Saint (Gateway Series Book 2) (2 page)

This guy is good
, thought Stone as he and Mori reached Thay after clearing the remainder of the room.

Thay drew a large knife from his tactical vest. Grabbing the dead slaver’s hair, he placed the blade to the man’s scalp.

“Thay!” shouted Mori. “No! Don’t!”

Thay’s grip on the slaver’s hair tightened.

“Iah tetkaie!”
ordered Mori in Thay’s native language.

Thay paused and looked up toward Mori, still holding the hair of the dead slaver.

His dark eyes glared back at Mori.

“Don’t fret.” He smiled and added, “It’s only symbolic.” He moved his blade over the man’s head as if he was taking the man’s scalp and let the victim’s head fall back to the deck. Still straddling his victim, he again withdrew his tomahawk and began to etch new marks into the handle.

“Why do you care what I do with this pig anyway?” asked Thay as he finished etching his tomahawk.

“I just want them dead,” replied Mori. “After that, I think of them no more.”

“I like to think about them,” Thay said, smiling. “Their deaths warm the lodge fires of my family and clan.”

Growing uncomfortable with the conversation and realizing they had not completed their mission, Stone interrupted.

“Mori, Thay, we need to get to the cargo bay.”

“Yes,” replied Mori, clearly embarrassed by allowing herself to lose focus and by the unseemly conversation between her and Thay. “I’ll take point,” she added with a quick glance toward Thay.

In a few minutes the three had made their way to the lower level of the ship. At the bottom of the ladder, Mori pulled out a small digital device and flipped through several screens.

“Looks like there should be one more compartment before the main cargo bay,” she said, placing the device back into her pocket.

“If this flying trash can is still per original design,” added Thay.

“Either way,” said Stone, pointing toward the closed armored doors in front of them, “we’re going that way.”

“Then let’s get to it,” replied Mori.

Stone took position on the starboard side of the hatch. Crouching down with his right shoulder toward the bulkhead by the hatch, Stone held his rifle at the low-ready position. He looked across to Thay, who had taken a position opposite him. Once both were ready, Stone turned back toward Mori.

“Ready,” he reported.

Mori placed an electronic entry box on the control panel, holding the pistol grip of her riot gun in her right hand. “Stand by,” she warned.

Stone gripped his rifle tightly and took a deep breath.

“Firing!” shouted Mori as she flipped the switch causing the armored door’s circuitry to be overridden.

The door slid open.

Someone burst through the hatch toward Mori. A shot from Mori’s gun rang out and the assailant tumbled backward. Stone’s heart jumped as he recognized the uniform; it was a Guardsman. Dumbfounded, he almost failed to notice a second man step into the opening and swing his sword toward Stone’s head. Falling backward, Stone heard the metallic singing of the sword and the brush of air as the blade missed his head by millimeters.

The Guardsman stepped toward Stone. Over his attacker’s shoulder, Stone saw Thay stand to fire his pistol only to be attacked by another Guardsman. Refocusing on his own defense, Stone swung his rifle above his chest to block the Guardsman’s next attack. The attacker instantly recovered and positioned his sword for a downward stab.

“It’s the Traitor!” shouted the Guardsman as he recognized Stone.

Then the face registered with Stone. It was Lieutenant Ghant from 2nd Battalion. The two warriors locked their gaze on each other. Stone could see nothing but hatred in his opponent’s eyes.

Ghant shifted his weight as Mori lunged toward him, her sword drawn. From his back and with his reflexes stunted from the shock of seeing Elite Guard troops, Stone could only watch as Ghant parried Mori’s thrust and countered with a strike to her right jaw. Mori grunted from the impact and stumbled but quickly regained her balance and lowered her shoulder into the man’s rib cage. Slamming the man against the bulkhead, Mori landed two blows to her opponent’s rib cage in rapid succession. The Guardsman curled his body inward in pain but responded with a series of elbows to Mori’s shoulder blades, knocking her to the ground. Hitting her knees, Mori reacted to block the Guardsman’s knee and punched the inside of his right leg.

“Tyler!” shouted Mori as she struggled with the skilled combatant.

Mori’s cry was like a bolt of electricity to Stone. As Mori and the Guardsman continued their fight above him, Stone grabbed Mori’s knife from her waist belt and plunged it into the man’s thigh.

Ghant let out a moan and fell on top of Stone.

“I’m going to kill you,” grunted the injured Guardsman. Pain erupted in Stone’s ribs and radiated toward his spine as Ghant crashed an elbow into his side.

Grunting, Stone felt the weight of the Guardsman’s body and wrapped his right arm underneath Ghant’s chin and locked his left behind his head. He struggled to maintain his grip as Ghant worked to pry Stone’s left arm loose.

