Chapter Twelve: Ronan
Ronan and Tag walked side by side down the corridors. Both had blasters in their hands and their swords strapped to their backs. They had ushered Bethy and Erica to a safe room before taking to the corridors, joining with the security forces to drive off the attackers. The Aphrosian kept shooting questioning glances at the T'shav, but he ignored them. Now was not the time for conversation.
"Hold." Ronan held up a fist.
The distinctive thudding of boots echoed up the corridor towards them. He nodded at Tag and gestured towards a doorway on one side of the corridor, then hid himself in an alcove across from her. The Aphrosian considered her blaster, then holstered it. She drew the twin blades from her back and grinned. She had a point–firearms weren't well suited to close-quarter combat.
Ronan drew his own blade. The weight of the broadsword was so familiar in his hands that he forgot for a moment how long it had been since he had wielded one. His muscles remembered exactly how to use it.
Aliens wearing Planchet uniforms ran down the corridor. They didn't notice the two warriors waiting in ambush until it was too late. Ronan launched himself on them with a roar. He swung the sword, the familiar swish as it severed the air and struck through the nearest neck sparking an ancient bloodlust in his veins. Tag slipped in like a shadow, her blades striking with deadly accuracy.
The Planchets raised their guns, but it did them no good. Ronan cleaved a great swath through them, driving into the center of the group. Tag backflipped over the group and landed behind him. She laughed as she spun in circles. They guarded each other's backs as they cut down their enemies.
It was over in seconds. Tag wiped her blades off on the uniforms of the fallen.
"Well, this is rather exciting, isn't it?" Tag grinned.
"Not as exciting as it would be if I were alone, but I get what you're saying."
"We have to have that duel sometime. But for now, I'm glad you're on our side."
"Don't take it personally. I'd be out of here already if Planchet was just after your corporate information." Ronan explained briefly his history with Lirreb. "He must have tracked me here and decided it was a perfect excuse to be able to attack the base and steal some information at the same time as abducting me."
Tag scowled. "I wondered why they would make such an obvious attack on a Walian base. But if they have you as an excuse, they might be able to get away with causing untold destruction here." Her swords rose slightly. "So I guess the question is, do I help you get away and hope Planchet chases you, or do I turn you over to them?"
"They also want Erica," Ronan pointed out. "And I don't think Bethy would be happy if you let Planchet take her."
"True… my little wife certainly demands her own way." The Aphrosian grinned suddenly. "Is yours the same?"
Ronan inclined his head. "I thought she would be a sweet submissive companion. I was very wrong. And I'm glad I was."
"Hmm. I'll tell my brother what you told me. If the Planchet Corporation is really this desperate to get their hands on you, then we won't be able to stop them. Walian is still quite small, we don't have the resources to fend off a siege. And if they get Bethy… well, they might take her claiming they were 'liberating' her or some such nonsense and then use her for their own purposes. So the safest place, for her and Erica both, is in the Zon Sanctuary. If we can get there, perhaps he will grant us asylum."
"Us?" Ronan quirked a brow. "You're coming?"
"I go where Bethy goes. And Bethy goes where she'll be safe, whether she likes it or not. Besides, she has been trying to convince me to find her cousin ever since we met. I doubt she'll be happy if I split them up now."
Ronan nodded. His kneejerk reaction was to just leave Bethy and Tag here, but his gut told him he could trust the Aphrosian. It was clear she loved her little human, just as Ronan loved his own. He headed back towards the safe room, Tag walking with him. She used her comm to explain the situation to her brother. He confirmed that the Planchets had asked for Ronan shortly after their initial attack. He was giving them half an hour to get away before he handed the T'shav over.
They made it to the safe room without incident and retrieved their women, explaining the plan as they headed out of the building. Bethy kept asking questions and Ronan had to resist the urge to tell her to shut up. He also had to resist the urge to sling Erica over his shoulder and run with her.
The ship was docked on the third level of the Walian base, Ronan having parked it there after disengaging the takeoff protocol. The little group reached it quickly. But just as they dashed across the open space, gunfire erupted from behind them.
Bethy cried out, stumbling. Tag shouted and dove over her, tucking the human in a ball and rolling a few times to hide the two of them behind some barrels of coolant. The Aphrosian knelt, firing rapidly at the Planchets that were charging Ronan and Erica.
"We can't leave them!" Erica shouted as Ronan scooped her up into one arm.
He fired back at the Planchets haphazardly, running towards the ship. His first concern was Erica's safety. Once she was out of the line of fire he could come back for Tag and Bethy. Blaster bolts showered down from every side, some barely missing him, some wide from their mark. They were certainly scraping the bottom of the barrel on this attack—probably because it was only the first wave.
Send in the cannon fodder first, tire their enemies out before sending in a skilled crew. Clever.
He dashed into the ship, depositing Erica in the main room. "Get into the medical bay and seal yourself in. I'll be back with Bethy and Tag shortly."
Erica's eyes were wide but she nodded. "Don't get shot."
He kissed her hard once more before he turned. He hadn't gone more than two steps before a T'shav appeared in the doorway. Ronan brought up his gun while reaching for his sword–but it was too late. He dimly heard Erica screaming behind him, but she sounded so far away. Everything seemed to go terrifyingly slow. He couldn't get his muscles to move quickly enough.
The T'shav drove his broadsword through his chest. Ronan saw it go in, felt the white-hot pain, but his mind refused to connect that with his body. He let off a shot from his blaster, barely missing the T'shav. In response, his attacker knocked the weapon from his hand.
When the blade was withdrawn, Ronan fell to his knees. Darkness swirled around him. Erica was still screaming. He couldn't make himself move, no matter how hard he fought to do so. Hands grabbed his shoulders. A high, keening voice was in his ear. He managed to look to see Erica beside him. Her arms wrapped around him and tears flowed freely down her face.
"No! No! Ronan, no, please no!" She kissed him hard, again and again.
His strength was failing him. He collapsed. Erica ripped his shirt open. The T'shav stood over them, bloody sword still in hand, gazing down without pity. Ronan's hand brushed Erica's hair. He tried to tell her to run, to leave him, but his voice wouldn't work. He couldn't feel his heart beating.
Something pricked on his chest, and a burning pain made him groan. His vision cleared enough to see what Erica was doing. She had applied Bloodstore. Now she grabbed a fistful of Fleshseal and shoved it into his stab wound. Ronan's back arched and he screamed with pain. Erica straddled him to hold him in place and continued to work.
The T'shav that had stabbed him shook his head. He seized Erica around the waist and hoisted her away. She kicked and screamed. Ronan growled, pushing himself up—the pain overwhelmed him and he collapsed again.
"Well, this human should just about cover the costs that you owe Mr. Libber, right? Pity you'll be dead and won't be able to try to save her."
"Let me go!" Erica clawed at the T'shav's face.
"That wound is fatal, little human. No amount of Fleshseal will save him."
"No!" Erica's voice rang in his ears. "Ronan!"
Everything went black.