A burst of fire flashed from somewhere half way up the secret hangar. Resistance? Allies? Haters of the Mentera like himself?
Miko’s heart flared in hope. The disturbance had erupted near the first parked ships. With speed, and without second thought, he willed himself up the tunnel toward the praying mantis-shaped-ships and the source of the chaos.
Chapter 10
Space mercenary Yul peered past his three companions to the twilight ridge several miles distant. A maroon-grey tint gave back a hint of eeriness unsettling to the eye. The sight of its summit, riddled with projections, made it look like a collection of devils’ horns whose shadows fell with cold disfavor. Such a sight tickled the hairs on the back of his neck. What lay beneath that ridge? Several enemy vessels had glided into its bowels but had not pulled out, as if mysteriously gobbled up. Others had banked in offensive pursuit of one another, firing live weapons and countering with shield defenses. He did not like this planet, Kraetoria. Who would? It was some home planet of the Zikri or insectoid Mentera, with its hobgoblin hybrids of alien creatures lurking about the rock pits and moon-like craters and dusty plains. Half squid, half locust creatures engaged in obscene rituals. Fenli, their newest companion, and crashland victim, had been lucky. Pulled out from one of the nearly frozen mud pools, he was standing, but by all rights he should be dead. The alien waters the hybrids had thrust him into had kept him alive despite his punctured suit—in some state of suspended animation, though that was a loose term. No doubt the pools were connected somehow to the alchemic mystery of the Mentera tanks and their green fluids’ healing technology. He hoped never to see the inside of one of those tanks. Or land face to face with one of those crab-like aliens that had jumped out of the water after them when they had pulled Fenli free.
Under the lower gravity, all their strides were longer, Yul’s the longest, being tallest and bulkiest of them all. But there was a danger of tripping or sprawling headlong, thus ripping a hole in one’s suit.
Yul lay a gloved hand on Fenli’s shoulder. “On your guard there. Easy to overshoot.” He’d have to watch this Fenli. The man was still tracking poorly, still woozy from his supine pose in the freezing water. He hoped the replacement helmet would hold, the one they had plucked off the nearby dead astronaut. It had taken them a while to revive Fenli when he passed out the last time.
Fenli’s piercing blue eyes studied Yul with a curious amusement, one that Yul did not like.
The ridge loomed nearer, grown higher and more menacing. They’d better hurry before the air ran out of their pressure suits. Shelter and resources may be within reach. They pushed on.
Yul’s massive chest heaved under the stress of the last hours. His short, dirty blond hair lay plastered to his scalp from the fresh sweat budding under his thermal suit. His stocky, muscular arms were assets in this space rogue game, particularly his left arm, completely prosthetic.
His wrist brushed over the blaster at his hip as he signaled Cloye, his female companion, to close in on his left.
Cloye was much too impulsive. Sexy as could be, and certainly no coward. He admired her voluptuous wide-hipped frame, a fiery bundle of amber-haired woman. A skilled martial arts fighter too, mercenary spy turned ally, after being hired by his nemesis, CEO Mathias, to track him down and murder him if he screwed up the mission to Remus. He had fucked up, alas, resulting in their being stranded on this forsaken planet, a fact of which he had reminded himself all too many times.
Hresh, Mathias’s middle-aged research scientist turned rogue, labored at their side. Here was a man with dark complexion, curly brown hair and radiant gold eyes. A genius of unknown caliber, as eccentric as the weather. The destruction of his secret research facility on Remus had no doubt set cybernetics back a few years, if not a hundred, but better that than having those feral alien butterflies roving around, terrorizing the galaxy. All of them had been lucky to escape Remus as it was. Only to get nearly blasted out of the sky by Mentera lightfighters on a surprise approach to the Mentera-Zikri alliance fleet, namely, several thousands of vessels strong, including L-16 Mentera destroyers. What treachery their captive Mentera pilot had unleashed, flying them straight into a hornets’ nest. The miracle was that they were still alive. Without a ship, in this hostile environment, meant doom. But that could be remedied, if they snatched any opportunity that came their way. Plenty of ships here for the picking, any one of those that were flying into that ridge.
His eyes darted uneasily about. If any more of those crab-like aliens should jump out and tear at their suits…He clutched his E1 assault rifle in a gloved palm, teeth gritted. Grim comfort washed over him at the sleek, black, ten-inch instrument of death.
“How much air you got left?” he asked Fenli.
Fenli scanned his pressure gauge. “Unit’s dodgy. Keeps fluctuating, maybe malfunctioning after that helmet replacement you did. Anywhere from three to five hours. I’d wager not a lot of time to pull a rabbit out of a hat.”
“Kinda eerie knowing you only have three hours left to live.” Hresh’s offhand remark earned him no popularity among the others.
“Not as eerie as knowing you only have two hours and 59 minutes,” remarked Cloye. “Hoof it up, Hresh, you’re lagging.” She hustled him along with her blaster prodding his shoulder.
Hresh upped his pace, seemingly in awe of the woman.
A low roar came rumbling over the ridge. Two Mentera craft pursuing a smaller Zikri Orb flew into sight.
Yul pulled
