Star Brigade: The Supremacy (SB3) (5 page)

Habraum’s heartbeat raced with anticipation. Regardless of how long he’d been a field operative, the Cerc still caught that thrill before combat. “Brilliant. I’ll ready the troops.” He stepped into the cargo bay holding his team. The four Brigadiers stopped and perked up when he entered.

“Team,” Habraum announced, arms behind his back, “time to go to work.”

Marguliese, ever stoic, merely arched an eyebrow at the news. Liliana tensed in anticipation, while Tyris and Jan’Hax enthusiastically whispered “Yes!” under their breaths.

Habraum smiled, equally pleased. “Combat-ready in ten.”

There was nothing particularly malignant about Kingston Reyes, at least in his mind. The happily married father of two only strived to do right by his fellow humans. Unlike many Earth descendants, Kingston was actually from Earth, born in the long-dead state of Arizona.

And when he was ten-years old, the Korvenites destroyed his beloved homeworld. His family had barely escaped. Since then Kingston had never trusted another nonhuman, Korvenites least of all. Their pasty white complexion, those unsettling gold-on-black eyes, their very smell, everything about them sickened him.

Watching news streams of Korvenites being captured for their crimes wasn’t enough to curb his hatred. Nor was Terra Sollus being officially declared the earthborns’ new homeworld, formerly the Korvenites’. Therefore, after leaving Union Command, it seemed only natural for Kingston to find a home with the Children of Earth—an enduring bastion of pure Earth culture.

Kingston’s role with the Children of Earth operated within its paramilitary arm, handling the dirty tasks others wouldn’t take. His brown eyes skimmed around their makeshift base, a rusted and timeworn top-half of a colossal pipeline with slapped-together computer consoles far beneath Terra Sollus’s capital city-state, Conuropolis. The sewer location was ideal for Kingston’s strike team of forty-five members to execute their assignment in stealth. Besides, after that idiotic stunt at Corowood Zoo by some of CoE’s more “passionate” members, operations had to be executed with more discretion.

For weeks, Kingston’s team had been hunting the Korvenites still on Terra Sollus and shipping them offworld for research. If it were up to him, all Korvenites would be airlocked into the Black. His superiors had other plans. Kingston had no qualms there, as long as the limebloods got what they deserved.

Lounging in a chair, wearing light and dark-blue TerraTrooper fatigues, Kingston listened to his deputy Gable Ishida’s update. “Twenty-eight limebloods this week, not counting the seven that were uncooperative.”

Kingston turned to four mobile box-like cells along the complex’s far right wall with forcefields covering their openings. The recaptured Korvenites were bunched inside, each fitted with neck collars to dampen their psionic abilities.

“Terra Sollus as it should be,” Ishida nodded as he followed Kingston’s stare. “Forget those Aussie-wannabes from Cercidale or those Soggy-Poggies on that pisshole Pogoll.” Ishida, always a good soldier, could trace his ancestry to Japan, which Kingston respected.

“Just us true children of Earth,” Kingston laughed. Those words jarred loose his frustrations regarding Terra Sollus’s current state, an affliction from housing so many inhabitants not belonging on its surface. To think that because of former Chouncilor Bogosian, a man he once admired, Korvenites were now free to assimilate with Union society. Seeing a great man flip-flop on his hardline stance after so long left Kingston so riled. Even worse, the race traitor resigned and left his Vice Chouncilor—a
Voton
—in charge of this Union…

“[You have NO right to hold us!!]” The shrill scream of a parched throat, in Korcei, rang out for everyone in the complex to hear. “[We are free sentients!]”

Kingston closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. One limeblood had been hollering for over an orv since being brought in with his two friends, riling up the other inmates. The old one that had surrendered to Kingston now suddenly found a spine. Despite being pounded into silence many times, this Korvenite would idiotically start back up a few macroms afterward.

“Ishida, feed that fucking
blekdritt
to our ‘pet,’” Kingston snarled through gritted teeth.

“[Release us now!!]” the Korvenite bleated pitiably, face pressed up against the prison forcefield.

Ishida strode toward the cells, holding a baton-like weapon. “With pleasure.”

The old Korvenite, seeing Ishida march forward with his shock baton, recoiled as far back into his cell as the many other already crammed co-occupants would allow. And “it” kept on screaming.

