The Seryys Chronicles: Of Nightmares Page 24

  “I hope I give you heartburn!” he shouted defiantly.

  Puar could see the mouth looming up; it was a maw, deep and uninviting. He was waiting until the last second to pull the pin to ensure that the grenade went off inside the monster. He was so close now he could feel the heat of the thing’s breath. Puar’s dad said, at this moment, people saw their lives flash before their eyes. That didn’t happen. All he could think of was that he was going to die without finishing The Wizards of Emerald Mountain Net’Vyyd Series. He pulled the pin.

  The next thing he saw was a bright flash that gave him the equivalent of a really bad sunburn and he realized he was falling and twisting so that the super Reaper’s backhand and the Reaper that was in the grip with him were going to land first. They hit the ground with him on top, the impact driving the air from his lungs with a wheezy cough. Through all this, he still had the presence of mind to throw the grenade in front of him so the Reaper and hand would smother the blast. The grenade went off under both, blowing them to bloody smithereens and sent Puar twisting through the air. Many pieces of shrapnel found their way into his body armor and past it. But, he was alive. He hit the ground again and tumbled to a stop in a heap of purple blood and entrails.

  A second later, his earpiece crackled with a whoop of victory. Puar sat up and saw the Bucket using her military-grade laser cannons to reduce the super Reaper to a sticky, bubbling, purple mess.

  “’Bout damn time!” Puar shouted angrily. “I was almost Reaper chow!”

  Looking around, he found what was left of the hand that had him. It was partial palm and forearm severed just below the elbow. That was an awful close shot. Couldn’t he have gone for the shoulder or something? Puar asked internally, but was not about to complain any more outwardly.

  “Just got back from a rescue op! Give me a break!” Dah’s indignant voice came over the channel. “You’re just lucky I aimed for the shoulder and not the forearm!”

  “You what?” Puar yelped. “You could’ve killed me!”

  “Eh. I’m still working out a couple of bugs. A few more days and she’ll be as right at rain!”

  “You’re a bastard!” Puar growled.

  “Shut up and get aboard!” Dah shot back. “Your brother has a new mission for us.”

  “What kind of new mission?”

  “Not sure,” Dah responded, putting the Bucket down and lowering the ramp. “He said he’d brief us in the air.”

  Puar ran up the ramp, slapped the button to close the ramp and spun, instantly feeling guilty about leaving all those people behind to fight for themselves. He didn’t wait for the ramp to close and ran to the cockpit. He plopped himself down at the tactical console and brought up the targeting system.

  “What’re you doing?” Dah asked.

  “Helping out as long as I can,” Puar said. “Take off and get us into orbit. In the meantime, fire up the turret.”

  Puar flipped on the screen and started filling the area with hellfire. Targeting the Reapers farther out from the park as to not hit anyone accidentally, he started mowing down the thousands of Reapers on the ground. There were several of the super Reapers moving into the area. Puar concentrated fire on them. As the ship went higher, Puar increased the magnification and continued to fire until they were too far away to do any good.

  Once they were in low orbit, they waited for the call…

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Prime Minister Puar had just hung up with Captain Dah when his driver changed direction and headed for open space.

  Red flags and warning bells started popping up in his head. But he played it cool. “Uh, driver?”

  “Sir?”

  “Are the jump points for Seryys Four not in the other direction?”

  “They are, sir,” he said, not skipping a beat. “Change of plans. I just received an encoded text message from Watnarr. His hand was forced and now I’m taking you to one of our outposts.”

  “No,” Puar said definitively, testing the waters.

  “No, sir?” If the kid was faking it, he was doing an amazing job.

  “No. Continue to Seryys Four. That is a direct order.”

  “But Watnarr-”

  “Watnarr answers to me!” the Prime Minister said, putting a little Ti’Tan’Lium in his voice. “Now take me to Oh Bee Seventeen—now!”

