After that, my troops are quiet.
Our last target has been traced to an apartment complex in what looks like a rundown part of town. She’s different from the others we’ve picked up if only because it wasn’t her own stupidity that put her on our radar screen: someone somewhere tipped off an agency our computer experts are monitoring. We land in a small park across the street. What little grass there is crumbles under our feet as we march through the night.
“Eyes open,” I mutter as we make our way to the complex. “Lots of people crammed in tight living conditions. We can expect resistance.”
The troops grunt behind me. There are a few humans loitering around the parking lot. When they see us, they freeze. It takes them a few seconds to understand who we are. What we are. Then they run. I move my finger to the trigger of my blaster, expecting them to reappear with weapons or more people. To try to keep us from moving in closer to their homes. But they don’t return.
Typical. Humans hide themselves away instead of facing their threats head-on.
The apartment building is made up of outdoor hallways, the front door to each unit opening to the open air. We find the one we’re looking for on the first floor. The door goes down with one kick. My men flood in. Out of the corner of my eye I see blinds part in the window next door, but when I turn my head to investigate, they snap closed again.
No one comes out.
There are no adults inside, only the girl we’re after. She springs from the couch, long, black hair falling over her face. Dark eyes wide with fear.
“What do you want?” she screams. “Who . . .” But she doesn’t finish. She must understand at that point.
I glance at the photo and stats on my tablet. Perfect match. This was easy enough.
“Take her,” I say.
My men step forward.
That’s when things start to move.
First it’s just the shit strewn about the apartment. Soda cans, books, a few dirty dishes. They start to float above the stained carpet. The girl throws her arms out to her sides. Then there’s a sudden bass sound, followed by a wave of invisible force. I’m still in the doorway, and the wave hits me like a brick wall, sending me flying backwards onto the concrete outside. The front window of the apartment bursts out, glass landing all around me. My men inside take the brunt of the attack. Several appear to have broken noses. The shabby coffee table and the trash and junk that had been floating around are now all piled up against the walls.
I pick myself up off the ground.
Standing alone with nothing else around her, the girl looks more helpless than before. Long, black hair floats around her head like she’s been electrified. Slowly, it starts to fall down. Tears fill her eyes. She pushes her hands out again as my men get to their feet.
But this time nothing happens. No wave of telekinesis. Not even a breeze.
She looks frantic. Her eyes even wider now, mouth open in a silent scream.
“Looks like your power’s failing you,” one of my troops says with a grin.
She clenches her teeth and curls her hands into fists. The girl has fight, I’ll give her that. She’s worthier of our time than most humans.
“John Smith is going to hunt you down,” she screams. “I’ve seen him in my head. There are a bunch of us. Hundreds. You’ll never get away with this, you fucking monsters!”
I recognize the name she clings to. I know his face—the faces of all the Garde who have challenged us now that they too have come out of the shadows. But she places her faith in false hope.
“John Smith can’t save you.” I step into the apartment and motion to my squad members. “I told you to take her.”
She bites and claws at my men. Eventually she goes slack. An empty syringe breaks as it’s tossed aside.
On the way out, I see more eyes in the windows around us. Peeking out through parted curtains and slits in blinds. The other apartment doors stay locked. No one tries to stop us. Maybe it’s the thrill of the hunt or the high of the destruction we’ve wrought tonight, but knowing that all of these people think they’re safe behind doors makes my blood burn. There are explosive throwing disks on my belt, and for a moment I think of letting them loose. Toppling the entire complex.
But that’s not my mission. Our mayhem must be kept out of sight. At least until Beloved Leader decides that the humans are of no more use to him.
Praise his name!
Neither of our targets stirs on the flight back to the warship. A few of my men inspect flesh wounds they received during the girl’s attack.
“Damn human bitch,” one of them mutters. The new addition. “We should wake her up now and show her what pain means. Cut her up just enough to say it happened while we were trying to capture her.”
