Apex (11 page)

His breathing heavy, Riax walked down to where the Junta was and turned his back to it so he could watch both directions at once, realizing how badly he missed his right arm. He'd busted up the attackers, but they weren't down and out. The next move was theirs.

While he waited, he telekinetically grabbed one of the assault rifles from the pile of mercs to his left, pulling it through the air and into a one handed grip. He sensed a mind approaching on the right from behind the crates, as well as several more of the others he'd gotten past getting to their feet and closing in.

Riax pulled another two assault rifles out of the pile and dropped them at his feet. Then another and another, disarming the mercs as they crawled over each other trying to get up. On his right he pushed a shot wide, impacting the wall as a merc came around the corner into view and fired. Riax pulled the rifle towards him, yanking the merc off his feet before his grip broke. He fell on his face as Riax added to his pile of weapons.

A few more on either end of the walkway tried again, then the whole lot of them retreated out of sight, giving Riax the opportunity to fall back against the crate that Jalia was laying on. He leaned there, trying to keep his wits about him as he fought off excessive fatigue.

Jalia carefully peeked over the edge, looking down on the nude alien. “Thanks,” she said meekly, not knowing what to make of him.

Riax didn't understand her word. He was busy monitoring the position of the retreating minds as they gathered elsewhere in the storage area and didn't telepathically sense her sentiments.

“Come down here,” he said in her native tongue.

Jalia blinked in surprise, and gingerly did as she was told. Standing up on the crate she lithely hopped down beside the pile of assault rifles, holding her pistol at ready and glancing in either direction.

“Who are you?” she asked, this time speaking Esset, the Junta race's primary language. “And where did you come from?”

Riax understood her this time. “My name is Riax, and I just woke up in a box,” he answered pithily. “Whose troops are those, where am I, and what the hell is going on?”

“They're mercs,” Jalia answered, trying to make sense of it all. “You're aboard my ship, midjump. We were boarded and I was just about to get killed until you showed up,” she answered back, mildly sarcastic but still very grateful. “What box?”

Riax pointed through the crate wall. “A few meters over there, in the middle of the floor.”

Jalia's eyes widened and she fought off the urge to freeze up. He had to be referring to the Cres crate, but that would mean he was . . .

She glanced back and forth again down the row, pushing that thought aside and focusing on the danger of the moment. “Do you suppose they've gone?”

Riax concentrated. “I think they've left the storage area, but I sense more fighting elsewhere.”

“The Cres. There are five of them,” Jalia said, talking quickly. “I don't know how many mercs.”

Riax readjusted his telepathic search and quickly identified one mind as Cres. The others were too far away to be sure. That, and he was beginning to lose his focus.

“A lot,” he said, pushing himself off the crate and walking away. “Come on, we have to help them.”

Jalia followed the nude, one armed alien. This was all too weird.

“What race are you?” she asked tenderly as they made their way out of the crate rows.

Riax frowned, glancing back at her. “Human.”

Jalia's jaw dropped, and a few steps later the broken Cres crate came into view. She walked over to it and looked inside, seeing a much different type of technology concealed within, reminiscent of the few Human artifacts known to the galaxy.

“This is where you came from?” she whispered in shock and awe.

“Yeah. Have any idea why my pod was stashed in this box?”

Jalia didn't say anything, her body froze with a million emotions running through her all at once.

“Calm yourself and focus,” the pale alien said smoothly, with a wave of relief and clarity washing through her mind and returning her ability to speak as he telepathically nudged her towards the desired mental state.

“Umm, well . . . long story. You can ask the Cres if they survive. They're the ones that brought you onboard.”

Riax saw the one and a half crates pushed up against the door and the mess of the remaining half scattered about.

“You barricaded yourself in here?” he asked as he waded through the prepackaged foodstuffs wedged between the crate and the wall that held the door. He popped out into the now empty corridor, spilling more of the tiny packets out with him on top of the broken door panel that'd been blown off its hinges.

Jalia moved out from behind him a second later, glancing and listening for any sign of the mercs. “Yes. The bridge is this way,” she said, pointing to her right.

Riax pointed to his left. “The fighting is that way, which is where I'm going. I don't sense anyone the other way, so hopefully the bridge is clear. Lock yourself in and do what you can.”

Riax sensed her unspoken question. “Hey, I may be naked, missing an arm and completely exhausted . . . but I can handle this merc trash.”

“They have Dreklors,” Jalia warned him.

Riax frowned, not familiar with that term. He pulled the image of the unfamiliar race from Jalia's mind and nodded. “Thanks.”

She watched him turn and run off, his pale butt glistening in sweat.

Jalia shook her head to clear it. “Not now,” she scolded herself. Slipping her pistol back in its holster, she went and reclaimed the deserted bridge.

 

Chapter 11

R
IAX
JOGGED
DOWN
the brightly lit hallways with assault rifle in hand, his head pounding worse with every step. His energy levels had started to recover a bit with the respite, but he was already in the red zone. He'd been close to it when he'd woken up in the pod, having been engaged in combat before being put into stasis . . . not that he remembered that happening. After he lost his arm events were hazy. He assumed he'd been taken for medical treatment, but couldn't confirm that.

