Star Brigade: The Supremacy (SB3) (51 page)

V’Korram rolled his eyes, always critical when witnessing what he felt were Cortes’s shortcomings.

Khrome frowned at the doctor in confusion. “We’re already outside.”

Clearly in no mood for wisecracks, Cortes scowled at the Thulican. Before anyone could protest, she spun on her heel and strode off in a wobbly fashion.

Khrome threw up his hands. “What? I’m not joking.”

Habraum watched Liliana re-enter the complex, and spied a Quud guard sent by Kyas’argiid after her with just a subtle nod. The Cerc rose to follow her until Byzlar said, “I’ll go, Captain.”

Habraum sat back and nodded appreciatively. “Please.” As much as he wanted to check on his medic officer, it was better to stay and glean more info from Kyas’argiid.

The sacrificial fire quickly burned out, leaving thin curls of smoke to spiral up into the skies. Mhir’ujiid looked after Liliana’s exit crossly. “The ritual is meant to be observed until the sacrifice has been fully accepted.”

“Due to her medical work,” Marguliese replied, “witnessing death is hard, irrespective of ritual.”

Marguliese’s words seemed to cool Mhir’ujiid’s irritation. Habraum winked at the Cybernarr, who half-smirked in reply. Kyas’argiid returned to the gathering, a pleased look on his scarred face. “The Zenith Point has accepted my sacrifice on your behalf.” He took his seat and looked at Habraum. “What more can I tell about the Ghebrekh and Ghuj’aega?”

The night sky had turned plum black, despite the brilliance of Faroor’s moon.
Time to focus the team on combat strategy against Ghuj’aega and the Ghebrekh,
Habraum mused. However, not out in the open. Maybe it was just paranoia, but Habraum’s gut told him to keep his strategy away from these Quud.

“Let’s speak again in the morning when we’re better rested.” Habraum stood up. “Thanks for the meal. Now if you can take us to our gear and evening quarters, please.” He smirked and added, “Not sure the prisons will do this time.” That won a few chuckles out of his team. Kyas’argiid nodded in compliance and walked back into the complex. Everyone else rose to follow.

Kingston woke suddenly from what was supposed to be a quick nap. He was standing upright, no longer in bed, within this safehouse’s control center among a plethora of holoscreens monitors and blinking lights.

Sleepwalking?
That was a first for him. Memories from earlier in the day leaked into Kingston’s sleep-muddled brain.

Driven by curiosity, he had entered this control center to learn the ins and outs. Other than sleep, eat, watch the holoview and wait for his contact’s daily calls, there was nothing else to do.

In mere macroms, Kingston had sliced in and gained access, thanks to his technology background. He would have to talk to his contact about updating this safehouse’s crap security.

Kingston then recalled a dream from his nap about this very control center, activating the transmatter function. But for whom?

Kingston blinked away sleepiness and shivered. “What’s with the temperature drop?”

“Reyes,” a ragged hiss came from behind him. Kingston frowned, turned, and squealed.

The osvowraith hunting him for days, supposedly crushed under a sewage-processing mechanoid...

That osvowraith was in this safehouse, crouched before Kingston. Grisly lacerations covering its pale skin were dripping black, oily drops of blood on the floor. Long dreadlocks appeared forcefully ripped from its head. Coupled with a disturbingly mangled left arm and right ankle, the beast could barely stand.

Trapped between a wall of technology and this beast, Kingston saw nowhere to run. “I’m still dreaming,” he muttered, but not with complete certainty.

The osvowraith wasted no time opening its mouth, the jaw splitting in two. Glowing tentacles raced from its throat toward Kingston—latching onto his face, chest, and legs, and began to suck him dry. Kingston screamed as hooks of fire wrenched at every fiber in his being. This felt too real—too painful for a nightmare.

All strength fled from Kingston. He collapsed, thankful when the darkness swept the pain away.

Consciousness returned slowly. As Kingston’s eyes finally opened, he was blanketed by an unnatural stupor. Every limb felt so leaden.

“Thanks for the meal,” a familiar snakelike voice hissed. “I feel much better now.”

Kingston looked up, and would have recoiled if he had the strength. The osvowraith stood over him, its long, sallow face no longer ruined, new dreadlocks budding on its scalp. Other than some bruising and shredded clothes, the beast showed almost no signs of getting hit by a sewage-processing mechanoid.

