They paused. “I’m sorry...” Trent whispered to the dead petties before they hurried past, emerging into the barracks that had contained the lounging guards. They weaved between more dead bodies then she could count, finding combat armored petties with red bandanas around their arms waiting near the transport tubes. They saluted clumsily as Trent and Sasha approached.
“Securing da' barracks...almost done,” the petty who was apparently the leader stepped forward.
“Good, we will be going ahead to try to locate the baron. Vin, can you tell me the baron's location?” the Program's sphere appeared over her wrist and the combat armored petty stepped back in surprise.
“Baron Tuhbil is located in the administration building, top floor,” the Program's monotone voice responded. Sasha turned to the petties, noticing a small robed figure emerge from behind their ranks who, after nodding to the lead combat armored petty, started sprinting back towards the petty colony.
“Hec'Ure said anyone who finds out where the baron be, to let him know,” Sasha nodded, figuring it would probably be best to have reinforcements. They wished the men luck, leaving instructions on the handling of prisoners and the use of the transport tubes, then entered, the tube transport shooting off towards their destination.
Trent slumped noticeably when the tube door slid shut. Sasha knew he was injured, in near constant pain, but she couldn't do anything about it, and it was eating her up inside. He would move like he was fine when they were in danger, but when they stopped, his adrenaline fading, he looked as if he would collapse, his strength failing. She wanted to ask Vin, find out exactly how bad his injuries were. But she couldn't bring herself to do it, knowing no matter how badly he was injured, he would continue working to protect her, to save her, to save the petties.
“My duke,” she whispered.
“My love,” he whispered back. Oh how I wish I could kiss him, gaze upon his face, into his eyes. But there was no time, she knew. The tube door slid open.
Bustling figures in robes of green filled a concourse of exquisite design, Sasha finding its opulence surprising after her time in the neglected petty colony. It’s strange, she realized, never before had she felt so guilty about such luxury.
As they stepped out of the tube, an alarm sounded and the scurry changed to sprinting as the robed figures dashed in all directions, vanishing into the many doorways and adjoining hallways that lined the concourse. After a moment, it was completely empty.
“Follow this corridor to the right, all the way to the end,” Vin stated.
They moved briskly in the direction Vin indicated, finding the concourses decorations seemed to become even more ostentatious the farther they went. Statues of Duke Zehman started taking the place of the columns, the sight making her blood simmer.
A squad of green robed guards, at least twenty, appeared before them, having been hiding in hidden alcoves, their armored feet clattering to a stop on the moss stone floors.
“Surrender!” the guard in command order, the combat armors filter unable to mask that it was a woman.
“You have two choices!” Trent's voice boomed as he stood tall, raising the repeater arc without assistance.
“Bring me Baron Tuhbil and renounce all affiliation with the Hulk'Zif Duchy, kneeling at our feet to beg forgiveness,” silence was their only response. “Or die,” his voice was grim, but Sasha knew his words were true.
“You expect us to bow to a petty?” one of combat armored men shouted, combat arc trembling in his grip.
“No, I expect you to bow to me, Grand Duke Trent Alutia, or die by my hands,” the stones seemed to rumble as Trent pushed every ounce of feeling into his words. An enemy guard threw down his combat arc.
“I didn't sign up for this!” He took two steps away from the squad and, to Sasha's horror, the leader shot the man through the chest. Trent reacted immediately, sending an unbroken stream of the repeater bolts at the tightly packed squad of enemy guards. Limbs and puffs of blood filled the air as screams of agony escaped from their dying owners.
The leader dodged with the grace of a trained warrior, jumping against the wall and launching herself at Trent as her fellows fell around her. Trent dodged, allowing the repeater bolts to finish off the last of her comrades. But the leader moved again, launching herself as soon as she landed, catching Trent in the side and sending him hard into the wall, whose stone surface shattered debris in all directions. He dropped the repeater arc and swung his arms wildly, trying to catch the agile woman who slipped a hand through, grasping Trent's helmeted face, then smashing his head into the wall, again and again.
Sasha didn't think, instinct taking over, as she moved across the room in a single leap, picking up a fallen combat arc before jumping to Trent's side in less than a heartbeat. The enemy guard was too intent on splitting Trent's head open to notice Sasha push the combat arc against her side, but when she did, it was too late.
