Saint (Gateway Series Book 2) (26 page)

Martin dropped her rifle and drew her sword as the wave opened up and five priests pushed to the front of the wave, swords drawn. The first of the priests fell instantly, a round fired by a Guardsman behind Martin impacting with a thud in the center of his chest. The next swung his sword toward Martin’s head. She quickly blocked the priest’s attack with her sword. She felt the weight of the priest pushing down on his sword and quickly drew a pistol from her waistbelt and fired two rounds into his chest as she spun to meet the next attacker. But he slammed into her before she could bring a weapon to bear. The impact of her head and shoulders against the nearby wall jarred her, but she reacted quickly and brought her knee into the attacker’s face. Grabbing the man’s cloak, she pulled his body erect and raised her pistol toward his head. She was about to pull the trigger when the pointed edge of Lowstreet’s sergeant’s rapier tore through the front of the man’s chest. Martin looked over the man’s shoulder to see Lowstreet tackled to the floor by two followers.

As Lowstreet fell, Martin shifted her balance and torqued her hips as she slammed her foot into the ribs of one of the followers. The impact was solid as Martin heard the pop of the man’s ribcage as several ribs broke. Spinning back to her left, she fired two more rounds into a follower a meter away and quickly looked for the next target. To her front lay a carpet of follower bodies two and three deep. Turning to her rear, Martin saw the bodies of the priests and a few followers scattered among the Guardsmen. She also took a quick inventory of the Guardsmen. One lay dead against the opposite wall with a priest’s blade in his chest and the body of the priest lying over his legs. Another was being treated for a nasty wound to his left arm. The rest were unharmed.

“They just don’t stop,” replied Lowstreet as he pushed the body of a follower off his chest and slowly rose to his feet.

“We’ve got to keep moving,” she replied. “Are your men ready?”

Lowstreet turned toward the wounded Guardsman. “You good, Li?”

“Tip-top,” grunted the wounded man even though his arm was torn almost to the bone from his elbow to shoulder.

“Good to know.” Lowstreet smiled. “Then you can stay here with Bradley and watch our six. If we need to get out quick, we don’t need anyone shutting the backdoor on us.” Lowstreet looked toward Bradley, who returned a nod of acknowledgment.

Martin could tell the wounded man was frustrated but wouldn’t dare challenge Lowstreet.

“Will do, Sarge,” he answered.

“Outstanding,” replied Lowstreet before turning back to Martin. “Let’s get to it.”

“Outstanding,” repeated Martin as she felt the rumble of a series of explosions from above-ground. “On me.”

Martin stepped onto the pile of followers they would have to cross to reach the opposite side of the hallway. She moved slowly with her rifle at the ready, gently placing each footstep on the carpet of human carnage in order to maintain her balance. The soft feel of the bodies as she made her way over the macabre carpet reminded her of the soft red moss on Sierra 7. Eventually the soft, grisly feel of mangled human flesh gave way to the hard stone flooring and she quickly moved a few meters to a large door at the end of the passageway. She looked back toward the Guardsmen; they were in position to face whatever was behind the door. Martin pressed a small green button on the access panel and the doors slid open with a metallic clang.

She shifted her balance to look inside.

Nothing.

“Well shit,” exclaimed Lowstreet as he stepped beside Martin.

The door had exposed an open lift shaft with no platform. Looking upward, Martin saw two detached cables that appeared to have been mechanically unlatched.

“Looks like they sent those followers up here and then cut the cables for the lift,” stated Lowstreet.

Martin turned away from the opening. Her muscles tightened with frustration. She hated losing. After a deep contemplative breath she turned back toward the opening of the elevator shaft. It appeared to extend several more floors before disappearing into darkness. “Somebody give me a light,” she ordered.

“Ma’am,” replied a Guardsman as he reached her a light.

She took the light and examined the walls of the shaft. Every 3 to 4 meters was a small ledge.

Suddenly, a massive explosion from above nearly caused Martin to lose her balance. Steadying herself, she turned back toward the opening. Chunks of metal, stone, and other materials knocked loose from the force of the explosion fell down the shaft eventually disappearing into the darkness. Listening intently, Martin heard the debris impacting the floor of the shaft. “Two seconds,” she said out loud. Quickly flashing back to the “mental gymnastics” class she hated as a cadet, Martin let the numbers run through her head, accounting for the planet’s gravitational acceleration. “About 50 meters,” she declared as she turned toward Lowstreet. “Do we have rappelling gear?”

“Mitchell, get your ass over here,” ordered Lowstreet.

The tall, broad-shouldered Guardsman instantly appeared in front of Lowstreet.

“What rappelling gear do we have?”

“Not much, Sarge,” he replied. “Most of its all fucked up from the landing and that explosion that killed Nolan.”

“Well, what do you have?”

