Star Brigade: The Supremacy (SB3) (10 page)

“This was not me.” Taorr’s words sounded pathetic in his own ears, despite their veracity. “I came to meet with the N’noa tribal leader for peace.
Never
would I go back on my word.”

Mhir’ujiid’s teary eyes glittered, whether from fear, disgust, or otherwise, Taorr could not tell.

Her mouth opened. “I know,” she quietly said—in flawless Standard.

Yaeson and Oanor were beside themselves. In their narrow opinion, a Farooqua speaking Standard was like watching a canine play a musical instrument. Zojje, however, looked pleasantly surprised.

“But the leader of the N’noa Tribal Nation lies dead behind me by Ttaunz hands. His followers burned,” Mhir’ujiid continued, fury seeping into her words. “How will you make this right?”

Taorr began to speak when something cut him off, an ethereal venom hissing through the air. His eyes darted around the settlement in alarm, seeing only smoldering huts and dead Farooqua strewn everywhere. Yaeson and Oanor glanced about, their resolute veneers beginning to waver. Zojje remained vigilant as he scanned about. “Something is wrong.” He backpedaled, and tugged on Taorr’s robes to follow suit. “It is not safe here.”

“Your friend is right.” Everyone stared at Mhir’ujiid, who stared at the sky in entranced terror.

Taorr looked up. A churning overcast had clouded over previously clear skies. The crescent moon, a lone spectator in the heavens, pulsed brighter than usual. And the hissing amplified.

“What are you doing?!” Yaeson bellowed, aiming his gun again at Mhir’ujiid. “Stop now, Farooqua, or I blow you into oblivion!”

The Farooqua girl barely flinched at the threat. “It is not me...” Flames danced in Mhir’ujiid’s opal eyes, giving an eerie weight to her voice. “He’s coming.”

“Who is coming?” Oanor asked, stepping between her and Taorr with gun cocked at the ready.

Mhir’ujiid looked Taorr straight in the eye. “Ghuj’aega!”

The air seemed to freeze at the very mention of this being, despite the immense heat still rolling off blazing huts. Then the hissing made the very air around them begin to shake, rattling every bone in Taorr’s body. Huts swayed under the tremors, their fiery remnants buckling and collapsing completely.

Another skyquake,
Taorr realized, this one growing more and more violent. The overcast had churned into a snaking, twisting vortex. Could this be Ghuj’aega’s power at work? Oanor could barely maintain his hefty balance as the guard grabbed Taorr and dragged him away. Yaeson also pulled a visibly alarmed Zojje to safety.

Mhir’ujiid had not moved, her face a mask of horror as she cried out, “TAORR, RUN!”

Too late. The center of this blackened vortex lit up with a blinding spark, spitting out a fork of lightning. A flash of harsh light washed away Taorr’s sight for an instant, knocking him sideways.

The next thing Taorr knew, he lay on his back, spots of color dancing before his eyes. He turned to his right, greeted by the sight of Oanor lying motionless next to him.

Blood spilled freely from the massive bodyguard’s mouth like a faucet. His eyes looked lifeless, probably because of the smoking hole in his chest. Oanor had shielded Taorr when the lightning struck.

For a long moment Taorr stared at the body in shock, muttering the first thought in his head. “Oanor’s dead.”

On instinct he turned to Mhir’ujiid, who finally moved behind the safer cover of thick ash. Her gaze stayed on Taorr as she gestured urgently in Quud, a dialect Taorr had learned over the past year. “[I’ll be fine,]” Mhir’ujiid gestured. “[LEAVE!]” With that, she vanished.

Before he could respond, Taorr felt powerful hands dragging him away. This time he did not resist. Both Yaeson and Zojje had the Ttaunz heir by his arm as they fled for the transports. The skyquake intensified, shaking every remaining structure around them asunder as they moved. Bright embers and chunks of flaming clay flew in all directions, some scalding Taorr’s arms and legs. Yet he was too stupefied to react. The trio fought through the barrier of urbrui between them and the transports, the burning settlement’s glow making groping through the dense foliage more manageable. As an urbrui stalk whipped in Taorr’s face, another issue came to mind.

“Y-Yaeson,” Taorr croaked at his remaining bodyguard. “Why aren’t we using short-range transmatters?”

“It’s…not responding, sir.” Grief bled into the massive Ttaunz’s voice, which Taorr understood. Yaeson and Oanor had been friends since childhood. “Interference from this…skyquake,” he continued.