The point blank blast cut the woman in half, slicing through combat armor like butter. Her helmet retracted, her eyes blinking in confusion and pain, before going dark. Trent slumped to the floor as the guard’s hand released him. Sasha bent by his side, trying to force his limp body back to his feet, hearing the clatter of many feet approaching. But he kept sliding back to the floor, unmoving. Tears filled her eyes as she thought the worse. Trent must be dead, her mind cried. Even with the armor's protection the force of the blows would have crushed anyone's skull. But before she could fall into despair, he stirred, staring up at her with what Sasha hoped was a hidden smile.
“Thank you...my love...” he said, words barely audible. But she didn’t care, he was alive and that was all that mattered. She hugged him fiercely, making sure to control her suit's strength enhanced embrace.
“Trent, oh Trent...I thought I lost you,” she cried, unable to hold back her tears. The squawks of the catillians inside her protected bosom echoed in unison as Trent put a weak hand on her shoulder.
“Baron Tuhbil has moved to the landing pad on the roof of the administration building, please exit through the double doors and into the waiting roof access elevator,” Vin broke in, ruining the moment.
“We must move,” Trent wheezed, pain evident even through his suits filter.
“But,” she stopped herself, knowing this would be over soon.
They shuffled down the concourse in the direction of the double door Vin had indicated would lead to an access elevator, and to the roof. A few green robed figures hurried past, seeming to think their business more important than the chance of being killed, which, for some odd reason, almost made her laugh.
The ornately carved double door opened as they approached. They were greeted by a massive antechamber built of green moss stone with giant statues of Duke Zehman against the side walls, water tumbling over their shoulders to fall into pools at their feet.
“The access elevator is located on the far wall, behind the Hulk'Zif crest,” Vin said. They moved across the pathway that spanned the opposing pools and to the large crest on the side of the far wall. It shimmered, then split, revealing the hidden access elevator that for some reason, she had trouble believing actually existed.
The slow elevator ride was tense, neither she nor Trent speaking, knowing no words could state what they felt. But she did force their bond open, touching his pained mind with her own, trying to push his throbbing hurt aside, to feed her love, hoping, if only a little, that it would soothe him, drown the physical pain he was forced to constantly endure.
The elevator door slid open to a landing pad. A large group of green robed guards, close to a hundred, stood in a tight formation, aiming their combat arcs at the freight transport tube situated on the opposite side of the landing pad. Another smaller group of robed figures stood talking off to the side, with the bald, bearded head of Baron Tuhbil in their center.
Trent pushed her aside as he removed his combat arc and stepped out of the elevator, taking aim at the baron.
“Behind us!” One of the group noti
ced Trent out of the corner of their eye. All the guards turned in unison.
“Damn,” Trent swore, swinging his combat arc from the group of nobles, to the group of guards. Two unarmored guards fell with his first shot as he started raining fire into their ranks. A returning bolt knocked him off balance, allowing more shots to strike him as he tried to recover. Sasha watched in horror as Trent continued to stumble, being pummeled relentlessly by the combat arc bolts until he collapsed to the ground, unmoving.
Sasha rushed out of the elevator, diving to Trent's side.
“Stop it!” she cried, throwing her body over his.
“Cease fire!” Baron Tuhbil's order boomed over the landing pad as he charged towards them.
“Well, well, well...what have we hear?” the baron stopped a few meters away, the wind blowing his robe open to show he was clad in combat armor of a similar tint to Trent's and Sasha's; gorian. “I honestly believed you two to be dead. But lo and behold, you show up at just the most opportune moment,” he squatted as he spoke, taking Sasha’s armored face between his thumb and forefinger, forcing it up to look at him. “Duke Zehman will be pleased when I present you to him. The whore of Alutia,” Trent fidgeted underneath her as she was tossed aside, tumbling to a stop at the feet of his guards. “And the bastard son of Terra! Oh yes, I will be rewarded grandly for this, I will,” guards grabbed her harshly, yanking her to her feet and pinning her arms behind her.
