by Scott Rhine
Voice thick with emotion, she replied, “Aye-aye, sir.”
Crouched to the side of the airlock, Kesh called over his headset. “Jam their comms, and open this thrashing door.”
Moments later, the airlock slid open. The three hopped inside. Many rifles and backpacks hung on the walls. Empty. Another stroke of luck. “Here’s how we play it. We pretend to be Saurians. Claim that the Tellers are behind us. The moment we’re through the other side, Menelaus should lob grenades into this airlock.”
The Bat nodded. “So they can’t escape us.”
Points for confidence. Kesh asked Daisy, “Which side of the room is more crowded?”
“Starboard. Lots of sleeper units.”
“I’ll run the hall, launching glop to the left as I go. Those compartments all have bottlenecks to make them easier to seal during decompression. Max, use your pistol to keep them off my back. I’ll neutralize the command crew if I can.”
Max told Menelaus, “We fight back to back, just like the exercise.”
The Bat’s eyes glittered. In perfect Saurian, he said, “It’s been an honor fighting with you both.”
“You don’t have permission to die until our team reaches the fuel line.”
“Aye-aye.”
The cycling of the air seemed to take forever. Kesh and Menelaus crouched, right arms joined. He had seen this technique in a Human low-g sports tournament. Players had to start in designated spots, but they launched each other to their most effective positions as soon as the ball was served. Max leaned against the doorframe for support.
“I found the light switches,” Daisy exclaimed over their headsets. “How many should I disable?”
“All of them. Take off your helmet!” Kesh ordered Menelaus. They had literally practiced this run blindfolded. They would both be able to detect people at close range through the Collective Unconscious. Without helmets, the Bat could use his acute hearing to sense threats at a distance, and Kesh could smell the enemies.
“Right,” said Max, switching clips to the explosive-tip rounds. As a null in the dark, he would be a killing ghost amidst the crowd. “They’re so tightly packed that I can’t miss.”
Kesh checked to make certain their body cams were recording. This is going to be a glorious death.
35. In Memory
The moment the inner door to the crew section opened, the lights went out. In fact, all power to the area seemed to fail. “They’re behind me!” Kesh shouted, propelling himself toward the first freezer bay. He heard grenades go off behind him as he launched his own into the sleeper racks. After the fourth shot, he crept forward using his magnetic ship boots.
Over his thundering heart, he heard tiny explosions and screams to his right. Menelaus screeched as he sliced with the blade.
While Kesh was splattering the second bay with foam, emergency lighting flicked on. Stunned navy officers stared at them from the bridge. The eldest Phib croaked, “What is the meaning of this?”
The invaders were supposed to be the only cold-bloods in the realm. They didn’t know they were under attack yet. Kesh lobbed a grenade into the creature’s wide mouth and down its gullet. The foam made the froglike alien swell like a balloon.
“I suck your eggs,” shouted the Bat, lopping off the head of the nearest groggy Blue Claw. His weapons were a blur of destruction.
In horror, the second in command slapped the button to seal off the cockpit from the rest of the ship.
As he launched everything in his first ammo belt to block off the last few sleep chambers, Kesh sang his father’s death song. When he’d used all his grenades, he dropped the launcher to draw his blade and shield. The blaster-proof door prevented him from going further, so he turned to aid the mammals. People ran from the crazed Bat and dove for cover from the needles of death. When Max paused to reload, a dozen soldiers poked their heads up from the far side of the room.
Three against twelve. We can do this. Kesh froze them in place with a war cry as he charged.
“Throw the pack!” shouted Daisy over his earbuds.
Remembering his burden, Max held the live demolition pack aloft and activated the timer. The men facing them scattered. “Alley oop.” He tossed the device into the air, and Menelaus batted it toward the thickest cluster of Saurians by the starboard airlock. They had the door open to grab their rifles.
Kesh dove for cover.
Menelaus dragged Max into shelter between two regen tanks. Max lobbed his last grenade to the end of the aisle, raising a barrier that resembled a snow fort.
