- overall a short chapter, with the usual disclaimer: "Contains scenes of violence."
Chapter 21
**
Clegan marshaled the remainder of his fighters to take position in the shadow of the asteroids, while he watched the video feed from the transmitters planted on the surface of rocks close to the station. All he could do was wait as the screen showed the assault transports latch onto the outer shell. The sensor readings indicated that the modified escape transport at the heart was ready for deployment, and Clegan smiled at the thought that there really was no honour amongst thieves.
"Status?"
"Over half of the Bloodheart boarding craft have docked with the station. Estimate it will take another five mizuras for the remaining craft to deploy."
Clegan knew he had lost the battle, but Feran would need a whole new assault team before the end. He considered the added bonus that the Bloodheart leader would still not have control of the Androti Weed. All that he required was for the remaining fighters to keep the Bloodheart ships from engaging the escape vessel before it had a chance to engage the interplanetary drive unit.
Suddenly the stations lights went out and all power readings dropped.
"What the?" Clegan leant forward in his seat.
A bright flash adjacent to the docking entrance turned to particle beams and a ship shot out followed by a gout of flames.
"Grall." The look of annoyance became a wry smile in the knowledge that another prize was slipping through Feran's grasp.
In the sezuras of sudden confusion amongst the Bloodheart fighters a wormhole opened and the Defiance vanished. The power grid on the station registered activation.
"Sir, comms have been restored with the station."
"Message to all fighters to adopt final defence, and prepare to signal order twenty three to the station on my command." He would give the remaining four assault transports another ten mizuras to board the station.
As the last one took position, one of the already attached vessels broke away its engines flared as it turned towards the Python.
"Wormhole detected. Ship emerging."
The viewer changed image as the Defiance re-appeared close to where it departed. It turned slowly as plasma cascaded towards it from fighters and the two corvettes. The shields shimmered and shone before the lightning flashes of the particle beams reduced Bloodheart fighters to vapour. With a brief flare from the engine pods the Defiance placed itself between the transport and the Python. Short bursts from a particle beam stripped away the transports shields and were followed by a open frequency transmission. The voice laden with malice.
"Surrender your prisoner."
The Thirst edged closer, Phased Photons from multiple turret positions lit up the darkness. The Defiance strafed and the transport tried to find a way past only to be blocked. The tail glow of multiple missile launches streaked toward Tor's ship.
"Send the command." Clegan relaxed at the opportune timing.
"Sir."
While the Defiance weathered the storm with surprising resilience and became the focus for the Bloodheart fighters, the station shell suddenly started to ripple with explosions. The spin of the structure slowed and stopped suddenly as a section tumbled away into the asteroid field. More explosions vented two hundred metre jets of burning gases, and then the nose of the transport moved gracefully from the disintegrating shell.
Comms channels jammed open with panic filled transmissions.
The modified transport cleared the structure and increased its velocity. Small fighters moved to engage, their plasma shimmered in the shields. More fighters swarmed in towards the fleeing ship as Shadow Troop ships swung around the asteroids to intercept and protect it. Missile launches from both sides cluttered the tactical display.
Sensor readings indicated the interplanetary drive was charging as the shields tumbled under the constant bombardment. At a glance he knew they were not going to make it. The transport was too slow, too heavy.
Behind them the station entered into its final death throws with large sections of hull being blasted into the void. Small pieces flared in the shields of the Bloodheart flagship while the gunners frantically fired on larger sections before they could impact.
Missile contacts on the tactical display blinked out in rapid succession. Two Bloodheart heavy fighters also vanished, one ship shielded the fleeing transport, matching its speed as the interplanetary drive engaged.
The remaining Shadow Troop ships melted away into the asteroid field leaving only Bloodheart ships and debris.
**
Korecmancketras idly turned the datacore in his hand. His mood had been darkened by recent events and he barely noticed Caran enter his office. For a long time the Argon Agent patiently waited without speaking.
"I know this is not a good time." Caran disturbed the Paranid's thoughts.
Korecmancketras held up the datacore.
"By all that we find holy. Was this really worth friends dying?"
"That I can't answer. Needless to say, many have died for less."