Ishida jabbed his baton through the forcefield, pointing at the elderly Korvenite, and pressed a button on his handle. In short order, something on the Korvenite’s collar restraint began blinking furiously and involuntarily jerked his body forward, latching the limeblood’s neck to the magnetic tip of Ishida’s baton. Without any exertion, Ishida yanked the Korvenite through the forcefield from the cell like a sack of dirt and dragged the Korvenite away. All the while, the old Korvenite’s bleating became terrified shrieks. Further down the CoE complex sat a fifth prison cell smaller than the others, its insides pitch-black. The Korvenite clawed at rusted metal floors, scratching its fingers into a bloody green mess.

The cell’s occupant was a rare find that Kingston’s superiors had acquired from beyond the borders of Union Space. After accessing the cell’s console to allow objects to pass through the forcefield, Ishida heaved the thrashing Korvenite inside. He quickly reset the forcefield before backing away with a shiver.

Now every CoE operative near the tiny cell stared shamelessly. The terrified Korvenites, from within their cells, strained for a glimpse of what was happening to their brethren. Kingston crossed his arms and waited. Only silence now, save the elderly Korvenite begging in a small voice.

The sudden, abnormal chill oozing from the fifth cell made anyone close by quiver. A glittering whip of light sprouted out of the darkness facing the elderly Korvie, followed by another and another, until at least seven bright whips thrashed into view from a hidden orifice.

Abruptly, the whips snaked forth as one, impaling the Korvenite. “[Don’t—AAAHHHH!]” His earlier screams did not compare to the soul-wrenching horror of his death cry.

The imprisoned Korvenites gaped, some yelling, “[THAULL!]” Kingston, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, guessed this was the limeblood’s name. Other operatives watched in stunned silence. Whatever that beast was, Kingston only knew its appetite required sucking the life from its victims, which had happened to seven other Korvenites that had been uncooperative. Finally, the screams faded into a rattling croak that bounced off the walls of the complex. The glowing whips were swallowed by the dark, and the Korvenite’s dead body sank to the cell floor without a sound.

Just like that, the operatives returned to work as if nothing occurred. Most had no clue what lived in that tiny cell, and were better off not knowing. Kingston rose and ambled over to the four other cells. Terror and hatred filled the Korvenites’ pale faces at the sight of him.

That made Kingston smile. “Shut up or join your friend ‘Thaull.’” He turned to Ishida and ordered, “We leave in one orv. Ready them for transport.”

Not far away, Habraum and Sam crouched at the rusted mouth of a yawning hole in the Conuropolis’s shadowy sewers. Thanks to Marguliese’s scything abilities, the pair could hear Kingston’s conversation. They had also heard that poor Korvenite’s death cry.

Rage seized Sam’s heart. Another innocent Korvenite dead. “Reign,” she quietly called to Habraum.

“I know, Heatstroke,” Habraum replied sympathetically, adjusting the comband on his wrist. “Just making sure everyone’s in place.” On the field, they only identified each other by codename. The only exceptions were Khrome, whose codename was also his nickname, and Marguliese, whose real Cybernarr name was too absurdly long and unpronounceable.

CT-1 had left the UComm cruiser,
Ishliba,
to attack the CoE complex from multiple access points. Marguliese stayed on
Ishliba
to ensure the complex’s communications were jammed. Sam didn’t care for how much CT-1 had come to rely on the Cybernarr, and wasn’t alone in that belief.

The pitch-black hole below looked sinister and bottomless, as if leading straight to hell. Somewhere along this pit’s sidewall was the entryway Habraum and Sam planned to breach.

“Arcturus,” Habraum said quietly. “Is your group in position?”

“Khrome, Crescendo, and I are at the southwest access point,” answered Tyris, his voice resembling the sharp whisper of a frosty wind.

“Copy that,” Habraum said, then switched focus to V’Korram. “Jakadda?”

“In position at their vehicle lot,” came the Kintarian’s snarling reply. “Incognito joined me and planted small explosives under the hostiles’ vehicles.”

“Brilliant. Marguliese? Are the CoE’s communications nice and properly jammed?”

“Affirmative,” Marguliese stated concisely. “All of Children of Earth’s communications with external parties are scrambled. Visuals of our multi-pronged approach have been substituted with fabricated footage depicting harmless surroundings minus CT-1.” The Cybernarr’s words came out inflectionless and mechanical. She finished without pausing, “Reign, two destromechs guard the entrance you aspire to breach. I have confounded their sensors so they will not detect your presence until you are within half a metrid. Furthermore, all auxiliary entries bear only simple surveillance I have already compromised.”