The foam hardened, and the demo pack lay against the far wall, inert. Amused, people stood again. Even Menelaus took a step from the shelter, with his staff raised. A couple of the guards walked over to the pack. “He was bluffing.”
Kesh put his hands over his ear holes and opened his mouth to anticipate the pressure change.
BLAM.
Fragments of eight Saurian warriors went in every direction. Flames erupted from clothing and plastic consoles. A scimitar was propelled through the air and chopped halfway through the Bat’s left shoulder. With a shriek, he dropped his katana. He clapped a hand over his punctured suit, stemming the fountain of blood.
The lone conscious Phib in the room went mad at the blood spray. “Mammal meat!” It sank its teeth into the bloody limb. The three Saurians were frozen in shock.
The sleep-tight rounds in his gun wouldn’t do much good, so Max scooped up the sword. He slashed the only target he could reach without walking, the Phib’s eyes. The creature didn’t release its hold. Instead, it kicked outward, raking Max’s midsection.
Menelaus collapsed—the one thing you never did when a Phib had you. Pinned prey could be dispatched in seconds. The Phib landed on top of him in a blind feeding frenzy, tearing the arm.
On his knees, Max used both hands to plant the sword tip into the base of the amphibian’s brain. It went limp. The doctor heaved to roll the beast off his teammate.
Automatic damage-control systems flooded the area with inert gas to extinguish the flames, but the metal I-beam in the center glowed from the heat. With a shriek of fury, Menelaus rose to his feet. The insane Bat cauterized his wound by searing it against the red metal before he passed out from shock. His determination struck the survivors speechless.
Rather than applauding the sacrifice the way he wanted to, Kesh tail-smacked the nearest gawking officer. He threw his stunned opponent down and crouched on his chest. The others couldn’t penetrate Kesh’s armor before he choked the officer into unconsciousness. He bellowed in victory. “I am the Kesh, first among ten-thousand spawn of the greatest general of our kind. You will bow before me or die!”
Max managed to stand, blood dripping from his blade. “Heed our leader.” His stomach armor and shirt was in shreds, but his tight abdomen muscles were unharmed.
The Saurian special-forces rank on his shoulder was enough. The remaining pair raised their hands in surrender. Unscathed from the battle, Kesh collected their swords. “You come from good families. You’ll be well-treated. Give your oath to obey, and we’ll treat everyone’s wounds.”
The two knelt.
Three against fifty. We did it! Grinning, Kesh asked, “How many in the cockpit?”
“Two, sir. They won’t surrender. Nothing can penetrate that door.”
It won’t need to, he thought smugly. He broadcast a temporary truce offer over enemy comms. “No more killing. Let’s concentrate on helping the wounded, yours and ours. It’s not your fault you were misled by Xerxes.”
The second in command accepted from the safety of his bunker. Lieutenant Zigusflan ordered his men to cooperate while under the flag of truce.
Max took out his med kit to help the Bat, barking triage orders in Saurian.
Guarding his back, Kesh grabbed the Bat’s neural staff. “Lucky your armor took the brunt.”
“Just a few bruised ribs.” A bloody scratch along his jawline told another story. A centimeter lower or deeper, the thrashing Phib
would’ve caught his jugular. His heavy Magi neck ring had deflected the blow.
Too many life-or-death moments blurred together.
Doctor Ellison stopped a bad bleed on a Saurian’s frill tear, earning the respect of the captives. For a Saurian screaming in pain, Max used his dart gun to administer painkiller. He showed his assistants the medical markings to prove they were harmless. The gauge on the side showed he was down to two darts.
When a wounded Phib stirred, however, Kesh smacked it in the neck with the Bat’s shock stick until it collapsed. The battery was empty.
“He’ll have a headache and some sore jaw muscles, nothing major,” Kesh explained. The men around him hadn’t noticed because they were busy helping a tailless soldier into the regen tank. As Kesh hustled up behind them with most of the missing limb, he felt the room sway. The ship was turning. “Daisy, how’s the sabotage coming?”
