Reavers (Book 3) (21 page)

“As far as we know, that’s the
only
Shard ship.  They don’t seem to have different configurations like we do.  No battleships, transports, or trade ships.  Who knows what is on the inside of those things?  Each one could be radically different for all we know.  However, they all look the same: massive spears of solid black - black as death itself.  Three years ago one of those massive obelisks wedged itself into the center of the city and unleashed its evil.  I thought everyone knew that.  The god of a Weaver isn’t
all-knowing
after all.”

“Wait a minute,” Connor said, ignoring the taunt.  “There is so much damage.  This is
after
three years of rebuilding?”

“You should have seen it right after they left.  Most of the city was ablaze.  I don’t even want to guess how many dead.  It’s the same story on each world in the Commonwealth.  The core worlds are nearly repaired, but some of the rim worlds are still in a bad way.”

“So the Shard left?  Did we fight them off?”

“What do you think I am?  A history teacher?  As far as I know, no one has an answer to that.  They had us on the ropes and just as they were about to deal the deathblow - poof!  Left us for dead and headed back beyond the Great Divide.  After they retreated back into their own space, no one has seen or heard from them since.  Why they decided not to finish us off is anyone’s guess.  But if you think that we scared them off by fighting back, you’re even more
deluded
than I thought.”

“So where are we going?”  the Weaver asked angrily as he debated thrashing the bony old man within an inch of his life.

“Southern continent.  There are two more targets for you.”

“Any surprises I should know beforehand?”

“It’s a normal squad on leave.  Your targets are the squad leader and the second in command.  The leader is great at tactics and battle plans but a miserable fighter herself, no real threat.”

“And the second?”

“He might be trouble.  Excellent hand-to-hand skills and a strong will.  Plus, he is entirely devoted to his leader.  I’d suggest you deal with him before moving on to her.”

“What about the rest of the squad?”

“Not an issue.  They are spread across half the continent.  Apparently, this squad leader runs with a loose leash.  Most likely they won’t have any clue their leaders are dead until they receive official notice.”

“Sounds like a walk in the park.  I hope they enjoyed their vacation so far.  I have a score to settle.”

Ronald glanced at his pad.  Tyra still hadn’t shown up.  He was getting used to standing on empty platforms of the transit way in the early morning.  Every morning of their leave she had made him wait like this.  He could only imagine why and never dared ask.  They had already gone through half of their two-week leave.  Over the last eight days they had seen most of the southern continent.  Every point of interest and tourist trap had been visited, and several mementos had been sent back to base.

At first he hadn’t enjoyed the idea of taking two weeks off, but when she announced the squad wouldn’t have to stick together, he changed his mind.  It was rare for the two of them to have any time alone.  Their duty assignment wasn’t difficult, but very time consuming.  The problem was she was famous in the military now.  Tyra had led her squad through the Gauntlet.  A rigorous test that, once a year, the best and brightest in the military would attempt - hoping to set a new record and achieve lasting glory.  Most failed to last the standard amount of time.

Tyra had run it while still in the academy and
had
set a new record.  Her squad had lasted an entire forty-nine seconds longer than any squad in history.  Her time replaced the old record, a stunning achievement that had gone unchallenged for the last four hundred years.  Naturally, she was highly sought after.  Nearly every academy wanted their hands on her.  However, Tyra thought becoming an instructor was the equivalent of being sentenced to life on a prison world.

After an armada of refused assignments, she finally found one she gladly accepted.  It was a duty assignment as far off on the rim as possible.  In a nutshell, she led a squad that would recon the uninhabited worlds along the Great Divide.  At first he hadn’t understood her decision but followed regardless.

After a while, even he had to admit some of the views were breathtaking on the varied worlds along that long stretch of the galaxy that separated the Commonwealth from the Shard.  He had followed her every step of the way.  He had received his own flood of offers, but he couldn’t honestly imagine taking a single one of them.  His place was at Tyra’s side.

“Got you!” a female voice shouted as a pair of hands covered his eyes.

Instantly, his reflexes kicked in.  Grabbing the hands, he ducked down below the person standing behind him, pulling her down to the ground.  Surprisingly, she performed a back flip and tugged on his hands at the right instant, knocking him off balance.  As he plummeted toward the ground, he shoved the girl back and shifted his weight - hitting the ground rolling.  As soon as he had created some distance he thrust his hands against the ground, launching himself into a standing position.  Assuming a combat stance, he readied himself for another assault.

“I never could beat you,” the girl said while massaging her backside as she sat on the ground.

“Valerie?” Ronald asked in surprise as he relaxed out of his combat stance.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were on Masuyo?”

“I didn’t think it would mean anything to you,” he said as he helped her up.

Valerie’s face contorted slightly.  He knew that look.  His sister was annoyed with him for not thinking of her.  Quickly scouring his mind, he tried to remember anything that would explain her annoyance.

“Of course!” he exclaimed as he slammed his fist into his palm.  “You’re part of the academy ethics review commission.  I’m sorry.”

As he bowed apologetically to her, her face took on a deep blush.

“Don’t be so formal!” she said as she quickly turned her back on him, attempting to hide her embarrassment.  “Just let me know when you are visiting a core world next time, that’s all.”

“Of course, I promise I won’t forget next time,” he said with a smile.  “So how are things?  Ferreting out bookies and the like as rewarding as you hoped?”

“I’m certainly busy if that’s what you are asking.  Every time I think I’ve finally cleaned out an academy, I find another betting ring or smuggling operation.”

“I’m sure the Commonwealth is a better place thanks to you apprehending those contraband 3Ps.”

“I wouldn’t make fun if I were you.  After all, from what I hear, you’ve been investigating dirt mounds on the rim.”