“Touch that girl and I’ll turn you to dust myself,” I say. “Beloved Leader wants these subjects alive. They’re his property. Would you mutilate something that belongs to him?”
The soldier is silent.
“Glory to Beloved Leader,” another says.
Again, the Skimmer is quiet.
The sun is still down when we get back to the warship. I’m sent up to the labs with our targets, carrying both humans over my shoulders. They’re light enough. Fragile.
There are several trueborn Mogadorians in the ward, huddled around various human specimens who’ve been secured tonight. Like our teenage boy from the Chicago suburb. He’s awake now. Gagged. Eyes big with fear as he’s poked and prodded by our doctors.
One of the trueborn turns to me as I enter. He wears a long, white lab coat. I’ve never seen him before, but that’s not surprising. I rarely mix with my trueborn superiors.
His eyes light up when he sees the humans bound up behind me. “A new delivery of specimens. How wonderful.”
He motions to a few empty metal tables. I place the targets on them.
“This girl definitely has telekinesis,” I tell him. “She put up a fight when we cornered her. You may want to keep her sedated.”
A grin crosses the trueborn’s face as he assesses the human.
“Perfect,” he says. “What is your name, soldier?”
“Vintaro Üshaba.”
He nods. “You’ve served Beloved Leader well, Vintaro. Your work will help us usher in a new age of Mogadorian Progress.”
Another trueborn steps up beside him.
“The ship is prepped and ready for the flight to West Virginia.”
“Wonderful,” he says, starting for the door. He points at the girl as he leaves. “And load her onto the ship. It sounds like she may be strong enough to survive Dr. Zakos’s procedures.”
CHAPTER NINE
I SLEEP SOUNDLY. SATISFIED.
I wake up hungry for more.
The vatborn barracks are in one of the warship’s lower levels, a giant room with a wall full of small sleeping units, just big enough for us to sit up in. They’re stacked one on top of the other, from the floor to the ceiling. Inside is a thin foam pad and a wadded-up spare uniform for a pillow. It’s all we need. I get only a few hours of sleep before an intercom near my head sounds a shrill buzz. Then a voice from the speaker orders me to report to the council room again.
I leap from my sleeping unit, whizzing past the seven below me, landing in a crouch. Then I’m moving through the ship as fast as I can, up the stairs to the higher decks where the trueborn eat, sleep and work.
How many targets will we get today?
My fingers twitch in anticipation.
Thank Beloved Leader for this glorious opportunity.
I’m the first to arrive in the council room, but the other two squad leaders from yesterday follow quickly. They’re as excited as I am to be seeing action.
“Did you bring in all your humans last night?” the vet with the missing teeth asks.
I nod.
“We lost one,” the other says, his dark lips grimacing. “A human was trying to fight us off and shot at everything that moved. Including our target.”
&nbs
p; “Idiot weaklings,” the squad leader with the gap-filled grin grunts.
“Had to punish a soldier for it. He’d been toying with the human, playing around. Taunting it. I asked him, ‘What would Beloved Leader think if he knew that you’d gotten his prey killed?’”
“What did he say?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I think I’ve still got some of his ash on my uniform. Ask him yourself.”
The other leader burst out in laughter at this, slapping us both on the back. I tense up, gritting my teeth. I probably would have punished my own squad too if they’d done something so stupid. But this is no laughing matter. We’re here to complete a mission, to follow his orders. Not to joke around. His squad’s failure makes us all look bad.
But I don’t get a chance to comment on that fact. The doors open, and our captain walks in. Immediately, we’re all at attention. This time the reconnaissance officer trails after him. Her head is tattooed in weblike patterns and shaved except for a long, black braid sprouting from the base of her skull.
“Dr. Zakos was thrilled with the work the three of you did last night,” the captain says. His hands are clasped behind his back. “You may not be aware, but the doctor answers to Beloved Leader himself. You’ve brought honor to your names and to this ship. Well done.”
