by Ailx Nichols
Twenty-Four
Iyatt, Rhori and Lippin hadn’t been idle over the last hour.
Rhori’s gun and the stolen night vision goggles had allowed them to sedate the guards patrolling the house. Some didn’t realize they were being attacked until a tranquilizer dart had pricked them. Others had resisted. But they were no match for either Rhori or Iyatt.
The two snipers on the roof that Timm had warned them about had been the first order of business. Dealing with them should’ve been Timm’s job. But in his absence, it had fallen to Iyatt.
He’d climbed up a tall tree and shot the snipers using Rhori’s gun.
When all the guards had been sedated, the commando climbed the northern wall to the third-floor window. Timm’s intel had turned out good. It had no bars.
Roped to a ledge above and hanging precariously while Rhori and Iyatt propped him, Lippin managed to unlock the window from outside.
Once inside, they progressed through the vast house with Iyatt swiftly knocking out two more guards who tried to block their way. Just as swiftly, Lippin unlocked the door to the staircase leading to the second floor and then to the first.
How typical of Ultek to want to control his own family’s freedom of movement!
That explained why they hadn’t run into any of his three sons. The children were probably cooped up in their rooms for the night.
On the second floor while Iyatt put a guard out cold and Rhori checked that the rest of the floor was clear, Lippin pulled his commlet out and listened.
He rushed to the other two men. “You have to hear this!”
Lippin handed a little padded peg to Iyatt. “Fix it to your ear. Rhori and I will listen directly.”
“What is this?” Iyatt asked.
“My latest invention.” Lippin gave him a proud smile. “I call it ‘earhook’.”
Iyatt attached the object to his ear and shut his eyes to make sense of the sounds that came from it.
What seemed to be happening in the basement shook Iyatt to the core.
Dame Ultek was hurling insults at her husband—all the hate, all the disgust she had for him. Among various noises and nonstop wheezing, other women proffered torrents of abuse punctuated by thumps. It sounded like they were beating the living daylights out of someone. Ultek? One of his minions?
Rhori covered his mouth. “I can’t believe my ears. They broke free! They’re making the scumbag pay.”
Hope and joy flooded Iyatt heart, but he tried to keep a cool head.
“Voqras is hearing what we’re hearing now, right?” Iyatt asked Lippin.
“Yes.”
Iyatt turned to Rhori. “We’d better hurry.”
When they reached the first floor, a small explosion rocked the foyer beneath them. A massive object—likely the front door—smashed onto the hard floor. Several pairs of heavy boots clanked against stone in a steady rhythm. It had to be a cyborg squad descending the steps to the basement. They stopped at the door.
Iyatt’s first impulse was to run down after them.
Rhori grabbed his arm. “Wait!”
“Let go of me,” Iyatt snarled. “What if they kill everyone in the basement?”
“That might be the plan,” Lippin said. “But those cyborgs—I’m assuming it’s Voqras’s men—were sent here to clean up Ultek’s mess. Not to make more of it. They’ll be thorough. They’ll take their time.”
Rhori gave Iyatt’s shoulder a squeeze. “We’re outnumbered, Iyatt. By hive cyborgs, armed to the teeth! We must be smart about this if Haysi’s to walk out of there alive.”
Lippin pressed his index finger to his lips. “Shut up and listen!”
“Bring Dame Ultek here, and whatever keys you’ll find,” someone said below in a deep, commanding voice. “Everyone else, including Chief Ultek—and I don’t care if he’s dead or alive—stays inside.”
Iyatt had heard that voice before…
“Yes, sir!” other men yelled.
The basement door creaked open.
I know!
It was Voqras himself.
“Dame Ultek,” Voqras said when she was dragged out, screaming and kicking. “Yvory, please listen to me.”
“Sutor? What are you doing here?”
“We’re going to burn your house to the ground,” he said. “The official story will be ‘accidental fire, all occupants dead.’ ”
“Please don’t do this!” Dame Ultek cried out. “Sutor, you’ve had dinner in my house, you know my children! How can you—”
“You and your children will be safe. Consider it as my atonement for not having dealt with your husband earlier.”
