by M. R. Forbes
The shooting stopped. The wall was in pieces ahead of them, revealing the front of the mech. The feed was destroyed, as was most of the interior of the room.
The front of the mech shifted, the cockpit opening. Soon's head appeared a moment later.
"Sorry I'm late, Major. Ehri made these things sound like they were easy to use."
Donovan stared at the pilot, the shock of the turn of events keeping him speechless.
"I didn't hit you, did I?"
Donovan pointed past the mech. Soon was leaving himself vulnerable, and there was still a battle going on. Or was there? He didn't hear any gunfire.
"It's okay, Major. We won."
FIFTY-SIX
Donovan and Kraeger met Soon and Ehri outside, along with the remaining rebels, six in all. They had lost over two-thirds of their forces.
They had killed a lot more of the enemy than that.
Ehri's mech was a mangled mess, one of the arms missing, the other twisted into an ugly shape. The legs were badly damaged, and there were score marks across every inch of the armor. Somehow, she had kept herself facing the onslaught and prevented the cockpit from being hit. She had jumped out of the machine sweaty but unharmed.
Smoke rose all around them, the field outside littered with dead clones, a downed transport, four destroyed mechs, and even a crashed Dread fighter. It was an unexpected and impressive victory. One that Donovan had never imagined he would live to see.
"We can't linger here long," Ehri said. "The Domo'dahm will be furious at the losses."
"Good," Kraeger said. "It's about time he's the one upset about losing. I'm willing to wait for round two."
"I'm not," Donovan said. "What we did here was a start. Our first victory. Now our job is to make sure it isn't our last."
"It won't be," Soon said. "There's another mech inside the hangar with your name on it, Major."
Donovan considered for a moment before shaking his head. "It'll make us too easy to track. We should go on foot."
"It will shorten the time to Austin considerably, Major," Ehri said. "And will not reduce the fury of the Domo'dahm's retaliation. Besides, the resistance may need the relief these weapons can provide."
"What about the rest of us?" Kraeger asked. "We're supposed to walk?"
"There's a slug looking thing in the hangar, too," Soon said. "Ehri says it's ground transportation."
"A Ped'ek. An armored carrier," Ehri said. "Once used to collect humans for processing. It has been dormant for some time, but it should still be functional."
"Processing?"
"In the early days of the invasion humans were collected for testing, to determine the proper genetics for splicing. This went on for twenty years or so until enough positive samples had been collected. The transports were used to ferry the prisoners to the testing facility."
"Why not put them on a regular transport?" Donovan asked.
"They didn't want to soil the ships by allowing contact with human flesh."
"What?" Soon said. "I don't get it. The Dread are mixing genes with us."
"By necessity, Captain. Not choice. Make no mistake, the Domo'dahm and many of the drumhr are disgusted by humankind. The clones are tolerated because they are clones and as such considered clean. Some of your ways are being adopted because they will prolong the race. It is all out of need, not desire."
"Okay, but then it won't be equipped to be driven by a human, will it?"
"A mech should be able to pull it quite easily."
"Monster two-oh?" Soon said. "It's a decent upgrade."
"That tractor saved our lives," Donovan said.
"May she rest in peace," Kraeger said, making the sign of the cross toward the remains of the vehicle. "Let's not dally, Major. We've got a war to win."
Kraeger headed off toward the hangar, leaving the others to watch him go.
"He killed Murphy," Donovan said.
"And countless others," Ehri replied.
"He's also a good fighter," Soon said. "I don't know what his background is, but I think he was trained by the military."
"He might have grown up as part of the resistance. That would explain his self-proclaimed soft spot. You're a pretty good fighter yourself, Captain."
"I have a lot to live for," Soon replied.
"We all do," Donovan replied. He stepped over to the remaining rebels. "Good work, all of you. I'm sorry I don't know you very well, but I hope to get the chance to. We're going to be heading to Austin, Texas. There's a resistance base there. Will you be coming?"
"I wouldn't miss it for anything, sir," a woman with short hair and a scar on her cheek said.
"Me neither," one of the others said.
"Let's give them Hell, Major," a third replied.
"Absolutely."
FIFTY-SEVEN
The Hunter remained out of sight.
Watching.
Waiting.
He had seen the battle. He had followed from the tomb of his brothers, beneath the crashed ship where he continued to observe. The druk'shur had captured their equipment. Their weapons. Their armors. They had done what none of the pur'dahm ever believed possible.
They had challenged the might of the bek'hai, and they had survived.
It was a difficult outcome for him to accept. He knew without question that the bek'hai were the superior race and that the pur'dahm were the most superior of the species. And yet, his two surviving brothers had chosen to chase after the Heil'drek while he had chosen to remain. Was it truly cowardice, as his brother had claimed? Was it caution?
Or was it something else? Something more visceral, more powerful? He was Lex'el dur Rorn'el. A splice from the line of the Domo'dahm himself. He had more reason than most to want to prove his line. More reason than most to want to quell the spreading infection of humankind, to stop the return of their cancerous grip on the planet.
Had he stayed behind because he was afraid, or had he remained because the challenge was not great enough?
