“. . . 12% . . .”
The red numerals flashed in Damon’s HUD, giving him one more
thing to worry about. He mentally added it to the many yellow warning icons
telling him of all his injuries.
Fighting with blades against this Augie was definitely a
losing proposition. Only Damon’s stubbornness had kept him from quitting
earlier. After he’d cut off one of the thing’s blades, he’d scored precious few
hits additional hits. Meanwhile, he was losing D-SAP, power—
and blood—
at
an alarming rate. He hadn’t bled in a long time, but he remembered some
gruesome fights from his childhood. He knew his power would give out long before
his spirit would.
Time to change tactics,
he thought. He charged the
Augie, trying to bull his way through the attack and grapple directly. He’d
tried it before to no avail, but this time it was a feint.
As the Augie reached out to use Damon’s momentum against
him, Damon twisted and grabbed the wrist. Not bothering to slow his fall, he
skidded along the floor on his back, dragging the Augie on top of him. Putting
all his strength into the grip, he refused to release despite blows to the head
and neck from the blade in the Augie’s free hand.
The Augie straddled his chest and chopped at his head with
all its strength, but they were too close together and blows were not
effective.
Damon arched his back and yanked the Augie by his wrist over
his head to dislodge him. Damon finished the move by twisting again and coming
up on his knees. The Augie continued to strike with the blade, and Damon winced
at the pain. More icons flashed up on his HUD and were dismissed. He stood and
spun quickly in a circle, whipping the Augie around by his wrist. Damon smashed
him into the floor. He then stepped on the blade and pulled upward with all his
strength, straining to break
something
in this
Kyndra-cursed
beast.
The Augie rotated at both shoulder joints and kicked Damon
hard in the chest with its feet. Damon’s grip on the beast’s wrist came loose,
but he also heard a rewarding popping sound as the blade broke off the other
hand.
Regardless, the beast was back on him as he hit the floor. A
flurry of punches and kicks had Damon reeling, unable to regain his balance. He
could barely see where the strikes were coming from, and had no way to target
any of his weapons. The combat display on his HUD spun and twisted uselessly
trying to acquire the target.
The Augie laughed as he lifted Damon up the air and slammed
him head-first into the concrete floor. He lifted and slammed him repeatedly
until the concrete was gone and only the D-SAP defensive layer remained.
“. . . 4% . . .”
Damon twisted and tried to get purchase on something,
anything that might give him leverage, but the Augie was too fast. Damon wanted
to use grenades or other large weapons, but couldn’t risk hurting the others in
the area.
Suddenly, Damon found himself thrown through the air, but
not due to the Augie’s attack. In fact, the Augie went flying with him. When
they landed they both looked over at the source of the disruption. A small
shuttlecraft had smashed through the glass wall and now sat embedded into the
side of the Spire. It had torn a path through the concrete and the impact is
what knocked the combatants apart.
Perplexed, but realizing his opportunity, Damon rushed the
Augie, connecting with a solid punch that drove it into the floor. He swung his
other fist, but he hit nothing but floor as the Augie skittered away to the
side. It now climbed onto Damon’s back and wrapped an arm around his neck.
Placing his feet on Damon’s upper back, it strained to pull his head back and
down.
Damon screamed in pain and anger as his HUD flashed red and
winked out. He saw stars as his vision blackened around the edges. He fell
backward, trying to catch the Augie between himself and the floor, but the
abominable creature slithered around Damon’s body to end up on his chest again.
Long, slim needles extended from the Augie’s fingertips and he brandished them
in front of Damon’s eyes.
**** ****
Joann had braced herself for the
impact, but it nearly knocked her senseless anyway. She still couldn’t believe
the captain had flown the shuttle directly into Renard’s office, smashing
through the glass and concrete with a fearsome impact.
Feeling groggy, she struggled out of her harness and made
her way to the open door in the craft. The captain was already moving and held
up a hand to stop her.
“Give me the vials, I’ll take him on,” he said to her.
“No.” She glanced at Renard, Jeffrey, and Avelina moving
toward the craft. “You need to fly them out of here. I can’t fly this thing.
Especially now that you’ve wrecked it.”
He looked like he would say more, protest somehow, but he
couldn’t argue with her logic.
“Mr. Allen,” she said as Jeffrey entered the craft, “can I
have your gun, please?”
“It’s no good against that thing.”
“It will be when loaded with this,” she replied, holding up
one of the vials. “This will kill the Augies almost immediately.” She handed
him the vials. “Get these to the soldiers, but be careful, it’s lethal to
humans too.”
Jeffrey quickly loaded the contents of one vial into the
chamber of the weapon. From there, it would automatically be added to the
needles in the active cartridge. “I’ll go back and take care of him,” Jeffrey
said.
“No, you have to stay with Renard and Avelina. And you need
to finish this war.”