Kingston was utterly lost. The facility was secure.
How did this...thing…get inside?

“Once I’ve touched the mind of my prey, it’s easy to track their mental resonance and influence them from afar,” the osvowraith hissed imperiously, “even through dreams. It’s how I made you let me in, human.”

“How,” Kingston said feebly, “am I still...alive?” He couldn’t muster the strength to sit upright.

The osvowraith rolled its eyes and stalked forward with a slight limp. “I’ll feed when necessary, and keep you alive as long as I want. I have some manners.”

Kingston struggled to crawl away, but his limbs just wouldn’t cooperate. The beast crouched in front of him, and the human gagged on its sickly stench. “Been following you since you almost killed me.”

“Which I’d do again with a big fucking smile,” Kingston spat defiantly. Words were all he had left.

“Clearly, someone helped you access this safehouse.” The osvowraith waved a lazy hand at their locale. “You’re planning to escape Terra Sollus. So am I.” Its ashen features grew eager, uglier. “How?”

Kingston mustered up the energy to let out a weak chuckle. “Just kill me already.”

The osvowraith smiled back, the facility’s lights glinting off its jagged, yellow teeth. “Soon.” He rose as the room’s temperature plummeted again. Abnormal cold seeped through every pore of Kingston’s skin. Pride, joy, any semblance of resolve evaporated. His only truth was despair. Tomorrow was not coming for Kingston. He shivered and slumped to the ground, useless.

The osvowraith stopped smiling. “Now
talk
...or this will become very unpleasant for you.”

Sam D’Urso hurtled through the air wearing her skintight red and white uniform, wreathed in yellow-gold fire, barely dodging a plasma bolt. Righting herself in mid-flight, she winded up an arm to hurl a radiant fireball at her attacker, a hulking eight-foot-tall destromech with gunmetal grey armor on four spider-like legs and equipped with multi-barrel cannons on each forearm. Her fireball exploded against the destromech’s forcefield, doing little damage.

The sleek white hallways surrounding them were decorated with dark scorch marks, all from destromechs unloading volley after blistering plasma-blast volley that Sam kept weaving around, despite the limited space. Field commander or not, Sam was addicted to the thrill of aerial combat.

The mission was simple. December Contingent terrorists had stolen a military database containing the locations of several secret UComm bases all over the Rhiana Sector. The database’s location: within a December Contingent “cold” station near the Union memberworld Mekaal.

CT-2’s tasks for this mission were also straightforward: Addison would infiltrate the shadow vault’s inner chamber and shrike into the mainframe to retrieve the database. Jan’Hax would accompany Addison, cloak his presence, and watch her back. Sam and Bevrolor of Azelten would deal with this sanctum’s outside resistance.

Lastly, Surje and Ozaihi-Iphor guarded their exit at the shuttle bay. As on any mission, everyone only referred to each other by codenames.

So far, CT-2 had taken out any hostiles with ease. Sam had scorched the hallway to incinerate the microtech swarm, a security system the Contingent used on the intruders. That allowed Addison to breach the inner sanctum with Jan’Hax and procure the database.

Contingent followers hid in panic rooms all over the station, leaving the destromechs as the lone obstacle.

Bevrolor, her brawny XO, was on the ground below Sam in the hallway firefight. Standing at six foot three inches, the Nubrideen wore thin body armor of black and blue coloring. Bevrolor’s weapon of choice, a massive auto-repeater cannon, could only be carried by someone with her strength. She moved with astounding agility for her hefty size, firing off well-placed volleys at Sam’s blind spots.
Shit, her legs are like small tree trunks,
Sam marveled. The “Hightower” codename fit her perfectly.

Yet the lengthy database recovery was shrinking their exit window. “Freerunner!” Sam barked Addison’s codename into her wristcom, soaring and twisting above two blistering plasma bolts. “Hurry!”

“Screaming won’t accelerate things, Heatstroke!” Addison’s bitchiness seriously made Sam want to punch a kitten.

“Just give me the update.” She hurled a crackling fireball of burning gold at her destromech’s shielding, weakening it further.
But not fast enough
.

“I have the primary database, but there’s another encryption, probably guarding a bigger data store.”

