Different Paths (39 page)

The Galactic Marshals were in chaos.

Many swarmed after the warship while some tried to
charge the building and they became priority targets for the Nemesis. The
Cerberus class warship’s weapons made short work of the fleeing skimmers and
soon, they stopped trying all together and chased after the Nemesis.

Pax announced. “Forward shields at fifty percent;
aft shields at seventy-five. All bogies accounted for. Coalition Dragons within
firing range.”

Athena racked her brain for some plan that would
allow them to stay in an overwatch pattern and resist the incoming Dragons but
nothing came to mind. Without asking, she knew that they would resist the
starfighters with everything they had but their options were limited inside the
atmosphere.

“Tracking multiple missile launches from the
incoming Dragons.”

*   *   *   *   *

Officer Ernspiker paused at the door.

According to the schematic on his HUD, this should
be small office with one door on the opposite wall that opened to the room when
his teammates were having a firefight. Tightening the grip on his R-Gun, Spike
kicked in the door and was greeted with the shriek of a young girl.

Her blonde hair, pointed ears and emerald eyes
marked her as Sylvan or at least partially so. She was sitting on top of
several barrels with what he guessed was a proton less than bomb three feet
away. Spike could see that the timer showed three minutes and falling.

Keying his mic to the team tac-net he said, “Spike
to El-tee.”

“Go for KC.”

“I have good news, better news and bad news. Which
do you want first?”

“Give me the good news.”

“I’m about to breach the door behind the tangos.”

“And?”

“I’ve found the child.”

“Eve?! Is she okay?”

“She is for now. But in two minutes and forty-six
seconds we’re all going to be having a really bad day.”

“Oh shit! Alright ignore her and press forward.
We’ll do the same.”

Hearing the firefight in the next room suddenly
intensify, Ernspiker hesitated. He couldn’t just ignore her after everything
she’d been through. Popping the dome-like helmet of his armor, Spike smiled at
the young girl. Quickly cutting through her bonds, he pointed at the door
behind him. “Run. Don’t stop. Find an elevator and go down.”

“But…but…” she tried to argue.

Pushing the half-elf out towards the door he
commanded, “Run!” 

Closing his helmet, Ernspiker moved toward the
opposite door but before he reached it, it flew open. Without thinking, Spike
raised his R-Gun and fired.

Chapter 35

Even before Iaido moved, he knew that he would be
too late. Even with his enhanced speed and strength, he wouldn’t be able to
cover the thirty feet between himself and the General before his brother
skewered him. But he had to try.

Just before Hector slammed home the killing blow,
he looked up from the General and locked eyes with his twin. With a slight
smile, he stabbed downward with all his might. The grin quickly fled his face
as the razor sharp Blade of the Void was turned aside at the last second when
it confronted the energy shield the President had activated.

That caused him to pause ever so slightly, enough
so that Iaido was already on the move.

Hector reached down with his free hand, grabbed
the edge of the energy shield and ripped it away. The President screamed and
tried to back away. He was on all fours and scooted several feet back but it
wasn’t going to be enough and they both knew it.

Of course, neither of them expected the arrival of
the eight foot tall black mantis. Xerxes landed next to the cowering form of
the President with a loud hiss and lashed out with his silver spear.

However, Hector wasn’t just some thug or brute. He
was a Spartan. He was bred to be a warrior. His skills and training placed him
on the same level as Achilles. But then, he bonded with the Nosferatu and
became much more.

Calling upon his powers, he gathered the shadows
once again around his left forearm and used his shield to deflect the spear.
Luckily for Xerxes, Hector was completely out of position for a lethal
counterattack but not enough that he couldn’t attack. Hector rode the force of
the blow on his shield and let it help him spin. Midway through the turn, he
leaped into the air and lashed out with his right foot in a sidekick which
knocked the large Mantodea backwards a step.

This probably saved his life since Hector had his
sword trailing the spin in a deadly arc that would’ve decapitated the Mantis if
he had stayed in his original spot. As it was, the razor sharp Blade of the
Void sliced right through Xerxes’ right mandible and took off the last six
inches of the appendage.