He hesitated a moment, then handed her the gun.
“Thank you,” she said and she strode into the wreckage of
Renard’s office. She entered in time to see Reave threatening Damon with the
nanoblades from his fingers.
“REAVE!” she yelled, and he froze.
Now she wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t trust herself to
shoot and not hit Damon along with Reave. She knew it would kill him and she
wasn’t ready to make that sacrifice.
“Back away from him,” she said moving forward another step.
Reave stood up and Joann saw that he was bleeding from both
hands. Surprised, she felt somewhat encouraged. “Back. Away.” She raised the
weapon.
“Stupid bitch!” Reave said as he quickly raised his hand and
fired a laser before she could even pull the trigger.
Joann screamed as half of her hand burned away and she
dropped the gun without firing a shot. She fell to her knees, cradling her
injured hand.
Reave laughed. “After I kill your boyfriend here, you and
I’ll have a long talk. Yeah, real long!” He laughed harder, a sickly, inhuman
sound that made Joann cringe.
As she curled up on the floor, she cradled the gun beneath
her. She knew she’d never have a clear shot at Reave, and she could not trust
her one-handed aim now in any case.
If I could only get this stupid thing
open.
She pried and twisted with her one good hand, finally getting a
loaded cartridge out.
Glancing up at Damon and Reave she realized she was out of
time.
She jammed the exposed shell into her maimed hand and
whimpered as the needles penetrated her flesh, injecting her with the virus.
The pain made her vision misty, but she stood and approached
Reave. He was fighting off Damon’s last attempts to dislodge him, while probing
with his nanoblades to find a soft spot in the armor. She forced herself into a
run and threw herself at Reave. He reacted exactly as expected, catching her in
mid-leap, impaling her on his nanoblades.
Her blood flowed down his arm, mingling with the blood from
his wounds. Her tainted blood mixing with his.
Despite the intense pain flaring through her body, she
smiled. She slumped over his hand, her head falling near his ear, where she
whispered “You lose.”
“Oh you pitiful slut!” He yelled as he pulled his hand free
and stood up. “You’ve ruined my fun! Now I—” he staggered as a convulsion shook
him. His eyes widened and he stared at Joann, who managed to stay on her knees,
breathing in short gasps.
He moved to finish her off with the blades, but Damon raised
his hand and fired his slug guns into his chest, knocking him over backwards.
Reave flopped around on the ground, trying to stand but unable to control his
limbs.
Joann had fallen onto her side, and Damon kneeled next to
her, cradling her head. “It’s all right, Joann, I’ll get you to help. They’ll
fix you. Ken’s got doctors you wouldn’t believe—”
“Shhh.” She placed a finger on his lips. “It’s too late.”
She breathed as deeply as she could, and weakly finished, “I didn’t have time
to make an antidote.”
Chapter Seventeen
Damon sat on the edge of the caldera
looking out at the Spire. It looked surprisingly normal, except for the smoking
hole near the top, and a few smaller holes along the waterline. Inside, he
knew, it was a torn-up mess that might never be cleaned up.
Sort of like me,
he thought.
He was slightly damaged on the outside, but Dr. Baksa
promised she could get him back to new with little trouble at all. Inside,
however, he was in turmoil. He could only relive the last moments of Joann’s
life over and over again, trying to figure out what he could have done
differently, how he might have avoided her sacrifice.
He looked over at the “portable” charger that was now
getting him up to full power in case he was needed for mop-up in the Spire. It
turned out to be unneeded, since Leland had just reported taking down the last
Augie. They had physically accounted for all of the Augies.
Well, almost
all,
he thought,
there were only a few pieces of the one I blasted.
For the hundredth time he wished he’d saved that shot for
Reave.
Reave Nachman
. He hadn’t known the name before, but
he hated him.
Joann Tashus
. He barely knew her, but felt like he
might have loved her.
Andrea. He sighed. She might as well be dead.
“. . . 100% . . .”
He unplugged the machine and walked over to the small
shuttlecraft, which was still smoking from a gaping tear across the front-right
side.
“This power supply is completely worthless,” he said to Dr.
Baksa, and laughed to take the sting out of his words. Her two bodyguards
glared at him.
Where did they come from?
he wondered absently.
She mumbled something about street punks under her breath
and Damon walked on.
“Leland is on his way over,” Ken’s voice said in Damon’s
ear.
“Now you show up!” Damon replied over the communication
channel. “Where were you when I needed your help earlier?”
“Ha!” Ken grunted, “We were busy keeping you invisible,
which is no easy task since you sneak about as well as an elephant!”
Damon smiled. He knew that Ken and Ted had kept him alive in
the Spire, wreaking havoc on the Trueblood defensive systems. Another small
craft landed nearby. Leland, his leadership team, and the commander of the
mercenary squads disembarked and made their way over, looking battered, but in
good spirits.