She didn’t reply.
He checked his wrist unit. Reuben had stalled in the engineering section. The Ram was right where he needed to be, but the ship full of atomics was still under bridge control, heading for the pantry.
He opened a link to Reuben. “We’ve taken everything on the bridge except the cockpit. My suit is the only one without damage. Do you need help?” He wasn’t sure how to reach the Ram. There might be a route through the smaller starboard airlock. Likely, they’d need weapons to get through that blasted foam.
No answer.
The security feeds to engineering had been shut off.
Why had the cocky Ram done that?
Kesh dialed up the feed from the Ram’s drone and displayed it on the wall. The image was fuzzy and blinking with damage alerts. Force field generators were offline, but the sturdy Turtle tech was still broadcasting. The Teller had a gun leveled at the Ram. He found her crazed smile more disturbing that the Phib’s razor teeth.
Just then, a woman in a mirrored faceplate crept into the frame. She wore the green gem armband of an academy leader. The Teller whirled to aim the rifle at her.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked in distorted tones. “We’re trying to save your precious masters.”
“They killed my husband! I won’t be a slave to those monsters again.”
Whoa. Bad time to convert.
Reuben fingered his goggles and backed toward the thruster control linkage.
If Roz can keep her distracted, the Ram can finish the mission. “So you’re going to end the lives of a billion other husbands? That makes sense.” Her synthetic voice oozed with sarcasm.
The Teller’s angry screech verged on Bat ultrasonics. “A hundred thousand priests. The rest of us serve on the lesser worlds and space stations. We’re trapped in banks across the galaxy. Allowing this attack will ensure freedom for all my people.”
Doped up on meds, Menelaus said, “Death to the oppressors.”
The room of battered Saurians cheered.
Using the distraction, Reuben removed his goggles from their tether. He pressed his neck ring against the delicate controls. His last words weren’t sentimental but practical. “Emergency docking clamp release.”
Somewhere on the cargo pod, a remote sensor uncoupled, releasing the pod and his woman into space.
“No!” the woman in a Magi suit leapt to interpose herself between the weapon and the Ram.
The Teller shot her twice in the back. Air hissed out, but the gun had no recoil. She landed neatly against Reuben. The position of his goggles didn’t budge. He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. Daisy had picked a side but disguised herself to give her employers a fig leaf to hide behind. He disconnected his own oxygen hose to give the explosive charge more impact.
The explosion knocked out the video feed, leaving the room in silence.
Reuben Black would go down as the greatest Ram in history, the hero who saved a race. No. He had rescued several races from their own stupidity.
Kesh was the first to speak. “May the servant of the people be blessed. Tell MI-23 that Armand is the new Ram. No need to avenge Reuben. He did that himself. No need to mourn, for he’s joined his loved ones. In his last moments, he was finally at peace.” Someone had chosen him.
Even battle-hardened Max wept.
36. Oz Hands Out Medals
The film of The Mayflower raid would become a legend, mandatory viewing for military students in three races. In the holos, though, nobody had to clean up the mess afterward. The Bat was unconscious, and Max was up to his elbows in field surgeries. First, Kesh had to negotiate the surrender of the remaining crewmembers. Then, he had to tunnel through glop to reach the escape shuttle. A small, petty part of him envied the Ram. That was supposed to be my death.
He allowed the crew to rig fail-safe detonators on the atomics. The last thing he wanted was short terrorists smuggling the bombs onto cold-blood worlds for revenge. Furthermore, the threat forced the Bankers to pay top credit for the radioactives he’d delivered. No money, no metal.
Next, they retrieved the groggy Roz from the cargo pod. She had nearly run out of air. To protect her identity, Kesh called her Daisy. Together, they gathered the cold-bloods in the fleet who had survived in disabled ships.
After landing in the middle of a desert, they were assaulted by Teller police. Without Magi to enforce the deal, the Bankers reneged. Instead of gratitude, the Tellers offered endless questions punctuated by rifle butts.
