The Fifth Reich: Knight Squadron - Ambush: Book One

by J Palliser

"Understood." With a half-smile, Aiden nodded and motioned to his bound hands. "And thanks." He could see that his smile made the Lieutenant uncomfortable. He was pretty sure that the Khawarij had never been thanked by a prisoner before.

  "Move it." The group left the cell at a quick march with two troopers on either side of Aiden, the Lieutenant keeping pace behind them.

  As they walked, Aiden noted over his shoulder that the Lieutenant was studying him from behind with a troubled look on his face.

  ***

  "So this is the legendary Commander Hunt." Omar Samra circled the pilot, inspecting him as if he were an item up for sale. Although he had to look down at him, since he stood at least thirty centimeters taller than Aiden. "I'd forgotten that Luftwaffe fighter pilots tend to be on the small side. Why do you suppose that is, Hashir?"

  "I really couldn't say, sir." The two troopers stood near the door to Samra's office, watching. Hashir stood in front of them at attention.

  Samra continued walking around Aiden slowly, an arrogant smirk on his face. Raising the pilot's chin, he studied the bruises on his face. "You really are disappointing, Hunt. I expected someone larger than life. You hardly seem worth the bounty that the Empire has on your head. You have been rather lucky for a great many years. That luck is about to run out." He continued his circling, like a predator with his prey. "Tell me, Commander, how many confirmed kills do you have?" He brushed an imaginary bit of lint from the shoulder of Aiden's flight-suit.

  "At the moment, I believe it's three hundred and eighty-nine. But that's not counting the four of yours I got today, the Executioner and Lucifer, and twenty-two capital ships and transports of various sizes." Aiden looked Samra in the eyes and kept his expression neutral whenever the Khawarij Officer's orbit brought him within view.

  "Impressive. Though I believe Amir Farooq of the 69th had a few more."

  "Is that before or after you subtract the Khawarijs he vaped while with the Knights?" Aiden asked.

  The Khawarij Admiral stopped in front of him again, his smile replaced by a brief look of surprise. But it quickly became cold and ugly. "Oh, very good, Commander. You're proud of your kills, aren't you?

  "Actually, I hate killing. But if the only way to free this galaxy from the remains of Muhammad's evil is for me to keep vaping Khawarij pilots, then that's what I'll do. And I'm obviously good at it since I've survived all these years."

  "A pity so many of your fellow pilots can't say the same," Samra said with a note of delight.

  Aiden felt an invisible hand close around his heart as guilt over all of the pilots who had died under his command overwhelmed him. But he knew that he could not let it show on his face. Samra would take that weakness and exploit it. "I may have lost a few pilots, but they at least died for a cause that they believed in, not blindly following the Prophet on some quixotic crusade for control over the galaxy."

  "A noble sentiment, Commander, but you've forgotten one thing..." Samra turned and picked up a forty centimeter stone carving that sat on his desk. He shifted it in his hand, and it suddenly became a weapon. "You have forgotten that that same Khawarij Empire owns you now."

  The brutal blows to Aiden's forehead and stomach came completely without warning. Then, before he could do anything more than double over, Samra swung the carving high over his head and brought it down across the back of Aiden's neck.

  As he headed for the floor, Samra swung the carving up towards Aiden's face. With the first impact, blood from his mouth and nose spattered all over Samra's uniform, the deck, and the armor of the closest trooper. The second one opened a deep gash over his already bruised right eye.

  "And now you will be made to pay for your crimes against us. You will wish that you had not survived." Samra's face was red with rage, and spit flecked the corners of his mouth. He raised the carving to strike again, but his hand was stayed and held in midair.

  "How dare you? Remove your fuckin' hands from me!" He turned and seemed to see Hashir for the first time. The Lieutenant held his Admiral's arm by the wrist above his head. "I'll have you executed for this!"

  "That may be, sir. But remember that Prefect Tanweer is expecting the prisoner planet-side tomorrow. If you kill him, the Prefect may be... unhappy."

  A look of alarm crossed Samra's features. "Yes... yes, of course." He backed away from the bloodied heap in the middle of the floor and began to regain his composure. He glanced briefly at Aiden, who lay convulsing on the deck. He set the bloodstained carving back down on his desk and straightened his jacket and was once again the perfect picture of a composed officer. Except for his blood-covered uniform. "The Prefect would be highly displeased. We can't have that, can we? Take care of it, Hashir. And have my aide send someone in here to tidy up a bit."

  "Yes, sir." Hashir turned and pointed at Aiden. "All right, men, let's get him back to the brig." The two troopers grabbed Aiden by his arms and legs and carried him from the office.

  9

  VIII

  By the time the group reached the cell, Aiden's convulsions had ceased, but there was still blood still pouring from his mouth and nose.

