The footsteps were hushed, but many. He knew from the earlier conversation with Sir Illion that there was little hope they were born from the rest of his private guards. But they had little choice but wait for them to come closer. It was the only way to know for certain.
Within moments, the rumbling footsteps were almost upon them, and Sir Georigi began fumbling with his own laser arc, trying to aim at the approaching sounds while holding Lady Vickie still.
“It's the commander,” his guard shouted in relief, the combat armor's filter providing it a metallic quality. Those who approached, hearing the shout as well, started running. Sir Georigi sensed the men come to a halt only a few meters away.
“How many?” he asked with trepidation, unable to count their numbers in the near total darkness.
“Forty-five. We took them by surprise. But the bastards had charges planted along the exit corridor from the barracks. It collapsed before we could all make it out. They may still be alive, Sir Georigi, but...but we didn't have time to attempt to dig them free...I'm so sorry, sir,” a tear rolled free of Georigi's eye; a tear of pride for the men and women who gave their lives so honorably for others. They all stood in silence, in memory, only the shifting of the guards disturbing its stillness.
“We have a long way to go,” Sir Illion spoke first. “Sir Georigi, it would be best to hand Lady Vickie to one of your guards. You will have difficulty maintaining the necessary pace with her extra weight...in your current condition,” Sir Illion explained.
He bit his tongue, knowing Sir Illion to be right, but found it difficult to not believe the man had just questioned his honor. A guard carefully took Lady Vickie from his arms while another placed a semi-spherical device in his hand; a portable PDU. He slid it over his ear and activated the dark vision setting when the projected display finished expanding before his eyes.
“Escort Pattern, T-5...let's move!” Guard Commander Zel'Min ordered over the private com channel in which the portable PDU was linked. Ten of the guards rushed ahead to take point, followed by Sir Illion, Til'Ma, the guard carrying Lady Vickie, and himself. The remaining guards took up positions to the rear, spreading out in four squads of nine to allow for a multilayered defensive alignment.
“How was the resistance after the barricade?” Sir Illion asked the guard carrying Lady Vickie.
“None, sir. We made it to the transport tube without seeing a soul and found the sub-basement completely empty,” the guard responded, sounding obviously relieved. But Georigi found himself more concerned, knowing they must have sounded some sort of alarm when they escaped. So why hadn't the garrison secured all the exits?
“Good...as I suspected. Baron Tuhbil planned on gassing the guards. It never occurred to him that you could overpower the barricade. Plus, Administrator Vazik knows nothing about the layout of his own colony. He left that responsibility to his subordinates...namely, me,” explained Sir Illion, the hatred in his words made all the more powerful by the surrounding darkness.
All conversation ceased as they ran. Sir Georigi eventually lost track of time, minutes blurring into hours. His legs began to cramp, the layer of moisture covering his body no longer born from just the humidity, but also sweat as he began to dehydrate. Til'Ma and Sir Illion were looking little better, both gasping for air at his sides. Guard Commander Zel'Min, who Georigi could not recall joining their group, called a halt as he too noticed the state of those without combat armor. Hydration pills were distributed and he fell hard to the water smoothed stone floor, breathing heavy.
“Sir Georigi, let me tend your wound,” Til'Ma sat at his side, rubbing his forehead with something cool. But when she pressed down, he couldn't help but wince.
“Stay still, please,” she instructed, her voice stern. He obliged, enjoying the refreshingly cold water she started pouring over his wounded scalp. Rushing feet echoed up the tunnel from behind. Sir Georigi turned, seeing the first squad of rear guards approaching in an all out sprint.
“Their coming, we need to move!” One of the guards shouted. Without warning, a guard picked up Til'Ma and another, Sir Illion, but Sir Georigi stood before one could do the same to him. He followed after the guards, who were moving at a pace that he would be unable to keep for long.
“There is a split up ahead, go right and it's a straight shot to the services building,” Sir Illion's shout rose from far ahead. Sir Georigi found himself falling farther and farther behind.