  There was a second’s pause, then the man spun, brandishing a pistol and firing. Puar did what he could to lean away, but the bullet caught him in the shoulder and passed straight through into the seat cushion. Having been shot before, he took it with a grunt but feigned a deeper injury and made a move to reach for his injured shoulder.

  “Warthol sends-”

  Before he could even finish his tagline, Puar pulled his ready pistol and put a bullet through the driver’s head. He slumped forward over the center console and bled out. That’s when he realized that the bullet from his gun had lodged deep into the canopy and it was cracking out like a spider web.

  Puar sighed then said, “Computer, transfer controls to the cab and seal it, please.”

  “Controls transferred.”

  A small console with a flight yoke dropped down from the ceiling as the divider between the cab and cockpit rolled up sealing what was soon going to be a breach. A holographic display popped up along the forward wall displaying what was in front of him. He took the controls and headed back toward the planet; there was a safer place for him. Seconds later, he heard a faint pop as the canopy glass gave way, exposing the cockpit to dead space. An image of the dead driver spun slowly in front of him. He grimaced and pulled away.

  Khai was sitting next to Brindee, her heart monitor filling the room with a steady rhythm.

  Joon was dead.

  The doctors told him that the bullet passed through her left lung and she ended up drowning on her own blood. Had it been Khai instead of her, maybe things would’ve ended a little differently. Joon was over a hundred years old and she just wasn’t strong enough to hang on. Khai wished it would’ve been him. He would have survived, he was sure of it. That bullet was meant for him, not her.

  That aside, Brindee was still in a coma. The doctors weren’t happy enough with her recovery just yet. Khai knew that she would rather be awake and in pain to be with him than the other way around. That’s what he would’ve wanted in her place and she was far tougher than him. She was just another person with whom he, yet again, wished he could have traded places. He was still kicking himself for letting her get on that ship. And he would get Warthol for this, it was only a matter of when, not if.

  The doctors patched him up too. The damage to his kidney was reparable using the same nanotech used on Brix. Being a government dignitary, Khai got the special treatment and was in working order within hours.

  Still, he had to count his blessings. Brindee was alive and had escaped death twice already…once while unconscious! His com unit jingling dragged him out of his self-induced pity party.

  “Khail,” he growled.

  “I am so sorry about Joon, Khai.” Prime Minister Puar said. “I know she meant a lot to you.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Khai said, bringing up his tone to a more professional timbre. “What can I do for you, Prime Minister?”

  There was a short pause, then a deep sigh. “Unfortunately, a lot.”

  “Go ahead. I’ve had all the fun I could possibly have here.”

  “I need you to meet Captain Dah and my brother near Seryys. I’m sending you the Splitter. She’s ready to go and running like new.”

  “And where are we going?”

  “You and Captain Dah are going to pick up some ships for me.”

  “We’re going to get them, huh.” It wasn’t a question.

  “My hands are tied. If we go to war again, we’ll lose…even if we win.”

  “Does Prefect Chuumdar know about this?” Khai already knew the answer to that question, but wanted to hear the answer anyway.

  There was a long, shameful pause. “No. He doesn’t.”


  “Not exactly winning their confidence by doing this,” Khai said, not bothering to hide his disappointment.

  “Again, my hands are tied. My duty is this sovereignty and its people first and foremost.”

  “You don’t consider preventing all-out war doing just that?”

  “Khai, please. You think I like making this decision? You think I like the fact my administration has more leaks than a thousand-year-old ship? You think that doesn’t keep me up at night? You think I like the fact that everything you fought for is unraveling around us? Were you aware that the Reaper problem is so bad that I had to order a general evac of Seryys City for the first time in over a hundred years?”

  “I wasn’t. I’ve been… out of the loop for a while.”

  “I understand that, Khai. I really do. But please try to understand. If Chuumdar found out about this weapons cache, we’d be fighting again already and you know it. Furthermore, there isn’t any evidence that would indicate that Stiprox didn’t have his claws in Chuumdar’s administration, too. If I had told him, and Stiprox caught wind of it, it’s possible that he would have the weapons in his possession. And that is something I cannot allow.”

