Search for Honor (The Tarvaax War Book 2)

by Tripp Ellis

  He blinked his eyes several times, then finally curled out an orange finger and pointed at Diesel.

  She cringed.

  Lytok nodded in approval.

  The walking frog’s bodyguards grabbed Diesel by the arms and dragged her out of the compartment. She looked back at Casey and the two exchanged a solemn glance. It seemed that she was now the property of the Prince.

  44

  Zack

  Charlie marched Zack through the maze of passageways, then took a stairwell up to the ground floor of the palace. Courtiers scurried about, carrying on with their usual business. No one paid them any attention. Most of the courtiers were too self obsessed to give a second glance to anyone else.

  Charlie was familiar with the layout of the palace, having been one of Vuul’s top military advisors. He navigated his way to the armory and punched in a code on the security keypad. Charlie gave a quick glance around to make sure no one had been watching them, then the two ducked into the compartment.

  The walls were lined with plasma rifles, grenades, plasma swords, tactical knives, and a variety of pistols.

  Zack grabbed a plasma rifle and several extra magazines. He powered up the device and press-checked the weapon.

  "I think you're going to draw a little attention to yourself carrying a plasma rifle, don't you?"

  Zack tossed the weapon to Charlie. "That's why you're going to carry it."

  Charlie grabbed a pistol and a plasma sword. Zack grabbed a pistol and stuffed it in his waistline, then pulled his shirttail over to hide it. He stuffed grenades in his cargo pockets.

  Once they had stocked up on toys, they headed back into the hallway and headed toward the elevators.

  A small squad of royal guards turned the corner, marching straight toward them.

  Charlie shoved the barrel of his plasma rifle into Zack's back, causing him to stumble a few steps. "Keep moving, dirt bag!”

  Neither Charlie nor Zack made eye contact with the guards. Charlie coughed and turned his head away as they passed to obscure his face. He hoped they would keep on marching.

  They both breathed a sigh of relief as they passed by without incident.

  "Do you have to keep pointing that weapon at me," Zack muttered.

  "I've got to sell the illusion,” Charlie whispered.

  Charlie pressed a button and waited for the elevator. A few moments later, the doors slid open and the two stepped on board. It whisked them up the tower to the top level, and they stepped into the long hallway leading to Aarnok’s chamber.

  The hallway had high vaulted ceilings, marble floors and columns, and opulent adornments. The design cues were similar to Aarnok's ship. You could tell he liked the style, and he was going to apply it to everything in his domain.

  Two guards stood outside the door to Aarnok’s chamber at the end of the hall. They eyed Zack and Charlie curiously. “Where are you taking him?”

  "Aarnok wishes to see him," Charlie said as the two approached.

  “We were not informed of this," one of the guards said.

  "I didn't realize Aarnok needed your permission to receive visitors," Charlie said. There was an implied threat in his tone.

  The guards hesitated for a moment and exchanged a glance. "The prince is not in his chamber. You will have to wait until he returns."

  "Then we will wait," Charlie said. He gave Zack a subtle nod. It was time to take action.

  Zack pulled the pistol from his waistband as Charlie took aim with his rifle. They moved with lightning speed and had blasted off several rounds before the guards had a chance to react. Plasma bolts burned through the torsos of the two guards, and their carcasses crumpled to the ground.

  Zack pushed into the royal chamber and cleared the corners with tactical precision. Charlie was right behind him. The room was empty, except for Honor. She was suspended in a beam—a glowing blue cylinder of light that seemed to contain her like a cage. The beam was located atop a riser. It was almost like she was a piece of art on display.

  Charlie pulled the bodies of the guards into the chamber. Their absence would draw immediate attention, but less so than bodies lying in the hallway. "Meet me on the tarmac. With any luck, we can steal one of the transport ships."

  "Where are you going?" Zack asked.

  "To destroy the palace reactor and bring down the force field. We're not going to be able to escape while that is still active."

  "Good luck," Zack said.

  Charlie nodded and dashed back into the hallway.