“Sir, let me carry you!” the guard shouted from his side, a hand grasping his shoulder, but he shook him off.
“No...I'm fine...” he responded, voice raspy, barely audible between rapid breaths.
A laser bolt struck the ceiling above sending dust and debris into his eyes. The rear guard turned and fired as one, causing a tiny collapse behind them. They continued on and came upon the split in the tunnel Sir Illion had referred as Sir Georigi stumbled, grasping his knees as he gasped for breath. The last squad of the rear guard stood only a few meters behind him, kneeling to aim down the tunnel that was hidden by dust.
“Sir!” He flew forward as a guard pushed him away, a massive explosion rocking the tunnel. He bounced painfully, rolling to a stop against the tunnels smooth wall.
“Sir Georigi! Sir Georigi!” A distant voice shouted, barely audible over the ringing in his ears. He crawled to his feet, wiping sweat and blood away from his eyes.
What he saw before him told clearly his fate.
Half the tunnel had collapsed, blocking him from the remaining guards, the right tunnel, and his salvation. Down the tunnel they had just came, through a gap in the pile of debris, he caught sight of a shimmer within the cloud of dust beyond. A row of green robed guards slowly approached, climbing through the gap.
“Sir! Just wait there, we will dig you out!” the guard shouted over the com. His hope returned, then vanished as he studied the floor to ceiling pile of rubble, and knew it useless for them to try.
“Make sure Lady Vickie survives,” he stood tall, his voice unsteady, but his honor still calling for him to protect his charge, his lady.
“Sir?” the guard questioned.
“Go. It is useless to try to save me...I will lead them away,” he knew he asked much, for his guards to ignore their oath, their vow to protect him to their last breath. But there was no other options.
“Sir, you can't...I mean...we must be allowed to try!” the guard pleaded.
“No, go, this is an order. Lady Vickie's life takes precedent. I will lead them away down this tunnel!” he shouted, glancing over his shoulder, down the tunnel that led to his doom.
“Then-then...sir...I...it's been an honor, sir. Please take my weapon,” said the guard, his voice dejected. A combat arc appeared within a small gap in the collapsed tunnel.
“Good luck, sir,” the guard’s downtrodden words echoed in his mind as the rearguard moved on.
“Tell her I love her,” he shouted after the retreating guards, not sure if they heard him, the com relying on line-of-sight.
He moved a short way down the left tunnel and took a knee, grasping the grips on either side of the large, cylindrical shaped combat arc, and took aim.
He fired at the first robed guard who moved through the gap in the rocks, the kickback from the released laser bolt almost throwing him off his feet. The guard fell, but two more took its place, firing as they rushed through, laser bolts whizzing by to blow chunks of dirt and debris from the surrounded rock. He rushed back a few meters, turned and fired again, two more robed guards falling as his laser bolts struck home. But they were quickly replaced as four more rushed through the gap.
A laser bolt singed his shoulder and he clenched his teeth.
I will not provide them the pleasure of hearing me scream.
He fired again, the dust blocking his vision as his combat PDU began to malfunction. He started taking steps back, ignoring the unrelenting return fire barely missing him on all sides. A large laser bolt struck by his feet, knocking him against the wall, stars th
reatening to overwhelm his already blurred vision. He swayed as he tried to recover his balance.
Lady Vickie, her face filled his mind, giving him strength.
The combat arc felt heavier as he raised it once again on his enemies, who continued their unrelenting approach. He fired blindly into the thickening dust, every one of his retreating steps greeted by hundreds in return. But he had to go on. He had to continue to draw their attention until the others made it to safety. A laser bolt struck the wall at his side, releasing an explosive mass of debris that caught his hand with a sickening crunch, his combat arc tumbling to his feet.
I hope she lives a happy life, the thought came as he pulled free his laser arc.