He knew the answer for himself, and his brothers had failed to survive to question it. That was just as well. They had always been inferior. Weaker. Slower. Less skilled. None of them could question that. Not when he was the champion of the Cruhr dur bek. Not when he had been undefeated for over two years.
He wasn't a Hunter.
He was the Hunter, and he had chosen to allow the humans their victory. He knew that it would be short-lived, and when he returned to the Domo'dahm with the Heil'drek's head, and with Ehri dur Tuhrik's head, he would be the one to claim his rightful position in the Domo'dahm's cell.
To the victor went the spoils.
The Hunter remained out of sight as the humans emerged, no longer exposed but within the armored safety of a pair of gur'shah and humorously trailing a ped'ek. He tightened his uneven lips to prevent himself from laughing at the absurdity, and then opened his mouth in surprise as the mechs stopped walking and the people in the ped'ek disembarked, turning to face the facility.
Then the larger human took something in his hand and held it up toward the base. He flicked his finger, and the ground began to shake. Flames and debris spewed from the open areas followed by billowing smoke, and the humans shouted and cheered.
Then they returned to the vehicle and resumed their motion away from the base.
The Hunter shifted his position beneath the ruined transport to watch them, tracking their direction and velocity.
When they had passed, he pulled himself from beneath the wreckage, climbing to his feet and adjusting the feed to his oxygen tanks. He would have to risk breathing the heavier outside air, or he wouldn't have a large enough supply to follow.
He bent down and retrieved his two lek'sai from the dirt, carefully rubbing them clean on the corpse of a nearby human before returning them to their sleeves on his back. His rifle had been damaged in the crash, but that was well and good.
He preferred to get close to his prey.
He looked to the north, where the humans were quickly vanis
hing over the horizon. He couldn't match their pace on foot, but that too was well and good.
He was the Hunter.
He could be patient.
FIFTY-EIGHT
Tea'va stared out of the viewport, his emotions crossing between surprised confusion and impressed respect. The human ship had definitely turned to face the fortress, and now he could see that they had launched their starfighters, the intent of their actions clear.
The Heil'shur and his allies intended to attack. It seemed ridiculous and impossible. What could they be thinking? Gr'el would surely chew them apart.
Tea'va paused to reconsider. Maybe not. Gr'el had been forced to kill a large number of the drumhr on the ship to cement his rise to command. He had also been required to destroy all of the original lor'hai, save for Zoelle and her scientists. While the cloning facility had turned out two replacement batches so far, it was still a number fewer than the ship originally carried.
If the humans had discovered how their technology worked, was it possible they would be able to mount an effective attack? Clearly, they were going to try.
A warning tone began to sound from his terminal as it would at every terminal across the ship, calling all available soldiers to battle. His lips parted in a crooked smile at the sudden turn of events. If the humans managed to cause enough of a diversion, there was a chance he could recover after all.
He kept watching the viewport while the first two squadrons of gi'shah launch away from the ship toward the interlopers. His gaze was intense as the two sides closed the distance between one another. He was sure the Heil'shur was out there. Which one was he?
Three of the ships turned back, giving chase to the gi'shah who were targeting the starship. Two continued forward, dodging the plasma defenses and drawing nearer to the fortress. He saw one of them nearly collide with a gi'shah and then make a smooth flip, let loose a stream of fire, flip and continue again. The Heil'shur! It was him. He was certain of it. Instead of feeling angry, he was nearly gleeful. Let Gr'el deal with that!
He tore himself away from the viewport. It wouldn't serve to linger here. He moved to the door and opened it.
Two soldiers remained outside his quarters. The others had gone running to their battle stations. They turned to face Tea'va, raising their weapons toward him to threaten him back inside.
"You are to be retired," one of them said. "Uphold your honor."
"Honor?" Tea'va said.
He pushed himself forward like a dart, using his hands to slap the soldier's rifles aside. He punched the first in the face, his palm up and out, shoving into the clone's nose. He heard the wet crack of cartilage and the soldier fell to the ground. He spun on his heel, his opposite leg sweeping up, slamming the second soldier's rifle again with enough force that it nearly turned the clone around. He stepped forward, grabbing the soldier's head and twisting until his neck broke.
"That is what I think of Gr'el's honor," he said, bending down to pick up one of the rifles.
He headed across the corridor. The fortress was still fairly quiet, the rush of its personnel already finished. They had gone to their stations to help in the fight and left him alone to move as he wished. Gr'el was a fool to leave him with only two guards. He was being treated like a failed drumhr, not a pur'dahm of the Second Cell. It was insulting, and he was sure his rival intended it to be that way.
It didn't matter now. The humans had given him the distraction he needed to get free. Now that he was out, he could make his way to the bridge, kill Gr'el, and regain control of the Ishur.
He stopped himself a few steps later. What if the humans had figured out how their technology worked? What if they had a plan? What if the infighting between himself and Gr'el had given them the opening they needed to win the battle?
It continued to seem impossible. The firepower of a bek'hai fortress against a ship without any offensive capabilities? How could the humans possibly win against that? Except Gr'el wouldn't be able to field half of the starfighters, or control half of the gun batteries.