The three of us grunt and nod.
“Today we have a . . . more interesting task for you,” the recon officer says.
She taps on a tablet in her hand, and a video plays on one of the screens lining the walls. Humans in front of some sort of waterfall. Talking to the camera. Pointing to a blue stone.
“This video was uploaded to the internet just a few minutes ago,” the officer continues. “It’s a message for the Loric, but broadcast for anyone in the world to see. It’s possible we’re the first Mogadorians to pick up on it.”
“These appear to be four more ‘human Garde,’” the captain says. “I’m sending all three of your squads to collect them. Assuming they’re still there. Your secondary directive is to investigate the blue stone on the video. Take a laser cutter. Bring back a sample. If this turns out to somehow be Loralite, Beloved Leader will no doubt be pleased. We’ll give you some lead time before we share our discovery with the other captains. I want this to be our victory.”
“This is a big opportunity,” the recon officer says. “Securing the humans and taking control of a possible Loralite deposit will bring glory to you and our ship.”
“As you may have guessed based on the context of the message, it’s possible the Loric or their allies will be there. You’re to exercise extreme caution.” One side of the captain’s lips curls up a little. “And brutality.”
This is better news than I could have expected. Still, something doesn’t sit well with me.
“Sir,” I say, taking a slight step forward. My eyes are on the ground.
“Speak freely, Vintaro,” he says.
“If it’s possible the true Loric Garde might be there, should we not . . .”
I trail off, unsure of how to continue. It’s not my place to question the judgment or commands of my superiors.
“You’re wondering why we don’t send half the fleet to stop them,” the captain finishes my thought.
I don’t respond. It doesn’t matter—he keeps talking.
“Our orders are to secure Chicago. As soon as you’re en route, I’ll put in a priority-one request that I be allowed to send a more substantial amount of troops to the location where this video was shot: Niagara Falls. However . . .” He pauses for a few seconds. “High command has been slow to respond to requests for the last twenty-four hours. As you know, Beloved Leader is very busy at this moment.”
Hail our Beloved Leader! Forever may he reign!
The captain crosses his arms over his chest. “Now, if you do happen to run across the Loric while on this mission and they try to interfere, it would of course be your duty to take them out. And doing so would bring glory that would follow you for the rest of your life.”
My vision goes red. I hardly comprehend the rest of what the officers say. All I can think of is facing the Garde. Of taking out their leader, John Smith. How his arrogant face might look as my hands grip his neck.
And before I know it, the captain and reconnaissance officer are gone.
In half an hour, we’ve assembled and briefed our squads, loaded our Skimmers, and are flying towards Niagara Falls. I assign one of my men to pilot the craft while I triple-check our weapons and supplies, going over possible scenarios in my head. Once we’ve obtained the humans, should we delay our return? Wait around for the Loric to show? How long? And what if we’re not the first Mogadorians there. It sounded as though anyone could have picked up on this broadcast. If other squads from other warships show up trying to claim our targets, or take credit for killing the Garde . . .
How far do we go to ensure that victory belongs to our warship?
Or to my squad, for that matter?
“Vintaro,” one of my men says. It’s the newest member. I stare back at him. His nose is bruised and smashed from last night’s run-in. He tentatively adds, “Sir.”
“Speak,” I say.
“We will make Beloved Leader proud,” he says. “We’ll bring honor to our warship, and the captain will know that it was Vintaro Üshaba who led us to victory.”
He hits his chest with his fist and grunts. I return the gesture. My heart drums under my knuckles. All my life, this is what I’ve wanted. What any Mogadorian wants. To excel, and speed our progress across planets and stars.
“Four targets,” I remind him, and the others. “You’ve seen their faces. Lock them down, then find the possible Loralite deposit. Put a hole in the head of anyone else who dares stand against us.”
“We’re just a few minutes away,” the pilot calls back. “We should— Shit.”