“Me and my children…” Dame Ultek’s voice trailed off before rising again. “What about Corrie, my maid? What about the other women? All these innocent souls who suffered an unspeakable ordeal because you and Governor Boggond didn’t deal with my husband earlier?”
“I’ve persuaded the governor of Tastassi to offer you and your children asylum,” Voqras said. “I am willing to put in a word for your maid. But not for the others. I’m sorry.”
She gave a loud sob. “If you do that, you’re no better than Zorom. Will you be able to sleep at night?”
Voqras didn’t answer immediately.
When he spoke, his voice was cold. “Yvory, can you think of a good friend of Zorom’s, someone close enough that he would’ve given them sensitive files for safekeeping?”
“Yes.”
“We need his name.”
“I’ll give you the name if you free the women in the basement.”
“You’re not in a position to negotiate,” Voqras said dryly. “Those women are doomed. They can’t leave the planet with you. If they return to their families, there’ll talk. Rumors contradicting the official version of Zorom’s death will spread. With the Endorsement Vote so close, we simply cannot allow it.”
“Please, Sutor—” Dame Ultek began.
“I don’t have all night,” he cut her off. “Either you go upstairs now, grab your kids, money and jewelry and leave the house within ten minutes, or you stay here and die.”
“That’s an impossible choice!”
“All right then,” Voqras said, “you’ll die in your house tonight, listening to your children cry for help as they suffocate locked up in their rooms.”
Dame Ultek let out a heartrending howl.
“Or you can take this bunch of keys and save your boys,” Voqras said.
“Get Corrie out,” Dame Ultek hissed before rushing past Iyatt to the third-floor bedrooms.
Her maid scrambled up the stairs a few seconds later.
“After I leave with Dame Ultek and her children, you four will start a fire on every floor,” Voqras said. “Then you can exit the house.”
“Copy that, sir!”
Below, women banged on the door, shouting insults.
Voqras’s voice remained as impassive as before. “You two will set the basement on fire, to speed things up.”
“Shall we make sure Chief Ultek is dead first?” a cyborg asked. “Maybe shoot the women, too, so they suffer less?”
“Which facility were you trained at?” There was a note of impatience in Voqras’s voice. “Didn’t they teach you not to waste ammunition?”
Iyatt shuddered at the cyborg’s utter lack of empathy.
“They did, sir!” the cyborg barked.
“Besides,” Voqras said more calmly, “if Judge Mahabmet orders an investigation, things will look more natural this way. More accidental.”
“That’s an excellent point, sir!”
“Once the basement is in flames, lock the door and wait outside, right here, until the screaming dies down.” Voqras paused before adding. “I’m not taking any risks.”
Cold sweat beaded Iyatt’s forehead at those words.
“Captain, what if the fire upstairs spreads too fast... before the last of them dies in the basement?” the first mercenary asked.
“Your name?” Voqras’s voice was laced w
ith ire. “Are you new?”
“Private Misooz, sir, signed up three months ago.”
“Clearly, your training was a waste of time, Misooz.” Voqras said. “Your armor can withstand regular fire. The filters in your helmet will protect you from fumes for several hours.”
“Understood, sir!”
Rhori stepped closer to Iyatt. “Do you think their fancy sensors might detect our heat signatures just above them?”
“They have no reason to suspect there are intruders in the house and to point their thermal lenses this way,” Iyatt said.
Lippin touched a fingertip to the wall. “If we avoid leaning on it, I doubt they’ll see our body heat through such a thick barrier.”
Iyatt made up his mind. “We wait until there are only two cyborgs left in the house, and then we storm the basement.”
“Two of you against two hive cyborgs?” Lippin grimaced as if in pain. “They’ll slay you.”
“Not so fast—I still have darts!” Rhori touched his gun.
“It won’t work on their armor,” Iyatt said. “You can’t puncture it with a dart.”
