The Honour of the Knights (First Edition) (53 page)

As Dodds
lay in wait, his eyes fell on two faces that were within his line
of sight. One was that of a young woman, the other an older man,
somewhere in his late thirties or early forties. Dark patches of
blood were splattered about their expressions, mixed in with the
woman’s blonde hair and the man’s black. Their eyes were wide,
their faces twisted in terror.

Dodds was reminded of a scene from not long ago. He found
himself thinking of Poppy and Stefan, and a feeling of guilt
rumbled up his spine.
Don’t look at
them
, he told himself. But he did anyway,
and for a time he was unable to tear his eyes away from them. He
found himself wishing to tell them he was sorry; that it had been a
terrible accident; that if he could turn back time, he would do
things differently. He blotted the thoughts from his mind as the
sound of hurrying feet grew louder; and before long, the source
appeared.

A man
and woman came running down a non-moving escalator from the first
floor, where a number of other restaurants, bars and sleeping areas
existed. The man was half dragging, half pulling the woman along
behind him as the two attempted to escape their pursuers. They
would have been better off running without holding hands, but it
was clear that the man wanted to keep the woman with him, fearing
that they might become separated. They stumbled a number of times
on their way down the static escalator, but managed to keep
themselves on their feet; even at the great speed they were
descending, taking the steps two or three at a time.

Loud
voices followed and then a pair of black figures appeared by the
first floor railings. Two of the soldiers! One raised a rifle and
fired with clinical accuracy, two blots of plasma striking the
escaping woman in the back as the couple tried in vain to flee. She
screamed and tumbled to the floor, her partner losing his grip on
her hand.

Out of
the corners of his eyes, Dodds saw his fellow team mates tense as
he did, though they remained motionless on the floor, reluctant
witnesses to the scene.

With
their pursuers bounding down the escalator after them, the man
attempted to pull the woman to her feet. She wobbled as she tried
to stand, and as she did so, she revealed that her clothing had
been burnt away around the two spots on her back where she had been
hit, hideous blackened and charred flesh visible beneath. The man
could not help her to stand quick enough and he looked up to see
one of the two soldiers bearing down on him. He was hit square in
the chest by two rounds of his own and was dead even before he hit
the floor, the bolts carving their way straight through him. Having
ignored the woman in preference to taking out the man, the soldiers
finally dispatched her, seemingly unmoved by her sobs and pleas for
mercy.

A few
moments later, there were more hurried footsteps and the remaining
three soldiers that Enrique had described seeing came running into
the scene, to join with those standing over their latest victims.
They began to converse, one pointing back the way they had come,
others examining their weaponry.

Dodds
studied them as they spoke to one another, listening to their
words. It was not a language he had ever heard before and a nagging
feeling grew within him that it wasn’t normal. He tried to convince
himself that it was an Imperial dialect that he was unfamiliar
with, but the characteristics of the tongue were all wrong. It
sounded almost angry and mechanical, even though there was a strong
central Imperial accent present in each spoken word.

These five soldiers all sported a number of different
armaments, like the one they had encountered in the morgue. As well
as the weapon each held in their hands, they also had a rifle slung
over their backs. Some also had an additional pistol holstered to
their right legs. Again, like the soldier they had fought in the
mortuary, they all appeared to be a lot taller than normal and in
excellent physical condition. There also appeared to be two women
in the group. They were more slender than the three others, but
just as tall. Something in the back of Dodds
’
mind told him that they were also
as strong and dangerous as the men. Their suits hugged their bodies
well, showing off all their perfectly-proportioned curves. They,
too, looked like models.

Dodds
hoped that the soldiers would leave the area now that they had
eliminated their targets; or, better still, that once they had
finished speaking, they would depart the starport and head back to
where they had come from. But as they spoke, one of the soldiers
gestured to the bodies on the floor and then pointed in the
direction of the medical unit.

You
’
re
missing your friend!
Dodds thought.
He hasn
’
t checked back in!

The
troops began to scout the area, nudging and kicking over bodies as
they went. For a moment, Dodds wondered what they were doing.
Understanding then hit him like a sledgehammer and he had to stifle
a yelp, forcing himself not to panic. He fought the compulsion to
turn to the others and work out a plan.

As it
was kicked, one of the corpses let out a grunt, the noise telling
all within earshot that it was in fact playing dead. The “corpse”
then rolled over and the man scrambled to his feet. Its
investigator reacted quickly to the sudden movement and shot him
down. The man cried as a second and third shot struck him, and then
fell down silent. The four other soldiers paused for a moment in
their own hunt, before returning to their rounds.

“
Oh my god…” Dodds heard Kelly squeak.

He
concurred. The black-suited soldiers continued to nudge and kick
the fallen, drawing a pistol every now and again and shooting a
body to guarantee it was not also playing dead. Their persistence
met with success on another two occasions.

Dodds
shifted his eyes to where Estelle lay next to him, seeing her
almost as stiff as a board, though shivering ever so slightly. He
couldn’t be sure whether it was due to fear or the cool of the
station; though, from the way he felt, he was certain it was the
former. He then shifted his eyes over to Chaz, wondering what
suggestions the big man was going to make.