Sadly, Kesh was forced to remote detonate the asteroid lest the bodies of his deceased friends be dissected. This act of defiance earned him the loyalty of the surviving invaders. With a little prompting, the cold-bloods all confirmed what Honey’s live feed had shown them. The troublesome Ram and the abomination Roz Ellison were dead.
The real Roz demanded special treatment as a citizen of the bank’s most profitable customer, Llewellyn Terraforming. Then she invoked her Union right to silence.
The Bat was transferred to a secure hospital. The cold-bloods aboard, including Kesh, were imprisoned. The two Humans were confined to the asteroid’s ancient lifeboat while their stories were confirmed. Max’s medical kit, his known friendship with the head of Llewellyn Corporation, and the grateful testimony of captured Saurians earned him the benefit of the doubt. Under polite questioning, he repeated his name, rank, and serial number.
When interviewed by the new high priest, a Great One told Max, “We won’t harm you, but your stay will be far from pleasant if you fail to cooperate. Is there something you’d like to tell us?”
“No matter how tough you think you, karma will bite you in the ass.”
They reduced his food rations and eliminated access to electricity until he cooperated. He only smiled. He’d spent the first seventeen years of his life fending for himself in a wilderness just like this. The tech ban felt like a camping vacation to him, a chance to reconnect with his wife while they mourned their partner and friends.
As the ranking survivor of the cold-bloods, Kesh was interrogated frequently and forcefully. He refused, hoping they’d kill him. Instead, they switched to starvation rations to make the prisoners more pliable. He gave half of his to the wounded. The Phibs died first in the arid waste. As skin melted off his bones, Kesh told himself this was just treatment for his stomach problems.
When his sagging arm skin resembled turkey wattles, he told the Tellers what they wanted to hear about the dreaded subbasement drive. “The ship was a fluke. A ship twice the dimensions of Deep 7 would be needed for commercial shipping. However, that would be eight times the mass and a quarter the speed of conventional ships. Hops longer than two parsecs would submerge passengers so deep it would be fatal to living sentients. Roz only survived this long because she was a null.” He told them almost everything about their travels to prove their banking system was safe. Torpedoes were too expensive to use for everyday messages. However, they would be excellent for delivering minerals faster to Nivaar. The fact that convinced them of his veracity turned out to be the confession of his homosexuality.
A
s reward for his cooperation, his people were allowed to hunt rats in other parts of the camp and take sand baths. Of course, the Tellers spread the news of his secret to any who would listen.
Early on, Lieutenant Zigusflan testified against the founders of the conspiracy. The Tellers rewarded him with a silver-etched tile set that the Turtles had given to the first general of the Yellow Slash. He presented this set as an offering to Kesh. “They paid me for my crimes. I didn’t even consider the needs of my men. I’m unworthy. You purchased our dignity by exposing yourself to shame. Nothing broke your spirit of charity and adherence to the code. We all owe you our lives. Let this be a token of our devotion. Teach us to be fighters like you.”
Each day, they played chess in the courtyard, watching a sign in the sky. People might let him rot, but the Enlightened One would not be forgotten. To pass the time, he also taught them from his father’s treatise on wrestling and how to throw spears with an atlatl.
****
Six months later, a new Magi scout vessel, Liberty, appeared in the sky above the prison camp, assembled by the warship The Balance. The three Magi craft had blockaded the garrison at the base of the Wall. In alignment with its name, Liberty broadcast globally on all channels, “These beings are now free.”
The new High Loan Officer conceded, “Fine. You can have your warm-bloods back but not the Saurian criminals.”
“You misunderstand. All the people on the planet are free. The Tellers are no longer servants.”
The temple on the hill vanished in a flash of purple light.
During the ensuing chaos, Kesh cued his people to take out the guards in the tower with their spears.
Soon after, the asteroid escape shuttle kicked up a cloud of dust in the center of the compound. A one-armed Bat shouted in Saurian, “What do you lazy reptiles want, an engraved invitation?”
Inside the craft, Lieutenant Zigusflan asked, “Are we returning home?”