Syndicate's Pawns (17 page)

 

CHAPTER 32

MORWYN

When you cannot trust in your skill, trust in the soldier next to you.

—­Plaque at the Sol Military Academy,
author unknown

20th of SSM–11 1445 A2E

T
here was no doubt in Morwyn's mind that both he and Chance were thoroughly outclassed by Sopherim. Even if the two of them had not been under the effect of the airborne narcotics tainting their ship's air supply, she would have proven to be a most dangerous opponent. Under normal circumstances while facing a foe like her, the order of the day would be to create distance between them, in order to make proper use of their pulse pistols.

Eliana Jafahan had once told him that firearms were the great equalizer of the universe. They could turn even an untrained civilian into a serious threat. However they came with one major drawback: they were only useful outside of close range.

It was clear that Sopherim was also aware of that weakness, and was exploiting it to her favor. She deftly slashed her blade at Chance's throat level, and the young private desperately dove to the ground to avoid the lethal strike. Morwyn tried to take advantage of this momentary distraction but Sopherim, with a speed that would put lightning to shame, drove her elbow into his unprotected face.

There was a crack followed by blinding pain as Morwyn felt his nose break. The impact of the blow dropped him on his back. Sopherim stabbed her blade toward his chest. Morwyn was able to deflect the blow with his stun-­stick, but was unable to avoid the fierce kick to his side.

Morwyn gagged and raised his pistol, aiming for Sopherim's leg. She deftly cartwheeled aside as he pulled the trigger and raised her blade above her head, ready to strike Morwyn down. Fortunately, Chance took the opportunity to open fire on Sopherim, who was forced to lithely drop to the ground, avoiding the shots once again.

Their foe was not only slippery but opportunistic as well. Like a coiled spring, Sopherim rolled back up to her feet, thrusting her blade forward and stabbing Chance in the shoulder. Her blade pierced through Chance's armor and she let out a pained scream, dropping her sidearm. Sopherim pressed her advantage as she pushed the blade and Chance forward until her back was against the wall.

“Covenant agents.” Sopherim's voice was heavy with contempt. She did not notice as Chance reached behind her back for her spare sidearm. Chance quickly grabbed onto the flat end of Sopherim's blade with her injured hand while firing on her with the other. This time Sopherim was unable to avoid the shot as the pulse round clipped her side, going through her armor and drawing blood.

Sopherim did not bother struggling with her blade. She hissed and leapt away, snapping her leg up and catching Chance beneath her chin in an acrobatic kick. Morwyn, who had by now managed to crawl over to his pulse pistol, was about to draw a bead on her, but despite her injury, Sopherim was still fluid and quick. Her hands went for two of the dozen knives sheathed around her armor. One blade found its mark in Chance's left leg. Morwyn was forced to duck his head as the knife meant for him narrowly whizzed past.

Once more Sopherim was quick to press her advantage as she rushed over to Chance, placed her foot against her chest and wrenched her sword free from her shoulder. Chance let out another agonized scream and slid down to the ground, leaving a streak of blood along the wall.

Sopherim turned to face Morwyn and twirled her curved sword, shaking the blood from it. Her left arm felt the wound at her side and she examined her bloodstained fingertips as she stalked menacingly toward Morwyn. He raised his pistol, taking aim this time for her shoulder, not wanting to kill her.

Sopherim must have read his intention through his body language because she let out a cold chuckle then kicked the pistol from out of his hand. “You two made me bleed. That was no small task.”

Sopherim raised her blade, poised to strike Morwyn down. “STOP!” Chance shouted. Sopherim lowered the edge of her blade onto Morwyn's throat and glanced back to see Chance pointing a pulse pistol from where she was seated on the ground.

“By the Infinite if you do not drop your blade, RIGHT NOW, I will end you where you stand.” Chance's face was set and steady. Morwyn hoped that Sopherim would be unable to read Chance's obvious bluff.

Sopherim snorted, before responding in broken Pax Common. “You know what I think, little girl?”

Sopherim drew another knife with her free hand. “You, a Covenant agent, must take me in alive. It is how you operate. Your rules of engagement.”

“We're in End Space now. No one will ever find out.” Chance briefly glanced past Sopherim then back at her once more. She then let out a resigned sigh and lowered her weapon. “But you are right. I won't kill you.”

“Pity for you, I do not have the same code.” Sopherim prepared to throw the knife in her hand. Before she could, however, there was a sudden loud bang from behind Morwyn and Sopherim.

