Running short on time, Ethan’s mind raced with plans of action. He needed to find a way to get Mac and his sister on board while keeping their attackers at bay. Short of Elora and Mac taking them all out, he couldn’t conceive of anything that would work. And then it hit him. He knew exactly what needed to be done.
Grinning, Ethan put the freighter into a slow turn. His timing would have to be just right.
* * *
Squatting low against the silo hatchway, Elora looked towards Mac and gave him a signaling nod. He returned the gesture and readied himself, giving her a three count before directing his rifle around the hatchway and firing off a blind spread up the corridor. Returning fire spattered against the wall next to his position and Elora made her move. Ducking out around the hatchway, her rifle shouldered, she picked out the first target to come into her scope and fired. The mech went down in a shower of sparks with a good portion of it’s head blown away. She continued the quick pan, hoping to catch another target, but only caught sight of the attacking figures ducking back behind the regular bulkheads that lined the corridor. Backing away, she nodded to Mac, holding up a finger to signify her kill.
They had used the distraction technique, along with a few others, a couple of times so far, with varying success. Mac had downed a pair of mechs. That had been her third. A decent tally, considering neither of them were soldiers, though they had yet to take out one of the troopers.
They
were the ones directing the assault, using the mechs as decoys to continue their advance. And they were on to her tactics. They had advanced to within fifteen meters now, Elora knowing a full frontal charge was inevitable at this point. It would come soon. She was out of time.
Her gaze shifted to Mac again, expecting to see his knowing stare in return, but instead he was looking away from the fight, towards the center of the silo. Her eyes tracked his line of sight around and she was shocked to see their heavy freighter, the one Mac meant to fly them free of this place on, hovering off the deck. Her surprise changed to horror as the ship tipped to one side and began to glide towards them, crashing into the silo wall only a short distance away. The shriek of grinding metal made her eyes water and she stared up towards the cockpit viewport, unable to make out who was attempting to pilot the ship, though she had a sinking feeling of who it might be.
As the freighter backed off of the silo wall and began to right itself Elora was forced to return her attention to the attacking squad, tracing a zig zagging line of fire up the corridor to sent the advancing party back behind cover. With only ten meters separating them now, the situation was dire. They were close enough to throw any charges they might have, or simply send the mechs charging forward to overwhelm them. She and Mac alone wouldn’t be able to stop them. Desperately, she glanced back over her shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of her brother in the freighter’s viewport. To be able to warn him away. To leave them and get free of what was coming.
To her surprise, the freighter had turned fully about, the ship’s stern pointed directly at them. Her confusion evaporated as the exhaust ports began to flare, a blinding maelstrom of ionic power buildup, accompanied by the thunderous sound of the engines preparing to surge. Turning to Mac, his eyes as wide as she imagined her own were, she knew they were both expecting the same thing. As he turned to run in the opposite direction, she did the same, moving as quickly as she could along the silo wall, diving as she heard the loud pop of the ion engine blast. Landing hard on the deck, the shock wave sending her sliding another meter along the ground, she rolled over to see flames and smoke pouring out from inside complex corridor. The freighter still hovered in place, the controlled engine flare doing little to actually propel the vessel, though it did produce a massive thrust of superheated backwash.
Uninterested in whether or not any of their pursuers had survived the blast, Elora scrambled to her feet and made a run for the still lowered boarding ramp, Mac meeting her there and boosting her up to the hovering platform. In turn she helped him climb aboard and then entered the tightly packed hold, sealing the ramp behind them. Feeling the engines surge, Elora braced herself against the hull framing, the inertia of the ship accelerating keeping her pinned in place for a few moments. Once she had regained her footing she joined Mac in cutting a path through the multitude of passengers towards the entry portal to the flight deck.
Once aboard, she was not at all surprised to find her brother at the controls, Tarik in the seat next to him. Ethan looked back over her shoulder and Mac and herself, the boyish grin she had knew so well spread across his face.