  Zack rushed to Honor. She floated within the beam, unconscious. Zack searched for the controls to deactivate it. He flipped a switch, and the beam gradually dissipated, lowering Honor to her feet. Still unconscious, and without the support of the beam, she collapsed. Zack caught her, and she fell into his arms. Her groggy eyes peeled open. She stared at Zack blankly. There was no hint of recognition in her eyes.

  “Honor, it's me. I'm going to get you out of here."

  She still didn't recognize him.

  "It's me. Zack." He wasn't sure if they had wiped her memory, or if she was experiencing temporary amnesia from the suspension beam.

  “I'm going to get you out of here."

  “You’re not going anywhere," Aarnok said. He had entered the chamber and had his weapon aimed at Zack.

  45

  Diesel

  Iloba’s bodyguards marched Diesel through a maze of passageways to a docking area. Through the windows of the terminal, Diesel could see a small transport ship attached to a space-bridge.

  Her new owner followed behind, muttering something in Valasion that she didn't understand.

  The guards marched Diesel down the gateway at gunpoint. She strolled down the ramp and stepped into the airlock. The Valasions followed behind her and sealed the hatch. One of the guards leaned forward and opened the hatch to the transport and Diesel saw this as a prime opportunity.

  The guard’s first mistake was not handcuffing her. The second mistake was underestimating her capabilities.

  Diesel sidestepped and spun around, grabbing the barrel of one of the guard’s weapons. She pushed the barrel aside as the weapon fired. A brilliant burst of plasma zipped past her and slammed into the bulkhead. It pitted the metal, and smoke rose from the crater.

  Diesel moved with lightning speed. She stripped the weapon from the guard and blasted a plasma bolt into his chest. His body fell back and flopped to the deck, taking the royal frog with him. Prince Iloba was buried under the guard’s carcass.

  Diesel spun around and fired another round at the other guard. His body crashed against the bulkhead, then slid to the deck.

  Iloba crawled out from underneath the body of his guard with his hands in the air as Diesel took aim at him. Suddenly, he spoke very good Federation-speak. "Don't shoot."

  Diesel chuckled. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't waste your ugly ass right now."

  “I have money. I can pay you handsomely. I am the Prince of Tevla.”

  Diesel shrugged. “I don't think you have enough money to keep me from pulling this trigger."

  “I can assure you, I have more than you could possibly imagine.”

  “And you think it's okay to take slaves?"

  “In my care, you would have lived a life of opulence. You would have been treated to the finest food and accommodations. You would have lived like royalty."

  “I don’t like cages of any kind. Your money is no good to me." Diesel gripped the trigger and squeezed off two rounds into the talking frog. Then put a nice sized hole in his head. His body lingered upright for a few seconds, then collapsed, squishing against the deck.

  Diesel pushed into the transport with the weapon in the firing position. She crept down a hallway to the cockpit. There were two pilots. One grabbed for a pistol, but Diesel put a plasma bolt in his chest before he could get a shot off. It was Gerbov, and his body crashed against the control console.

  Flur had his orange hands high in the air. He attempted to smile. "I just
fly the ship. That's it.”

  “Keep your hands where I can see them. You're going to fly me wherever I want to go, aren’t you?”

  "Of course. What do I look, stupid?"

  “Move away from the controls.”

  “Alright, take it easy.” He stepped away from the instrument cluster and Diesel motioned him toward the hatch with the barrel of her rifle. She pushed him through the corridor toward the airlock.

  “My name is Flur. What's your name?”

  “My name is shut the fuck up."

  Flur paused for a moment. “That's a nice name.”

  Diesel rolled her eyes.

  Flur's eyes widened at the sight of the dead bodies in the airlock. “Just for the record, I never liked those guys.”

  "Put on the Prince’s clothes."

  Flur flashed her a skeptical look.

  “Don't be modest. Do it!"

  Flur stripped the Prince of his royal garb and dressed in the airlock. "Do you really think I'm going to pass for Prince Iloba?”