* * *

Chaz studied the dark troop as they moved about, making a
full evaluation of the situation before making his move. From the
looks of things, it would not be long before they made their way
over towards where the
Knights
were concealing themselves. He would have to act
soon. Chaz re-evaluated what he had removed from the downed soldier
in the morgue: to their name, the five Confederation pilots had one
shotgun, with only a handful of shells; a near-f plasma pistol,
but with only one spare fuel cell; and three smoke grenades and two
regular ones. This did not bode well for them; not in comparison
with the enemy
’
s
armament of numerous shotguns, plasma rifles, pistols, grenades and
God only knew whatever else. He had been quite stunned at how
poorly equipped the invader had been. Either he had been acting as
a scout, or he had exhausted much of his ammunition before coming
in search of them.

Chaz
noticed that Estelle had shifted her position and was looking at
him.

Chaz, come on! What do we do?
her
eyes cried.
We have to get out of here!
NOW!

He made
a swift decision.

* * *

“
When I say move, get into that bar over there - The
Lodge.”

Dodds
almost jumped at the sound of the big man’s voice.

“
Find decent cover, away from the entrance.” As Chaz finished
speaking, one of the soldiers’ heads snapped around to face in
their direction, a pair of ruby-red eyes falling upon the
group.

He could
not
have heard that!
Dodds
thought.
He
’
s too bloody far away!
The big man had spoken just loud enough so that
Enrique and Kelly would not have difficulty in hearing the whole
sentence, but not enough to project his voice to the five
black-suited soldiers. To his mind, it was not possible to have
heard him over that distance. Even so, it appeared he had
been.

“
Enrique, you ready?” Chaz asked out of the corner of his
mouth.

“
Just tell me what to do,” Enrique said.

“
Get ready to shoot.”

The tall
soldier had broken off from his systematic sweep and was heading
over in their direction. Dodds watched as the soldier walked
towards them, holding his breath and not even daring to blink. As
he approached, the soldier tapped at the side of his helmet, around
the same area that Dodds had noticed the button-like indent. He
scanned over the bodies for a moment and then appeared to focus on
something. He was looking at the flight helmets. After a few
seconds, he tapped his helmet again and hoisted his
weapon.

“
NOW!” Chaz shouted. The noise caught the soldier off-guard
and he swung his weapon around toward Chaz.

At the same time, Enrique brought himself up into a prone
position, raising the shotgun off the ground. It had been a long
time since he had used a weapon like this, and that, coupled with
the lack of time to aim, did not inspire him with much confidence.
The proximity of soldier and nature of the weapon, however, meant
that he had little to worry about. His finger pulled back on the
trigger, discharging the shotgun and sending pellets flying
straight into his target
’
s legs. The soldier roared in agony
and buckled down, the sudden and intense pain making him lose his
grip on his own weapon.

“
Move!” Chaz ordered, springing to his feet as the sudden
noise and activity focused the attentions of the other soldiers.
Dodds, Estelle and Kelly snatched up their flight helmets and dived
into the bar as Chaz capitalised on the surprise attack. He fired
the plasma pistol randomly at the other soldiers, causing them to
scurry for cover.

Residing in the middle of the central hall was a large oval
desk, that at one point in time had served to provide visitors to
the port with information, help and a point of contact for the
port
’
s management
and security. They ducked behind it, the solid structure of the
reception providing them with protection against the Confederation
pilots.

Chaz
began to fall back to the bar, still firing on the four soldiers
and preparing to move a lot faster once they decided to return
fire. Enrique was on his feet and moving back to join him. In front
of them, their first target had regained his composure and was
bringing his weapon back around towards the two men once more.
Enrique took note and emptied another round into him, knocking him
down onto his back.

“
Don
’
t waste it!” Chaz urged as they
retreated into the bar.

They
took up positions close to the front, using the walls for cover
against the rain of return fire. Bottles and glasses that had not
already been broken and looted by the refugees shattered behind
them, as they were struck by bullets and plasma bolts. Chaz chanced
a glance around the pillar he stood behind and snatched back as
plasma fire slammed into it, inches from his face.

“
What
’
s the plan, Chaz?” Estelle called
from her hiding spot behind the bar
’
s counter.

“
I
’
m working on it,” Chaz said through
gritted teeth, taking a hasty look outside the bar.

Another
of the soldiers had hurried forward to aid his fallen comrade
whilst the others laid down suppressing fire. Chaz risked a number
of pot shots, but it did little to disperse them. He saw the
soldier take hold of his ally by the forearm and begin to
effortlessly pull him backward, bumping over and parting the bodies
of the refugees that lay in their way.

“
Enrique, those two!” Chaz said.

Enrique
leaned round the pillar wall and took a snap shot at the two
retreating men. He did not find as much success as he had before,
only winging the rescuer on the shoulder. The man staggered back,
releasing his grip. Though only a few seconds following the
interruption, the soldier continued to pull his ally out of the way
with his other arm, unfazed by the attempt on his life.

“
I
’
m nearly out,” Enrique announced as
he sank back down against the wall and checked his ammunition. Chaz
tossed him over the remaining shells.

“
He
’
s getting up!” Dodds said. From his
own hiding place, Dodds had a good view of the scene within the
central hall, and watched in horror as the man that Enrique had
emptied two shotgun rounds into began getting to his feet. Dodds
had only just convinced himself that the first soldier they had
downed in the morgue had received nothing more than flesh wounds,
the bullets Estelle had fired being slowed by the
man
’
s leather
suit.