I see the top of a head over the wall and decide not to fire. I don’t want to waste ammunition, nor call attention to my location without at least a chance of hitting my enemy.
I hear a cry from my right, knowing one of my comrades has been hit. We went over this in the briefing this morning. We all agreed that stopping for a fallen comrade at this point in the attack would only result in death for both parties. Any males who are hit during the siege will lie as if dead and be picked up after the assault is over.
Miraculously, I’m in the shade of the forty-fierto high wall without having been shot at. Most of us are here, at the door. Within a minima, Justus has placed explosives at strategic points on the door and blown it. We pour through the opening, weapons at the ready, and fire at anything that moves.
We’re all wearing the matching outfits we’ve made. They are black leather kilts with black sashes and knee-high black boots. We look like a precision army and will be able to tell who is on our own side with the swiftest glance.
Erro’s brother, Turk will try to stay out of sight until the fray is over. Barring that, we all know to be on the lookout for a male that looks like Erro. We don’t want to accidentally kill the male who helped us plan this.
Two Frains approach from my left. Zar warned us of them, they are hard-shelled bug-type creatures who walk on two legs and are Daneur Khour’s preferred muscle. I blast the drackers to hell, then forge forward.
More movement comes from my left and I almost shoot an unarmed female who appears to be carrying an armful of clean laundry. Her eyes widen as she tries to scramble backward in fear.
“Hide!” I hiss, certain my rough voice must strike fear through her. “Don't come out until you hear no laser blasts for long minimas.” She scurries to crouch behind a dark blue couch.
Without discussion, we split into two cohorts as we search the mansion. The sounds of yelling and fighting drift to me from my right as the other cohort encounters the enemy. A moment later, eight well-armed males halt our movement in a narrow hallway.
Dax, the tallest of us, aims over our heads and mows many of them down with his laser. One is still firing from around a corner. We slip into doorways and peek out, taking shots when we can until we hear the unmistakable sound of a body being hit and then falling to the floor.
Without waiting a moment, we converge in the hallway and continue to sweep the area. Heavy laser fire draws us from the right, and all of my cohort hurries in that direction. I bring up the rear, but something catches my attention. A scent.
My inner canine howls, catching my awareness as if the scent alone wasn’t enough to stop me in my tracks. The memory of my mother’s head tumbling to the ground flashes through my mind, reminding me of exactly when I first smelled this odor.
Daneur Khour.
I’m on the second floor. I assume behind every door is a bedroom. One of them belongs to the purple bastard who ruined my life. Even if it hadn’t been covered in the briefing, I would have guessed Khour would be well-protected and well-armed.
Having no regard for my personal safety, I use my sense of smell to find the male. Pausing at each door, I inhale, then move to the next until I’m certain I’ve found him.
Enemy. Kill him. Remembering the situation with the vid screen, WarDog uses all his self-control not to burst out of me and through the wooden door. Instead, he steps back to allow me to use my weapon.
Good boy, I quickly praise him.
Checking that I have plenty of charge left in my laser, I press my finger on the trigger and blast through the wooden door into the room from left to right and back again. From the shouts and moans inside I’m certain I’ve hit more than one enemy.
Stopping to listen, I hear nothing inside. I wait a few moments and then fire another salvo into the room.
The thick wooden door is now obliterated. Shards and splinters are everywhere, including a few lodged in my flesh. Glancing into the room through the still-closed door, I see the charred and burning remnants of a finely-appointed bedroom suite.
I doubt everyone beyond this door is dead, but I’m going in. Using my comm, I call my cadre to give them my location as well as my suspicion that Khour is in this room.
Stepping one foot through the hole I blasted in the door, I scan the room and then enter. One male is in a far corner. It’s a purple male of Khour’s race—he’s badly wounded. Dragging himself by his hands, his legs rendered useless, he’s pulling himself toward a weapon.
I’d like to believe this is one of the males who accompanied Khour that fateful day back on Skylose. I’ll never know. I don’t recall any of their faces, just the one who beheaded my mother. Although I don’t have the satisfaction of knowing for certain who I’m killing, I shoot him in the head before he reaches his gun.
All I hear is silence except for the sound of laser fire from far off in the compound.
I see aliens of several races dead on the floor of this bedroom. Four Frains and a shaggy blue male who probably stood seven-fiertos tall when he was alive. None of them is Khour.
I pull a six-inch dirk from the scabbard on