He glanced at the smooth skin over the tiny stump of his arm just below his shoulder. Given the jagged bone that had been there last time he'd looked, he must have been in that healing pod for a while.

Sensing a large cluster of minds, including the Minori, Riax took a right at the next opportunity and crossed over to the port side of the ship. He didn't encounter any activity in the halls, but felt a confrontation occurring beneath him. The mass of mercenaries wasn't below though, it was just up this hall.

No guards were on station in the hallway, but there was debris from a broken door. The scent of burn marks was evident and the minds were gathered to the left, opposite the shards of the heavy door.

All together huh?
he thought, carefully approaching the doorway.

He paused there, and focused his telepathy on the Minori. None of the other races were familiar, so he used the one he had some experience with to get a view inside the room. It took some effort, but he was able to hack into the sensory portions of the alien's mind and give himself a duplicate feed.

Given that Minori didn't ‘see' the way Humans did, the perceptions were a bit odd, but Riax was still able to determine partial room layout and the position and activities of the mercs. He implanted a sensation and the Minori turned around as if he'd just heard a sound, giving Riax a full view of the room.

The Human steadied himself. If he acted quickly he could do this. If not, it was going to get difficult as he fought off fatigue.

He summoned his concussive energy again and jumped through the doorway, running directly at the cluster of mercs arguing with each other just outside the breach point that led to their own ship.

This time Riax used his entire body as an emitter and unleashed a directional blast into the mercs, scattering them about like leaves in the wind. He fired pointblank rifle shots into the downed men closest to him, several shots for each. As others began to climb to their feet he disarmed and knocked them back down as he moved through the mass, killing them one by one.

Several tried to run away, but he telekinetically pulled them back into his killing zone. Before he finished with them all his assault rifle ran dry, so he picked up another from the pile on the floor and finished the slaughter.

Had he more energy he'd have taken them alive, but he was on the verge of blacking out already, plus those below him didn't have time to waste. He'd already sensed one of the Cres die during the fight.

Riax dropped the partially depleted rifle and picked up another. The mercs had refill cartridges on them, some of which had spilled out onto the ground, but given time constraints he wasn't going to waste time reloading. With the fresh rifle in hand he jogged back out of cargo bay 3 and looked for a lift or access ramp down to the lower levels.

The Junta must have noticed his bewilderment, because her voice suddenly echoed through the hallway.

“Ahead on your right,” she said via hidden speakers.

Riax nodded, figuring that she was monitoring his progress, and ran on. He found an access ramp and descended quickly. At this point, slowing or stopping to rest would probably mean him losing consciousness. He needed to stay active, adrenaline pumping to maintain focus.

When he came off the ramp into a large tunnel he ran into two more mercs . . . whose weapons inexplicably flew from their hands and were followed by a series of lachar blasts to their armored midsections. Riax ran over their smoking remains until he found another nearby ramp that led him to the maelstrom of activity below.

When he got to the main cargo bay he finally saw what the activity was about. There were dozens of mercs hunting the Cres, who'd been pinned down to three positions. Two were behind crate clusters, while one was taking cover behind a cargo walker. A Dreklor was lunging for it with clawed arms through the walker's legs with the Cres pumping round after round into the creature with little effect.

The other mercs were split up, taking cover of their own when able, and surrounding the Cres positions. There were no more than five in any one place, so Riax picked the closest to the Cres dealing with the Dreklor and opened fire as he sprinted towards a crate stack.

There were three mercs and his shots took down one. The others spun about and suddenly had their rifles taken away. The second one fell to more lachar fire, but the third panicked and ran off behind the crates. Riax switched out rifles and kept moving behind cover, climbing up on one crate stack and circling around the side of the artificial mountain, then dropping down into the midst of four more armored mercs.

He blasted them aside with a spherical concussion wave of moderate power, just enough to knock them off their feet, and shot them while they were down. He wobbled as he tried to run on, managing only a jog, and saw the Cres climbing up on the walker to get away from the Dreklor.

The Human put a few shots into its armored hide, drawing its attention. He was out of the line of sight of the other mercs at the moment, shielded by crates, and he stood his ground as the two-­tailed behemoth turned and charged him.

This was stupid in his current condition, but he had to take it down quickly.

Riax dropped his rifle and gathered himself again, but pulled on a different kind of energy within him, a very potent one. It manifested itself in his palm, glowing reddish/yellow then heightening to blue and quickly becoming a wicked white flare of light. The Dreklor snarled and accelerated, head bobbing just over the floor with its two massive legs thudding quickly as it managed a surprisingly fast run.