  "You both look like ugly frogs. I don't see why not?”

  “Hey, hey. I'll have you know, where I come from, I'm considered much more attractive than the Prince.”

  Diesel had a doubtful expression on her face.

  “True story."

  Diesel still looked doubtful.

  Flur dressed in Iloba’s Royal garb.

  “Strip the armor from the guard."

  Flur complied and before long there were two naked alien bodies in the airlock.

  "Turn around and put your hands on the bulkhead.” Diesel commanded. “If you so much as twitch, I'm putting a plasma bolt through your skull."

  "You seem high strung.”

  “Do it!"

  "Okay, okay." Flur complied.

  With her weapon aimed at Flur, Diesel carefully suited up in the body armor. It had a hole in the chest plate, but with any luck no one would notice. At least not until Diesel had the opportunity to get a shot off.

  “Pull the bodies on board,” Diesel said.

  Flur dragged the corpses onto the ship, then returned to the airlock.

  Diesel closed the hatch behind him, then motioned him onto the space-bridge.

  “What exactly are we doing?”

  “Rescuing my friends.”

  46

  Zack

  "Drop your weapon, or I kill the girl," Aarnok said.

  Zack grimaced. He stared down the barrel of his plasma pistol and had the alien lined up in his sights. He was tempted to squeeze the trigger, but there was the off chance that Aarnok could get off a shot and hit Honor. Zack wasn't about to risk that.

  Zack let his pistol go slack and it swung upside down, dangling on his finger from the trigger guard. "Okay. I'm going to set the weapon down."

  Aarnok kept his weapon aimed at the target.

  Zack knelt down and set the weapon on the floor in a slow, deliberate movement. He didn't want to startle the alien. Once the weapon was on the ground, Zack stood up and kept his hands in the air.

  "Kick the weapon over to me."

  Zack complied. The weapon scraped and spun across the floor. It came to rest outside of Aarnok's reach. Aarnok's face twisted with displeasure. Zack had purposely kicked it out of reach.

  Aarnok’s eyes glanced to the weapon, then back to Zack. "My father was foolish not to dispense with you upon your arrival. I, however, am going to rectify that mistake. I will deal with his wrath later." Aarnok opened fire at Zack.

  Plasma bursts sliced through the air.

  Zack dove for cover behind a pillar.

  Aarnok kept firing as he advanced towards Zack. Bits of the pillar exploded with each burst, showering chips of marble and debris.

  Zack sprinted across the chamber to the next pillar. Plasma bolts zipped all around him, exploding at his feet, and cratering the far wall. Priceless artifacts were destroyed in the process. The bust of a 22nd century Epysian ruler. An original Mala’var oil painting. An exquisite vase from the Zong Dynasty. Since money was no object, Aarnok had little concern for material possessions. He would acquire more artwork, and have his chamber refurbished.

  Aarnok blasted at the pillar Zack hid behind, chipping away bit by bit.

  An ornate plasma sword rested on a tabletop stand across the room between two Zong vases. Just one of the vases was worth more than all the wealth in the Federation. They had been a gift from the Trevaxians, along with the sword. Legend has it that the sword had once belonged to Avulon the Great, and was the blade that killed the king, ending the Proxima war.

  Zack didn't care where it came from, or what its history was. It was a weapon, and anything was better than nothing.

  Aarnok fired his last shot. The charge magazine was empty. He pressed the mag release button, dropped the magazine out, and slammed another one in.

  Zack took the opportunity to sprint across the chamber. He dove across the table, grabbing the sword from the stand. He tumbled to the ground on the other side, shattering both of the Zong vases. They crashed against the floor, shattering into a million pieces. Tiny shards chimed as they danced across the marble. They were, perhaps, one of the few artifacts that had any value to Aarnok.

  The alien clenched his jaw, and his nostrils flared. He screamed with rage as he opened fire on Zack, who was cowering behind the heavy table. Zack sprinted across the chamber to another pillar, narrowly escaping the bolts of plasma as they zipped past his flesh.

