Eternal Horizon: The Chronicle of Vincent Saturn (Eternal Horizon: A Star Saga Book 1) (18 page)

As delusions of grandeur passed through Hellion’s head, the door slid open.

The frightened guards immediately opened fire. The blasts burned holes in the walls and the floor of the empty room.

“
Hold your fire!
” commander Hellion cried out.

The discharge continued.

“
Hold your fire, damn it!
”

The soldiers stopped shooting.

Smoke from the gunfire was airborne. There was no one in sight.

“You two”—the Commander pointed at the guards closest to the gate—“go and observe the situation.”

The guards looked at him and then at each other.

“Go, cowards!” Hellion raised his voice. This was making him uneasy; he wanted to get down to action.

The soldiers began to carefully approach the gate, guns shivering in their hands. As they neared it, nothing was visible except for the stagnant smoke. They stopped at the entryway and scanned the entire room. Through what they could observe, it was empty. One of them looked over at the Commander and shrugged.

Hellion intensely waved his hand, gesturing them to go further.

They each took one more step and saw a shiny metal object—the last thing they’d ever see.

The decapitated guards fell as the blonde Xenian entered the room like a speeding bullet, swinging the deadly sword and shooting. The Destroyer-bots opened fire at once. The blue blasts of their chainguns sprayed all over the room as they were trying to catch the evasive target, instead hitting Imperial troops.

He was inside, outside, and in between them. Overrunning the currents of blasts, Exander ran alongside the wall, slashed through one of the big automatons, and headed straight at three startled soldiers. As he neared them, he jumped up, slicing through the trio while shooting a droid across the room. Whirling in the air and evading the continuous blasts, he came down thrusting his sword through the second Destroyer-bot and then tore apart another soldier. There was no time to stop and think—there was only instinct. Only when they’d all fall down would he be able to stop his rollercoaster.

Two of the Centurions jumped down to meet Damocles, who—upon entering the room—headed straight for their commander. Holding his sword with both hands, the Xenian juggernaut lacerated through the attackers without slowing his pace. Two more Centurions appeared on his path, swinging their staffs. Damocles smashed his fist into the first Centurion’s helmet, caving it into his face, stabbed the other one, and then threw a dagger across the room at the commander.

The dagger wedged between the eyes of the skeletal helmet.

Commander Hellion shuddered for a second, lost his balance, and toppled over the railing, falling dead before his men. As the leader fell, the remaining troops were thrown into a hectic frenzy. Some continued to resist, some called for backup, and others realized that remaining in that room certainly called for death and began to retreat.

Dragging the tip of the sword on the ground behind him, Exander continued to meander through the enemy forces. He stabbed one of the guards, leapt up, and came hacking down on a droid. Just as his feet touched the ground, he spun around—escaping a new wave of blasts—and threw his blade into the corner, nailing another soldier who was trying to sneak up on his brother.

Finally, the big man picked up the torso of the fallen Destroyer-bot and heaved it across the room, toppling the last three soldiers beneath the machine.

“
Go!
” Exander shouted, pulling his sword out of the soldier’s body. “
They’re coming!
” He then began shooting into the other room where more troops followed their steps.

“All this kicking and jumping…” Damocles fussed, going up the platform while landing his fist atop the head of the Centurion who was regaining consciousness.

“
Hurry, Damocles!
” Exander cried out as new blasts passed over his head.

“
Okay!
” Damocles picked up Hellion’s keycard and ran up to the platform.

*

Cold air propelled throughout the dark pipeline. The duct was spacious enough for a toddler to run through, but it forced Vincent to crawl on all fours, carrying along his rifle. The aggravating blare of the alarm continued to growl, at times forcing the duct to shudder.

He finally reached the first grid, at which point his irrepressible curiosity took over and he decided to take a peek. The room below was filling with soldiers, droids, and big robotic machines. The guards pointed their weapons at the closed door from which the twins were supposed to enter.

Vincent decided to keep still, trying not to break the silence. He remained motionless for several minutes until the sound of fire and explosions rumbled throughout the foundation as the twins began their assault. Ignoring the action below, Vincent picked up his pace to the second grid, crossing his fingers in hopes of not catching any stray fire.

Reaching the other grid, he looked down. The space below was an immense circular shaft reaching far down into the bowels of the ship with two platforms—one below him, the other on the opposite end of the shaft. A narrow catwalk spanned the shaft, connecting the two platforms.

This was his destination.

He closed his eyes.
This is it
.
I can do this
.

Ahead, the ventilation pipeline was blocked by thick bars, leaving him no other alternatives but to go down. Noticing no signs of movement, he kicked away the grating and jumped down onto the platform. Much to his astonishment, he safely landed, even though the drop was more than twenty feet. Raising his weapon to shoulder level, he spun around, studying his surroundings. After assuring it was safe, he dashed towards the catwalk but stopped halfway.

