Chapter Eleven
Paax
Paax split his attention between the point-of-view camera from Mylomon’s raiding party, the larger view of his starfighters and their combat, and his chief engineer babbling in his ear. On the view screen, Kleve and Jolyon led a dozen warriors onto the Suhlik ship. They met with resistance but resistance was expected. Currently they were pinned at a corridor intersection.
“We have a welcoming party,” Jolyon said over the screen.
“Accept their surrender,” Paax ordered. Suhlik rarely surrendered. If they could not win outright, they ran and if cornered, they fought to the death.
“Surrender doesn’t seem to be on their agenda.” Jolyon peered around a corner before efficiently using his rifle to pick off two incoming Suhlik foot soldiers. “I have to tell you, sir, this is fun. They’re running around like a cyw without its head. It’s beautiful.”
“Now is not the time for humor,” Mylomon said. He crossed quickly into the intersection, threw a dagger, and kept moving.
“You have something you need to be doing,” Paax growled.
Another voice grabbed his attention. “You planning to turn my pretty ships into space junk or are you going to retrieve those disabled ships?” Rohn asked.
“Those are my ships, not yours, and they are not pretty.”
“Fine but your terrifyingly masculine ships are still space junk.” The glee in the male’s voice was unmistakable.
“Are you having fun? I don’t want you having fun while my aesthetically unimportant and functional ships are being blown up.”
“Well, I want an avocado but that’s not going to happen. The ones out of the reconstructor are disgusting.”
“A what?” Pilots were a strange breed. Too much time in deep space or not enough oxygen. Rohn didn’t fly much anymore but the he was clearly still affected.
“A Terran food. It’s squishy. Good for your horns.”
“You can eat after the battle. Send drones. Prioritize those pilots with a heartbeat.” There would be plenty of time to collect the dead but less time to save the living. “The last raiding ship made it. Those fighters still functioning should keep the Suhlik ship busy.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Computer, connect to Medical.” The connection went through instantly. “Kalen, expect incoming casualties. The pilots.” That would inform the medic to expect burn and blast damage, possible oxygen deprivation and maybe even frostbite if life support failed on a disabled ship. The Mahdfel were resilient and their exo-armor was substantial, but even they needed to breath.
“We’re ready. How many am I expecting?”
“Rohn will have an accurate count for you.” Paax cut the connection. “Darian, situation report.”
“The lead ship is stationary but still has full power.”
“And the other two?”
“One is slowing. They could be planning to assist the lead ship or turn. I can’t tell yet. The other is continuing on course to us.”
One colpor class ship against the Judgment was hardly worth a worry. “Jaxar,” he said, “tell me our shields are ready.”
“One hundred percent, warlord,” his lead engineer said. The sound of humming electronics filled the background. “We got incoming?”
“Keep those shields up. I don’t care if you have to drain power and every pair of balls on C deck freezes; keep those shields up.”
“Understood, sir.”
The starfights turned their attention to the slowing warship, keeping it at a distance and keeping the lead warship harried. Drones deployed and headed towards the disabled ships.
“Sir, the ship is preparing to fire,” Zadran said.
“Let them know it’s a bad idea to mess with my ship. Fire at will.”
“Yes, sir,” the male said, firing a wide scattered shot as a warning. Zadran had orders to discourage the Suhlik ship, not destroy. Not yet.
“Rohn, how much time do your drones need?”
“Three minutes. The tractor cable doesn’t want to attach. I’m doing it manually.”
“Zadran, give him three minutes.” Each ship was a life. “Mylomon, tell me you’re moments away from disabling that ship.”
Static came over the connection. Then, “Trying to decide what button to push. Left or right, warlord.”
“Surprise me.” Everyone had to be a comedian. Clearly the skirmish was not challenging enough if his men felt they could joke. The next trap needed to have four warships, possibly an entire fleet.
“Incoming fire,” Zadran shouted.
A blast hit the shield. The Judgment rocked gently, like a boat on a calm ocean.
“Shield report,” Paax barked.
“Holding at 90%.”
“They seem to have their trigger stuck in the locked position. Incoming,” Zadran said.
Another volley hit and the Judgment rocked side to side. The lights flickered briefly as Jaxar diverted power.
“75%, sir.”
“You seem to think my shields are optional, Jaxar,” Paax snarled.
“Working on it, sir.”