Damon waited for them to arrive and held out his hand for
Leland to shake. The man batted his hand away and gave him a big hug. Even in
his combat armor he looked small next to Damon. Everyone started laughing, talking,
and hugging all at once. Damon introduced Leland to Captain Fischoff and they
briefly discussed his blatant disregard for safe flying regulations. Renard,
Jeffrey, and Dr. Baksa joined them, made introductions and shook hands all
around.
“I’m known for my long-winded speeches,” Reverend Trueblood
said to the assembled group, “but today, right now, words cannot express the
feelings I have for you people.” He pointedly looked at each individual as he
spoke. “Your personal sacrifices humble me, and I beg your forgiveness for my
actions while I misunderstood your motives.”
Leland spoke into the ensuing silence. “Thank you Reverend,
your reactions were perfectly understandable. We realized how our actions would
appear to you. Please forgive us for not coming up with a better alternative.”
Damon spoke up as Ken prompted him. “Um, could we grab a
screen from somewhere? Ken wants to say something.”
Jeffrey produced a screen, making Damon wonder how he’d
carried it through the mayhem, but accepted it and shunted Ken’s transmission
through it.
“Hello, Reverend,” Ken said as his face appeared on the
screen. “We were glad to help, but our motives were also personal. No one
wanted to see the Prykes take over the Consensus. However, we’re not, well,
completely enamored of your leadership, either. I have some ideas
. . .”
Leland placed a hand on Damon’s arm, and Damon shut down the
transmission. “I think we can address this later, right?” he said. “I believe
we still have some major military activities going on in other systems. Mr.
Allen, if you would join me and the Commander here, we can get things rolling.
Damon? Will you be joining in?”
“Of course,” Damon said, “I’m insulted that you have to ask.”
Leland smiled. “Well, you are no longer under any obligation
to serve the Council. Am I correct Reverend?”
Reverend Trueblood looked surprised, but quickly assented.
“Thank you,” Leland said to Renard. “You could have your
conversation with Ken now. I think you’ll find him very interesting.”
“I’m sure I will,” he said sarcastically, and sighed. “But,
a good idea nonetheless, and it pales in comparison to what I owe you all.”
Damon handed him the screen as he headed toward the undamaged shuttlecraft.
Dr. Baksa, with her two bodyguards helping her, headed
toward another small shuttle parked off to the side.
“All right,” Jeffrey said, “now let’s get this rebellion
under control.”
**** ****
It took two weeks to break the siege
of Dhanna. The Burdekin fleet had grown substantially since the initial
invasion force, and their warships in-system numbered in the hundreds.
The Trueblood ships took heavy losses, but eventually drove
off the invaders. In the last few days of the battle, Stacey Magourik came out
of hiding and arrived with her fleet to save the day. Renard traveled to the
system specifically to thank her.
He asked to meet her on her flagship, the
Gallant
Endeavor,
and she readily agreed. He arrived with ceremony and an honor
guard of fifteen armored marines. She awaited him in the mess hall, decorated
for the occasion. Her officers and crew stood at attention in their dress
uniforms as the Trueblood party arrived.
“Stacey Magourik,” Renard intoned in his famous speaking
voice, “in light of your recent activities, I hereby declare you
under
arrest for treason.
”
A shocked silence followed while two of the armored soldiers
advanced and stood next to her. No one moved. Stacey gaped at Renard.
Her voice broke as she spoke, “You . . . what?”
Renard proceeded to read the formal charges. By failing to
defend her fellow Council members, her actions were legally construed as
supporting the rebellious factions. Therefore, she was under arrest and faced
criminal charges at the highest court in the Consensus.
At one point during the pronouncement, her knees gave out
and she collapsed to the floor. Someone brought a chair out to her.
“However,” Renard added after the reading of charges was
complete, “I also have within my power to defer your sentencing, leaving you
free, but under a series of stipulations. We can discuss them in private if you
prefer.”
“No, I’ll hear them here,” she replied in a small, tremulous
voice, her hand on her forehead as is shading her eyes from the glare.
“So be it. First, you will relinquish the Magourik seat on
the Council, and agree to a complete restructuring under more representative
terms. You may be involved in the process if you so desire, but you will carry
no voting privileges. Second, you shall provide naval support in the effort to
repel all invaders in Kline-held systems. And finally, all Magourik businesses
will be placed under supervision of Jonathan Kline. The Magourik family
maintains ownership and profits, but Kline will be given oversight to ensure
legality.”
Stacey showed surprise at the mention of Kline oversight,
clearly she anticipated Trueblood control. She thought for only a moment before
nodding. “all right,
fine
, I agree.”
“Duly noted.” Renard turned and left with his contingent.
