Zeke asked one more time, a curious look across his face. “Can’t be havin’ loudmouths like that tellin’ the world all about us.”

  “Sorry, had too much to drink,” Jarek answered, shaking his head and grinning as innocently as he could muster. “Just don’t remember any faces,” he added.

  Zeke’s face scrunched up again and he stared long and hard at Jarek. Finally, he said, “I don’t buy it,” while waving an order to his team.

  Jarek backed toward the edge of the river and put his hands in the air as the soldiers rushed in around him, guns aimed and ready to fire.

  “Who really sent you? The Directive? Yer a spy, ain’t ya.” Zeke’s voice was still raspy, but his tone was more insistent now. “Answer the question!” he demanded.

  “Which one?” Jarek replied with a chuckle. “Like I said, I’m just looking for a good fight. Don’t care much for the Directive, so when I heard some guy talking about your militia, I thought it’d be a good fit.”

  Zeke’s hand shot up and the soldiers took aim. “I ain’t gonna ask again. Who sent ya?”

  Instead of speaking a single word, Jarek lunged forward, grabbed Zeke by the arm, and spun him around, placing him in a choke hold. The soldiers still held their ground, but in an instant, Zeke had become Jarek’s hostage and shield, and he doubted anyone would dare fire a shot.

  “Stand down! Stand down!” Zeke ordered, a faint tremble in his voice.

  The soldiers all lowered their guns, and Jarek immediately loosened his hold on Zeke, letting him pull away. He watched as Zeke ran toward the safety of his men.

  “No one sent me,” Jarek said, the moment Zeke turned to face him again. Then he sat down at the edge of the riverbank and slowly reached into a pouch he carried over his shoulder.

  “Not another move!” one of the soldiers shouted.

  Jarek ignored the command and continued, producing a piece of jerky from the pouch. “If you’re going to kill me, get on with it, but I’m hungry.” He placed the jerky in his mouth, tore off a chunk with his teeth, and began to chew. “Want a piece?” he asked, holding up what was left in his hand.

  Zeke looked around at his men as though unsure what to do. Then, after some hesitation, he said, “Stations everyone.”

  The soldiers scattered and quickly vanished into the surrounding brush again.

  “Guess I owe ya an apology,” Zeke said, as he joined Jarek at the water’s edge. “We recently lost one of our strongholds, so we’ve been forced to tighten up on security.”

  Jarek nodded, again attempting to hand Zeke a piece of jerky.

  “Nah, thanks. But if ya wanna follow me, we’ll see about gettin’ ya signed on. See if you’re gonna be a good fit er not, though I doubt it’ll be a problem after what you just did.” He smiled, waited for Jarek to stand, then began walking the edge of the riverbank.

  “How far to town?” Jarek asked, as he began to follow.

  “Few kilometers, roughly.”

  ~

  Kalla opened her eyes to find Davis sitting next to her.

  “About time,” he said. “What was that?” he asked, obviously concerned.

  “Nothing,” she replied, in a vain attempt to ignore Davis’ question.

  Folding his arms and staring her down, he said “Nothing? I’ve been trying to wake you up since Jarek left,” he said.

  “Just leave it alone for now,” she insisted, but looking at Davis—arms still folded, waiting for an answer—she knew he wasn’t letting this go. “It’s just something I’m able to do. I can connect with him somehow,” she said.

  “Connect? With Jarek? I don’t understand.” His eyes squinted and he looked confused.

  “I can see what he sees. Just wanted to make sure he’d be alright.”

  Davis sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. “Wow, this just goes deeper and deeper, doesn’t it. Can I do that with you?”

  Kalla shrugged her shoulders. “No clue. There’s only three of us . . . three generations. I still don’t know how this will affect me long term, so I can’t possibly know what this all means for you.”

  Davis looked down and nodded. “Well, I guess we’ll find out . . . eventually.”

  Kalla smiled. “You hungry?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “Starving.”

  C

  HAPTER 6

  The drop ship entered the battleship’s docking bay and glided toward a landing pad. Fisher maneuvered the ship into position and gently touched down. Murphy stood in the cockpit, staring out the window, and saw that a medical team was standing by. “Open the ramp,” he ordered, then headed back to the passenger bay to assist with Bennett.

  Murphy joined his men as they all carefully lifted and carried Bennett down the ramp to the medical team, already in position and waiting with a stretcher. They gently laid Bennett on the stretcher, then Murphy took a few steps back and tried to replay in his mind what had happened.

  “He’s in bad shape,” Newton said to the medical team’s doctor.

  “Don’t you worry,” said Doctor Jameson with a calm look about him. “We’ll take it from here.”

  Two of the medics finished strapping Bennett to the stretcher, then headed toward the doors, presumably toward the medical bay.

  “Please do,” Murphy insisted as he watche
d his friend being taken away.

  Doctor Jameson nodded, then said to the medics, “Take the subject to twelve and begin the sedation.”

  Murphy felt helpless, and could only watch and wonder what would come of his long-time friend. He wanted to believe the medical team could help him somehow, but deep down he knew better.

  “I gotta say it, Sarge, but I don’t like this one bit,” said Drake. “It feels like we’ve been set up from the start.”

  Murphy shook his head. “I’m with you Drake. I have this feeling the general planned for this to happen. He’s gone too far this time, though.” Murphy paused as he looked around at his men, who remained silent. Thinking about Morris and Bennett, his emotions nearly got the best of him, but with everything that had happened, he felt a pressing need to suppress any sign of weakness. After a long, uncomfortable silence, he finally took a deep breath and said, “I don’t think Bennett’s gonna make it, and I think we need to do something about it.”

  The men nodded and murmured in agreement.

  “Let’s get cleaned up, and we’ll talk later,” Murphy said.

  Again, the men nodded in agreement, then headed for the inner doors of the docking bay.

  Murphy followed, but lagged behind, unable to shake the uneasy feeling in his gut, and at the last minute he decided to go check on Bennett before doing anything else.

  ~

  General Quinn was waiting outside medical bay twelve when Jameson and the medics arrived with Bennett, who was strapped to the stretcher with an oxygen mask on his face. He was still unconscious, which meant the sedatives were doing their job. As he examined the passing body from a distance, the general couldn’t help but notice the scratch marks and trails of dried blood that covered Bennett’s clothing.

  He nodded as the medical team walked past and entered the room, then he moved toward the large glass window that had a full a view of the operating room. He peered through it, making a conscious effort to hide the smile that was fighting to break free.