Hector landed gracefully but couldn’t press his
advantage since his brother had arrived.

*   *   *   *   *

Once again, Iaido was gone. As Iaido, the Myrmidon
had learned compassion. He had learned that killing wasn’t always the answer.
He had learned that many times words were more powerful than any weapon. These
were hard lessons won over the years. But at this particular moment, they were
a distraction and he let them go.

After witnessing Hector’s actions, he knew that
this was indeed his brother but enhanced in some dark way. So Iaido was gone
and Achilles landed in front of his twin and became the war god incarnate. With
both swords, Achilles started his attacks high…working his brother’s guard up.

Hector blocked and countered.

Achilles parried and thrust.

Everyone else in the room was gone. It was just
these two immortal warriors.

They leaped and rolled. They slashed and parried.
They spun and dove. They thrust and dodged. They kicked and blocked. It was
medieval. It was barbaric. It was amazing. No one who witnessed the dazzling
display would ever forget it.

However, the two warriors seemed perfectly
matched. Neither could gain an advantage nor find a weakness in their
opponent’s defenses. It was obvious that the battle would continue until one or
the other made a mistake. Or something stopped them.

Finally, something did.

*   *   *   *   *

Aeneas had not been idle while his two brothers
dueled.

Seeing them completely occupied, he had rushed
toward the General with the intent of killing him quickly. Of course, he didn’t
take into consideration Xerxes. Even wounded the large Mantis was deadly and
obstinate.

Xerxes spun the silver spear with the skill of
someone who knew how to use it. Of course the three arms, or appendages that
Manatodeas used as arms, made the passes and attack angles different than
anyone Aeneas had ever fought before. Thiers was another impressive battle, not
as epic as the twins but still amazing.

Aeneas’ dual gladii were faster than Xerxes’ spear
but the hard exoskeleton of the Mantis made up for any weakness in his form.
The Praetorian had been able to get several thrusts through his defenses but
none were able to penetrate his carapace.

Xerxes was not a true warrior, never had been and
never would be. But every Manatodea knows how to fight. Fighting is a way of
life in the Colony. From the moment they are a hatchling to the day their path
is chosen for them by the Queen, they must fight to survive. But even as
stubborn as Xerxes was, he knew that he could not win this battle. Not unless
something unexpected happened. Aeneas was too skilled with his blades and
sooner or later, one of his attacks would pierce his carapace.

However, both of them paused in their battle when
something or someone came hurling through the main entrance to the Grand
Rotunda.

*   *   *   *   *

When DJ pulled the trigger on his Typhoon S10
Railgun and nothing happened, he knew at that precise moment that he was in
serious trouble. His ammo counter still showed that he had five hundred and
twenty three rounds so he knew it was a jam. This was a known flaw in the Typhoon
S10, but with two very pissed off Galactic Marshals less than ten feet away, he
did expect to have time to clear the jammed round.

He also didn’t expect them to tackle him nor did
he expect them to be strong enough to knock him backward through the doorway he
was guarding. But that was how he found himself tumbling down a flight of
stairs.

One thing about the HAVOC-V suit, it was tough.

Somewhere in the spill, he’d lost his grip on the
Typhoon but that didn’t matter, not with it being jammed anyway. DJ let the
suit finish its fall down the stairs before trying to right himself. Already
the suit’s AI was updating possible tangos throughout the room.

One part of him wanted to watch the amazing sword
battle ranging on the far side of the room between his friend and the shadow
covered swordsmen but when the two Galactic Marshals which had knocked him
through the doorway stood up and pulled out short swords which sparked with
energy, his attention was focused.

Grabbing the two swords Iaido had given him earlier,
he thumbed on their power switched and prepared himself. Since he wasn’t a
swordsman, he opted to treat them as really big knives, just like he said
earlier. DJ held the both blades downward, running along his forearm and
readied himself.