"If I know your Argon ways, they will not be remembered. Only the Paranid truly honour our fallen great."
Caran knew better than to point out the Paranid honoured great were mainly the leaders not the individual soldiers. Yet the sentiment was still there, many unsung heroes were little more than names in forgotten archives, and so it would be with Tor and ultimately his own name. He placed a hard case on the desk, opened the catches and lifted the lid. Inside was padded with an empty pocket.
He strode slowly towards the Paranid and lifted the datacore out of his hand.
"I'm hoping something good will come out of this, but for the life of me I can't see what." Caran returned to the case and gently placed the datacore inside, then closed the lid.
"In the name of the Pontifex, find something."
Caran glanced towards Korecmancketras and gave a slight nod then left.
+++++++
Tor stirred and consciousness took hold. The throbbing in his head, he came to realise, was not so much from the blow to the head but from the fact he was hanging upside down. Around him were voices, muttering indistinctly.
"My lord, the prisoner is awake." Tor did not recognise the voice. It was male, close by and had the tone of mild disinterest.
Tor opened his eyes slowly, half expecting someone to shine a bright light straight into his face. He felt stretched and other senses fired responses to his growing awareness. His hands were shackled, the bindings tight against his wrists. Looking down he saw a fine steel hawser going through a loop in the floor and coupled to a tensioning winch that formed an integral part of a faceless robot. He gauged his head was nearly a metre and a half above the floor.
He looked forward to see a large view screen and knew instinctively he was on the bridge of a battleship. Crew sat at various navigation and command centres, none paid him any attention.
"Take your time to admire the view, Grall."
Tor could feel the breath of the speaker against the back of his neck. He heard the sound of an alarm and shot a glance at the tactical command desk as the operator muted it. The screen flashed and Tor allowed himself a slight smile at the sight of particle beams slashing across the shields. Phased photon charges rained towards the small fast ship.
"It looks like it's going to be a nice day on the homeworld."
He sensed the speaker move past him and watched as the Split moved in front of him. Tor had expected Feran to be younger, then noticed he did not have a prosthetic arm.
"Fires burn on Nopileos. They say the Paranid started them."
"Accidents happen."
Twh turned abruptly and smiled slowly.
"Yes indeed, Grall. They do."
"Just out of interest, I was expecting to see Feran, but who the hell are you?"
Behind him Feran laughed quietly and it caused the hairs on the back of his neck to rise.
"I am the Chief Council to the Patriarch."
Tor glanced down to the bindings around his wrists and then back up at Twr.
"Let me guess, you're here to negotiate my release from these pirates?"
"It is within my power to grant freedom."
"At what price?"
Twh bent forward so he could look straight into Tor's eyes.
"The Defiance."
"Is that all? It's yours, take it. And best of luck." Tor smiled.
Twh stepped back with a look of confused curiosity, he had expected Tor to refuse and put up a futile struggle against torture.
"What are the access codes?"
"Ahh, yes. A small detail, but unfortunately there aren't any. Or at least none the AI would admit to." Tor did his best to shrug. Another alarm went off at the tactical command unit.
"I'm sure you can guess what we will do if they are not supplied, freely?"
"From here I have a reasonably shrewd idea. But that doesn't change the fact that I don't know any security override codes for the Defiance."
"That is most unfortunate."
"So are you going to torture me anyway?"
"Questions need answers, Grall. And I have many."
The Python shook with the shockwave of a large explosion. The crewman at tactical span to face Twh.
"My Lord, one of your corvettes has just been destroyed."
"It sounds like things aren't going so well for you?" Tor looked suitably concerned despite everything being upside down.
Twh took several deep breaths and turned slowly.
"Order the Defiance to stand down."
"That's going to be difficult in my current situation."
"Just speak clearly." Twh looked towards the comms centre, "Open a channel."
"Defiance this is Tor. I've been asked to ask you to stop shooting at everyone. Thanks."
Twh signaled for the comm be closed.
"I sensed a lack of sincerity. Perhaps we should send the message again accompanied by screams?" Twh stepped up to Tor and a metal rod appeared in his hand. With a sweep of the arm it passed over Tor's midriff sending a burning sensation ripping through him.