The weight on top of Stone increased as Mori landed on top of Ghant, crashing her right knee into the Guardsman’s sternum. Stone heard Ghant’s ribs crack, quickly followed by a painful grunt from the Humani warrior. Ghant loosened his grip and Stone capitalized by locking in his choke hold, squeezing tightly as he planned to choke the man unconscious.

Mori’s weight shifted and Stone looked over Ghant’s shoulder to see Mori jerk the knife from the Guardsman’s thigh and raise it above her head.

“No!” shouted Stone.

Mori drove the long knife into the man’s chest with a primordial grunt.

Ghant’s body began to spasm and Stone felt a reduction in pressure on his body as Mori leapt to her feet. Stone rolled Ghant’s body onto the floor and pulled himself up against the bulkhead. As he stood, he looked toward Thay, who had joined them. The right side of Thay’s face was swollen, blood trickled from a gash on his right cheek, and the left sleeve of his uniform was slashed and soaked in blood from a flesh wound.

“You okay?” Mori asked Thay.

“Better than him,” replied Thay as he tilted his head toward the bloody body of the Guardsman lying on the floor.

“And what the hell was that?” snapped Thay as his attention turned from Mori to Stone. “That second man shouldn’t have made it through the hatch.”

“You have to remember, Thay,” interrupted Mori. “These men were his companions.”

Stone was thankful that Mori had his back but could clearly tell she was concerned about the situation he had created.

“That doesn’t matter,” shot back Thay. He stepped toward Stone, his dark eyes locked in a cold stare. “You’re either one of us or one of
them
,” he said, holding his bloody tomahawk up to Stone’s face. “You need to figure it out. Soon.”

“Tha'tetsato-tat!”
shouted Mori again in Thay’s language.

Thay turned back toward Mori and the two exchanged what Stone knew was a heated argument about him in one of the Terillian languages. After a moment, Thay looked over toward Stone. He could see the frustration and anger in Thay’s eyes.

“Us!” shouted Thay as he pounded his tomahawk to his chest, “or them!” He pointed toward the dead Elite Guard soldiers. Thay focused his gaze on Stone, staring straight into his eyes for several seconds before letting out a grunt and walking away.

Stone looked toward Mori. Her green eyes showed both a deep concern for his feelings and frustration at his hesitation in combat.

“Tyler,” she whispered, “I know it can’t be easy, especially when it comes to your former clan…I mean…companions, but you
are
with us…with me now. It’s for the greater good that we fight.”

Stone opened his mouth to speak but Mori raised her hand to stop him. She continued. “You have to come to grips with the reality that many brave warriors and innocent civilians may die in our struggle but in the end we’ll be victorious and then we all can be at peace.”

“I’m sorry,” apologized an embarrassed Stone, knowing he had let Mori down and actually endangered her life by his hesitation.

Mori’s hand caressed his face as she looked up toward him.

“I know you would die for me, Tyler.” She paused. Stone felt Mori’s other hand cradle his opposite cheek as she pulled him to her for a slow, soft kiss. After the kiss, she turned his head so that he was again looking directly into her striking green eyes.

“But I have to know you’ll kill for me too.”

Chapter 2

Astra sat erect in her elaborate chair in the ProConsul chamber. After a small but noticeable sigh, she looked toward the main entrance and let out a long, slow breath.

“They are late, ProConsul,” stated the lone attendant in the room, save two guards.

“
They
,” retorted Astra, “are never late.”

“Of course, ProConsul,” acknowledged the attendant as he lowered his head in subservience.

“Our Advisors are here to provide much-needed guidance and keep us on the path to becoming the glorious civilization that both we and our Xen friends have envisioned for our people.”

“Of course, Pro—” the attendant paused and raised a hand to his ear as a communication was passed to him through his earpiece. “ProConsul, they are here.”

Astra’s attention snapped back toward the entrance. She rose to her feet, took another deep breath, and slowly stepped down from the elevated position maintained by her chair. She reached the ground level just as the massive doors of the main entrance slowly creaked opened.

Astra closed her eyes momentarily as the light from the outer halls pierced the room and was directed perfectly toward her chair. As she opened her eyes, she could make out two spectral shapes shuffling through the opening. Narrowing her eyes, Astra made out the hooded and cloaked silhouettes of the Xen Advisors as they approached.

The Advisors’ scaled, greenish-brown snouts jutted from their hoods as they scurried down the lavender carpet laid out in honor of their visit. They stopped in front of Astra.

“ProConsul,” the attendant’s voice echoed through the vast chamber. “Representatives of the Xennite Emperor and his many allies, Advisor Dlackar the Wise and Advisor Vartor the Clever request an audience.”

“Your presence is always welcome, our most gracious and wise allies,” responded Astra as she bowed slowly to each Advisor.