A blue energy shield was raised before the bridge preventing access to the other platform. He then noticed a computer beside the catwalk, attached to the floor by a thin rod. Its screen displayed bizarre script in an alien language. Whatever this apparatus was, it definitely generated the shield.

Not giving it a second thought, Vincent pointed the gun at the device and pulled the trigger, obliterating the thing to bits. The shield vanished, and he proceeded down the bridge.

In the middle of the second platform was an ornate throne atop a round base. A Xenian man was strapped to it by purple energy binds around his forearms, biceps, legs, and ankles. He was a muscular man with tousled black hair, dressed in outlandish armor that was elaborately covered in Xenian script. His head was sunk on his chest—he didn’t even see Vincent approach.

But it was something else that caught Vincent’s eye. Attached to the side of the chair were two swords made of the same metal as the ones that the twins carried. They were the same length, but one had a blade that was somewhat thicker. Their cross-guards were slightly different as well: one was vaguely round with finger ridges, and the other was T-shaped.

Vincent realized he was spacing out again, so he started to sweep the rest of his surroundings. In the back of the room behind the chair were two gates: a small one for access and one big enough for an entire brigade.
Gaia’s supposed to show up any minute through the larger gate
, he remembered. Between the gates was a control panel with many monitors. Aside from that, there were no cameras, robots, or any guards in sight.

It all felt rather sinister.

“Duell?” Vincent asked, approaching the lethargic prisoner.

The Xenian slowly raised his head. His oval face showed signs of exhaustion: his brown eyes full of anger and pain; his lips, sealed in a line, trembling with fury. He was older than the twins, with several wrinkles on his face and newly emerging crow’s feet. His thick eyebrows were fixed in a deep frown. Seeing Vincent, his face took a questioning expression.

“I’m with your students,” Vincent began explaining.

The Xenian’s eyes broadened.

“We’re here to get you.”

“They have me… poisoned…” Duell grinded the words through his teeth. “Cowards…”

Vincent looked around. “How do I get you out of this?”

“Shoo—” Duell opened his mouth but then his gaze went behind Vincent.

Sensing a presence behind, Vincent spun around, impulsively raising his weapon.

A Xenian man in a black leather trench-coat stood behind him. He wore tall boots and black gloves—the only colors on his outfit being the chrome shoulder guards atop his coat. His head was completely bald, his face stern, solid, with a goatee. He was solemnly—yet questionably—staring at Vincent with eyes that commanded respect.

Vincent was horror-stricken as well, for in his right hand, the Xenian invader carried another illuminating sword. The man waved his hand, and an unseen force snatched the rifle from Vincent’s grip, slamming it against the wall. Unarmed, Vincent stepped back.

“Run… you fool,” Duell mumbled out as the aggressor began to advance.

Vincent knew if he made an attempt to escape, he’d surely be dead. He took another step back, looking around out.

“Such impudence,” the Xenian said and raised his sword arm.

But then—in a fraction of a second—some instinct took over Vincent. With super speed, he grabbed one of the swords from the side of the chair and blocked the attacker’s deadly blow.

An explosive sound rumbled throughout the room from the force of the blades smashing against one another, and an array of sparks rained upon the two as they stood with their swords locked.

“What is this trickery?” the Xenian exclaimed, looking at Duell.

Using the moment of confusion, Vincent put both of his hands on the hilt and pushed his assailant away. Stumbling back, the Xenian swung from the left, and once again—to his own surprise—Vincent blocked the hit. The latter immediately swung from the other side. As Vincent prevented the other attempt, the Xenian spun around and struck from the left again.

The Xenian’s heavy blows forced Vincent into defense, barely maintaining his balance. He began walking backwards, parrying the hits from the enemy who was gaining on him by twisting and whirling around. The blows came from every possible direction, and somehow he managed to thwart them all.

As Vincent nearly fell over for the fifth time, the Xenian pounced, thrusting his sword forward.

Leaning to the side, Vincent scarcely escaped the blade and quickly struck back.

The Xenian dodged the blow with a spinning crouch and swung at Vincent’s feet.

Vincent jumped up as high as he could. Surprisingly, he leapt over the Xenian and landed behind the latter—their backs to each other.

Not turning around, the aggressor struck to his right.

Vincent blocked the hit and swung at the Xenian from the other side.

The Xenian smashed the sword aside and jumped away, turning in the air to face his enemy.

Vincent whirled as well, nervously gripping the blade.

The Xenian stood there, one arm raised with the sword pointing down, and the other stretched, his hand formed into a fist beneath the tip of the blade. Before Vincent could make a move, the Xenian dashed forward and smashed his fist into his chest, sending the human to the floor gasping for air.

Vincent clutched his chest and dropped the sword.

“Incredible,” the Xenian said in a calm voice. “A creature I have never seen before with powers like that of our own.” He stopped over Vincent, looking down, studying the strange man he bested. “But not powerful enough!” With those words, he raised his blade, but then paused, sensing sudden movement from the side.

Damocles charged across the room and rammed the leather-clad Xenian with his shoulder.