“Elle! You’re awake!”
“God.” She moved her bare, sooted arm to her forehead, her fatigue shirt in tatters, barely hanging on to her arm. “What the hell? Serena, what happened to your clothes?” Serena’s fatigues were rent from head to toe. She was now wearing tattered boots, ripped shorts and a torn-up pink ribbed sports bra that matched her panties that she could easily see from large torn seams in her shorts.
“There was an explosion of some kind, I think.”
“Now I remember.” Elle got sorely to her feet. Her clothes were in just as bad of shape as Serena’s. “Some kind of blast.”
“Whatever it was, it was big.”
“You’re telling me. How long have you been awake?”
“Maybe an hour.”
“Everyone else okay?”
Serena looked at her.
“Serena. I asked you a question.”
Serena nodded down the tunnel. Elle took the crystalline torch and walked several yards down the nearly smooth oval tunnel. Ian was laying sprawled unconscious. At least she could feel he was still alive. A few yards further down the tunnel Elle came to what Serena couldn’t speak. The charred body of a woman, too badly burned to be recognized. Elle quickly looked away.
Then both of them heard a faint groan coming from the tunnel in the opposite direction. Serena took the light as they collected Ian and made their way down the tunnel toward the moan.
Jerrod had rolled to his knees, trying to get to his feet. With almost all of his clothing gone except for his boots and some of his briefs, he stood slowly, soot and black dirt covering most of his newly healed skin.
“Jesus—what the hell was that?” he asked rhetorically of the two girls.
“Some kind of incendiary,” Elle began. “A big one. Be glad you’re not a fish living in what used to be that lake above us.”
“That didn’t feel like an ion weapon,” Jerrod mused.
“It wasn’t.”
The three of them watched Beau approach from out of the darkness, carrying Aramis over his shoulder. Both of them looked well healed from the blast, except for their clothes.
“I think you’re right, Beau,” Elle began. “That explosive was conventional. We’d all be dead as door nails if that had been ionic.”
“Six? Where’s Amy?” Beau asked.
“She’s—” Serena began.
“She didn’t make it, Beau,” Elle interrupted. “We’re Invicti. She wasn’t.”
“Then we’re already down a man and we haven’t even started.” Jerrod grimaced.
“Not true,” Elle countered. “We’re way ahead. Amethyst’s sacrifice wasn’t in vain. She got us past the Human armies of the Seven.”
“What about Rion?” Serena asked. “How will the Wraith get past them?”
“Not our problem.” Elle was a little too matter of fact for Serena’s sensitivities. She held her tongue. But everyone could sense how she felt.
Ian groaned. Elle carefully set him onto his feet while steadying him as the strength in his legs returned. “God, I gotta stop clubbing with you people.”
“What’s the matter, buddy,” Jerrod smiled. “Too much excitement for your sheltered little Catholic ass?”
“Yea. I’m gonna start hanging around some Buddhists from now on.”
“Falun Gong, maybe?” Beau smirked, lifting what remained of his charred shirt from him and dropping the shreds on the ground. Then he felt Aramis move and take a deep breath. Beau steadied him onto his feet. Aramis’ clothes were still half in-tact.
“How did you get by so unscathed?” Elle mocked.
“Easy. Beau makes a great shield. Where’s Amethyst?”
“She didn’t make it, Aramis.” Jerrod frowned.
Aramis suddenly looked incredibly sad. Everyone felt him.
“What’s wrong?” Ian asked.
“Oh. It’s nothing. It’s just—I worked with Amy for a long time in Lyon. I got to see a side of her a lot of people didn’t. She wasn’t all bad. I guess, I thought this mission would be Amy’s good Karma, you know? Helping us out. I guess Karma caught up with her. Too little too late.”
All of them surrounded him, their feelings mingling, even Serena added hers into the group, feeling his pain and sharing Aramis’ grief.
“She did help us out. We can offer a memorial for her later. But right now—” Jerrod began.
“I know. The mission. I’ll be alright.”