Rhori’s bunched his eyebrows. “And if I stab him in the neck, where the armor is thinner?”
“You can always try…” Iyatt released a ragged breath as the hopelessness of the situation hit him with a stark, undiluted clarity. “In any case, you and I must attack at the same time, hopefully taking them by surprise.”
“What do I do?” Lippin asked.
“You’re crap at fighting—” Rhori began.
“Get out of here while you can,” Iyatt said.
That way there might be one survivor.
“For your parents’ sake, for Maggi’s sake, please?” Rhori nudged his friend toward the steps. “Go now, while they’re still in front of the basement.”
Lippin shook his head. “I’m not leaving you.”
His tone and posture conveyed there was no point trying to talk sense into him.
The next few minutes seemed to last a lifetime. Finally, Dame Ultek, her maid, and her children descended the staircase. Voqras led them from the house. Four of his men headed to various rooms to light fires.
Iyatt tightened his grip on his blaster, listening.
“Sweet Mother of All, forgive me! I’m just following orders,” Misooz said as a quick prayer before following the other cyborg into the basement.
The four who’d been tasked with setting the house aflame returned to the front door and ran out.
Next, the basement door opened again. Misooz and his partner stepped out, locking the door behind them.
Iyatt turned to Rhori, mouthing, “Now.”
Rhori gestured he was going for the man on the right, leaving the one on the left to Iyatt, and barreled downstairs.
Iyatt followed, hot on his heels.
He stopped on the landing, with just one set of steps between him and the cyborgs and trained his weapon on the cyborg to the left of the door.
Rhori pounced at the one to the right, ramming a huge fist into his jaw. If the man had been an organic, his neck would’ve snapped from the force of that blow.
But not this cyborg. He staggered backward, hitting the wall.
As Rhori swung to deal a second blow, the bionic grabbed his arm and twisted it. Bone cracked. Suddenly Rhori’s right arm hung loosely at his side and his knife dropped to the ground. The cyborg lifted Rhori as if he weighed no more than a feather and flung him against the opposite wall.
Rhori crashed into it and slumped into an inert heap.
At the same time, Iyatt had been shooting plasma at the other cyborg for a good half minute.
The bionic’s chest plate began to smolder where the plasma was hitting him. Ignoring it, he charged forward. Iyatt kept shooting, his arm steady, and his blaster trained on the same spot. The cyborg skipped three steps at a time, and when he was within arm’s reach, he thrust out a huge gloved hand to pry the weapon from Iyatt’s grip.
“Die already!” Iyatt bellowed, losing his calm.
Suddenly, as if he were heeding Iyatt’s command, the bionic swayed and tumbled backward, his melted armor revealing a charred hole in his chest.
The second cyborg unholstered his blaster and aimed it at Iyatt.
Iyatt’s own blaster was now overheated from the shooting. He tossed it aside. His long years of Rateh training spurring him into action, he ran down to gain forward momentum and leaped, shifting his body into a horizontal position. He hit the cyborg in midair with a sidekick, knocking the blaster from his hand. The cyborg cried out in surprise.
Landing on his feet, Iyatt tried to gauge if he’d inflicted any damage to his opponent, but there seemed to be none. Cushioned by his armor and protected by thick vambraces, the cyborg hadn’t suffered the full force of Iyatt’s flying kick.
He grunted a curse and dashed toward Iyatt, charging him with a massive fist. The samurai sidestepped. Turning, the cyborg launched more blows, but his fists met only air. Iyatt ducked and dodged, hoping to exhaust the cyborg.
Problem was, the bastard didn’t seem to tire.
Hang in there, Iyatt said to Haysi in his head. Hang in there, my love!
He glanced at the basement door. Tendrils of smoke slithered through the thin gap under it.
Shit, shit shit!
Amid all the sidesteps and missed punches, the cyborg charged, opening his fist at the last moment. Claw-like blades sprang from his gauntlet fingertips, and he slashed Iyatt’s right upper arm.
Sharp pain zinged through his head.