“Of course, ProConsul,” hissed Dlackar, the Xen elongation of the ‘s’ evident. “As we are pressed for time, we must ask to make this a brief visit.”

“Certainly,” replied Astra as she nodded her head in acknowledgment. Advisors’ time was not to be wasted. “Everyone out!”

The attendant and two guards exited the room as if pushed by an unseen force. The doors to the chamber closed and both Advisors dropped their hoods, exposing their elongated reptilian heads.

“Vartor and Dlackar are waiting for your report,” directed Dlackar.

Astra nodded her head and began. “We have consolidated our hold in the Sierra system and the planned advance into the Golf system is as scheduled with reserves made available following the end of resistance in Bravo. Heavy fighting continues in the Foxtrot and November systems. Our Doran allies, as you have reported, are conducting operations in both India, Mike, and Navato systems.”

“Yes,” hissed Vartor. “Our allies are performing well. What are your concerns?”

“Yes,” added Dlackar. “The Emperor must be aware of any problems.”

“Yes, of course,” replied Astra. “We have reports of continuing raids on slave vessels in the neutral and contested systems, especially the Foxtrot system. Our intelligence sources believe special operations teams are specifically targeting our transports. I believe this is where the Traitor is—”

“Enough of this Traitor,” interrupted Dlackar. “Don’t let your need for vengeance cloud your judgment.”

“Or allow you to forget the First Families’ duty to the Emperor,” added Vartor. “Do not make us regret our decision to work with you—instead of incorporate you—into our plans.”

Astra’s body grew hot. She prayed for the day she could break free of the yokes of her overlords. But for now she had to play the game.

“Yes, of course. Both myself and the First Families understand and will carry out the wishes of the Emperor—with the glory of the Xennite Empire always in our foremost thoughts.”

“Good, good,” replied Dlackar. “What of your losses?”

“I do not concern myself with our losses as I and the First Families would gladly sacrifice all for the Empire, but I can say that our forces have inflicted over two million casualties on the enemy.”

The two Xen turned toward one another in silent acknowledgment of Astra’s pledge of loyalty and then returned to the questioning.

“And the number of slaves gathered?” asked Vartor.

“Approximately 100,000,” responded Astra. “The incursion by Terillian special forces has cost us close to 50,000.”

“These numbers are not acceptable,” hissed Dlackar as he stepped toward Astra. “We were promised 120,000 per year.”

Recognizing Dlackar’s anger, Astra went down on one knee and lowered her head to show her subservience. Her teeth ground together as she feigned humility. “I agree, Advisor Dlackar,” she conceded. “Perhaps if the Emperor would authorize our Doran allies to support us or provide Xen forces….”

“Silence!” shouted Vartor. “The Emperor will allocate our forces and those of our allies—including the Humani—as he sees fit.”

“Of course,” replied Astra as she placed her second knee on the ground. “I simply mentioned this as a request for consideration of our Emperor.”

“Do not forget, ProConsul, that while you rule this planet, you are but one of many that serve the Emperor,” responded Dlackar.

Astra took in a deep breath. “Yes. And I humbly offer a plan to replenish the chattel lost to the Terillians.”

Dlackar turned his head slightly toward Vartor, who in turn nodded.

“Continue, ProConsul,” directed Vartor.

“My agents have been in contact with the ruler of a significant population in the Echo system. We are on the verge of solidifying a deal that will provide more than enough servants for your home world with the promise of a continued supply.”

Dlackar’s tongue flitted quickly in and out of his gaped mouth. After an elongated hiss of contemplation, he spoke.

“And how will this be possible?”

Astra rose to her feet and slowly smoothed her dress as smile of satisfaction came to her face.

“By using one of the most powerful weapons available against humans.”

“What’s this weapon you speak of?” asked Dlackar.

“Religion,” replied Astra with a cold smile.

“Continue,” added Vartor.

“It has come to our attention that a leader has arisen in the Echo system and begun to unite the planets through a religious doctrine that gives him significant control of his subjects. He has run into some opposition on Echo 2 and went to the Port Royal Association for financial and military backing; they naturally contacted my agents. We have currently traded some old weaponry with him and in return he will provide a sample of his followers for genetic alteration. I plan on sending an emissary there to persuade him to assist the Xennite Emperor’s interests in a larger role.” Astra paused. She despised these reptilian overseers that both ensured and limited her power over Alpha Humana. But for now they had to be appeased. “This assistance will be a tithe in chattel which can be shipped directly to your home worlds while at the same time allowing us to gain a foothold into the Echo system without firing a shot.”

“Interesting,” replied Dlackar. “And how will you provide this support?”

Astra took a step toward the Advisors.