“What?” I ask.
“One of the other Skimmers just hit their afterburners.”
I watch as our allies shoot ahead. Trying to be the first ones there, I’m sure. To claim the humans.
“Catch them!” I bark, and I can feel our acceleration in my guts.
I open up a comm line, reporting back to the warship.
“This is Vintaro Üshaba. We have no visual on the targets yet, but we’re approaching the—”
“Look!” the pilot shouts, bringing up a visual on-screen.
The other Skimmer is hovering above the side of a roaring river. Troops jump to the ground. There are humanoid figures in front of them, but we’re too far away to make out what’s happening clearly. As we get closer, though, it’s obvious these humans are fighting back. The other squad members are firing at them.
“Bastards!” I slam my fist against the back of one of the seats in our ship. “They’ll kill our targets! Get us—”
There’s a flash of some kind of red energy across our ship’s windshield.
“What the—,” the pilot starts, but the sound of the explosion and our hull ripping apart drowns out the rest of his words.
CHAPTER TEN
I’M BLOWN BACKWARDS, INTO THE REAR OF THE ship. Everything is rushing air, fire and ash around me.
Our pilot’s dead. So is the soldier who was sitting in the copilot’s seat. It’s difficult to see what happened exactly, with the thick, black smoke filling the cabin; but it’s obvious they’re gone.
And that we’re falling.
I lunge forward and hit a few buttons, enacting some emergency protocols. For what it’s worth. The Skimmer rotates as it drops, but I manage to get us evened out enough so that when we hit the ground, crashing into a wooded area near the falls, we’re right-side up.
It’s only once we’ve stopped skidding and the smoke starts to clear that I can assess the damage.
Getting to my feet, I realize my left wrist is broken. A setback, but one I can overcome. I only need one hand to fire a blaster. I could kill without either arm if I needed to.
“Report,” I shout, the sound of the nearby waterf
alls nearly drowning out my voice.
“Sir,” someone says.
From the back of the Skimmer, the newbie emerges, coughing. There’s a cut on his forehead, but otherwise he looks fine.
“Is it just you?” I ask.
He nods.
I glance at the controls. Our communications systems are shot. Somewhere near us, I can hear blasters firing.
I gesture to the hole in the cockpit, and then we’re climbing out.
“What’s your name, soldier?” I ask my only remaining squad member.
“Drak Üshaba,” he says.
This takes me a bit off guard.
“We come from the same vat,” I say.
He nods, his eyes searching the trees around us as we get our bearings. A good soldier.
“But I think I was born quite a few broods after you,” he says.
Our Skimmer crashed not far from the falls. I spot two piles of ash beside metal railings set up to keep people from tumbling into the water. The two remaining Skimmers circle overhead, firing at targets I don’t immediately see. A few more of our troops from one of the other Skimmers are hunkered down behind large rocks, shooting from cover.
“Drak Üshaba,” I say, taking out my blaster with my good hand. “We have a mission to complete. Let’s make our vat, our warship—our Beloved Leader—proud.”
He grunts in reply. We rush into the fight.
I spot two targets: a blond-haired girl hiding in the trees a hundred yards away from us, and a stout, brown-haired kid trying his best not to fall off the rocks and into the water while waving his hands around. Possibly using Loric powers.
Drak sees them too.
“Take the girl,” I say, and he disappears into the trees. “Nonlethal shots. We’ll ride back in one of the other Skimmers. They’ll have room for us.”
I hustle to the side of the railing above the brown-haired kid and aim carefully. The humans are putting up a hell of a fight—much more than I’d expected. But this is far from over. We can still capture them. I can still achieve victory.
I fire. My aim is good. I hit the boy twice in his rear. Just enough to take him down without killing him. He falls, crying out. I think. The sound of the water is so loud.
[Lorien Legacies 06.3] The Lost Files: Hunt for the Garde Page 4