On the screen, Kleve had the Suhlik captain on the floor with his hand behind his head. Even with his feet and hands tied, the captain opened his mouth and snapped viciously at the warrior. Kleve dodged to the left, narrowly avoiding the Suhlik taking a chunk out of his ear.
“We have the captain’s surrender,” Jolyon announced.
The lights on the Suhlik ship went dark. Mylomon had finally pressed a button or randomly torn out a chunk of the ship’s wiring. Paax didn’t care to know the particulars.
“Life support and all power is disabled,” Mylomon said.
“Good job. Come on home.” He switched his attention to Jolyon. “How many Suhlik do you have in your custody?”
“Enough. A dozen.”
“Load them up on a shuttle and launch it to the other Suhlik ship. Let them figure out what to do with a captain that lost his ship to a pack of dogs.” The Suhlik captain on the floor thrashed some more before Kleve hit him in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle.
“Sorry, sir. He was agitated and bound to hurt himself.”
“Just get them on a shuttle in one piece. How are my shields, Jaxar?”
“Healthy and bouncing like a babe, just don’t pick a fight until I repair some conduits.”
“Sir, the other ship is retreating,” Darian said.
The battle was over. Now it was time for the cleanup.
“Mylomon, send the raiding parties back once you’ve rounded up the Suhlik. Rohn, tell me you’ve salvaged my ships.”
“Half are secured.”
“Good. I want my starfighters to escort the raiding party back and protect the drones until their work is done.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Jaxar, when you get my shields repaired, I have a colpor for you to play with.”
“And I didn’t get you anything, sir. I’m flattered.”
“Would you be able to make it fly?”
“I won’t know until I look at the consol. If those lizards were too busy to set the self-destruct, then yes. I’ll get it back to Sangrin for you.” The Suhlik were notorious for setting a self-destruct on their equipment, ships and bases.
“Let’s hope we kept them occupied,” Paax said. He relaxed into the captain’s chair. His warriors could handle the details of the clean up. An hour ago he held his mate, content and at ease; now he waited impatiently for the raiding parties to return. Once those warriors were aboard and the injured sent to medical, he’d be free to seek out his mate.
Antomas remained a problem, as did the male who betrayed their flight plan. Paax suspected Antu leaked information to his brother but Paax would root out the truth. There could be one or more sympathizers, too cowardly to challenge their warlord directly. Their cowardice endangered his mate. For that he would hunt them down and end their pathetic existence. He felt ashamed that he allowed them to linger on the Judgment. One does not tolerate a gangrenous limb. It is removed before the sickness spreads.
His thoughts returned back to Antomas. The younger warlord believed himself clever but he was a grasping child, reaching for a prize beyond his capabilities. He was clumsy and brash, and that would get him killed. Paax would see to that but not today.
Today he needed his mate, needed to hold her and listen to the smooth, even beats of her Terran heart.
After an eternity, but really only fifteen minutes, the raiding ships departed one by one until only Mylomon’s vessel remained. The Suhlik shuttle launched and drifted away from the ship.
“Casualties?” Paax asked.
“Minimal, sir,” Jolyon said.
“I want every scrape and nick examined. No exceptions. If anyone thinks they will tough it out, I will personally see that Kalen Haas wakes them every morning for a full month with an examination.” The Suhlik often poisoned their weapons and even their claws. A Mahdfel warrior could receive a shallow cut, think it nothing and be dead within a day. Having daily exams from the head medic was marginally less painful than death by poison.
“Understood.”
Finally Mylomon’s ship left the Suhlik craft. “Any trouble with the round up?” Paax asked.
“Just the normal insults and shock at being bested by an abomination.” So a normal interaction then.
“Sir, the Suhlik vessel is preparing to fire,” Zadran said.
“Shields! I want my fighters covering our raiding party now.”
“It’s turning away from us,” Darian said, disbelief coloring his voice.
Paax watched as the Suhlik warship turned on its shuttle and fired. The shuttle burst into a ball of light then nothing. Typical. The Suhlik never surrendered and refused to accept those who did, even their own.
“You have the bridge,” Paax said to Darian. He went to the flight deck to greet the returning raiders. Then, finally, he would find his mate.
Mercy
Braith jumped to his feet and scurried up the ladder.
Mercy held her breath. It could be Paax sounding the all-clear or it could be a Suhlik at their door.
The hatch opened and a familiar, one-horned visage peered down. She left out her breath in a sigh of relief. “About time,” she said with a smile.
“I was waiting for a dramatic entrance. Did that do?”
That impossible male.