“Oh, hey, you guys,” he said, casually, returning his attention to the controls and the open sky view ahead of them. “It looked like you could use a hand. Welcome aboard.”
Chapter 37
RYDEL
Shu'ma had recovered from Jarred's miraculous energy discharge, the charred and useless remains of his body armor removed and lying at his feet. Appearing rightly wary for the experience, he stood at the ready with the half of spear he had managed to hold on to while being hurled across the arena.
Jarred held the other half, still able to feel it’s barb, which had broken off in his shoulder. Little more than a nuisance at this point, he left it and set off towards Shu’ma at a jog, the warrior doing the same. By the time they met, both had come to a full sprint. Shu’ma leapt, with his section of spear held high to drive down into him. Jarred dropped to his knees and slid across the sand beneath the warrior, striking out with his own spear half to take out his legs, causing Shu’ma to collapse to the ground with an angry growl.
Jarred was back to his feet and charging before Shu’ma could fully rise, unleashing a flurry of slashes at him with the bladed end of his spear. Though the warrior was able to deflect the attacks, Jarred’s quick assault put him on an immediate backward defensive. He felt rejuvenated, a whirlwind of energy surging through him that erased the pain and fatigue he had felt only moments earlier, allowing him to press forward with his attack. And he was holding nothing back. Shu’ma was a skilled opponent and it would take everything Jarred could give to finish him. If he let up, even for an instant, the warrior would recover and he might not be able to regain the advantage. There was no telling when his inexplicable energy rush would subside. He had to finish this now, while he still could.
Launching into a series of almost erratic slashing attacks, he beat Shu’ma back, searching for openings in his defenses. At the pace he was going, it didn’t take long. Sweeping high then low, Jarred’s blade cut into Shu’ma’s thigh, receiving a pained hiss from the warrior in return. A follow up front kick cut the angry Rai Chi curse short and sent him toppling over. Before he hit the ground, Jarred was in the air and coming down for a finishing blow that would have skewered the warrior, had he not extended his fall into a reverse roll. Though the tactic saved him from being impaled, he was not quick enough to avoid Jarred’s follow up strike from one knee, receiving a second gash across his exposed abdomen.
Shu’ma growled again in pain, but managed to dig his feet in and come forward with an overhand slash of his own. Jarred rose up inside the attack and took hold of the warrior’s arm, turning to throw an elbow back into his face before swatting the weapon from his extended hand. He spun around again quickly and gripped the stunned warrior by the throat, raising his spear for a final kill strike.
A moment passed, Jarred ensuring Shu’ma had met his gaze before ending his life. He tensed to drive the fatal blow, but his arm did not fall. Instead, he felt a strange chill come over him, his opponent’s scowl curling up into a ravenous, teeth bearing grin. It was then that he realized his error. He would have chastised himself for hesitating, had his focus not been drawn to the more urgent issue of the blade that had been thrust deeply into his stomach, the hidden weapon appearing to have come from the gauntlet on Shu’ma’s forearm. He couldn’t help but consider the irony of it’s similarity to his own pair of plasma gauntlets and the fact that he should have seen it coming. Maybe he was slipping.
Jarred felt his legs weaken as Shu’ma twisted the blade in his stomach and then pulled it out sharply, the motion causing him to fall to his knees. The pain was excruciating, even with the odd buffering sensation his power surge had left him with, but the dulling effect at least allowed him to keep his focus through the agony. He kept it squarely on the warrior standing over him.
Staring back down at him, Shu’ma spoke something Jarred, of course, couldn’t understand, but took to be a sort of declaration of his impending victory. And it would come to pass if Jarred didn’t act. As the warrior raised his bladed gauntlet to strike, he did just that, swinging the spear end he still held in his grip to meet it, or more accurately, remove it.
