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Chapter 2 |  |
Chapter 4 |  |
The Black Guard
The shadow of the Khaleorn approached quickly from around the corner. Thjorska looked around for a place to hide, and spotted it. Then he
wished he hadn't.
The huge crate mercifully blocking the Khaleorn's view of Thjorska
contained the Jikaalan male. He looked around again, but there was
nowhere else he could run to. Suddenly, he noticed the crate was a
dual one, capable of containing two males, yet the females said they
were only bringing along one... Or had they?
No time to think, Thjorska rushed over to the buttons. One blue,
one red. Which meant the crate was full?
He tried to remember an important detail about Jikaalans, anything
to help him. Their homeworld was Ljikaa VI, orbiting a blue giant,
where solar flares were common...
He quickly punched the red button and lept inside, shutting the
door behind him. He just caught sight of the Khaleorn's skinny legs as
the door whirred quietly shut.
Outside, the Khaleorn hissed in irritation. He had seen someone
enter the crate, but there were two buttons. Neither button was
handily next to the door it was supposed to open, and he cursed the
Empire for making such stupid technology.
He pushed the blue button, which he assumed stood for an empty
section of the crate. He was wrong.
Six pairs of malevolent yellow eyes stared blankly at the tiny
creature which dared interrupt the male's slumber. Eight tonnes of
primordial insect gazed angrily at forty pounds of tiny lizard. The
Jikaalan's mandibles clicked closed, and the male settled down to eat.
Thjorska carefully opened the door and shut the other door without
attracting attention. As the door closed, the male returned to the
comforting darkness. A faint blue light turned on in the room, and he
clicked happily.
Thjorska sighed with relief and grabbed the gun the Khaleorn had
dropped. After peeling off the severed arm he checked the magazine.
Ample supply of ammo, enough to take out the other terrorists at
least. He called up a map of the shuttle at the nearest holoterminal
and hummed.
He was in the cargo bay, a good eighteen levels below the
hostages, and twenty levels below the autopilot. According to internal
scans, they were mostly clustered in the passenger section, with two
others roaming the ship. Didn't look like they'd missed him, then.
The next closest terrorist seemed to be three levels about,
looking though the bar.
Looking might be the wrong word, thought Thjorska.
As it turned out, the Khaleorn was only looking. However, he was
looking rather wistfully at the bottles sealed behind the bar. He
nodded his head sadly and turned around.
That was when Thjorska punched him.
Two guns, two terrorists down. Thjorska grinned to himself. Now,
if only he could somehow get the main group to split up, to spread out
throughout the ship. Suddenly, the unconscious Khaleorn's handheld
communicator crackled into life.
"Hosstage hass essscaped! Hosstage hass essscaped! Ssshoot on
sssight!"
Yeah, that ought to do it, mused Thjorska.