  "Put him on the bunk and take the binders off of him."

  Hashir watched as his men stripped the binders and dropped Aiden onto the bunk. Hashir stepped in to stop them. "No, lay him on his side so if he vomits he won't choke on it."

  One of the troopers stood to face Hashir as the other one flipped Aiden rather roughly onto his right side. "I don't get it, sir. What are you so worried about him for? They're going do a lot worse than this to him once he's planet-side."

  "Maybe so. But if he dies here, or looks like this when he gets there, Tanweer is going to be mad as a Necro-Lord. And who do you suppose will get the blame for it? Not Samra, that's for sure. Do you want to take his place?" He pointed at the bleeding and moaning figure on the bunk.

  "Yeah. I'm beginning to see what you mean, sir."

  "I thought you would. Go get some blankets, a couple of basins, and a bucket of ice and bring it back here. Now!"

  "Yes sir."

  "Trooper, you go to my quarters and go into the locker at the foot of my bunk. There are three bottles of Loraca in there. Bring me the two with the blue label. Under the bunk you'll find a med kit. Bring that as well. Go to the medical bay and see if you can get some bandages out of the med tech."

  "Yes sir." The second trooper disappeared and the door closed behind him.

  Hashir stripped off his uniform jacket and cap, then knelt by the bunk. His rugged face and close-cropped hair were reflected in the shiny metallic surface of the wall. He wore a look that was a mixture of anger and disgust, mostly at what Samra had done. And somewhat at himself for not stopping his tantrum sooner.

  He noted that Aiden had finally stopped convulsing, although blood was still flowing freely from him. Hashir bent down and put the palm of his left hand on Aiden's forehead, then gently opened the pilot's left eye with his thumb. He did the same with the swollen right eye, careful to avoid the long gash, and was relieved to find that they both dilated properly, although the right one was completely bloodshot. Aiden moaned with pain, coughed and spat up some blood, then drew in a gurgling breath.

  It was a long fifteen minutes before the two troopers clattered through the door with the items they'd gone after, and Hashir checked to see if they'd gotten everything. "All right. Now, you two get back out into the corridor and stand guard. I'll handle this. If I need you, I'll call."

  "Yes sir!" They hurried out of the cell, anxious to escape.

  Hashir turned his attention back to the bunk. "Okay, let's get a good look at the damage." He poked Aiden in the shoulder, then shook him gently. "Hunt? Hunt!"

  The only response was another moan. Hashir stood, picked up one of the plastic basins, and headed for the small sink, shaking his head as he went. He filled the container with warm water, then returned to the bunk and went to work.

  First, he removed Aiden's heavy flight boots. He swore when a small blade clattered to t
he deck. "Got everything the first time, huh? I'm gettin' old." He picked up the small blade and stuffed into the pouch on his belt.

  Shaking his head again, Hashir eased the pilot's bloodied flight-suit and uniform off, leaving Aiden in just his undershirt and shorts. Rolling him onto his back, he placed one of the blankets under the man's head and shoulders. Very carefully he ran his hands over the pilot's rib cage and abdomen, pressing and releasing in different spots.

  Aiden cried out in pain and opened his eyes, trying to focus on the man bending over him. "Oww! It hurts. I... I'm gonna be sick." He rolled to his side, trying to sit up, and Hashir helped him, holding another basin up just in time. When he was done, Aiden flopped back onto the bed. The vomit was blood red.

  Hashir rolled his eyes. "I thought so. Damn it, this was uncalled for! Slapping him around would have been enough," he rasped under his breath.

  He dipped one of the cloths in the warm water, and wiped Aiden's face gently, removing some of the blood. Then he reached for the first Loraca bottle and raised the pilot up into a semi-sitting position.

  "Drink this." He put the bottle to Aiden's lips and poured him a mouth full. Aiden obediently swallowed and Hashir repeated the action several times before he began to protest.

  "Mmph." He coughed and opened his eyes, trying again to focus. He pushed the bottle away.

  "It's Loraca. Have some more."

  "Argh! I think I'm gonna... throw up... again." And he did.

  "I'll just keep pouring it in you until you can keep it down, or you quit vomiting blood. Whichever comes first."

  "O... Okay... Sure, H-Hanson."

  "I'm not Hanson."

  "Oh. S-sorry." Aiden looked dazedly at the older man. "I... I thought you were a f-friend of mine. Argh!" He doubled over, wrapping his arms around his belly and stayed that way, grunting with every breath. Finally, after several minutes, he straightened a little. "It... it's Hashir, isn't it?"

  The older man started in surprise, then met Aiden's unsteady gaze. "Yes. Evidently your memory still works." He held the bottle up. "Here, drink some more of this. As much of it as you can get down."