“Twenty-five meters of line, a harness, and some hardware.”

“Looks like we’ll have to do this in chunks,” replied Martin.

A burst of gunfire echoing down the passageway drew everyone’s attention.

“Bradley, status?” ordered Lowstreet over his comms circuit.

“Contact!” came the response. “Multiple—”

More gunfire.

“Torres, Wilkes, go back em up,” ordered Lowstreet as he turned toward Martin. “We need to hurry.”

“Give me your gear, corporal,” ordered Martin to Mitchell.

Martin quickly slung her rifle over her back and locked the rappelling harness into place around her waist.

“Engaged with multiple targets. We can’t hold them much longer” came over the circuit.

“Shit!” replied Lowstreet. “Mitchell, you go with Paladin Martin. The rest of you with me.”

He turned toward Martin. “We’ll try to buy you enough time.”

“Make ’em pay,” replied Martin, knowing Lowstreet was sacrificing himself and his men for her mission.

“No doubt.” Lowstreet smiled as he paused to give Martin a perfect salute as if on the parade ground and then turned toward the gunfire. “Move out!” he shouted.

As the rest of Guardsmen rushed toward their deaths, Martin and Mitchell stood at the edge of the shaft.

“We go a floor at a time,” she directed as she positioned herself for the first drop.

“Roger,” replied Mitchell as the intensity of the gunfire behind them grew.

Martin turned her body and with Mitchell anchoring her, quickly slid down to the next level. Balancing herself on the small platform no more than a third of a meter in length, Martin locked an anchor in place on a support beam. “You’re up, Mitchell,” she said looking up toward the access.

Suddenly an explosion in the hallway above caused the walls of the shaft to shudder and Martin to tighten her already white-knuckle grip on the support. “You good?” asked Martin to Mitchell. As she asked she realized there was no longer any gunfire.

“I’m—”

Mitchell’s response was cut short by a burst from his rifle.

Suddenly the rope went slack and fell toward Martin.

“Go now!” shouted Mitchell.

Martin slid her rifle to the ready and looked up. As she did, she saw the body of a priest flash past her, followed by two Crustagenios soldiers. She shifted her body to see as much of the opening above as she could. She looked up to see Mitchell with his heels at the edge of the shaft. He quickly glanced down toward her.

“Go!” he shouted and turned to fire another burst from his rifle.

Martin quickly checked her harness and pushed off toward the next ledge. As her feet made contact with the wall she heard another burst from Mitchell’s rifle and looked up just as a round tore into his chest spinning him around and knocking him to the ground.

His gaze met Martin’s as he lay on his stomach. She could see the cold determination in his eyes. He still had some fight in him.

Martin watched as he pushed himself to his knees and reached for his knife and pistol. She pushed off again and slid another few meters down the shaft. As she was drifting downward, she heard the
pop
-
pop
-
pop
of Mitchell’s pistol and then a loud groan.

Martin looked up to see Mitchell and two followers falling toward her. Before she could react, one of the followers crashed into her shoulder and head and everything went dark.

Chapter 20

Martin’s body jerked violently as consciousness returned with a flash. Instantly, pain shot through her shoulder and she sat up like a shot.

“Easy, Paladin Martin,” she heard a man say in a soothing voice.

Martin felt a gentle hand on her undamaged shoulder and turned to see a Humani medic smiling back at her.

“Where am I?” she demanded as she looked around what appeared to be a medical bay.

“You’re on the battle cruiser
Crasius Renus
, and I am medic first class Braun, part of Admiral Haxius’s private medical team.”

A dull pain enveloped her side and back as she became more aware of her. “How long have I—”

“Not long, Paladin,” replied the medic. “Just a few days. When we found you, you were in rough shape so we had to keep you under to work on you.”

“Any other Guardsmen?” she asked, hopeful some of them had survived.

“I’m afraid not, Paladin,” answered the medic.

Martin shook her head in frustration. Lowstreet was a good soldier. All of them were good soldiers. And they had died for not just one but two lies. First the complete fallacy that was their own history and the new lie that was the Saint’s Word. “The Saint?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about him, Paladin. Our combat troops have taken the two largest cities and have killed over 30,000 of his followers in just two days.”

“Lambs to the slaughter,” pondered Martin out loud. “What about the Saint?” she asked again.

“He has seen the power and might of the Humani military is no match for his backward followers,” answered the proud medic. “His shuttle docked only moments ago to discuss terms with General Mellius.”

“What?” replied Martin. She let out a groan as she swung herself out of the bed.

“What are you doing, Paladin Martin?” asked the surprised medic. “You should rest.”

“That bastard won’t surrender,” she interjected. “Something isn’t right.”

“I don’t under—”

“Where are they meeting?” grumbled Martin. “And where are my damn clothes?”

