Sword of Minerva (The Guild Wars Book 10) by Mark Wandrey (good books to read for teens txt) 📗

the dying opSha’s body float past, spewing blood. “There is nowhere you can hide now, even if you could get out of here. Maybe if you had stayed missing, you could have avoided detection.”

“What do you mean by ‘a simple push?’ When Skoowa found me, I was at the end; there was nothing left. You took advantage of my fallen soul.”

The Flatar laughed and shook his head. “You honestly think it was a genuine accident, that a Jōshi just found you at exactly the moment you would be receptive to recruitment? You think that starship landing next to you, ready to explode, and you not dying of radiation or it exploding in your face was some act of deity?”

“What are you talking about?” Sato asked.

“You fool!” the Flatar spat. “You simple fool! You were being followed for months as your pathetic group of monkeys wandered away from the nest, blundering around the galaxy like kits straight from the nest. You would have all been killed within months if we hadn’t kept you alive. I can see by the look on your stupid face you don’t understand. It was you, Taiki Sato, you were the reason we kept your expedition alive.”

“Why?”

“You had the basic material we needed. An operative to keep your race under observation and to intervene when needed. You proved that. Humans are potentially dangerous, one of four races with the potential to break everything.”

Sato blinked, caught completely off guard. There was too much he wanted to know, especially confronted by a dozen armed aggressors. He concentrated on the endgame; kill the Saisho who was at the center of the Science Guild. Then he thought…

“Wait, you said nothing was a coincidence?” He felt a growing rage. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” the Flatar said, its bright white teeth flashing. “Not even the Aposo killing your mate. We made you.”

His vision tunneled, and he aimed at the Flatar’s head. The ship/base shook from a massive explosion somewhere, the sound following right behind, transmitted through the hull at a slightly slower speed. The wall smacked against Sato, pushing him sideways. In a flash, all the opSha launched themselves at him, and his logical mind shut off.

* * * * *

Chapter Twelve

“At least this time my brain isn’t damaged,” Rick said as he floated in the smoke-choked ruins of the hallway. Even more atmosphere was leaking this time, and his back hurt. Well, everything hurt. He was learning to ignore the pain, in a way. He wished he could use those codes he’d memorized when Sato had turned off his pain receptors. The three Peacekeepers must have been destroyed, or Rick would have been killed while he was unconscious.

“Knocked out twice in an hour might be a personal best.” The ache in his brain was real, not artificially created by the suit’s internal systems. That worried him. How much permanent damage was he doing to himself? He needed to get moving; Sato was out there somewhere, possibly alive and in trouble. When wasn’t he in trouble?

He’d lost one of his leg fans. Of course it was the right leg. He kinda hoped Sato was alive so he could fix him up later. One fan out wasn’t a huge problem. It degraded performance, sure, but he could still maneuver. Rick moved into the wrecked room. There wasn’t much left of the Peacekeepers. They were tough, but not invulnerable. Confined spaces were devastatingly damaging. He’d just eaten a hatch to prove it.

Rick got the hatch on the opposite side of the Peacekeeper room open and moved down the connecting corridor. This one looked more like a personnel space, while the earlier ones had a more utilitarian feel, mostly from their size. His navigation system was still working, so he knew he was going deeper into the hulk. Something told him whatever was going on would be deep inside the base.

Then the corridor turned and appeared to be heading back out instead of deeper. He traveled for 200 meters, and the trend continued, so he turned back. Arriving at the point where it turned, Rick floated and considered. The corridor was smooth, with no indications of a hatch nearby—nothing to let him turn in the right direction. He shrugged.

“Okay, time to make my own.” He used his new skills to bring a laser online, his head throbbing slightly from hard concentration, and quickly cut an Æsir-sized hole. Without waiting, he rammed his shoulder into the smoking plate, shoving it through ahead of his progress. He found himself in what was obviously a squad bay stuffed full of opSha, all armed and staring at him in rage.

“Hey, guys!” he said and opened fire.

Rick emptied the machine pistol in one long burst, working the gun around the room. At 750 rounds per minute, the 60 round magazine was empty in under 5 seconds, chewing a dozen or more of the surprised opSha to bloody rags.

His arrival was met with wild laser and slug weapons fire. Many of the opSha were armed with short shotgun weapons, ideal for defending close quarters like their base. Unfortunately for them, the titanium pellets were less than useless against the Æsir, whose armor shrugged off the attack like it was rain. The lasers could have done damage if they’d been held on a point. However, the beams were wavering and wildly aimed. It would have hurt bare skin or even light combat armor. All it did was score the matte paint on the Æsir’s armored surface.

Some of the survivors reloaded, a few moved for more effective weapons, and others ran. Rick didn’t want to give them the chance to turn the tables, so he flew into their midst. He holstered the machine pistol, sensing the mechanism in his thigh reloading it for him. As soon as an opSha was within reach, he grabbed the screeching alien and crushed its neck in