Sam was about to answer when the destromech skittered toward her with a spray of plasma bolts. She plunged down and arced upward, drawing those blasts away from herself and Bevrolor.

“Freerunner, we need to go!” Jan’Hax’s voice yelled from the background of Addison’s transmission. “Hostiles are about to breach an alternate entrance I sealed off.”

“Then reseal it, Incognito,” Addison snapped. “Almost have this—”

“You said that three macroms ago!” Jan’Hax bit back.

Sam and Bevrolor exchanged disbelieving glances. “You’re not done?”

“Almost, but—”

“But nothing,” Sam cut her off. “Teleport out with Incognito. NOW.”

BRRRP-P-P-P-P!
Bevrolor’s last volley fizzled brightly across a destromech’s forcefield. “This one’s shielding is nearly shot,” she yelled over her shoulder.

“Switch!” Sam ordered. The duo switched places, aiming at each other’s target. Sam raised both hands and discharged twin flaming columns bright as daylight, and doused the destromech with an unrelenting rise in temperature. Finally, the mechanoid’s thin glowing visor went dark as it crumpled into a smoking, ruined husk.

Bevrolor dropped to one knee and hit a switch on her repeater cannon, which barked out a continuous bright-red torrent.
BRRRP-P-P-P-P!!
The shots cut through her destromech’s forcefield like tree paper, punching holes into the gunmetal-grey armor. The robot, maimed and sparking, collapsed in a heap and didn’t rise.

Sam floated closer to the ground, nodding at Bevrolor. “Nice work, Hightower! Keep sharp.”

Addison and Jan’Hax still hadn’t appeared. Sam swore loudly. Their exit timetable was blown. “Courier?” she spoke into her wristcom. “Is our exit still secure?”

The Voton answered straight away. “Exit compromised! Stronghold is down!” he yelped, sounding overwhelmed. “Surrounded by destromechs—” The Voton’s transmission went dead.

“Courier?” No response. Sam called Surje’s codename again. Nothing.
Fuck!

Both Surge and Ozaihi-Iphor were down, as was CT-2’s way off this station. So focused was Sam on this, she was shocked to see Bevrolor charging at her. “Behind me Heatstro—”

Sam turned at the repeating
BRAKKA-BRAKKA
bark of a destromech blaster. Every shot struck true…yet never touched her.

Bevrolor shuddered and shook as plasma blast after sizzling plasma blast drilled her massive body, until the ordnance officer was knocked clean off her feet. For a long moment, Bevrolor seemed suspended in midair—before colliding into Sam, knocking the field commander out of the air.

Sam fell fast, but rolled into a somersault, landing in a crouch.

Bevrolor crash-landed hard on the back of her neck, folding up accordion-like, then flopped back onto her belly. Sam’s eyes flitted between an unconscious Bevrolor and the massive destromech that felled her. It had rounded the corner while Sam was distracted, and her subordinate had paid the price. She knew Bevrolor couldn’t survive another attack like that. One more destromech skittered forward on the other side, sandwiching Sam and an unconscious Bevrolor.

Instants later, Addison teleported beside Sam wielding a pair of glowing shock batons. Her field outfit, a black catsuit, high necked and sleeveless, adorned her trim physique like a second skin. Jan’Hax clung to her waist with a harried look. The timing could not have been worse.

Three more destromechs skittered forward, pointing glowing cannons at the quartet. Maybe Addison could teleport them out with her maximal ability. But with Surje and Ozaihi-Iphor taken down, Sam knew the mission was toast.

“End program,” she ordered. The battered hallway and the destromechs vanished, leaving a vast HLHG suite with its familiar neon-blue walls.

Further away, Surje and Ozaihi-Iphor lay sprawled across the suite floor. The Ubruqite, in a black and gold armorweave containment suit to house his gaseous form, rose first. He nodded at Sam, indicating he was unhurt.

Addison sheathed a baton in each armored boot. A tight topknot held up her raven-black hair, with short bangs hovering above a slim yellow visor. She had the gall to observe her fallen teammates in disgust—as if they were the screwups.

Bevrolor finally pushed up to all fours, her head of curly powder-blue hair lolling forward. The fact she could even move amazed Sam, given how many destromech blasts she took. “Anything broken, Bev?”