Shit.
Major Reynolds and the rest of the military team had given us what I thought was a pretty standard speech just before we disembarked from the ship. It included procedures for getting lost or getting hurt. It also included the arbitrary appointment of directional coordinates.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Our designated point of rendezvous and sanctuary was due south. The problem was we were on the ‘north’ side of the city.
I knew that we weren’t totally alone; there had been other team members relatively close to us when the shooting had started… if they were still alive.
From the corner of the building I looked back to find our stalker. I was just in time to watch him lob some type of explosive into the area we’d just crawled away from. The blast was accompanied by a few screams and I ducked my head as debris rained down around me. As I raised my eyes three people—I couldn’t tell if they were Stigerians or Earthers—stood and ran.
He reacted instantly and fired from the hip; his gun burped three times in quick succession. Scarier to me than his reaction time was the accuracy of his shooting. He didn’t miss.
Our gunman started walking in our direction again and I looked around for anything I could defend myself with. I grabbed a baseball sized piece of rock or building that must have come dislodged and tried to figure out what possible good it could do me.
I looked over at Julie and almost panicked when I saw all the blood running down the side of her face. Then I remembered the glass I had cleared and that scalp wounds always bleed like crazy and look worse than they really are. She wasn’t panicking and she calmly told me she’d be fine. In a way that I don’t think I’d ever be able to explain to anyone she looked more beautiful right then than I’d ever seen her. All I know is that I had an overwhelming urge to protect her.
I looked around for another place to retreat to but the nearest other building was across a large stretch of open ground. I doubted we could make it before our assailant rounded the corner and gunned us down.
I realized I was hyperventilating just as I saw the most amazing thing. From what must have been a suicidal 30 yards behind him one of our military popped up from behind a trellis and some broken chairs and started sprinting full speed towards the back of the armed gunman.
It was like time had slowed to a crawl; I was frozen in place.
20 yards.
I think the gunman saw me; he stopped walking and stared in my direction.
10 yards.
I had just recognized Lt Jerry Pearson from Major Reagan’s security staff; arms pumping; totally focused on reaching the gunman before…
The gunman must have heard him; he spun around and the gun burped. Lt Pearson’s momentum slid his lifeless body to a stop just a few feet away from his enemy.
At that same moment two things happened. I stood up and launched my rock—Julie later told me I’d screamed a primal yell through the entire sequence—and racing in from the left side of my vision was yet another one of our military boys.
Every athlete experiences rare moments of perfect clarity and perfect performance. It’s almost like time was standing still as my arm projected the rock. I don’t remember the wind-up; I don’t even remember the throw. I just willed the rock to be there smashing up against the side of our assailant’s head.
I never would have believed such velocity was possible and it could have been lethal had it hit, but I missed.
It did come close enough though to cause the little puke to jerk his head back and throw off his aim—his plasma bolt missed Lt Henderson who pummeled him to the ground and beat the holy snot out of the little bastard.
There were a lot of dead Stigerians. The Noridian attackers (that’s who we’d determined them to be) had been indiscriminate to anyone in their path with the exception of the two remaining Coridians on the planet. Captain Silva, Semi, and her first protégée were at the retreat leaving only Selika (the second protégée) and Toni on Stiger.
In Toni’s case literally every living being within a 100 yard radius of her had been slaughtered yet she’d never been targeted.
Every Stigerian that worked on the same floor that the Noridian captive was being held was massacred yet Selika was found untouched, semi-hysterical in a corner.
It turns out that The Accord had some strict prohibitions about Dynasty members killing each other off and although the occasional ‘accident’ might be overlooked wholesale slaughter was frowned upon.
That same prohibition however did not apply to non-dynasty, non-protected, planet bound cultures like the Stigerians; or Earthers for that matter.
That is not to say that open conflict against defenseless non-dynasty cultures was common or accepted without cost. In galactic culture force, even when used against the non-dynasty masses, was seen as a failure of leadership and carried a cost in respect from other dynasties. It was only used when the best interests of the dynasty were truly at stake. So although this slaughter was very rare it wouldn’t raise any eyebrows and the Noridians weren’t setting any precedents.
To me it seemed like a really fucked-up way to run a galaxy.
Major ‘Iron Jaw’ Reynolds was very lucky to be alive.
The Noridian weapons were apparently tied-in with their bioware such that they ‘saw’ targeting solutions instantaneously. He had been dodging obstacles at a full run when a plasma bolt, surely aimed at him, had passed through something (or someone) else first either deflecting or slowing it slightly. The result was a deep flesh wound to the left side of his abdomen that had actually scored a rib; which he promptly broke when he fell to the ground.
The butcher’s bill for our side was horrendous.
One hundred and eighty-three Stigerians and twenty-three of the Earth Team were dead. There were a large number of wounded but the majority of them were superficial, the results of flying glass or debris. With the exceptions of Lt Henderson, whom they missed because of my rock, and Iron Jaw, whom they wounded, every one of their targets suffered kill shots.
Iron Jaw was going over the situation with us and I was getting a good understanding of why he was nicknamed ‘Iron Jaw’. With his chest wrapped in bandages he had propped himself up on a counter in the foyer of the same building the Coridian enclave was in.
He had refused anything beyond basic first aid until the situation was sorted out, and when offered a blanket (because there were no shirts immediately available that would fit his barrel-chested torso) he shook his head and simply pulled on the dirty remains of his own scorched tunic. There were more comfortable sofa seats or benches but I suspect he wanted to remain visible to the team. I had studied the history and effects of leaders but I had never studied leadership itself. I was pretty sure Major Reynolds could write a textbook.
“The Noridians were extremely ineffectual in their attack,” Major Reynolds was saying.
I think several of us were incredulous at that statement. Someone spoke out, “Ineffectual hardly seems like the right word.”
Major Reynolds, without emotion, calmly explained. “The fact that they took out the ship with what we think was a kinetic shot from orbit tells us that they couldn’t take the chance some of us might still be onboard and possibly escape. Their mission was to exterminate our entire team.
“In addition,” he continued. “The three gunmen that stalked the city weren’t coordinating with each other. If they had followed even basic urban infantry guidelines we wouldn’t be having this conversation.
“Finally, they waited to storm this building and rescue our prisoner until well after the other attacks were underway. That allowed me time to set my ambush with Delta team. If a professional had been planning the operation it would have happened simultaneously with the other assaults to maximize on the element of surprise.”