Sopherim let out a yelp and dropped to one knee. Morwyn could now make out a long dart behind her leg. Before she could react there was another bang followed by another yelp from Sopherim as a second dart suddenly pierced her second leg. Morwyn looked behind him from where the sound had come. Down the corridor, lying on his stomach staring through the scope of a kinetic bolt rifle, a smoking vapostick in his mouth, was old Lucky with a satisfied look on his face.

Sopherim tried to push herself back up but was now wobbling and breathing heavily.

“I'd just lie down were I you, Blade Dancer,” Lucky called out to Sopherim, not once taking his eye away from his scope. “You've been pumped full of the heaviest anesthetics Covenant Medical technology has to offer. Ain't as fun a trip as Somapoline, that be the Green's Truth. But they'll get the job done right.”

Lucky, Chance and Morwyn all waited and watched as Sopherim struggled to get back to her feet. But her legs seemed no longer capable of supporting her, and soon she fell flat onto her stomach and into a deep sleep, breathing steadily.

Lucky left his rifle where it was and walked over to Chance, limping heavily. “Thanks for the diversion, Chance.”

“I figured if anyone was going to land a shot on that one, it was you, Lucky,” Chance replied weakly as the old Wolver examined her shoulder wound closely before applying pressure on it. The deed was a token one as Chance's standard issue Pax infantry armor's autoinjectors were already pumping her up with painkillers, adrenaline and coagulants.

Morwyn's lungs were on fire as he got to his feet and quickly went about handcuffing Sopherim's feet and hands together. Once he was done. Morwyn sat back down and took a moment to breathe in deeply until the act was less painful. He looked to Chance and Lucky. Fortunately for Chance, her battle armor would stop her from bleeding out until they could get her to Doctor Marla Varsin.

“How are you feeling, Chance?” Lucky asked her as he took a haul from his vapostick.

“I'll be able to manage a steady limp until the doc takes a look at me.” From beneath her helmet, Chance shot Lucky a friendly, yet weak smile. “I think I might have broken something.”

Morwyn winced as he pulled down his air mask and took a sip from his flask of brandy. “So have I.”

“Well, kiddies, both of you are mobile. So with respect—­on your feet and help me take back our bridge.” Lucky helped Chance up then stepped over to Morwyn and did the same.

“Come along, Captain, time enough to heal once we're dead.”

 

CHAPTER 33

PHAËL

Violence is not inherently evil. It is a tool, something we have used in the past and will no doubt continue to use in the future. When used in the wild it is to protect. Humanis are the only species I have seen, so far, who will use it for any other reason. It will take a far greater mind than my own to figure the answer to this most troubling of riddles.

—­Icarius Odenshaw, 12 of SSM–05 1359 A1E

20th
of SSM–11 1445 A2E

T
his was not Phaël's first time encountering an abomination like Niko. The Living Green was quite clear in its teachings that the body, the natural body, was a sacred vessel for the spirit. It was therefore considered heresy to have parts of that body replaced by lifeless metal and plastic. What she had learned was the fatal flaw of many a Kelthan was that they often equated superior technology to being superior.

Remove their technological edge and most Kelthans were soft and weak. She did not think that Niko would be a pushover. But as with any fool who thought having a weapon made him invincible, she would be more than happy to verse him on his own fragile mortality.

There was no machine in existence that could make someone deathless. Even Darlkhin, the immortal Humanis bloodline, could be sent to meet the Huntress. Thankfully Phaël had never faced one of the ageless in combat.

This Niko was no wizened immortal. He was a foolish, violent and—­most importantly—­angry man. The time for hiding was over. Not that there would have been many options on so enclosed a space to begin with.

“I'M COMING FOR YOU, DOG!” Niko's angry footsteps echoed down the corridor as he stalked past the storage bay and turned to face them. The man's left arm had mechanized into a long viciously serrated vibroblade.

Jessie and Phaël could both hear the menacing hum of the blade vibrating in the air. Phaël hissed as she saw this. The vibroblade was a razor sharp weapon that could rend through flesh, bone and armor. It was a vicious and dirty weapon; one Phaël was not terribly shocked to see Niko sporting.

He paused as he saw both Jessie and Phaël waiting for him. “I'm glad you chose to make it easy for me, flex girl.”

“We could say the same to you,” Phaël snapped back at him as Jessie opened fire on Niko with her plasma cutters. With inhuman speed, he avoided the purple streaks of heated plasma bolts and with each missed shot he came a little bit closer to them.

Phaël could hear Jessie letting out an outraged scream as she missed with her last shot and both plasma cutters let out an impotent “click.”

Niko maliciously wagged his finger at Jessie. “You're dead now.”