“
Kyndra weeps
,” he heard her say as he walked out.
**** ****
Renard waited in the meeting room of
a hastily repaired lower section of the Spire. He had decided that he would be
punctual to meetings from now on. This was the first formal meeting of the
Council since the attack on the Spire nearly four months ago. He was nervous
about today, since it would be the first step toward big changes to the
Council, and eventually to the Consensus as a whole.
It had taken countless hours of conversation with Ken
Westron and the others to convince him that the Consensus would be better off
with a more representative form of government. He had the hardest time
releasing the reins on research and development; it just ran contrary to all of
his core beliefs. In the end, he relented, but he also had to consider stepping
down as the leader of the Council, since he could not whole-heartedly embrace
the necessary changes.
Now that the day had finally arrived, he felt more relief
than regret, and he actually looked forward to shifting the burden to others.
He stood to greet to first person to arrive.
“Hello, Ken, it’s good to see you . . . in person.
And thank you,” he stopped for moment as a sudden tightness grabbed his throat.
“Thank you for
everything.
”
Ken Westron looked more than a little uncomfortable in his
suit, which appeared to be brand-new.
Jonathan Kline walked in with Stacey Magourik, talking
amicably. Ken looked like he was about to bolt for the door. Renard greeted them
both warmly.
Leland McKrae came in by himself, also looking
uncomfortable, and quickly sat down across from Ken. They immediately struck up
a conversation, to Ken’s obvious relief.
Finally Jeffrey Allen arrived, and Renard stepped up to give
him a hug.
“Now we can get started with the representative
restructuring of the Consensus Council. I would like to open with a prayer
. . .” He glanced quickly around the room before continuing “Pastor
Leland, if you wouldn’t mind doing the honors.”
Leland, looking surprised, cleared his throat and began, “Dear
Lord, God of Jacob and Israel, you are Holy above all others. We call upon your
mercy today, Father, for your divine guidance and leadership. Let your will be
done through us, and grant us the wisdom to return to a right and just path.
Amen.”
“Thank you, Lee,” Renard said. “Now, we have a lot of hard
work ahead of us to forge a workable government out of the shambles we created
through our greed and short-sightedness. First, though, let me recap the status
of our struggles against the rebellion.
“Pryke navies remain at large, and they show up without
warning to bomb Kyndraist temples throughout the Consensus. The tactic has lost
much of its sting since I ordered the closing of all temples for safety’s sake.
The Kyndraist faith has suffered a serious setback, and I’m not sure it will
ever recover. There will be many problems to face, as we all know, and I will
be stepping down as head of the Council to address them personally.”
The announcement was not a surprise to anyone in the room,
but he felt the need to present it formally.
“However, I digress. The Pryke navies have become little
more than pirates and brigands, but they are still quite formidable and
frighteningly ruthless. Our navy continues to wrest territory from them and
should have them nearly eradicated in the next eighteen months.”
“What about Alexander Pryke himself?” Jonathan Kline asked.
“Unfortunately still at large. As you know, we purged most
of the Lorah system, but he was not there.”
“Until we get him, the Prykes will continue to be a problem,”
Jonathan concluded.
“Absolutely, and we are making every effort to locate him.
“Now moving along, the distribution of the Burdekin holdings
is proceeding well, and should be completed within the month. Family members
with a proven track record of legality and loyalty now control most of the
family’s wealth.
“That’s all the old business I have, anyone else?” He waited
for any response, and since no one spoke up he continued. “Good! Now we can
dive into the daunting task of fixing this governing body, and for that I leave
you in Jeffrey’s capable hands.”
He swept his hand in Jeffrey’s direction, who nodded in
acknowledgment. As Renard left the room and quietly closed the doors, he
realized things would never be the same.
He
would never be the same.
**** ****
Damon waited outside the door until
Renard came out. “How’d it go?” he jumped up from a nearby bench in the hallway.
“Quite well, actually. Of course, they are just now getting
into the meat of the bigger issue.”
Damon laughed, “I’m glad I’m not involved in that!”
Renard smiled, and Damon could see the conflict of emotion
on his face. He wanted to say something wise and soothing, but he couldn’t come
up with the right words. The two men walked on in silence for a few minutes. They
traveled down the long, curving hallway, periodically dodging repair crews hard
at work.
Renard sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “It
makes me feel old, Damon. Trying to deal with all of these changes is wearing
me out. Maybe I just need to disappear for a while.”
Damon gripped his shoulder. “Renard, you can’t do that.
Leave the Council restructuring to the others, sure, but we need your presence.
The whole Consensus looks to you for leadership. Even if you’re just a
figurehead, the people need to see you. If you’re not involved in the process,
it will never work.
“You could leave the day-to-day work to the others and
concentrate on fixing the Kyndraist church.”