Perspiration beaded on his forehead while he twisted and turned, fighting against the pain through clenched teeth Tor choked back any sound. He settled, with slow steady breaths, anger reflected in his eyes. In his squirming he tested the bindings but they were well made and refused to show any sign of yielding.
"Endurance to pain. Very admirable, but everyone screams sooner or later." Twh smiled.
"The Defiance continues its attack." The tactical officer announced.
Twh circled Tor and this time the rod passed across his shoulders. The cable dragged against the loop in the deck but provided very little slack for the contraction in the muscles.
"Still not ready to issue the command?" Twh ran the rod down the back of his right leg. "There are places that Argon feel real pain. I can demonstrate where. Unless the order is given, and the Defiance stands down."
"And at what point will you realise that no command from me will work."
"Explain?" Twh came around to face Tor.
"The AI on the Defiance is a series five thousand, self aware, and psychotic. I didn't order the ship to attack this vessel, it does it by its own volition. You have three choices, only one of which might let you get away alive."
"You are giving me choices?" To Tor, Twh sounded and looked remarkably calm.
"Yes, you let me go unharmed and we leave, everyone lives. Or, you kill me and the Defiance will tear this destroyer apart, before going on a bloody rampage of revenge. Alternatively you torture and maim me, but the Defiance will slice and dice this ship until it recovers what's left, then it'll go on a bloody rampage of revenge."
"You dare to threaten Split?"
"I'm just telling you how it'll be."
"We shall see." The Split Chief Council appeared to consider where he would press the pain stick and all Tor felt he could see the thought process. He risked a glance at the wide view screen of the tactical officer. Showers of pulsed photons cascaded towards the small indistinguishable dark mass of the Defiance. Its position marked only by the periodic, lancing particle beams. The exhaust glow of missiles spiraled in to the malaise but detonated before reaching the ship.
Agony raced through him and he pulled up hard on the wrist bindings with a sudden jerk. The restraining robot shifted against the deck and Tor continued to pull until the bite of the manacles became too painful to continue.
Twh looked at the robot, the drag marks scored the surface, and explored one with the toe of his boot.
"Impressive. If a little futile."
The Thirst shuddered again, and this time the tactical officer turned slowly.
"My Lord, your ship has been destroyed."
The face of the Chief Council twitched, a look of rage burned in his eyes and Twh struck Tor hard in the chest with his fist. Tor twisted on his restraints, muscles contracted and it took him a moment to catch his breath.
"Rip him apart!" Twh shouted to Feran.
========
Tor expected a limb wrenching tug and braced himself for the struggle of his life. Suddenly there was a click and the wrist bindings sprung open. Swinging free he saw the surprised, and rapidly growing livid, expression on Twh's face.
"What is this treachery?"
Tor was still facing the wrong way as he swung over the deck and felt annoyed that he could not face Feran directly when he gave his answer.
"If Grall is to die here, then I feel he deserves a more fitting end." Feran sounded unnaturally calm for a Split and not how Tor imagined he would.
"A fitting end?" Twh fought to gain control of his rage.
"I have killed enough people on your whim. Tor's blood will be on my hands, only if you lose." Feran keyed in the release code for the ankle bindings and Tor fell to the floor.
Twh moved deceptively fast, and a dark blade slashed through the air where Tor's neck had been a moment before. The initial shock that the Argon had avoided the cut swiftly passed, even so he moved with caution. Tor was unarmed and Twh felt no reason to fear him, he smiled as he formed ideas on how to make Feran pay for this insubordination.
Tor recovered his composure after hitting the deck and then nearly losing his head. He kept his focus on the Split trying to kill him, but was aware that the eyes of the crew were on him. He tried to console himself with the knowledge that only a madman would use a blaster on the command deck of a Destroyer. The only trouble with that thought, Tor decided, was that the real madman sat in the command seat.
The Split Chief Council moved almost as fast as Creed and likewise was very difficult to anticipate. The pain stick slashed over his head as he ducked down and the edge of the blade nicked the shoulder of his jacket a sezura later.
Twh knew his last move would have killed any normal Argon and seriously wounded most Split. He watched Tor, there was some casual ease about his movements, to the point that he appeared relaxed, yet faster than anyone he had encountered.
