Deep Space
Uhlek Badlands
Thrynn Frigate Jussru

The frigate shot past the Shanghai, making one last pass, taking a laser shot of its own as autoresponse systems on the Gazurtoid warship belched a poorly aimed volley in protest. Poorly aimed or not, Captain Rssa wasn’t willing to risk tangling with the behemoth any longer. His ship was badly damaged and the mission had been accomplished. Venn’Bk didn’t protest. The Marines would make quick work of whomever was aboard.

“Key the plotted course and run the engines for best time,” ordered the Captain. Colonel Venn’Bk had given him a set of coordinates and no explanation, driving Jussru ever deeper into the quiet heart of the Uhlek Badlands. Before he had walked out the hatch, the colonel had said something Rssa wasn’t sure he’d meant to say aloud. “Gravity trumps even the mighty Uhl.” The engines rumbled, bearing Jussru along the slipstream lanes of deep space.

Deep Space
Uhlek Badlands
The Shanghai

Grssn led the crew down the rickety catwalks running through the labyrinth of Gazurtoid aquarium modules toward the ISS Belfast Windfall, docked far below. “We are moving too ssslowly,” he hissed, shuffling down a set of thin metal steps and through a tunnel connecting two huge spherical chambers.

“They’ve got to be getting close,” said Boz, looking down at his tactical palm computer. It was functioning but there was no sign of the Marines on any of the displays. He looked over at Biggs and lowered his voice to say, “we run into these vipers and we’re gonna get chewed.”

“The tac says we’re clear ahead?” Texas Boz nodded. “We’re not too far from the Windfall. Not more than a half mile.” Ahead, down through a tubular passage lit with failing fluorescent lights, Grssn froze. The air smelled vaguely of the seawater that once filled the warship.

The side of the tunnel blew inward with a searing flash of chemical explosives, rocking the crew to the deck. His legs pulling like a horse, Grssn doubled back, his left side charred and smoking with burns. “Back!” bellowed the wounded Thrynn, “ssseal the hatch!”

“Lock it down, Mack!” said Grix as they pushed the round door into the socket formed by the tunnel. The crew ran back fifty yards, Grssn crumpled over Nexbo’s shoulders, to a bend in the tunnel where it opened up into another chamber. Doc Biss jumped to Grssn’s side, slapping on a sterile bandage and taping it down as he writhed at the burns.

“That door ain’t gonna hold ‘em Biggs,” said Boz.

“I know, I know—where the hell did they come from?” he said, asking the question of the hour. “We’ve got to take another way around. Arella, what’s our plan B?”

“Sub level four will get us to the Windfall, sir.” Biggs thought for a bolt of time, looked over at the service hatch they used to move between levels.

“Nexbo—grab Grssn. Let’s get into the chute before—”

“No,” hissed the fading Thrynn. He was dripping with shock sweat. “You won’t make it half the dissstance.” Biggs tried to override him, motioning to Nexbo. “There isss no time. Don’t argue with me,” he willed, panting heavily. Silencing Biggs for a moment, Grssn looked to Yssk, and the Thrynn immediately understood, collecting the crew’s few
weapons and laying them by Grssn’s side. “Thissss…thisss isss our battle, our honor. Biggsss Hilsssfar, you mussst deliver the sssenator. The city”—he coughed—“the city can wait no more.” He stopped and looked at Biggs with two oily black lizard eyes that stabbed with the sharp blades of sentience but still harbored the dread fury of the wild animal. “Go.”

Commander Hilsfar led his crew down a tight vent to a lower level, a few steps closer to the Belfast Windfall. The Royal Marines burned through the heavy hatch and leaped forward, rifles blazing out of the acrid smoke.

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Next: “Toll”

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