  It didn't take long before Aarnok had emptied another magazine. Out of ammunition, he tossed the pistol aside and drew his sword. He activated the plasma beams that lined the edge of the blade.

  Zack peered around the pillar. He could see that Aarnok was armed with only a sword. Zack activated the plasma beam on the blade and stepped out from behind the pillar to face the alien.

  Aarnok snarled at him. Swords clanked and plasma beams sizzled. Zack and Aarnok hacked and slashed at each other. Swords whooshed through the air.

  Aarnok was bigger, faster, stronger, and more adept with the blade. He drove Zack back toward the wall. It was everything Zack could do to hold the big alien off. Aarnok had grown up training with a sword. Zack had never held one before in his life.

  Aarnok stabbed at him, and Zack deflected the sword away. He spun around and moved away from the wall.

  Aarnok continued the dance, trying to push Zack back into the corner.

  The two lunged and parried, exchanging attacks. The plasma swords shone brilliantly as they swished through the air. Zack made a valiant effort, but he was no match for Aarnok's size and skill.

  Zack hacked at the slimy alien, but Aarnok deflected his blow. The swing had left Zack exposed, and Aarnok slashed at Zack's torso. The tip of his blade raked across his rib cage.

  Zack could smell his own searing flesh. He tumbled back, doubling over with intense pain. It felt as if he'd been branded by the sun itself. With the plasma at a temperature of a million degrees, the slightest nick could make even the toughest warrior cower in agony.

  Aarnok wasted no time attacking in Zack's weakened state. He hammered down furious blows.

  Their swords clamored against one another. Zack tumbled to the ground. With an expert move, Aarnok managed to strip Zack's sword from his hand. It clattered against the floor and slid out of reach.

  Aarnok reached back and angled the tip of his blade at Zack's heart. He prepared to stab through Zack's chest and finish the pesky human off once and for all.

  Honor, still in a trance, stared at the two warriors blankly.

  47

  Diesel

  Flur marched down the corridor, doing his best impression of the Prince. He seemed like he was almost enjoying himself, putting on a regal air. He held his nose high in the air and gave off a snooty vibe.

  Diesel marched behind him covered head to toe in battle armor. At a quick glance, the disguise wouldn't cause suspicion.

  "What's the plan?" Flur asked.

  "I don't know. I'm making it up as I go along.
"

  "Improvisation is good."

  Ahead, Lytok entered into the hallway. His eyes widened with concern the moment he saw the two approaching. "Is there something wrong? A problem with the merchandise perhaps?"

  Flur hesitated a moment. "No. No problems at all." There was a long pause as he contemplated his next thought. "I just figured if one's good, two is better."

  The administrator smiled. "Excellent idea. How about a 10 percent discount on the second one?

  "20," Flur said, beginning to enjoy the role.

  "15," the administrator said.

  "You drive a hard bargain," Flur said.

  The administrator smiled. He was so preoccupied with making a sale, he didn't notice that Flur was a few inches shorter than the Prince. Diesel couldn't determine if selling prisoners was standard operating procedure for the Tarvaax, or if Lytok was just industrious, acting on his own behalf.

  “Come this way." Lytok spun around and marched down the corridor.

  Diesel took this opportunity to crack him in the back of his head with the stock of her rifle. The weasel crashed to the ground.

  Flur winced at the site. "That looked like it hurt."

  "I hope so,” Diesel said. She moved to a nearby compartment and opened the hatch. "Pull him in here."

  Flur knelt down and grabbed Lytok by his collar and dragged him into the storage compartment. Diesel closed and locked the hatch.

  "Just so we're on the same page here… What's in this for me?" Flur asked.

  "You help me get what I want. I don't kill you. It's pretty simple."

  "Yeah, that sounds great, but I'd like some kind of guarantee."

  "There are no guarantees in life. You should know that."

  Flur arched an eyebrow at her.

  "You have my word. Help me rescue the prisoners, and get off the station, and I will not harm you."

  Flur gave her a skeptical stare.