Just as the group broke through the massive urbrui thicket, Zojje pointed his spindly finger ahead. “We’re almost there.” Through the flurry of tremors, flames, and crumbling clay, the three transports lay just ahead, all primed for takeoff. Taorr rushed toward them without help. The sky roared openly now. Never had Taorr felt such all-consuming terror. Yaeson, barely a step behind his charge, motioned for the first transport. The front shuttle—holding Kerr Nadal and the Ubruqite—rose into the air quickly.

And another lightning bolt splintered down, impaling the vehicle through the middle. The eruption of white-hot flames threw Taorr, Zojje, and Yaeson back, its brilliance fleetingly surpassing the blaze they just fled. Taorr and Yaeson sat up and gaped at the fiery wreckage.

Suddenly, Taorr was jolted from his shock by a strident scream—
three
screams, at once. He turned to see Zojje writhing on the ground, clutching his head. Taorr crawled to his side.

“I felt their lives go silent!” Taorr did not know what to say or think while helping Zojje to his feet. Finally, the air and ground ceased trembling. The vortex overhead vanished as quickly as it had appeared, giving way to dark grey billows rising from the N’noa settlement.

From the other occupied transport, a female Galdorian diplomat dove out the side door and scrambled towards Taorr, as did two other mountainous Ttaunz bodyguards sitting with her.

“Yaeson!” one bodyguard barked. “Thank the Old World that you both are safe. Where is Oanor?”

“Oanor is dead, Xieg,” Yaeson stated, his voice flat. Those words knifed through Taorr’s heart. Xieg’s shock melted into anger. The Galdorian slapped both webbed hands on her beaky mouth in alarm.

“These savages are too archaic to know reason!” roared the other bodyguard, his dark-red hair hanging loose and free. “We must leave here now, your grace!”

“How, Nealuc? These primitives somehow blocked all communications and use the very
sky
against us!” Yaeson fired back. “We tried to escape and failed.”

The Ttaunz bodyguards continued barking at each other. Taorr was about to order their silence when something pricked his ears. The young Ttaunz only saw billows of smoke behind urbrui stalks. Then, Taorr could have sworn he heard a popping sound, followed by another and another.

“What is that?” asked the Galdorian female.

Zojje gaped at the urbrui stalks just beyond them. Taorr followed his gaze, and quickly regretted it.

The red thicket rattled and out stepped two tall Farooqua, males by the look of them, with ropy and stalwart physiques. Unlike Mhir’ujiid, their entire body pelts—save for their colorful manes—had been burned clean off their bodies, leaving only bare, black hides.

Many more Farooqua appeared until Taorr and his group were surrounded. Regardless, Yaeson, Xieg, and Nealuc formed a defensive circle around their charges, heavy pulse blasters aimed at the intruders.

“Ghebrekh,” Zojje stated fretfully. The Ghebrekh, Ghuj’aega’s tribe, was a union of many Farooqua tribes who had adopted his creed as their own. They stood silent in the fire-lit night, wielding knifelike weapons.

Each Farooqua’s body displayed an intricate and angular tapestry of tattoos. Taorr made no effort to hide his fear as he poked his head from behind Yaeson. Finally, one of the Farooqua Ghebrekh walked forward. Taorr’s heart raced as he asked, “Are…are you Ghuj’aega?”

“I am not,” said the Ghebrekh in an accented voice. “But
he
wants a word with you, youngling.”

“Have a word with this!” Yaeson cried.

“Yaeson, NO!” both Zojje and Taorr cried. Too late. The bodyguard’s finger pulled the trigger. His blaster barked repeatedly. And the battle was joined.

Mhir’ujiid ran as fast as her legs could carry her across the Yanjon grasslands, every fiber in her body riddled with fear—but not for herself.

That was why she ran back toward the N’noa settlement. The heavens looked fouled, blackish-grey and angry, swirling in a vortex. Its epicenter lit up once more and belched out another lightning bolt. It struck something, no doubt a transport, from what Mhir’ujiid could make out this far away. She quickened her pace.
Was Taorr inside?
She fretted.
I swear, if Ghuj’aega hurt him, I
will
hunt that monster down myself!

She tore past smoldering N’noa huts, pushing through the urbrui thicket. Mhir’ujiid knew coming back was not wise. But she had to make sure Taorr was safe.

And the zapping gunfire started. Mhir’ujiid barely ducked in time to avoid two stray red bolts.
What are they shooting at?
she mused, before the answer became clear. The Ghebrekh were here, attacking Taorr’s group.

Then she heard screams, one of them Taorr’s. Sharp weapons whistled through the air, singing a deadly song before slicing through meaty flesh. More screams from a female, a Galdorian from what it sounded like. But the blades kept slicing and slicing, finally silencing her.