“I enjoy my posting.  On the other hand, if you dislike your assignment . . .”

“I can’t do that!  I have to make amends!  I can’t let someone else make the mistake I did.”

“I suppose.  But you learned from your mistake.  Plus, if I’m not mistaken, there was never a formal disciplinary hearing.  He forgave you.  Maybe it’s about time you forgave yourself.”

“I tried to kill him and he forgave me without hesitation,” Valerie said in but a whisper.

Ronald smiled and put a firm hand on her shoulder.

“He knew you were a good girl at heart,” he said warmly.  “You just got carried away.  I doubt Brent would seriously want you wasting your life on something you despised because you felt you owed him.”

Valerie stared at her brother and blushed at his kind words.  Before he could react she hugged him tightly.  The sound of overly emphatic clapping intruded on the moment.

“Touching!” a cold voice said mockingly.  “Worthy of a sappy 3P.”

Ronald turned to find a familiar face standing at the far end of the platform.  He tensed instantly.  The face was Dante’s but the uniform and mannerisms were not.  This was some impostor.

“A quick one!” Connor said behind a razor sharp smile.  “Did you know you are the first of your friends to realize I wasn’t my dearest brother?  I suppose I should reward such insight.  Maybe I’ll grant you a quick and painless death.”

“My friends?  What have you done?” Ronald barked.

“Nothing much.  Just ended their pathetic lives.”

Connor chuckled darkly as Ronald prepared for a fight.

“I had planned on taking care of you two separately, but I suppose this will be quicker.”

As Ronald readied for an attack he realized he had been so focused on the Weaver that he had lost track of his sister.  Quickly looking around the platform he found her walking toward the edge of the elevated platform.  The guardrail was missing, no doubt the work of the impostor.  Ronald bolted toward Valerie, but it was too late, she had already started to fall off the edge.

Jumping after her, he grabbed her hand with his right arm and quickly clung to the platform with his left.  After the momentary slack from their brief descent, the full force of her weight pulled on his stretched arms.  His shoulders screamed with pain as the sudden force tried to rip them apart.  Ronald’s fingers turned white from strain as he gripped the edge of the platform with all his might.

“I had always believed the military to be a happy bunch,” Connor mocked as he stood overhead.  “So many friends and colleagues.  Yet, I am constantly surprised how much loneness and depression I find to play with.  This is almost too easy.”

Ronald grunted in a mixture of anger and strain.

“Quiet now,” the Weaver said as he shushed the trooper.  “There’s no need to worry.  The two of you will pass out long before you hit the ground.  While I hate to admit it, this will be painless for the two of you.  And here I thought taking out a pair of squad leaders would be difficult.”

As Connor licked his lips, he raised a foot and hovered it over Ronald’s hand.

“Time to say goodbye,” Conner said victoriously.

“Goodbye!” a voice shouted.

Abruptly a thin plate slammed against Connor’s face, shattering into a million pieces.  He staggered away from the edge as he screamed out in pain.  As he wiped the blood off his cheek, he turned to find another trooper on the platform.

“Three?” he shrieked.  “There were only supposed to be two of you!”

Tyra rushed him and planted a firm fist into his chest.  Connor glanced down, completely unaffected.

“That’s it?” he said as he burst into laughter.  “I was enjoying their hopelessness so much I failed to notice you.  I guess there isn’t much to notice.”

Connor laughed openly at the pathetic strike of the trooper.  Without a word, she swept her leg under him, knocking him off his feet.  He hit the ground face first.  He screamed in bitter pain as his open mouth slammed shut, slicing into his tongue.  As the Weaver curled up into a fetal position, Tyra rushed to the edge of the platform.

Ronald was clinging for dear life with a second person hanging limply below him.  As she reached a hand to help him, a horrified expression filled Ronald’s face.  A pair of hands gripped Tyra’s neck and started squeezing.  Gasping for air, she tried to fight off Connor.

“I’m doon playing ‘ith ‘ou.”  His voice was heavily distorted as blood continued to seep out of his mouth.

His grip tightened slowly as she futilely attempted to pry off his hands.  The sensation of lightheadedness filled Tyra.  She felt as if she was falling as her hands limply dropped to her sides.

“Tyra!” Ronald screamed in horror as Connor tossed the listless body aside.

“Now it’s ‘ou ‘urn,” he garbled angrily.

Ronald grunted in pain as the Weaver slammed his boot down.  Lifting his foot, Connor was filled with rage that the hanging trooper was still defying him.  As he prepared to strike again, a burst of light singed the ground.

“Think carefully about your next step; it might be your last,” a cold voice said.

The Weaver froze in place and turned his head.  Standing behind him was an entire squad of heavily armed men.  They obviously weren’t military, but they lacked the uniforms and the clueless stares of the Protectorates.  They were all dressed in matching burgundy uniforms.  The one standing closest to Connor had a small red and gold pin in the shape of a star.

“Step away from the edge,” the man commanded, “
slowly
.”

As Connor complied he cursed his luck.  He had been surprised twice.  Twice!  For a Weaver to be taken off guard was unthinkable.  Forcing his mind to focus, he realized all he could taste was the thick flavor of copper.  That stupid girl had made him shred his tongue.  Beyond the obvious pain, the taste of his own blood was blocking his ability to taste emotions.

An entire division of troopers could have snuck up on him as he was.  Spitting out the blood that filled his mouth, he considered his next move.  The armed men meant business.  In his current state, it would be impossible for him to take control before at least one opened fire.  What bothered Connor further was the knowledge he was useless to the bony old man.  Until his mouth was fully healed, his Weaver abilities would be all but worthless.

“Put your hands above your head; no sudden movements,” the pin wearing man ordered.