Shu’ma didn’t so much cry out, but grunted, sounding more surprised than pained, as he stared at the bleeding stump where his hand used to be. To his credit, he didn’t reel away to cradle his limb, as most would, but instead lunged forward with a backhand strike that sent Jarred tumbling back to the ground.
Dazed by the blow, it took a moment for Jarred’s blurred vision to return to normal, and another moment again to realize he had dropped his spear. It was now in the firm grip of the warrior stalking towards him, his eyes burning with a ferocious hatred Jarred had yet seen from him. Rising to his feet, with the aid of his remaining energy burst, Jarred stood ready for the exchange, knowing it would be their last. The surge of energy which had saved him and kept him going was almost dry. He could feel it dissipating, receding back to wherever it had come from. Hopefully, whatever was left would be enough.
Shu’ma rushed forward, and with an animal like snarl, swung the half spear like an axe, as though to cleave Jarred down the middle. Jarred sidestepped the brutish attack, but did not move away, staying within range for Shu’ma to strike again. The warrior did so immediately, sweeping sideways to cut him across his torso, Jarred moving closer to him again to halt the sweep by barring his arm while allowing him to avoid contact with the weapon’s blade. He followed the maneuver up with a solid elbow strike to Shu’ma’s jaw, hearing a crunch before the warrior spun away, coming back around with his spear raised for a downward drive.
Jarred was ready, catching the spear in one hand and gripping Shu’ma’s arm with the other, moving in close enough to drive his head into the warrior’s face. Turning his back to him then, he brought Shu’ma’s arm down hard over his own shoulder, hearing a terrible snap as the limb bent down at an angle that was not at all natural. Jarred turned back to face Shu’ma once again and, having already taken the spear from his grasp, drove the bladed end of the weapon down through the side of his neck.
Shu’ma stood motionless for a long moment, a look of confusion on his face. Reaching up, he took hold of the spear shaft jutting up from where it was imbedded in the crook of his neck, though he didn’t appear to try to remove it, slowly falling to his knees instead. His eyes met Jarred’s again and the confusion left his face, being replaced by the slightest of grins, before he finally fell over on his side.
Jarred breathed out in both relief and exhaustion, the sound of the crowd, as they erupted into a symphony of roaring applause, fading to a near whisper in the back of his mind. The pain of a dozen wounds flooded to the surface, coupled with absolute exhaustion, as the buffering wall that had sustained him vanished. He was spent.
And it was finished.
* * *
Rho’uk watched his comrade fall with the same measure of conflict he had been plagued by since the beginning of this journey. Shu’ma was his oldest friend and a warrior brother. He wished him nothing less than he would any Rai Chi. Glory in life and an honorable death that would please the Gods. But his friend had strayed from the path set before them. For personal pride and vengeance.
And Rho’uk had stood by him, as was his place. He had hoped Shu’ma would see reason and abandon his misguided vendetta, but he had not. He had disregarded their orders to return the human to the Homeworld and instead entered into contest with him to satisfy his bloodlust publicly. Had he killed the human, it surely would have meant both their lives. Even if their Overseer did not learn of how it had happened, their failure to return with him alive would be enough to condemn them both before the Gods. And it would have been justified. To defy the Gods in such a way. There were consequences for such things. It seemed Shu’ma had suffered them.
As Rho’uk entered the arena, the thousands of excited onlookers continuing to applaud the match, he considered his mixed feelings. He was saddened, even hurt, by Shu’ma’s fall from purpose and honor. Not for his death. It was every warrior’s desire to meet his end at the hands of a worthy opponent. Their battle had been a good one. Yet it never should have happened. Shu’ma had put himself and his personal desires before their mandate. Before the Gods. He had forgotten the true way of the warrior and had fallen because of it. But along with his pity, Rho’uk felt something else. Relief. He was now free of his duty to Shu’ma. With command falling to him, he could do as he had implored of his friend, without success, and return the human to the Homeworld. He would obey the mandate of both their Overseer and the Gods.