“In the starboard main hangar,” replied the medic. “And you have a new uniform in the locker over—”

“Call security and tell them to clear the hangar,” ordered Martin as she stepped into a pair of pants, letting out a slight grimace from the pain of her injuries. “Now!”

“Yes, Paladin,” replied the startled medic as he turned and ran toward a communications panel on the opposite wall.

Martin grabbed her belt, with Lieutenant Braxus’s sword still attached, and quickly locked it in place. Gripping her service weapon, she ejected the clip. “Full mag,” she said to herself as she slammed it back into place and racked a round into the chamber. She had just pulled her shirt from the locker when the medic shouted across the room.

“The security office said they needed confirmation of a threat before they interrupt the meeting.”

“Assholes,” grumbled Martin as she mechanically walked to the comms panel and pushed the medic out of the way. “Whoever the dumbass is in the security office, this is Paladin Martin. If you don’t call an alert immediately, I’m gonna come down there and put my boot up your ass!”

Almost immediately red lights began to pulse at the exits to the room and the ship’s intercom crackled before the announcement.

SECURITY ALERT, SECURITY ALERT, SECURITY ALERT IN STARBOARD MAIN HANGAR, AWAY ALL SECURITY FORCES, ALL NON-ESSENTIAL PERSONNEL EVACUATE STARBOARD MAIN HANGAR AND REPORT TO AUXILLIARY HANGER ALPHA. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

“Morons,” said Martin loudly as she rushed toward the door, throwing her arm through one of her shirtsleeves as she went.

Once in the outside passageway, she pushed her arm through the other sleeve and started to latch her buttons as she ran. Near the end of the passageway Martin saw four members of the security team rush into the elevator. “Hold that elevator!” she shouted toward them as the doors started to close. The door quickly slid full open again and Martin rushed inside.

“Give me your comms link,” she ordered one of the guards as soon as she entered the elevator.

The guard was startled and slow to respond.

“Just…here,” grunted Martin as she snatched the link from the man’s chest. “Who’s Mellius’s security officer?”

“Umm…” stumbled the guard.

“Name!” she shouted.

“Uh…Captain Velari,” stumbled one of the guards.

“Captain Velari of General Mellius’s guard, this is Paladin Martin, over,” said Martin into the comms link as the elevator quickly descended toward the hangar.

She repeated the call.

As the seconds passed, Martin looked toward one of the guards. He was staring at her.

“What is it?” she growled.

“Uh, I’m sorry, Paladin,” he replied meekly. “I just noticed your feet.”

“My what?” asked Martin, ready to punch the guard. The cold hard sensation of the tile on her bare feet suddenly registered. “Boots are for pussies.” She turned away from the guard. Once she was sure the others couldn’t see her, she mouthed
shit
, with a quick shake of her head before she activated the comms link again.

“Captain Velari of General Mellius’s guard, this is Paladin Martin, over.”

“Paladin, Martin, this is Velari. Why did you call away an alert?”

“Just get Mellius out of there and clear the area,” she replied as the elevator doors slid open on the hangar level.

Martin burst from the elevator and rushed toward a stairwell leading toward the main deck of the hangar. Skipping several steps, she quickly descended the ladderway and activated the barrier door which opened into the main hangar. As the door slid open, Martin pulled her pistol and stepped inside. Ten meters away stood General Mellius, his security team, and other officers. A few meters beyond was an old transport, no doubt the Saint’s.

“What is the meaning of this, Martin?” shouted Mellius, his face bright red with anger.

“Where is he?” replied Martin as she walked toward the Mellius.

As she continued toward Mellius, Captain Velari stepped forward to block Martin’s path.

“General Mellius is not pleased that you have disrupted his acceptance of the Saint’s surrender,” he stated with his hand on his sidearm.

“I don’t give a shit what the general is not pleased with,” she replied. “It’s a trap, Velari. This guy isn’t going to surrender.”

“Nonsense!” shouted Mellius from a few meters away. “He has gotten a taste of Humani might and had his fill.”

“You arrogant jackass!”

“You will not talk to General Mellius in that tone!” shouted Velari as he grabbed Martin’s arm tightly.

“I…” replied Martin as she grasped the captain’s hand and wrenched it away from her body. “…will do what I please.” She drove her fist into Velari’s throat.

The captain fell to the floor as Martin continued on. “Where is he?” she demanded.

“How dare you!” shouted Mellius as he and his other guards took a defensive stance.

“I’m a Paladin, you pompous dick.” She smiled. “And I answer to no one except the ProConsul.”

Martin heard the doors to the old transport open and spun to her left. From the transport stepped two priests.

“General,” said Martin turning toward Mellius. “Don’t be an idiot. Get out of here an—”

“Paladin Martin, what a surprise,” came a smooth, booming voice from the transport.

Martin turned again to see the Saint step from hatch, followed by four more priests.

“Get back in that transport, asshole,” she ordered.