Stifling a groan, Iyatt chambered his leg and kicked the cyborg in the shin, making him stagger. The two stumbled apart for a brief moment and then drove back at each other with punches and kicks.
Despite the cyborg’s armor and enhanced strength, Iyatt was faster, more precise, and a much better a fighter. Still, his opponent’s sheer size allowed him to take Iyatt’s meanest kicks and keep at it. The cyborg’s reinforced fingers wrapped around Iyatt’s throat. They were too strong, too tight, impossible to dislodge.
The floor fell away.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lippin launch himself at the cyborg and then fly across the landing with one sideways push.
Iyatt’s vision darkened. Thrashing, he fought for air. His head spun. Slowly, consciousness began to slip away.
Through the haze in his head, he heard a thud.
The iron fingers released him. Landing on his feet, Iyatt coughed, drawing in painful breaths. He opened his eyes.
The cyborg who’d been strangling him a moment ago was now fighting someone. Someone much bigger than Lippin. Someone wearing the exact same kind of “winged demon” armor.
The man’s stature and physical strength left no doubt he was a cyborg himself. Timm? Had the smuggler managed to break out of the high-security cell and steal a hive cyborg’s uniform? That was improbable. Besides, the slant of the bionic’s shoulders, the length of his neck and a few other small differences told Iyatt it was someone else.
Could it be… Derren?
Yes! Iyatt recalled the man’s body shape. There was no doubt. This cyborg was Unie’s brother.
So, he’d come to Hente.
Somehow, he’d made it to Ultek’s house when he was most needed. And now, he was trading blows with one of his brothers-in-arms ostensibly to save Iyatt.
With the smoke downstairs thickening, Iyatt didn’t stick around to see who’d win the fight.
Twenty-Five
His heart pounding in his chest, Iyatt unbolted the scalding basement door and pulled it open.
Thick smoke billowed out at him. It was everywhere in the basement, hovering just a foot or two above the floor. Iyatt couldn’t see much through it.
Someone coughed in the distance to his left.
Thank the Goddess, at least one survivor!
Please, let it be Haysi!
The moment he’d seen the smoke under the door, Iyatt had forbidden himself to imagine what could be going on behind it. H
e’d refused to let his brain estimate how long Haysi would last in there before she succumbed to the fire or the smoke. Too many unknowns. Too many factors that could come into play.
But now, there were no “factors” to cling onto, no “unknowns” to find solace in. There was no more room for hope.
He was about to discover if Haysi had made it.
Iyatt put on his night vision goggles. Forcing his heart to slow down, he held his breath and stepped into the cloud of smoke. Any Ra-human could survive at least five minutes without breathing. Rateh practitioners could go twice as long.
As he progressed through the basement, he realized it was shaped like a scythe. At one end, flames crackled and danced, feeding on what remained of pallets. The women must’ve managed to push them there to keep the fire at bay and to gain a few precious minutes.
Probably Haysi’s idea, Iyatt found himself thinking.
My girl’s smart like that.
He took a few more steps. Where the basement forked, seven lifeless bodies were scattered on the floor. A woman in a maid’s dress, and six men. Chief Ultek, his butler, his cook and three guards.
Iyatt continued in the direction the coughing had come from until he reached a cage-like structure with its door open.
Inside, a dozen or so women were huddled together by the air vents. Most were slumped against the wall. Two lay sprawled on the floor, unconscious.
One of the seated women heaved herself to her feet and peered at him. “Is that you?”
Her face was black with soot and her voice was a rusty whisper, but there could be no doubt. The woman was his Haysi.
Not only was she alive, but she was conscious and well enough to recognize him even with a hooded mask on.
Thank you, Mother of All!
Without wasting another second, he scooped her up and ran to the door. He carried her across the basement, up the steps, and through the gaping hole where the front door once stood.
When he set her down outside, she pointed to the house. “The others…” She coughed. “Must get the others!”
Even sitting by the vents, away from the burning pallets, she must’ve inhaled a lot of smoke.
“I’ll go back and get them out,” he said. “Can you walk?”