That pushed Mhir’ujiid harder through the thicket, right as several sharp pops sounded in concert.

The Ghebrekh were gone, but what had they left behind? Her spear fell, clattering on the ground. Mhir’ujiid saw two Ttaunz transports sitting untouched beside the smoldering shell of a third. Then she saw the bodies, all hacked to pieces and spread across the open plains. Mhir’ujiid almost slipped on puddles of blood around some severed limbs. One Ttaunz lay mostly intact—save the red, gushing stump where his left forearm had been.

Mhir’ujiid covered her mouth, trying not to vomit. She had to search the bodies for Taorr.

Quickly she noticed no trace of Taorr’s Kudoban companion among the remains, meaning he wasn’t dead. To every Farooqua tribe, killing a Kudoban was the equivalent of cursing oneself. As she tossed aside limbs and other parts, her heart leaped when finding no trace of Taorr’s body among the dismembered body parts.

He’s alive!
Mhir’ujiid cried out happily, despite standing in a sea of mutilated corpses. That joy vanished when the reality of Taorr’s fate sank in. The Ghebrekh had him. Death might have been the better situation.

“Taorr!” she cried out in Standard, moving to the edges of the plain. No answer.

“[Curse Ghuj’aega!]” she gestured hatefully and continued looking for any signs of the Ghebrekh, Taorr, or the Kudoban. Once word spread of Taorr’s abduction, Mhir’ujiid knew the response would make the N’noa butchery look like a wrist slap. Ghuj’aega had just declared open war against the Ttaunz, whether the other Tribal Nations wanted that or not.

So focused she was on Taorr, Mhir’ujiid never even heard boots squishing across the blood-soaked soil. When the Farooqua finally wheeled around, the enormous Ttaunz with a missing forearm loomed over her like a bloodied mountain. Before she could react, the Ttaunz swung the butt of his blaster down like a bludgeon.

An explosion of pain crashed into Mhir’ujiid’s skull, so hard that her feet left the ground.

Then everything faded to black.

“So we’re getting nothing? Again?” Habraum asked, trying to curb his anger. The Brigade Executive Officer wore casual clothes—white, long-sleeved tee with dark, baggy slacks. Feverishly, he paced back and forth across his red-hued and modestly decorated office. Sitting in front of the Cerc were the life-sized 3D holos of three different sentients from three different locations across Union Space. “We caught at least forty Children of Earth adherents, M’Kuvuh.”

“My interrogators are doing their best, Captain Nwosu. You know how the CoE structure has changed these past few years,” retorted one of the three—M’Kuvuh Markan-Enthyra, Deputy Director of Terra Sollus’s UniPol division. The Kintarian’s lithe and wiry build was covered in pure white fur with a few scattered brown spots. “Everything is very compartmentalized. Except for their leader, each cell only knows what goes on in their unit.” An animalistic growl colored M’Kuvah’s retort.

“Capturing Kingston Reyes might’ve been more helpful,” added a human with a slim build and a large head full of dark, curly hair. That would be Atom Greystone, liaison between Star Brigade and the Union Defense Ministry, as well as a constant source of irritation for Habraum. “Star Brigade forced itself onto this operation over a month ago, and loses another viable lead. How’d you mess that up, Nwosu?”

Habraum’s hazel-gold eyes glittered with subtle disdain. “Reyes is currently being tracked, and UniPol alerted planetary authorities of his status. If you read my briefing, you’d know this, Greystone.”

Greystone scowled. “And if Reyes ditches the trace?” he fired back to regain some ground.

Habraum chuckled. “He doesn’t know he’s being traced. But if it fails, we’ll work our other leads.”

“M’Kuvuh tells me you’re keeping all tracking data in-house?” asked the third face on Habraum’s holoview screen—Admiral Hollienurax, Habraum’s superior officer from UComm’s Joint Special Operations Group, wearing crisp white military regalia. The Galdorian’s stalk-like amber eyes curved out and upward inquisitively.

“Yes. Since Children of Earth had quite a few UComm moles in the past, we’re keeping this as compartmentalized as possible,” Habraum added, recalling the Corowood Zoo attack months ago and then the mysterious murders of all known perpetrators. He glanced beyond the holos in his office to the rectangular realtime display on the wall behind his desk. Gas giant Zeid’s stunning jade cloud layers were needled with inbound and outbound spacelane traffic. Habraum had no actual viewports in his office, so this was the closest he could get. “One of my CTs will make observing Reyes their top priority. I believe he’ll be key in dismantling CoE’s paramilitary arm.”