Jessie dropped to her knees, popping the chambers of her weapons open, and started to reload them. Phaël deftly twirled her knife in her hand, pointing it at Niko. “I'll buy you some time,” she whispered to Jessie.

Now confident that he no longer had to worry about incoming fire, Niko sprang forward and slashed at Phaël with his bladed arm. Phaël kept her cool as she rolled under the blow, beneath his legs and behind him. She was about to snag his neck with her whip but Niko was quick to react, spinning on his heels and stabbing down. Phaël deftly avoided the blow and leapt onto Niko's chest, locking his blade arm with both of hers and kicking him furiously in the face guard with both her prehensile feet.

Niko staggered back, clearly not expecting this much fight from someone so much smaller than him. He raised his free hand with blinding speed and only now did Phaël realize that he was holding an automatic pulse pistol as well. She relented on her flurry of kicks and was forced to catch his second arm with both her feet fingers.

Niko's pulse pistol gave out a charged hum and purr as it fired into the ceiling. He used his superior strength to lift Phaël above his shoulders. He then drove her into his knee with all the force of a piston-­powered sledgehammer. Phaël's grip on Niko's arms loosened but did not fail.

“Keep making me angry, dog! I'll just take it out on your hide.” Niko lifted Phaël once more above his head and drove her down into his knee a second time.

Her teeth rattled in her mouth. Her grip loosened on his bladed arm and Niko capitalized on the opening as he swung Phaël by the heels into and through the kitchenette table. He was about to raise her for a second blow, and this time it was Phaël's turn to react quickly as she drove a dagger into his right shoulder all the way to the hilt.

“Bitch!” Niko swore as he tossed her away from him into a nearby wall. The impact almost knocked her out. But Phaël had seen and been in her fair share of fights and she shook her head, blinking away stars.

Behind Niko, Phaël could see Jessie still desperately trying to reload her ridiculously antiquated pistols. Thankfully for both of them, Phaël had managed to enrage Niko, and like any stupid, angry beast, he would attack her before focusing on the perceived weaker prey.

He pulled the knife from his shoulder, his right arm sparking and twitching as he did. “I've had much worse.” His tone was dark and murderous.

With deadly precision Niko threw the knife at Phaël. Her trained and honed reflexes were on par with Niko's computerized ones as she deftly caught her knife by the hilt in midair and tossed it back. The knife went through Niko's left foot, pinning him to the floor.

“ENOUGH OF THIS!” Niko roared as he pulled himself free and rushed toward Phaël. She tried to get out of his way but was unable to avoid him as he tackled her to the ground.

“I've killed entire cities of Kohbran, you humping dog. You, I'm going to end, and her . . .” Niko pointed to Jessie while poising his vibroblade for a killing blow. “I don't know why but my boss wants her intact.” Phaël gave Niko a defiant stare, refusing to look away from her impending death.

There was a heated hiss ­coupled by a purple flash. Phaël blinked as ash suddenly fluttered onto her skinsuit's facial membrane. There was a hole the size of a fist singed in Niko's chest. Niko looked down at his wound, then turned around to see Jessie taking aim at him with her reloaded plasma cutter.

He raised his right arm to fire back at Jessie but she shot first, severing Niko's gun arm at the elbow. Jessie's third removed his left arm. Niko, who still seemed to be unaware that he was dead, looked to both his arm stubs, a look of stupid confusion no doubt playing itself out on his face beneath his crimson helmet. Phaël could hear Jessie screaming in rage as she unloaded the rest of her plasma rounds into Niko.

Despite his body now being riddled with fist-­sized holes, Niko did not topple over like a normal Humanis would have when he died. His body seemed to seize up and freeze like a statue. Soon there was only the sound of empty clicks and Jessie's angered scream as she kept on pulling the triggers on her pistols at Niko.

Phaël let herself relax for a moment as she got back to her feet. Her body was bruised, beaten and in pain. The stiches along her back were all now torn and she did not relish the thought of being sewn up again by Doctor Varsin. She limped over to Jessie, who was still pulling the triggers on her pistols, and softly pushed them away.

Jessie only now seemed to realize that Phaël was all right and still alive. And only now did Phaël realize that this was the first life that Jessie had taken. It was written plainly on her face. “I—­I—­”

“You did the Huntress proud, Jessie Madison.” Phaël cradled Jessie in her arms as she broke into fits of sobs. When she was done Phaël walked over to one of Niko's severed arms and cut off two of his fingers. She handed one of them to Jessie, who gave both the finger and Phaël a confused look.

“Those who share in the hunt, get to share in the trophy.”