Maybe it wasn't completely impossible after all.
He ran along the corridor until he reached another viewport. He looked out in time to see two of the human starfighters rush past, tracking down the side of the ship and out of view. He found the larger starship, taking heavy fire but still vectoring toward them.
The ship had evaded them the first time, sneaking around the fortress to get ahead and begin the chase. He knew Gr'el wouldn't allow that to happen again. The pur'dahm would stand his ground, positioning the fortress so that the human ship would have no choice but to smash right into it.
The ship's commander was smart. He had escaped them twice already. He had to be expecting that this was the case.
Tea'va stared out at the scene, trying to think like the humans. A starship with no weapons and no ability to slip, being chased by an enemy with superior numbers and firepower. A decision to turn around and head directly into the jaws of the gur'uhm. If he assumed that the commander knew he would not be able to circumvent the fortress again, what could he guess that such a commander would do?
A human starfighter rocketed past his viewport again, trailing three gi'shah. The second starfighter was coming up with another gi'shah behind him. They were so close that Tea'va could see the pilots of the human ships. One was old, the other young. They approached one another, the older one shooting at the younger one. Not at. Below. The gi'shah giving chase was hit. So was the older human, his ship vanishing in a small fireball and spitting debris away. The younger pilot followed up the attack by turning his starfighter in an unbelievable maneuver, spraying each of the gi'shah, destroying one and disabling the others.
That one had to be the Heil'shur.
Tea'va ran along the corridor, heading for the nearest transport beam while keeping an eye on the battle. The young human's fighter burst away again, and this time, there were no gi'shah to follow.
Why had he come to engage them so close to the fortress, while the others were staying back to protect the larger ship?
He had a feeling he knew. But could the human starship survive the journey?
He made it to the transport beam, taking it down to one of the decks that adjoined the hangar. Immediately, he could hear the sound of gunfire coming from inside. The Heil'shur was in the fortress, using the fighter's cannons on any of the clones that remained in the hangar.
That was where he decided to go. He turned the corner at the same time a squad of clones did. They stood only a meter apart for a moment, both taken by surprise. Tea'va recovered first, his plasma quickly dispatching the unprepared group of clones. He continued down the corridor, over the top of the hangar and to the control pod that hung above the space. He opened the hatch, shooting the drumhr he caught trying to escape and then descending into the pod. He could see the Heil'shur's fighter clearly now, on the ground and facing away from him.
He looked out past the hangar and into space. He could see the starship from his position. It was beaten and battered. One of the nacelles had already been destroyed. It was coming this way. He was sure of it. The hangar was large enough to house the human ship but just barely. There would be no way to stop the momentum in time, no way to come to a smooth stop. If the ship did enter, it was going to collide. The shielded lek'shah could survive a blow like that. Unless the human ship had a similar shield to absorb some of the force, there was no way that it could.
He glanced down at the Heil'shur's fighter, resting on the floor of the abandoned hangar. He could almost see the top of the pilot's head clearly from his position. He was a human. A regular human. Nothing exceptional. And yet, he was a worthy adversary. A human who had proven he was as skilled as a bek'hai. Most of the pur'dahm believed it impossible; that it wasn't the skill of the Heil'shur, but the failure of those that had faced him. Tea'va had seen him more than any of the others. He knew they were wrong.
The fighter's thrusters fired, and it began to slide along the floor on a small set of skids, he
aded back to space. Tea'va looked down at the controls. An electromagnetic shield kept the atmosphere out, but the hangar also had lek'shah doors that were normally closed for slipspace travel. He could trigger the command to close the doors. He could seal the Heil'shur in and the human starship out. He could effectively end the resistance for good.
He hesitated, finding the human starship once more. He was caught by surprise when the fortress' main plasma cannon fired, bathing the ship in bright light.
The plasma paused, a sudden impenetrable darkness spreading from the bow. Tea'va watched in amazement, his mouth dropping open as the plasma poured into the darkness and disappeared. Then the light grew too bright to see beyond, the plasma washing over the human ship. Tea'va couldn't breathe. He couldn't move.
The remains of the attack passed over the ship.
It was still coming his way.
It was impossible. Completely impossible. The plasma beam was phase modulated. It would have torn a hole into a fortress if it had struck one. Not only were the humans alive, they weren't even hit.
They hadn't just reverse-engineered the technology. They had improved it.
He put his hand over the terminal, ready to close the hangar doors. It would be so easy to shut them out. To let them slap harmlessly against the outside of the ship. Shields or no shields, they would never get in that way.
Gr'el had turned on him. Zoelle had turned on him. Even the Domo'dahm had turned on him, shunning him for being too human while at the same time asking the bek'hai to accept their evolution and the inclusion of human traits. He owed them nothing. He owed the bek'hai nothing. They had made him into a hybrid freak and then disregarded him for his advancements. They had used him and then cast him aside.
The humans were a different story. If they made it onto the ship, they would need help to control it. They would need help to understand it and to make it function. They would come to depend on him, and that was something that he could use. Not only to get revenge on Gr'el but to strike back at the Domo'dahm and turn the course of his misfortune.