  He was right on that one. If Chuumdar did find out, war was inevitable. Stiprox and Warthol both seemed to have very efficient spy networks and vast resources that seemed to keep them a step ahead of everyone else. Inevitably, Khai had to follow his orders whether he liked them or not. He was still a soldier after all.

  “What are my orders?”

  “I’m sending you and Captain Dah to retrieve the weapons cache. I’ll also be sending the entire Sixth Fleet with you. You’ll be running point.”

  “When do I need to be ready?”

  “Your ship is already in orbit. So whenever you’re ready. I’m also sending you the Bucket’s coordinates; rendezvous with them and meet the Sixth Fleet orbiting around Seryys Eight.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you, Khai. I know this is hard for you, both leaving your wife behind and keeping a secret from Chuumdar.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  “Good luck. Puar, out.”

  Dah’s communications console lit up, saying INCOMING CALL.

  “Finally,” Puar scoffed. “My brother sure likes to keep us waiting.”

  “Shut up and open the channel.”

  “‘Shut up and open the channel,’” Puar mocked. “I didn’t hear a please in there.”

  “Shut up and open the channel, please,” Dah repeated.

  “Did that hurt?” Puar asked sarcastically.

  “Actually, yes,” Dah grumbled.

  Puar opened the channel and saw his big brother sitting in the back of a shuttle. He wore a grimace and blood stained his fine tailored suit.

  “Are you hurt?” Puar asked his brother, his voice full of concern.

  “Yeah, but it’s not bad. I’ve had worse.”

  “It looks like you were shot!”

  “It was an assassination attempt. It’s just a flesh wound; the bullet went straight through.”

  “What happened to the assassin?” Dah asked.

  “I spaced him. Look, I don’t have time for twenty questions. Khai’s meeting you there within the hour. I’m ordering you to go with him to retrieve the weapons cache your brother found for us. It’s time to arm up in case things deteriorate anymore between us and the Vyysarri.”

  “Just us?” Brix asked from his seat behind Dah.

  “No. You’re running point for the entire Sixth Fleet.”

  Puar whistled. “That’s a lot of fire power for a package pickup.”

  “I’m not taking any chances here. Get in, get the goods and get out. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Dah answered for all of them. “How will we find it?”

  “Your brother dropped a tracking beacon on it. All you’ll have to do is follow it.”

  “Got it, sir.”

  “Good. Now get some rest, you’re gonna need it. Good luck. And watch after my little brother!”

  “Will do. Dah, out.”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Brix rumbled ominously.

  “Don’t sweat it, Brix,” Puar chided. “It’ll be in and out. You can just kick back and take a nap while the rest of us take care of it.”

  “I hope you’re right...”

  Khai had kissed Brindee good-bye—hopefully not for the last time—and was storming down the corridor to a shuttle that was supposed to be waiting for him on the landing pad. When he got there, he was all smiles. The Star Splitter was sitting on her landing struts and his best friend Sibrex was standing in the hatchway with a stoic look on his face.

  “It is good to see you, Khai!” he said. Had he been talking to anyone else, they would have thought he was lying about the sentiment, but Khai knew him well enough to detect the happiness in his tone.

  “You too, Sibrex. I’m glad they entrusted my baby to someone who can actually fly.”

  “Indeed. I am an accomplished pilot.” Khai laughed and Sibrex looked at him with a confused look. “That was sarcasm, was it not?”

  “Yes, Sibrex,” Khai composed himself. “It was sarcasm.”

  “But I am a good pilot.”

  “Yes, Sibrex. You are a good pilot. Now, can we get going, please? I want to get this over with.”

  “I agree. The thought of going so far out into the unknown territories does not sit well with me. I have a bad feeling about it.”

  “Let’s not get all apocalyptic just yet, Sibrex. We haven’t even been there and Dack’s brother made it in and out without any trouble whatsoever.”