The white light was being emitted from a tiny point in the Human's palm, and that tiny point expanded into a marble-­sized sphere. When the Dreklor was within ten meters, Riax thrust his one arm forward, palm flat, and fired a thin stream of bioplasma into the bony head of the creature. The intense heat and density of the plasma burned through the Dreklor's thick hide, through its cranial plates, and into its brain. It lumbered two more steps and fell, sliding into Riax, who jumped up and to the right, flipping over midair.

He landed on his feet, but crumpled and tumbled out of control to the ground, landing on the stump of his right arm. The sharp bone beneath punctured his clean skin and it began to bleed again. Sensing someone approach, he pulled his himself together and looked in the appropriate direction, ready to act.

He let go a deep breath when he saw it was the Cres.

How'd he get here so fast?

Riax realized he must have momentarily blacked out. Not a good sign.

Thoughts suddenly manifested themselves in his mind as the Cres quickly updated him as to the situation, as well as inquiring as to his status with a mixture of awe and gratitude flowing through the mental transmission. In response Riax pulled himself to his feet.

“How many more of those things are there?” he asked, speaking Terran, too tired to translate into Cres. Fortunately the armored alien understood him.

“Three,” Marren said.

“Ugh,” Riax mouthed as he telekinetically pulled a rifle back into his grip. “Take out the easy ones,” he ordered.

Marren nodded respectfully but hesitated a moment, not sure if he should leave him, then he decided to accept the order at face value and ran off, his own assault rifle crossed over his chest in anticipation. Riax followed slowly, barely holding himself upright. He doubted he had three more bioplasma blasts in him, but he forced as much energy through his body as he could muster trying to keep the blackness at bay.

When he came around the crates obscuring his view of the rest of the primary cargo bay, he saw two Cres at the top of another cluster of crates with a Dreklor climbing after them and lachar blasts peppering their shields when they couldn't find cover. Fortunately the crate stacks weren't uniform, which gave the Cres a few niches to hide in.

One of the two Cres took a lachar blast in the flank, passing through her depleted shields and coring into an already black spot on her golden armor. Her body seized up and she fell from the crate stack, bouncing several times until her body finally hit the floor and stopped there.

Finding a surge of new energy, Riax moved forward firing into a group of three mercs off to the left. They turned on him and in the process exposed their backs to Marren, who was flanking them. The Cres made quick work of the trio, freeing Riax of the burden, and moved on to the next closest group, hopping up and over another crate stack.

Riax looked up at the Dreklor swinging perilously close to the other Cres atop the tall stack. It was within a meter of her feet, and climbing higher. He wanted to rip it off the top telekinetically, but even if he had been at full strength he doubted he could have pulled something that massive.

He was too far away to try for another bioplasma shot, so that left him with few options. To buy time, he reached out for the Dreklor's mind and tried to make contact. Fortunately the creature wasn't mentally resistant, and Riax was able to temporarily black out its vision. In reality its four eyes were functioning properly, but it thought it was seeing blackness. It stopped swinging at the Cres and fought to maintain balance on the crates it was climbing, unable to see them or its own feet.

Riax couldn't hold the illusion long, for the subconscious portion of the mind automatically fought such things. Riax telepathically told the Cres to move away and leave the Dreklor to him. He sensed hesitation and concern, but after a second of indecision Orrona leapt up over the top of the crate stack and out of sight. None of the other mercs were firing at her, or Riax. Marren had their attention at the moment.

A loud roar sounded from one of the Dreklors elsewhere, and Riax was forced to release his illusion on this one as it shook its head clear and snarled when it realized its prey had vanished. A quick lachar shot to its flat back got its attention on the Human.

It didn't move right away, just turning and staring him down. In the silence, Riax glanced at his assault rifle as an idea struck him. A way to preserve his remaining energy.

He slipped the ammo cartridge out of the rifle telekinetically as he held on to the weapon with his hand. The power cell was primitive, but standard lachar. Tiny subcells held both the energy and mass required for the fiery cocktail that was part
la
ser and part
char
ged particles. The cartridge was well secured from the environment, making it safe to use, but should it be penetrated there would be explosive results equivalent to a grenade . . . or so Riax hoped.

The Human floated the cartridge forward while dropping the rifle. He pulled another one his way from the dead trio nearby, and by the time the Dreklor began to climb down the crates the ammo cartridge was nearly to it.

Riax aimed the rifle carefully, his vision waning. He mentally steered the cartridge below the creature, and when it finally dropped down to the floor of the bay it landed on a pointblank explosion.

It took two shots for Riax to hit it, barely in time before the Dreklor's bulk would have knocked it aside. However, the delay worked in his advantage, leaving the detonation mere centimeters away from the target and amplifying the destructive power.

A smart portion of the Dreklor's armored hide blew out and the creature roared in pain, but it staggered forward, dripping purple/black blood by the liter. Riax targeted the opening, slightly askew as it was, and fired repeatedly into it.

The Dreklor turned to the side, shielding the vulnerability but checking its advance. Riax circled around it to get another opening . . . when he noticed that it wasn't moving. He could still sense a presence, for it wasn't dead yet, but it was definitely out of the fight.