“With a humble request for the Emperor to authorize our Doran allies to assist in the Foxtrot system, which would allow us to—”

“You have proposed an interesting plan,” interrupted Dlackar. “The Doran allies are not available to assist—”

“But—”

Dlackar quickly raised his clawed hand to silence Astra.

“We will contact the Imperial Court and determine if the Emperor will be willing to support this plan. Until then, you can send your agent to speak to this leader and promise assistance.”

“And if the Emperor does not authorize additional forces?” asked Astra, her head tilted slightly, inquisitively.

“Then,” added Vartor, “you will need to find a way to persuade this—”

“He calls himself the Saint,” clarified Astra.

“—this Saint,” continued Vartor, “to provide you the slaves we require regardless of support from the Dorans.”

“As is your duty to the Empire,” added Dlackar.

***

Stone stood outside the final door to the cargo bay of the slave ship, his rifle at the ready. His heart pounded in his chest and sweat ran down his forehead.
Damn it, Stone, pull your head out of your ass
. He had no idea what was behind the door, but if it were another Guardsman, he would have to kill him. His mind raced with a thousand scenarios of what would happen when that door opened. As Stone readied himself for the possibility of killing another former comrade, his body pulsed with each heartbeat and his knees started to buckle as he stared at the door.
Greater good. Mori’s right
, he reassured himself.
If Ghant was here, maybe Captain Desro’s on the other side of the door. Or Sergeant Lowstreet. Or…
Stone shook his head to regain his composure.
Focus,
Stone ordered himself.
Focus on the door, not what’s behind it. The door…and Mori’s words.

“Breaching!”

Mori’s voice jolted Stone back to his task as the doors to the cargo bay opened.

Stone brought his rifle to his shoulder and peered down the sights as he rushed into the compartment. Breaking the plane of the door, Stone felt Thay and Mori move into the compartment covering his right and left. Stone scanned for targets.

Twenty meters in front of Stone were dozens of people sitting in a tight circle at the far end of the cargo bay. Stone examined the crowd, his weapon at the ready.

“Careful,” added Mori as she and Thay flanked the crowd.

“Something’s very wrong with this,” Stone thought out loud.

“Everyone down on your face!” shouted Thay.

The group remained still. Thay repeated the order.

No one moved.

The tension grew heavy. Freed slaves or captives didn’t act like this. This was all wrong.

“Magnus, Katalya, get down to the cargo bay,” ordered Mori into her comms.

The focused look and tense stance taken by Mori told Stone she was concerned and the request for backup only heightened his own apprehensions. Stone examined the group more closely. They appeared to be unarmed but he couldn’t be certain due to their positioning.

Each wore gray woolen trousers with brown suspenders and white cotton shirts. Around each neck was a bright red scarf and their hair, regardless of the color, was grown thick and to the neckline in the back with two long tufts running the length of their face just forward of their ears.

“Are they slaves?” asked Mori, her riot gun pointed toward the crowd.

“There are no slaves here,” came a low but booming voice from the center of the group.

Stone, Mori, and Thay instantly shouldered their weapons toward the center of the assembly. Stone tightened his grip on his rifle and slid his finger inside the trigger guard as a man slowly rose from the center of the crowd.

The man was clearly different than the rest. He wore a dark hooded cloak that made it impossible to see if he was armed.

“Put your hands in the air!” ordered Stone.

The mysterious man slowly complied and raised his arms above his head. The sleeves of his cloak fell to his elbows, exposing forearms covered in tattoos.

“Get down here now,” Mori whispered into her comms to hasten the arrival of Magnus and Katalya.

“Don’t be concerned,” said the hooded man in a guttural voice. As he spoke, he slowly lowered his hands to remove his hood.

“Hands in the air or I’ll drop you where you stand!” ordered Mori.

As the man raised his hands again, Stone noticed more tattoos covering the man’s neck and a large six-point star imprinted on his forehead. His face was clean shaven as was his head except for a tightly woven braid that fell from the top of his head to the back of his neck. His gaze still locked on the cloaked man, Stone noticed Thay slowly shifting his position to move behind the peripheral view of the stranger.

“Your friend can move behind me if he likes,” spoke the man, “for I have hundreds of eyes. My flock is ever vigilant.”

Stone looked to Mori, who motioned for Thay to return to his previous position.

“With one hand, slowly remove the cloak,” directed Mori.

The man obliged and with one hand loosed the clasp of the cloak.

“Weapon!” shouted Stone as the cloak fell, revealing a sidearm and several edged weapons.

The removal of the cloak also revealed a bare, well-muscled torso covered with tattoos of what Stone surmised to be script.

“Drop the weapons!” shouted Mori.

The man turned directly toward Mori. As he did, Stone read some of the script covering the man’s back:

The Believers do not fear death

Death brings the ultimate truth

Death brings the ultimate order

This is going to go bad
, Stone thought to himself.