“Serena, I take it that’s Amy’s wand—or, whatever it is?” Jerrod asked.
She nodded.
He held out his hand. “I’ll lead the way.”
“No.” Serena shook her head. “I’m supposed to be a princess. I’ll lead.”
Jerrod shrugged. “After you then.” He smiled, following in behind her as she lit the way down the steep tunnel. “You know, Serena, just because you’re new doesn’t mean we’re going to go easy on you.”
“You want me to prove myself?”
“Not exactly.” Jerrod was watching her only partially covered ass.
“What he means, Serena, is that we’re all going to be cracking jokes about your royal backside in those shorts.” Beau smirked looking at what was left of fatigue pants that now barely covered the top half of her like a tattered fatigue thong.
Serena looked over her shoulder; half smiling, half glaring. These Invictus weren’t exactly what she was expecting. There was a bond, a tight camaraderie here with their feelings moving over each others’. It was nice. Despite their banter, she could easily feel these were good people. She could feel them, deeply. She shared herself within that bond now as well. No one actually cracked any jokes about her ass in the shabby tattered shorts, although she could feel that all of them admired her in them.
* * * * *
Rion walked slowly, stiffly from the pain that still raced through his limbs from broken ribs, deep lacerations and pummeled bruises. He was thankful these people, whoever they were, did not have the Seven’s skill at torture. In many ways they were little more than thugs, very Human-like in the way they approached what they did and how they acted. He could tell from Spencer’s mocking and his unsettled emotion that, although a newblood, he was not the one in real authority. Rion had not seen but a handful of their people until now. There was some kind of organization in play here; and from the new surroundings he was seeing now, it was clear that these were not some tiny faction or lawless clan. These people were halfbloods, and they were well organized. Perhaps not to the degree that Carson had built Dominion, but they were large, whoever they were. And even more notably, they were solidly into their own Ion Age—a kind of Steam Punk mash up of ancient ionic knowledge combined with culturally Human invention and innovation. It was a curious juxtaposition of the two—but no less effective. And no less deadly. The heightened intellects of these people had given them a strong branch of the ancient knowledge that was all their own.
Rion moved along the cramped corridors of the interior of what mostly looked like an updated aircraft carrier, only this vessel wasn’t floating in the water. It moved over the waves smoothly, lifted above them by its massive ionic thrusters.
Frost covered small areas of the thin body-hugging metal mesh fabric suit Rion had been dressed in from neck to wrists to ankles. The stiff yet still flexible metallic fabric became the conduit for a super-cooling agent that micro-circulated throughout the suit from a small day-pack sized distributor in the middle of his back. His arms where secured to his sides by metal cuffs linked to the waist of the restraining suit. In his wounded and frozen condition, he wouldn’t be posing a threat to anyone.
Rion entered the command bridge of the vessel flanked by four unusually buff halfblood security with ugly looking plasma weapons; each weapon at the ready should Rion decide to get unruly. Rion recognized some of the people standing in the room looking out over the seas ahead of them. Rion could make out a dozen or more of the massive hovering carrier vessels outside. They had a fleet of these vessels? Outfitted with
the same planes that had attacked he and Serena no doubt. That wasn’t a good sign. He could only imagine what one their destroyers might be armed with. No human vessels would be any match for ion guns, let alone their torpedoes.
Murmurs broke out all over the well-staffed command bridge the moment Rion stepped barefoot into room with his guard detail in tow. Several uniformed executive commanders approached him.
“Well—Rion Steele.” The one who appeared to be in charge approached. “My, how the mighty have fallen.” He appeared to examine Rion from head to toe, taking notice of how Rion’s security suit flatly hugged the front of his groin. How does it feel to be stripped of your—” The commander paused briefly, “future.”
Rion said nothing.
“Not talkative today?” The commander turned to look out of the 360-degree view of his vessel, then at the battle already underway with the Human warships in the distance. “I’ve given you a few days to heal, Rion. But now that you’re a bit stronger,” the commander stretched out his hand to the battle raging in the not so distant shore. “I wanted you to watch how a real war is waged. How real battles, are fought—and then won.”