"Fast reflexes won't save you, Grall."
Tor remained quiet, and dodged back, the pain stick slashing down towards his face. Side stepping, it then lunged towards his chest. He deflected the stick with his right forearm and suffered the searing jolt but turned Twh enough to make the sweeping cut of the dark blade slice wide of target. The Split reversed the blade and made a low back cut, catching Tor's left leg just above the knee.
Twh stepped back and smiled, holding it up to show Tor the blood stained edge.
"Before the end you will beg."
Tor moved with a slight limp, the cut was not deep but stung to the point of blocking out all other injuries.
Twh closed in with several fast cuts, switching the direction of the blade on each back cut, but Tor ducked and swerved clear before falling back with a light fresh cut across the front of his jacket.
Clenching his fists Tor waited for the next attack, the Split left very few opportunities for him to get close enough to put up any counter attack. Yet there was the possibility to make an opportunity. As Twh attacked Tor dodged the first sweep of the blade and took the hit of the pain stick on the left shoulder.
Before Twh could bring back the blade, Tor's fist stuck him in the chest with such force that the Split's feet left the ground and he landed half a metre back, and staggered to regain his balance. The blade slashed forward to prevent Tor pressing the advantage. Never before had Twh been hit so hard, he knew no Argon possessed such strength.
"What are you?"
"I was born Argon. What I have become is, something else."
Twh discarded the pain stick and brought out a second dark metal blade. He tried to ignore the pain and gradual tightening in his chest.
Tor kept a safe distance from the Split, but he did not want to get to close to the cabin crew in case one of them decided to aid Twh. He could see his only chance of surviving was to get behind his opponent, or at least get his hands on the discarded pain stick.
Twh moved forward, the blades cutting back and forth between neck and stomach height. Tor saw little opportunity to get through the guard, but noticed that the Split was slightly slower than before.
A blade sliced past him, Tor caught the left wrist with his right hand and pulled hard forcing it across to his left side. Twh twisted and Tor turned bringing his left elbow hard in to the centre of the Chief Council's back. The Split leapt away turning as he did so and landed in a low crouch.
Tor swept up the pain stick from the floor and faced an enraged Chief Council. Bringing the stick up, he could tell that the construction was not as robust as he had hoped, and doubted he should use it to block either of the two blades. He felt a slight buzz when activating the power and circled his opponent.
Twh calmed himself and kept slightly crouched as he closed in, he half lunged and changed the sweeping direction of the blades. His left hand jolted as the wrist came in contact with the pain stick. The tips of both blades came away red with blood.
Tor dropped back and moved to the left of Twh, a shallow cut two centimetres in length ran across the left side of his chest, and a second cut of similar length ran down his left thigh. The blood trickled down to join that of the earlier wound.
The Chief Council returned to full height and pressed the advantage, Tor dropped and dodged to the right, kicking out at Twh's knees. The sole of his boot hammering against the left kneecap. One of the Splits blades biting into his left calf before he fell away.
Twh landed heavily and tried to regain his feet, but found his left leg uncooperative. Tor drew himself up, limping heavily the pain stick remained clenched tightly in his left hand. He stayed back, waiting, keeping out of range should Twh decide to slash at his ankles.
The Chief Council grabbed hold of his dislocated kneecap and forced it back into place. He kept his eyes on Tor as he scrambled back to his feet while keeping his weight on his right leg.
"An interesting move, Grall. Still you bleed more than me. It's only a matter of time."
The Cheif Council held back as Tor circled him, his left leg almost giving out every time he tried to put some weight on it. Tor knew if Twh tried to attack with the same energetic zeal he would lose his balance. Even so his own left leg was not much better.
Twh moved with surprising speed towards him. He felt the tip of the blade pass beneath his chin, his right hand catching the other wrist. His left hand sweeping up and over as Twh head butted him. Tor staggered back then drove the pain stick into Twh's right eye.
The Split Chief Council, shook and went into spasm. Both blades clattered to the floor as he collapsed backwards, the stench of released bowls filling the air.
Tor limped backwards and away from the body. His eyes swiveled up to the slow rhythmical clap of a hand against an armrest.
Great read as usaul 
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