One of the first mistakes anyone who wears combat
armor makes is thinking that they are wearing combat armor. Those that continue
to think that way usually die. Combat armor, whether it was the ARC suits or
the HAVOC-Vs are nothing more than an extension of the individual. When a
person wears clothes, they really aren’t conscious of how the clothes slightly
modify their walking or other actions, it happens naturally. The same could be
said for a veteran of combat armor. Those who lived in a suit…who trusted a
suit…who bled in a suit, eventually stopped thinking of it as a suit. It
becomes just another set of clothes.

DJ was a veteran of combat armor and so, the seven
foot suit of armor was just like a second skin to him. Granted, it was rather
large and that was a few years ago but those worries fell into the category of
rule number two.

Ever since DJ had been released from New
Leavenworth, two simple rules had governed his life. Rule one, don’t sweat the
small shit. Rule two, everything is small shit.

*   *   *   *   *

Talia was in a quandary.

She was a mystic, not a warrior. She was trained
to heal and not harm. Yet, here she was bearing witness to an epic battle where
the enemy had the upper hand. From her vantage point on the balcony, she could
see that several of the wounded Marshals on the podium were moving. Not quickly
but she could see them fumbling with their guns. She knew that they were in
fact Praetorians and that meant against Iaido.

What to do? She had chosen the path to follow and
aid the bounty hunter. Yet, her skills lie in knowledge and healing, not in
battle. As always when she was uncertain of what to do, she reached for her
Tarot cards, the tools of her trade and instruments of her faith. Knowing this
wasn’t the proper place for a reading; she whispered the words of her prayer to
the universe and drew one card.

She had expected it to be a card from the Major
Arcana; the Tower, the Fool, the Chariot or any of the other ten cards. She
knew that these tend to pop up when grave decisions abound. However, she was
surprised to find a card from the Minor Arcana, the Two of Swords to be
precise.

Talia had always found this to be one of the
strangest images in the deck.

The card depicted a lone woman dressed in flowing
white robes over chainmail armor riding a winged horse above a battlefield. Her
arms were laid across her chest like a corpse at rest, while she tries to
maintain a tenuous equilibrium by balancing the two swords against her
shoulders. The sky is dark and cloudy above her, lit only by the crescent moon.
This was the image of the Valkyrie, the chooser of the slain, but she was not
allowed to see those fighting below or the moonlight since Odin had ordered her
to be blindfolded.

Talia knew that whenever the Two of Swords
appeared in a reading, it typically represented a difficult decision; a choice
between two conflicting thoughts or ideas. Like the one she faced now; to act
or to watch.

Talia glanced down and saw the Master Chief’s
rifle. Somewhere inside herself, she heard Jay’s laughter and voice when he
called her Annie Oakley and she knew at that moment what she had to do.

The rifle was much heavier than it looked but she
lifted it with difficulty and moved it to the edge of the balcony. Setting it
down, she took a moment and looked over the weapon. It only had four switches,
three of which were clearly marked; power, release and safety. The trigger was
self-explanatory.

Looking through the scope, Talia lined up the
crosshairs on one of the Praetorians which had pulled himself upright on the
podium. He was pointing his weapon at Xerxes and just waiting for a clear shot.
Snuggling the butt of the rifle into her shoulder, Talia took a deep breath and
blew it out.

Calmly, she squeezed the trigger.

*   *   *   *   *

Spike looked down at the dead body of his friend
and cursed.

Ignoring the dead and their wounded in the other
room, Lt. Kristopher helped Muncy into the bomb room before he rolled the
corpse of the SWAT officer over and found that Sponge Bob had three holes in a
perfect triangle center mass on his chest; right where Spike had shot him.

Not really knowing what to say, Kristopher opted
for levity. “Nice grouping by the way.”

Spike pulled his eyes up and fixed them on his
superior officer. He opened and closed his mouth several times but nothing came
out.

Officer Muncy, whose nickname was Butterfingers as
a pun due to his occupation and for his fondness for sweets, glanced up from
the explosive that he was dismantling and said, “Karma is a bitch!”