He stared firing into the dust cloud with the smaller weapon, hoping it enough to keep their attention on him. The return fire continued to multiply as more and more robed guards passed through the gap in the ruble. A bolt caught his leg and he collapsed as half his thigh vanished, unspoken agony attacking every part of his being.
Lady Vickie...live a long, happy life.
He would not falter, returning fire and ignoring the waves of fresh pain. Another bolt struck his foot, the hurt from its disintegration coursing through his now convulsing limbs.
Will you remember me even after I am gone? Will you remember my honor, my sacrifice? The thoughts appeared one after the other as their time together flashed before his eyes. But he had to give her more time, he had to guarantee her safety.
He gritted his teeth, begging his body not to falter, not to fail, and fired upon the robed figures now appearing only as few meters away. A laser bolt struck his outstretched hand and it vanished in a puff of blood alongside the laser arc. But it no longer mattered. The pain was too great. His vision fading as the robed figures surrounded him.
“My Vickie...my sweet Vickie...I am sorry...but if my sacrifice allows you to live on, it will not be in vain. Goodbye my sweet, my darling, my love, my life...live with honor and please...never forget me, the man who knows, no matter who you are...that he will always love you,” he whispered his last words, too quiet for anyone but himself to hear.
Darkness and the depths of despair filled his last; fading thought.
I don't want to die.
*********
The barracks underneath the NHA recruitment and services center lay quiet, the hatch to the abandoned waterway having been sealed shut behind them. Til'Ma climbed to her feet after she caught her breath, scanning the room. She found it odd that Sir Georigi wasn't present, but she assumed he had accompanied Sir Illion to inform the responsible parties of their arrival.
Lady Vickie had been placed on an empty bunk. Til'Ma moved to her side to start cleaning the dirt and grime from her beautiful hair and skin. The guards kept on their combat armor, the ones not lying motionless on the floor, appearing to wander aimlessly. One was even curled up in the fetal position, while others kneeled close by with their faces buried in their palms.
“Til'Ma, where is Sir Georigi?” Lady Vickie asked, her voice harsh. Til'Ma helped her sit-up, gently caressing her back.
“I don't know, My Lady. I think he is with Sir Illion.”
A group of guards, the last to have entered, noticed Vickie had awoken, and shuffled towards them. They collapsed to their knees as one at the base of Vickie's bunk.
“My Lady, forgive us, but he ordered us to go...he wouldn't let us stay...” the guard lamented, his voice, though masked by combat armors filter, one of utter sadness and despair.
“What do you mean?” asked Vickie, her voice starting to return to normal, as well as her mind, the effects of Noble's Delight no longer present.
“He led them away, refused our pleas,” the guard cried. Til'Ma didn’t understand what the guard meant, but she knew something awful had befallen.
“My Lady, Sir Georigi told us to see to your safety above all else. He said...he said it was his honor to be able to give his life to protect you...before he led our pursuers away, down a different tunnel to assure our safety. He is a hero and will never be forgotten,” said the guard commander, suddenly standing at attention before Vickie.
“Did you see him die?” Vickie’s words made her shiver.
“No, My Lady, but the tunnel collapsed an-,”
“Then he is still alive. I must contact Trent and Sasha, they...they can save him,” Vickie nodded, her expression solid, but her lower lip quivered ever so slightly as she accessed her BC node. Til'Ma could see her lady fighting to hold back her tears, her sorrow.
“Lady Vickie, communications are down. There is little we can do. It is possible they took him captive, but...” Vickie turned to Til'Ma, tears finally breaking free.
“It's not true...he must be alive...” Til'Ma hugged her lady, who she loved with all her heart.
“Of course, My Lady. He is alive, there is no way he would leave you,” she forced honesty into her tender words, but had trouble believing them herself.
Vickie collapsed, sobbing in despair. Til'Ma climbed into the small bunk, cradling her lady's head, and cooing into her ear. The guards stood watching for moment, then began wandering away, still in disbelief as Sir Illion entered the barracks with a group of men in black capes.