“You’re Wraith Clan.” Rion looked around at the assembled officers.
“Oh, very good, Rion. Even enfeebled, you’re perceptive. I am Terrell, First General of the Invincible Wraith.”
“Why are you attacking these people?” Rion looked out the window at a particularly bright explosion in the distance.
“You of all the gods should already know the answer to that—your highness.” His contempt for Rion was not at all concealed. “For eons the high and mighty, the all-powerful Sentinel Masters have battled the Seven, from clandestine corners of the Earth. Hiding in the shadows, throwing little stones like children, watching your numbers dwindle until now only one remains. Such a pity.
“Instead of fighting your own wars, you used others to fight them for you. Well, the world has had enough of your little war games; your games of chess with all of us manipulated as your disposable little pawns. The time of the gods is at an end, Mister Steel. I have plucked the gods from their sanctuaries. Disarmed their protectors. Defeated your own knowledge. And emasculated the last of their kind.” His eyes scanned Rion in his suit once again. “Humph. There will be no more gods to look down upon and to war over us. How does it feel, Rion? How does it feel to be utterly powerless against a superior foe?”
“You tell me.”
Rion’s mockery seemed to hit a nerve. “I am telling you! And soon, very soon, Rion, not only will I take your life, but your own capital as well. Interra will fall, to me! Then will the last vestiges of your once venerated race, worshiped by all of Humanity, fall into the dusts of time. And the gods will finally, forever, be no more.”
“You think you can thwart the prophecies. Change the future—”
“The prophecies of the Ra are self-fulfilling. It is they that have been keeping Humanity and the rest of us embroiled in your wars. But no more. The Wraith will put an end to your petty conflicts, once and for all.”
“You can’t thwart the prophecies, Terrell. Others have tried—and failed.”
More murmuring broke out within the command bridge.
“Do you really think your pathetic attempts at fear mongering will avail against the might of the Wraith? You underestimate our power and our resolve. We are not just the Wraith, Mister Steele. We are every clan. Gathered from the furthest corners of Earth—more than a million strong. Nothing can stand against our armies. Not even you.”
“Don’t you see? Can’t you see what you’re already doing? You’re gathering for battle, Ra and Ma-Ra, against the city of the gods. You’re not evading the prophecies of the Masters—you’re fulfilling them.”
“SILENCE!” the commander bellowed, his hand now in full swing.
Rion expected the halfblood general’s sudden move. With an unseen martial defense, Rion diverted the kinetic force of Terrell’s strike back against himself. The officer’s heavy backhanded blow to Rion’s jaw only barely turned Rion’s head, but the powerful strike of the demigod shattered bones in his own hand.
Terrell winced, trying to ignore the intense pain now shooting through his broken hand, now quickly healing. Rion returned his gaze, looking into the man’s eyes. The general had expected to utterly knock the newblood prince to the floor with such a heavy strike. This, Sentinel, was quite a bit more sturdy than he had expected.
“Your religion is broken, Rion. Admit it!” Terrell subtly nursed his fingers.
“I will admit, that as long a single Ra still lives, the prophecies of the Masters will be fulfilled.”
“Indeed. I could not agree more. And by the end of this day, you will see the last of the Ra fall—utterly.”
“What do you mean? Fall?”
“You think we don’t know the location of your precious Jericho? The stronghold of the Dominion?”
“The Dominion are halfblood, just like you are. You’d be attacking your own people.”
“Because they are assisting the enemy! The gods will be vanquished.”
Rion frowned. He suddenly realized that whoever this Terrell was, he wasn’t really engaged in this to thwart the prophecies. The history of the Wraith were nothing more than mere street bullies. Rion was suddenly pretty sure Terrell didn’t give a damn about the prophecies. What this halfblood was after was nothing more than pure personal power.
Then Rion saw Spencer standing in uniform among the other elite commanders.