  "All right. But it'd be a lot easier if it were whiskey." Aiden took the bottle in one shaky hand and put it to his lips. He managed to down six or seven swallows, then stopped. Taking another shuddering breath, he turned the bottle up again and took another gulp. He clamped his free hand over his mouth, his good eye nearly bulging out of his head as he tried not to gag.

  "Can you keep it down?"

  He nodded slowly, not daring to remove his hand from his mouth.

  "Can you keep it down?" Hashir asked more forcefully.

  "If I don't... think about it... too much." He was very pale and was beginning to shake uncontrollably. Hashir wasn't surprised that he was going into shock. The pain in his stomach combined with the blood he was throwing up were clear signs that he was suffering from internal bleeding and possibly other injuries as well.

  "Good. Now lie back and try to relax." He helped him ease back on the bunk, and placed a blanket over him. He raised his feet up on the end of the bed, using the bed frame as a support. "You'll have to keep warm. I'm sure that you know the signs of shock as well as I do. But the antibiotics should start to take care of your internal bleeding soon."

  Taking a plastic bag out of the med kit, Hashir filled it with ice. "Here, hold this against your lip." Hashir handed him the ice pack, and he did as he was told.

  Aiden gritted his teeth against the cold sensation, but after a moment, it seemed to help ease the pain and some of the swelling of his split lip. His eyes closed as if he had fallen asleep, but he still managed to ask a question. "Why are you helping me?"

  "Because if we take you planet-side in this shape, my men and I will get the blame. I don't want that."

  "Oh." He touched his belly tentatively and winced. "Is that the only reason?"

  "Yes. What else would it be?"

  "You... you just seem pretty good at this. Were you a doctor?"

  Hashir's expression hardened. "Never mind what I was, flyboy. I'm doing this strictly to keep my own ass out of trouble. Now shut up and lie still; I'm going to take care of that eye." He took the bottle and poured some of the antibiotics into the bandages, soaking several of them. Aiden let Hashir work on him. By the time he'd finished, the antibiotics had started to ease some of the pain in his belly.

  "How're you doing?"

  Aiden tried to laugh, but it turned out to be a disturbing wheezing noise. "Better, I think. I'll be in good shape when they finally get around to executing me."

  "Good. Now, one last thing..." He turned to the side reaching into the med kit.

  "What?"

  "This." He lifted Aiden's arm and held it outstretched between his own left arm and his body. He managed to slip a needle into a vein despite Aiden's feeble protests.

  "Hey. No..." He tried to struggle, but the drug hit him like a fighter wreck. "Wait..." he offered weakly.

  "Take it easy. It's just something to ease the pain and let you get some rest."

  "H-Hashir?" His voice became thick as the drug quickly overwhelmed him.

  "What is it this time?"

  "Th-thank you."

  "Quit thanking me, Hunt. This just postpones the inevitable."

  "Thanks... anyway..." His words slurred and in the next breath he had lost consciousness. His body relaxed and Hashir lay his outstretched arm across his chest.

  "That's it. You just sleep and get well. Soon Tanweer will have you, and then you won't be my problem any longer."

  10

  IX

  When Ajax Tiara walked into a java-cafe, it always produced the same result. Most of the human males, and a fair number of the non-human ones, turned their attention to watching her as she passed by. Not too obviously, of course, but they looked just the same. It produced a kind of a ripple effect when viewed from a distance.

  It was also totally understandable. Looking beyond her obvious beauty, there were a couple of other features that came into focus; features which made all but the most foolhardy of men think twice about approaching her for anything more than polite conversation.

  First there was the fact that at the collar of her drab gray uniform, she wore the rank and insignia of a Major in the Waffen-SS, a branch of the Reich Defense Ministry known for being extremely adept at taking care of themselves. Secondly, there was the MOD4 pulse pistol she wore low and tied down at her right hip, which no doubt helped the former assessment.

  Today was no different. Heads turned as she made her way through the crowd toward the table occupied by Ares, Otto, and Mira.

  At her approach, Otto stood and came to attention, holding a crisp salute with only a slight smile on his face. She returned the salute, and gave Ares an equally military salute. He looked at both of them standing at attention. "At ease, people. It's too early in the morning for all this saluting." The Major smiled, taking a seat across from Ares and the Captain.

  Ares returned her smile. "We just ordered a late breakfast. Interested?"

  "Sure." She nodded to the serving droid hovering nearby and it waddled over. "I'll have a honey roll and a hot java." The order noted, the droid trundled off. Ajax turned her attention back to the others. "You guys heading out soon?"

  "In a few days." Ares shook his head. "But escorting diplomats and convoys back and forth is not my idea of fun."

  "Ares," Mira smiled sweetly, "your beloved Commander, if he were here, would tell you that you didn't join the Knights to have fun."

  "He probably would," Otto answered with a laugh.