  “Indeed. But what bothers me is why it’s there. Why did these people simply leave it there?”

  “Maybe that’s one of the things we’ll learn once we’re there,” Khai offered.

  “Maybe.”

  After a short rendezvous at Seryys, the Splitter and Bucket joined forces with the gigantic Sixth Fleet. It was the third-largest fleet in the Seryys Navy, consisting of ten Lance-Class Dreadnoughts with twelve squads of starfighters each, twenty Reaper­­-Class Support Frigates and six Protector­-Class Shield Boats which projected an energy shield which, when overlapped, provided a nearly impenetrable barrier between the rest of the fleet and the enemy. They were piloted by slave-links to mock cockpits aboard one of the Lance-Class Dreadnoughts, typically the flagship. In this case it was the Founders’ Pride, commanded by Admiral Will’Tuul Weller.

  Once the Star Splitter and the Bolt Bucket were safely parked in one of the Founders’ Pride’s expansive hangars and the introductions and pleasantries were out of the way, the fleet got underway. It took three jumps and the better part of two days to get there. Once they jumped into the system, there was a collective gasp at the sight that greeted them. Millions of asteroids tumbled about as far as the eye could see. Concentric rings of them shined as the low-level lighting system activated on the main viewer.

  “My brother said that there was once a solar system here,” Dah said distantly, transfixed by the screen. “But the sun went supernova and destroyed everything.”

  “‘Went supernova’ or was destroyed?” Weller asked.

  “That’s open to speculation,” Dah answered honestly. “We have no idea what the F’Rosians are capable of, or if they even exist anymore. The ships we’re looking for, though so far beyond our tech, are tens of thousands of years old.”

  “So it stands to reason that these F’Rosians are extinct?” Weller asked.

  “At this point, anything’s possible,” Dah added. “Just a few months ago, we were still asking the questions of our origins, and now we have a better idea.”

  “Good point,” Weller said, still staring at the main viewer with everyone else. Then, he turned to Khai. “Well, General Khail, it’s time for you and Captain Dah to get out there and reconnoiter.”

  “Yes, sir,” Khai said, snapping a crisp salute.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  In less than ten minutes
, both ships were out scanning the immediate area for threats. When the coast was clear, they made their way to the beacon Dack’Tander Dah set for them to find. They had to use the preset coordinates and drift patterns that Tander’s onboard computer, Jarv, calculated to navigate the ever-drifting asteroids.

  Sibrex was manning the sensor console behind Khai in the Splitter.

  “Captain Dah’s brother must have a very sophisticated computer to be able to chart this maze.” It was the first time he had said anything since they left the hangar of the Pride. Khai could tell something was bugging him, but didn’t want to pry.

  “I would imagine the best money can buy, even more so than the military.”

  “It was kind of him to volunteer his time and resources to our cause.”

  “He’s come through for us on several occasions,” Khai said, slowly following the flight path that stretched out holographically on his canopy.

  “Khai, may I be candid with you?”

  Finally, Khai thought. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

  “This weapons cache,” he responded.

  “What about it?” Khai asked.

  “Why hasn’t Prime Minister Puar mentioned this to Chuumdar?”

  Ah, now I see. “Though I don’t necessarily agree with the Prime Minister, I do see his side of this issue. He’s scared.”

  “Scared?” Sibrex asked, puzzled. “Elaborate.”

  “He’s scared that if your people and mine went back to warring with each other, we’d lose. As an act of good faith, the Prime Minister dismantled a lot of our outposts and defenses along our—yours and mine—borders. Not to mention that he has a large portion of our navy committed to finding your people a new home.”

  “So, it is at you would say his ‘wild card’?” Sibrex asked.

  “Yeah,” Khai nodded. “That’s it exactly. Also, he was afraid that if Chuumdar found out, so would Stiprox.”

  “Ah yes,” Sibrex remarked with a knowing tone. “And a race would ensue for it. Do you really believe that Chuumdar has spies in his midst?”