It was a stunning whirlwind of violence, but so long as no weapons were fired, any who heard the commotion would just assume it was the evening’s fights going on as usual. And only the guards were carrying guns. And most were bleeding out on the floor.
A moment later all of them would be.
Heydar increased his speed, knives flying, taken from the tables and belts of the fallen, each of them finding its target and ensuring no one would get off a shot.
Darla was stunned as the realization set in. Heydar hadn’t been wide-eyed and scared. He had been assessing every last Dohrag in the joint, sizing them up, noting their weapons and levels of inebriation, forming a plan of attack, all while pretending to be losing to his sizeable adversary.
The general reacted once his personal guards had fallen, grabbing the nearest person he could lay hands on to act as a human shield. In this case, a literal human shield, as Darla wound up in his clutches.
“Stay back! Don’t even think of—”
Heydar snatched up a heavy mug and whipped it hard across the arena without hesitation. It hit the general’s head hard enough for Darla to hear a sickening crack. The general went limp, hitting the deck, unconscious or worse. Heydar rushed to her side.
“Are you harmed?” he asked, his hands resting on her shoulders, concern bright in his eyes, along with something even more visceral.
“I’m fine,” she said, but Heydar heard the tone in her voice.
Darla was okay, but she was pissed.
He nodded and hurried to finish off the guards, just in case they had any hopes of rising. He then returned to her and handed her one of their guns.
“You and the other women remain here. Bind the ones who still draw breath but are merely unconscious. Be sure to gag them.”
The quiet woman with deep green hair and velvety brown skin kicked the nearest Dohrag with impressive force for someone her size. “What about the wounded?” she asked, murder in her eyes.
Heydar sized her up in a glance and gave a sympathetic nod. He knew the Dohrag ways.
“Do with them as you please,” he replied, gathering up multiple bladed weapons and a Dohrag rifle. “I will handle the rest.”
With that he quietly stepped out into the night, and the Dohrag would be paying the ultimate price.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Daylight broke with an unusual calm over the Dohrag encampment. No gruff yells were to be heard filling the air, no crying of laborers being forced from their bunkhouses and into the fields. All there was, was silence.
But then, the dead tended not to make much of a commotion.
Heydar had been brutally efficient the night before, taking the unexpecting guards by surprise with both stealth and a particular degree of violent skill none who had watched him since his arrival in the Dohrag camp would have ever thought possible of the man.
A few of them had been left breathing, bound and imprisoned in their own holding cells—though that was more for their value providing information than any sense of mercy.
The overworked laborers had moved the bodies then spread out into the Dohrag quarters, enjoying the freedom to come and go as they pleased, sleeping in the small but far more comfortable bunks their captors had enjoyed.
When the disgruntled male prisoners had found themselves released from their bondage by a towering, gore-covered barbarian of a man any thoughts they might have had of making a fuss were extinguished at once. They fell in line. Heydar was the leader, no questions asked.
A few of the male captives had even volunteered to stand watch, taking the uniforms of the dead to fool any who might stumble upon them long enough to silence them while the others enjoyed their first real sleep-in since longer than they could remember.
Heydar had finished his bloody work and washed in the general’s chambers, claiming them for himself. No one objected in the slightest. He and Darla slept soundly that night, wrapped in each other’s arms on the bed that, while large for an individual, was clearly not intended for a couple. They had been so exhausted they didn’t even notice, dropping into a restful slumber both desperately needed.
Slowly, the encampment began to liven, but now with the excited chatter of happy voices reveling in their first day of real freedom, wondering what exactly they would do next. Some were from other planets—other solar systems, for that matter. Others, however, had been snatched from their homes on this world. The Dohrags didn’t much care so long as there were more laborers to do their bidding.
As the smell of breakfast wafted through the encampment Heydar “spoke” with the Dohrag survivors, though his tone was anything but conversational. A few representatives of the different labor groups joined him, their familiarity with the Dohrags lending a bit of expertise with validating their responses.
“What they say makes sense,” a gruff prisoner named Kuxx said.
He was entirely hairless and stocky in build but no taller than a human male. He did, however, have deep blue skin offsetting his blazing red eyes, making his alien provenance quite clear. He also possessed some sort of natural protective growths on his joints, like genetic armoring protecting his most vulnerable parts. Fat lot of good that had done when the Dohrags caught up with him.
But he was a clever one, and he had kept his eyes and ears open while he labored. A useful ally, no doubt, and one Heydar had taken a liking to almost immediately.
Heydar nodded slowly as he mulled over the intel they had gleaned. “So, it seems we can expect the Dohrag shuttlecraft to visit us this afternoon.”
“Unless someone was able to get warning to them before you took them out,” Kuxx said with a little chuckle. “Given how banged up the survivors are, I seriously doubt any managed it. Nicely done, Heydar. You are a credit to your people.”
Heydar’s jaw twitched, but he said nothing.
Kuxx waited a moment out of respect. “So, what would you have us do, Commander?”
“Do not call me that.”
“The men, they are willing to follow you.”
“I am not your commander. Just a man who did what was needed.”
“Regardless, they respect you. And as such a diverse group, taken from so many cultures, I feel we need direction to function as a cohesive unit.”
Heydar mulled over the man’s words. He didn’t want the job, that was clear, but there was a looming threat that someone had to step up to address. Unfortunately, with objective eyes he could see he was the logical choice.
“Very well,” he said with a sigh. “Gather the remaining bodies and strip them of useful items, then bury them. We will need men of roughly the same size and build as the Dohrags to wear their uniforms and armor to greet the shuttle when it lands.”
“I will make it so,” Kuxx said, moving to action.
Heydar held up his hand. “Wait. There is more.” He turned to the women representing the other labor groups. “I know this will be distasteful, and I am sorry, but the shuttle will be arriving from the air. If the fields are empty, they will know something is wrong.”
The older woman who was the de facto mouthpiece for the others nodded her understanding. “It will not be nearly the chore it was under the Dohrag’s thumbs. We will head out to the fields, as you request, though we will require males to dress as guards to complete the illusion.”
“I will handle it,” Kuxx said. “We will have a strike team assembled and in position well before the shuttle arrives.”