“Looks like your time with my followers did little for your attitude,” he replied as he stopped at the bottom of the access ramp.

“Please excuse Paladin Martin,” interrupted Mellius. “I am prepared to discuss—”

“Mellius, shut your damn mouth! He’s not here to talk!”

“It seems you cause trouble everywhere you go.” The Saint took another step toward Mellius.

Martin leveled her pistol toward the Saint. “Not one more step!”

The priests responded to Martin’s move and drew their weapons. In response, the Humani guards drew their weapons.

“Everyone wait!” shouted Mellius. “This man is a guest under my flag.”

Martin kept her focus on the Saint but spoke to Mellius. “If you’d actually took your fat ass down to the surface, you would know these assholes don’t surrender.”

“Very good.” The Saint looked toward Martin. “So you do understand us.”

“I understand you’re a fake and a lunatic, Tali Vena,” answered Martin. “I know who you are.”

Martin saw the Saint pause and slightly turn his head at the sound of his real name.

“You might know who I used to be, but therein lies the beauty, the pure, cleansing beauty of the Word, my young Paladin. We all used to be someone else. But the truth of the Word transforms everyone who opens their heart. I was chosen by the Word to be the physical embodiment of its teachings. From that glorious day, until my last,” he paused to let a slow smile form around the edges of his mouth, “Tali Vena ceased to exist and the Saint was born. Even for an unbeliever such as yourself, you know this is true.”

“Shut up!” replied Martin.

“Now Paladin—”

Martin fired a round into the Saint’s leg causing him to stumble but not fall. In response the priest leveled their weapons toward Martin.

“Hold your fire!” shouted the Saint with a booming voice that echoed across the hangar.

“I’ll have you on charges!” shouted Mellius.

“Such palpable displays of Humani character,” said the Saint, his grin thinly veiling the pain from the wound to his leg. “The arrogant General Mellius and his minions. All you can see is the glory of accepting my defeat and pleasing your precious ProConsul Astra Varus, herself just a vassal of the Xen Empire.”

He turned toward Martin.

“And you, my fierce Paladin, are so full of the same violence your civilization has exerted on the people of the Dark Zone for generations in the name of civil order and stability.” He paused. “Stability!” he shouted before letting out a deep laugh. “Your single planet. One planet,” he said, presenting an outstretched finger to Martin, “has sown fear, distrust, chaos, and suffering in the hearts of countless millions on dozens of planets.” He paused again. “For a lie!”

“Shut up or I’ll put a bullet in your brain,” warned Martin.

“Of course,” he responded. “Answer truth with violence. But kill me if you like. When you do you’ll see that death will beget the truth.”

Martin wanted to pull the trigger. But she could tell the Saint wanted her to as well.

“General!” shouted Velari. “We have reports that ships are launching all across the sector from Echo 4’s moon and both Echo 3 and 2.”

“We are under attack!” declared Mellius.

“No sir,” responded Velari. “The ships seem to be setting courses for planets scattered across the Dark Zone. Hundreds of ships, sir.”

“To all carriers, launch aircraft to intercept,” ordered Mellius.

“Sir, several have begun to jump,” replied Velari.

“What have you done?” demanded Martin as she raised her pistol toward the Saint again.

“The Humani have sown the seeds of suffering and death,” he replied. Martin saw a euphoric glow slowly cover his face as he continued. “Now it is time for you to reap the harvest.” He extended his arms toward the overhead of the hangar. “As my followers spread across the known worlds to plant the seed of the Word, I will fuel their growth with my own blood.”

“Son of a bitch,” said Martin aloud as she realized why the Saint had agreed to come to the ship.

Martin fired but a priest had stepped in front of the Saint and absorbed the round. Spun around by the shot, the priest outstretched his arms to cover the Saint’s front as the five others mimicked his actions, forming a cocoon around their leader.

“Open fire!” shouted Martin as rounds fired into the cluster of priests.

The automatic weapons of General Mellius’s guards joined in tearing apart the priests’ bodies.

After a few violent seconds the echoes of gunfire died away. Martin let the clip fall from her pistol and inserted another as she walked toward the pile of human wreckage. When she reached the bodies she looked for movement and saw none. Holding her pistol toward the center of the mass, she grabbed the arm of one of the dead priests and pulled him from the pile, exposing the Saint.

He was still alive but barely. She quickly grabbed his arms, extended them above his head, and checked his hands for any objects. She heard him cough and raised her pistol to his forehead.

“Do it,” he smiled as blood flowed from his mouth. “And let it be done.”

Martin ignored the Saint’s plea and grabbed his shirt, tearing it open. Just as she had thought, a vest of gel explosives was strapped to his chest.

“No martyrdom for you today,” said Martin. “Today you just die.”

“And in death I become the Word,” he replied with a bloody grin.