“Brilliant. Join Jakadda and Incognito at the vehicle lot,” Habraum said, then addressed all of CT-1. “After breaching the complex, disable or kill. Do not harm our main targets. See you inside. Reign out.”

Once he finished, Sam failed to suppress an eye roll. “
Christ
, does Marguliese do tongue pull-ups?”

Habraum frowned. Sam shrugged innocently. While never claiming to like the Cybernarr, she had promised to be less brazen about it. Clearly, she failed at that, too.

Habraum glowered, hazel-gold eyes hardening. “Heatstroke,” he began with familiar irritation in his tone. “Khrome of all beings can tolerate Marguliese—”

Not for much longer,
Sam mused. Instead, she raised her hands in surrender.
“Fine, shutting up.”

“Do a firebird dive while you’re shutting it,” ordered Habraum.

Sam threw him a caustic look before standing up. She glanced nonchalantly down the gaping hole and jumped, performing a faultless swan dive like a seasoned spelunker.

Sam fell fast, blonde mane blowing back with the tunnel’s shaft winds. Not a single worry reached the Brigadier. Her eyes fixated on a large, circular doorway off to the right side—guarded by two hulking bronze destromechs on a protruded platform.

“Here’s my stop,” she quipped, and promptly halted her dive in front of the side entrance. Sam posed as if standing on invisible flooring. In truth, she was superheating the air around herself to hover in midair. A lopsided grin played across Sam’s lips as the destromechs finally reacted to her presence. Optical arrays flashing bright green with alarm, both destromechs pointed their glowing arm cannons at her.

“Didn’t your makers teach you that it’s rude to point?” Sam inquired mockingly, just before her whole body ignited in a bright, fiery eruption. With a thought, the flames enveloping Sam billowed out to devour both destromechs. Before long, a tight cyclone of radiant fire lit up the once pitch-black tunnel from top to bottom. The inferno roared hungrily past the tunnel mouth with unfaltering resolve, never coming close to Habraum.

When she finally killed the flames, the heat of her attack still hung heavily in the air. Now, white curls of smoke oozed slowly off the blistered tunnel walls, obscuring everything above and below.

“That oughta get the Children of Earth’s attention,” the Cerc muttered in her comms, unharmed.

Sam scoffed. “Right?”

“Now I’m craving turkey-neck stew and rice. With sliced bananas,” Habraum declared. “Odd, yea?”

Sam choked back laughter. “From you, flyboy, not so much,” she teased playfully, stifling the flames around her body in preparation for his plunge. “Ready and waiting.”

“Up,” she heard his grunt as he leaped off the tunnel’s edge. Then nothing. A few heartbeats later, she spied a large silhouette above plunging swiftly through the smoky billows. On the surface, Sam remained calm, collected, and ready to catch her field commander. Internally, Sam flashed on almost six months ago when Habraum fell from the sky to certain death, and her fears of not catching him in time.

Shaking off that sentiment, she plummeted to match the Cerc’s descent speed…caught him mid-fall. Relief seized Sam after her arms wrapped around his well-built torso from behind. Slowing their descent, Sam now hovered amid the thinning smoke. She held Habraum close and whispered, “Gotcha.”

Habraum grinned over his shoulder. “Never doubted you.” That sent a warm tickle through her brain having nothing to do with her abilities. Habraum gestured through the smoke to the charred entryway before them. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” Sam drifted ahead to drop Habraum on the entrance’s platform. He stepped over two puddles of smoking slag where the destromechs had stood, tapping his comband. “CT-1, on my mark.”

Sam, floating a short distance behind, put on her best game face before engulfing herself again in a blistering aura of orange flames. Her hands burned brightest, both aiming at the door. Habraum started his countdown, one fist cocked and glowing with biokinetic energy, ready to fire.  “5…4...3…2…”

“Anyone hear that?” The question, posed by petite operative Naomi Estes, wasn’t directed at anyone in particular as she stared nervously at the massive entrance near her workstation. Kingston was now reviewing options with another operative on distributing the Korvies to the correct CoE labs, so he would have generally ignored such an inane question. However, she asked that question right after a distant roaring sound shuddered through the entire headquarters, drawing quite a few uneasy glances all around.