“But...I'm sorry to say, the whore is the only one Duke Zehman wants alive. He's been quite adamant that he will only accept the head of the bastard son to be presented at his feet.” Baron Tuhbil placed a single hand around Trent's neck and picked his limp body up off the ground like it weighed nothing. The catillians started screeching horribly from her chest, as if they sensed what was to come.
“No!” Sasha screamed, despair boiling to the surface. But she couldn't move, her arms restrained behind her, the three combat armored guards being more then she could ever hope to overpower.
“Now, say goodbye to your precious love!” the baron cackled, raising his other hand to Trent's throat. Time slowed as Sasha fought to free herself, each heartbeat taking an eternity. She had to save him. She couldn't let Trent die.
A blur shot across the landing pad and Sasha tumbled free of the guards, mayhem erupting on all sides. Combat armored petties streamed out of the freight transport tube, having arrived as all eyes were on Trent, firing into the ranks of stunned guards. Baron Tuhbil rolled across the landing pad, wrestling with Hec'Ure, who had been the first out of the elevator, coming to Trent's aid.
Sasha crawled desperately towards Trent, laser bolts landing on all sides, exploding debris and smoke into the air. She fought forward, trying to ignore the guards and petties who were falling dead all around her. The petties repeater arcs continued to pepper the enemy guards, shooting whoever was unfortunate enough to not find cover, and passing just over Sasha's head.
After what felt like an eternity, she reached Trent's crumpled robe, but to her horror, found it empty. She desperately scanned the mayhem, searching frantically for Trent, but finding only petties and guards locked in combat. A laser bolt struck by her feet and she tumbled to the side. Her eyes shot open, seeing Trent through the thick hail of laser fire, hunched over, stumbling towards the edge of the platform where Baron Tuhbil and Hec'Ure stood grappling, neither able to seize the upper hand. Then, to Sasha rising horror, Trent launched himself forward, striking Baron Tuhbil with full force. The three men tumbled off the side of the landing pad.
“Trent! No!” she screamed, climbing to her feet and sprinting through the battle that raged all around her, but flew back as a combat tube struck just before her. With the explosions and death wails filling the air, she didn't notice the sound of assault shuttles descending. Two guards in the red of the Alutia Duchy exited, running to her side as she tried to recover her feet.
“Grand Duchess Sasha, Grand Duchess Sasha! Are you ok?” an Alutia Guard asked. She didn't know what to say, fear and relief fighting for control.
“Trent!” his face pushed its way to the front of her frantic thoughts. She pointed towards the edge of the platform, the guards seeming not to understand.
“Your Grace, what's going on? Who is the enemy?” Sasha knew the mayhem must have been confusing, but she could only think of Trent.
“The ones with red are friends...but Trent! Oh...Trent!” she screamed, pulling herself free of the two guards grasp as she darted towards the edge of the landing pad.
“Your Grace!” she ignored the desperate cry as she slid to a stop at the edge of the mayhem. Fear took her as she pulled herself the last few centimeters, peering off the landing pad.
Metal bars extended out a few meters below the edge, circling the rim. Grasping desperately onto the end of one just below, hung Hec'Ure, barely holding onto Trent's limp form.
“I can'ts holds!” the man shouted as he saw her face. Sasha turned to see one of the Alutia Guards who had followed, only to find another freight tube transport just arriving, this one full of enemy guards, who rushed into the fray.
“Help me!” Sasha screamed to the Alutia Guard who began firing on the platoon of newly arrived enemies. Another shuttle screamed overhead, taking up position above the landing pad, a combat tube extending, and more of her guards emerging as soon as it struck, followed by Empress Guards in gorian armor. Panic took her as she knew time was running out.
What can I do, how can I save Trent?
“Your Grace!” Sir Seb'Losh's shout rose above the mayhem as he came sprinting across the landing pad. At the same moment Sasha saw Hec'Ure lose his grip and time stood still. Sasha didn't think, just let her instincts take over, and jumped a second later, eyes locked on Trent. She knew it was stupid, she knew they would both probably die. But she wouldn't be able to live without him, and she would either save him, or die trying.