“We are safe for n...what happened?” Sir Illion's question was drowned by Lady Vickie's sobbing wails; her tears of sadness, her tears of sorrow, her tears of loss, her tears of love.
Chapter 13
Sasha studied the slowly rotating projection of the ABF Sasha floating high above the Capital Class Combat Information Display, or C-CID, on the ABF Sasha's fleet command deck, finding the sight beyond fascinating.
Trent had designed a beautiful starship.
She found it difficult to pull her gaze away from its unexpected beauty. The smooth curves and organic form calling out to her, being so very unlike the rigidly utilitarian, cuboid shaped design of the standard NHA starship. It was elegant, like a majestic beast born from the depths of space, but also deadly, threatening to pierce through any threat that dared cross its path.
“This should...no...what about...ah...” Trent mumbled, sitting alongside her on the slightly raised platform that allowed them to clearly view both the fleet command deck and the bridge in which it overhung.
Her gaze was pulled away from the projection, to Trent, who was fiddling with the PDU control unit integrated into his armrest. She repressed a giggle as he touched an icon and quickly canceled it, rubbing his brow as he contemplated which button to press next. Just beyond him, to his right, sat Yukie, gazing at him in wonder and a new found openness that Sasha knew was born from her freedom; or assumed freedom, she reminded herself.
Yukie had become their responsibility for the foreseeable future; the emperor requesting her and Trent's assistance, not wanting his daughter to experience the horrors that will most likely occur during the review of the Emperor’s Fleets. So Sasha would take advantage of this opportunity, providing the next ruler of the universe proper tutelage, while showing her the realities of a traditionalist dominated universe. But before she could even consider touching on those serious topics, she'd have to break Yukie of her apparent fascination with lovemaking and the constant, inappropriate lines of questioning it caused her to pursue.
Apparently, Yukie only understood the basics, having spent a good deal of her free time alone on Origin watching restricted records of her and Trent, none of which, thankfully, contained any pertinent data. A muffled whisper called her free of her thoughts and she glanced at its source.
Tiana and Regalia sat to Sasha’s left, whispering to each other as they intently watched Regalia’s mother, Belia, who was receiving instruction on the proper use of the fleet sensor station. Sasha had been more than willing to allow her to accompany Regalia at their side, but Belia refused, stating that it was no longer her right to sit amongst the nobility. The only way she would allow herself to accompany them was by being of some service. So Trent, always thinking, had mentioned that they'd yet to fill any of the fleet command
staff stations that surrounded the CID, normally occupied by NHA fleet officers. Belia had jumped on the opportunity. So after they arrived onboard, six hours earlier, she went straight to the fleet command deck to start her training. Everyone else, after Sasha again used the Arm of the Emperor to check on Vickie to find her asleep in Til'Ma's arms, appearing safe and unharmed, had thoroughly explored their new home away from home. She had to say, it was grand.
The changes she'd recommended during her review of Trent's design were implemented without question, but required the ship to be expanded an additional 250 meters. An additional guest apartment, she knew two would never be enough, and two full sized zero-g arenas, one for the crew and one for them, were added into a section of the new space. She did enjoy playing Valor Ball with Trent and hoped they would have an opportunity during their journeys to practice for a rematch with Regalia and Donnlie. It is about time to exact some revenge.
Another important aspect Trent neglected in the initial design had been the crew quarters. The general crew would have been forced to “hot bunk”, share their beds with those who were on different duty shifts. After explaining this fact to Trent, they decided to go well beyond even a normal warship's quarters, removing the tightly packed rows of bunks within a shared quarters, and instead, provided every two crewmen their own room. But they didn't stop there, also expanding the size of the officer's deck, while adding an additional officer recreation area and private dining hall. Knight Admiral Bhool had been furious at the time, adamantly believing that the crew would go soft, being provided such grand luxury. But Trent and Sasha were in agreement. A comfortable crew was a hard working crew.
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