“You are using the Ra. To protect your selves.”
Terrell mused Rion’s logic for a moment. “You are right.” He nodded. “A bit hypocritical I must admit.”
The assembled commanders, including Spencer, began chuckling. Without warning Terrell drew his pistol, and almost without looking, fired a shot, the hot ionic blast penetrating Spencer’s forehead, instantly exiting the back of his skull. Spencer sank slowly to the floor, his danger sense in full alarm. Terrell walked to where Spencer was still kneeling. Terrell put another shot into his chest that pierced his heart, exiting his back through his spine, dropping Spencer to the floor. Spencer’s body began slightly convulsing, attempting to heal as quickly as possible from the heavy mortal wounds. Terrell then began firing, shot after shot, filling the newblood with hot energy—over and over until he stopped moving, stopped healing. And then he filled him with a few more for good measure.
Terrell replaced the weapon into its holster. Rion winced at the man.
“We do things—expediently within the Wraith, Rion; and we correct any mistakes quickly. You may want to make a note of that.”
The other officers ignored what was left of Spencer as some underlings quickly removed his charred body from the bridge.
45
D ark’s Dragon-class fighter shot out of the icy deep waters of Lake Michigan, followed by scores and scores of others. Although not nearly as fast as the Raptor’s now bearing down on the Dominion, the sleek, single-pilot craft were a lot more maneuverable.
“Watch out for those laser sights, people,” Dark spoke over an encrypted channel, his afterburners kicking in, pulling several G’s as he accelerated like an ion rocket to twenty thousand feet. “If they lock, you’re dead.”
“Roger that, Black Dragon.”
“Black Dragon,” Carson addressed his friend from the Dominion Guard command center. “We’re showing over a hundred enemy aircraft. Ionic propulsion.”
“I see them, Carson. Maybe we could cut the chatter, I’m gonna be a little busy.” Dark took hold of the red-gripped power controls and slid the craft into full throttle, breaking free of their formation and accelerating like a bat out of hell ahead of the rest of them, breaking the sound barrier. Others followed suit.
“Ghost Commander,” the Wraith pilot spoke into his com, “I’m registering incoming. Looks like we’ve lost our element of surprise.”
“We see them, Ghost One. They are not the target. You have your orders.”
; “Roger that Ghost Command. All units, break attack formation. The target is unchanged. Accelerate and engage only if—”
The rest of their squadrons now heard only static.
The hardened, missile-like rounds of his forward Phalanx cannon easily penetrated the titanium skin of the enemy plane’s hull, sending up into an exceptionally bright burst of ionic sunshine.
Dark’s fighter rocketed past the explosion at close to mach three, tossing a sonic boom into the pack and destabilizing the air all around them.
“Watch those planes as you take them out, Dragon Leaders. Looks like they have a forward reactor. Probably for their weapons array. They’re a little testy when they go up. Stay clear.”
“Roger that Black Dragon.”
Carson drew Julia’s attention to several of their Dragon fighters now moving away from the combat zone.
“Black Dragon, your squadron’s leaving the fight,” Julia began to her brother. “What are you up to?”
“Sorry, Jules. I just noticed where those planes came from. We have visual on several carriers approaching from the north.”
“What?” Julia looked at Carson. “I’m not seeing anything.”
Carson rubbed his chin looking at the empty screen. “I’m sure they’re employing various stealth measures, Julia. Send the Red Dragons to assist Black squadron as well. If these Wraith have carriers, then they also have support ships with them. If those destroyers get within range of our shores, things could get ugly real fast for Jericho.”
Carson whirled, meeting eyes with the Goddess of War. “Kari, find Lisa and grab a fast submersible. Get out to that approaching fleet as quickly as you can. We may not have much time.”
“Lisa? And what am I supposed to do with her? Watch her take off her clothes for the sailors?”
“Sure. And try not to get yourself killed when she does. Dismissed.” He ordered.
Kari raised an eyebrow and left.
Interra (Awakened Series Book 5) Page 40