It took only a moment for her to catch his limp form. She wrapped her body around his in a protective embrace. As they fell, spinning wildly, she glimpsed four guards surrounding her, but she knew it wasn't possible, her despair filled mind playing tricks. But they were there and each grabbed her as another guard shot by like a rocket, grasping onto Hec'Ure.
“Hold on!” Sir Seb'Losh's voice echoed through her helmet as they decelerated painfully before striking the grass covered ground.
It took a moment for her to recover her senses, but when she did, she realized they were alive, having once again cheated death. She didn't understand, or care, how. They were alive, that was all that mattered.
“Oh, my duke!” she cried as she hugged Trent's unmoving form. Sir Seb'Losh and three Alutia Guards stood at their sides, combat arcs trained on Hec'Ure.
“I'm with thems,” Hec’Ure pointed towards Trent and Sasha. Sasha almost laughed when she noticed the humor in the petty's voice.
“Yes, he's with us!” she exclaimed as a cloud of dust approached, originating from a giant hole in the stone base of the shield wall. Hec'Ure stood and started waving as the first of many battle transports came to a stop, 10 meters distant, combat armored petties exiting with combat arcs at the ready.
“You've been busy, Your Grace,” Sir Seb'Losh spoke in wonder. Sasha smiled weakly, before turning back to the unconscious Trent.
“Vin, how is he?” Sasha asked, her smile vanishing.
“Vital signs stable, severe head trauma, multiple fractures and contusions detected throughout his body.” As if not believing Vin's words, Trent stirred and lifted a hand to her armored cheek.
“My love,” she barely heard him.
“My duke,” their bond opened and she filled him with her loving concern, and he with his relief.
“It's time...my love...you know what to do...” His head slumped as he appeared to again almost fall into unconsciousness.
“Your Grace, the shuttle is here,” Sir Seb'Losh shouted as the mass of petties in combat armor were swelled by thousands of others in dirty robes, having followed the crowd. She pu
t an arm around Trent and helped him to his feet. She would need his support.
“Vin, make sure you record this,” she said under her breath and looked to the nervous Sir Seb'Losh, nodded, then to the crowd of petties.
“Citizens of Alutia V5432! You have done well today! But this is only the beginning!” The crowd went silent as more and more petties filled its ranks. She found the sound amplification setting on the combat armor and turned it to max. “Firstly! I would like to apologize to Hec'Ure and his valiant men. I have lied to you,” the man seemed not to be surprised, instead, showing a toothy grin as his combat armor retracted. “I am not a petty named Sa'Ha and he is not a petty named Tre'Nat.” Unlike nobles, the crowd sat silent, politely waiting for her to finish. “My real name is Grand Duchess Sasha Alutia and this is my husband, Grand Duke Trent Alutia, we are the new rulers of the Alutia Duchy!” Her claim caused many whispers and a few shouts of disbelief to surface, but Hec'Ure just stared on, his smile vanishing, but the look in his eyes one of understanding.
“You have been mistreated, and for that I apologize. My knowledge of Duke Zehman Hulk'Zif's crimes were incomplete. Though this will be of little ease to your suffering, even before I witnessed the horrors taking place here, we had decided that the Alutia Duchy would be different...would follow a new path and abandon certain archaic traditions,” she took a deep breath, knowing her next words would cause the wrath of the universe to fall upon them.
“I, Grand Duchess Sasha Alutia-,” she stuttered as Trent yanked on her shoulder.
“And I, Grand Duke Trent Alutia,” his voice was hoarse, but his words were loud enough for the crowd to hear.
“Hereby abolish the petty system within the Alutia Duchy! No longer will you be forced to endure abuses just because of your birth! Education and choice shall be provided to all petties who wish it, and all petties shall be welcome in Alutia as full common citizens!” She let her heart, her very soul, fill her words. The crowd sat silent, taken by disbelief. Then Hec'Ure leapt onto a battle transport, turning to the crowd with a joyous cheer, his men following close behind, and the flood gates opened. Cries of joy and sorrow intermingled with laughter and cheer as the idea started to sink in. No more would these men and women need to fight everyday to survive. They would be allowed to live, live like humans. Another devious thought took her, one that she knew would further rile the traditionalists.
The Noble Petty, Complete Edition (Alutia Rising Series, Book 2) Page 47