War Angel: part seventy-six

Richard flew across the Kan’Tar’s landing bay astonished by what he saw. Dozens of dead Omegans littered the floor, blood seeping out of their noses and ears and soaking the deck. It was difficult for him to actually see the floor in some spots, the gory results of the War Angel’s plan so prevalent before him. He had been spared that sight in his own efforts; the canister of the disease that he was carrying had been shot into the Omegan ship’s air exhaust system once they were in the sealed landing bay. He was aware of the act he was committing, but it held little reality for him since he could not see inside the ship and see the results.

These results? These he could see, and they were terrifying. “We’re war criminals,” he thought to himself. “No civilized society uses biological weapons. We stopped that over a hundred years ago. And now…” He paused to think about it. “I wonder if we will go to prison,” he thought. “If there is ever a real truce, they’ll want us to go to prison.” Richard felt mortified.

“Enough of that,” he thought, docking the shuttle with the War Angel. “I have a job to do.”

As he exited the shuttle, he walked through the cargo area and saw the crate lying open. Inside were the dummy biogel packs full of the concentrated version of the bioweapon. Sarah’s instincts had been right; the Omegans went straight for the fancy technology, and they had gleefully cut open one of the gel packs to study it. The bodies outside on the ground showed just how poor a decision that was for the crew of the Kan’Tar.

He grabbed a loader and packed the materials from the shuttle aboard it. “First things first: get the main computer back up and running. Can’t count on my little jamming trick to last forever…”

The energy blast just missed hitting Gina in the face. “Will you pay damned attention?!” Kate asked, kicking her friend’s legs out from under her and sending her crashing to the floor. Kate returned fire, Omegan pistols in both hands. “Hey, guys,” she said, moving back around the corner for cover as their foes unleashed a return volley. “I don’t suppose either of you has a grenade?”

Gina cocked an eyebrow and patted her uniform pockets in exaggerated fashion. “I must have left mine in my other uniform.”

“You’re a riot, Hime,” Kate sneered, peeking around the corner and shooting another barrage.

“I can maybe make one,” Sarah volunteered. “Can I have one of the guns?” Kate looked at Sarah for a moment, wariness in her eyes. Finally, she handed the weapon to Sarah as laser blasts passed behind Kate’s back.

Kate checked the other gun and saw that it was down to 50% power. “Make it count, Supersonic.”

“Time for us to go,” Wilma muttered, looking at her hands still shaking. She walked across the lab to a towel dispenser and began cleaning the Omegan’s blood off of her body.

The elder Drake, shocked by what he had seen, spoke up first. “I assume that there is a plan? To get us out of here alive, I mean?”

“Strangely enough, yes,” Ben replied. “And right now it requires us to get back to the landing bay and to our ship. The doctor is right; it’s time for us to go.”

“But won’t they be waiting for us? There have to be hundreds of them on this ship. Thousands.”

Wilma closed her eyes and took a long breath. “Fewer and fewer by the minute if we’ve done this right.”

F’ath M’isti’s fist made solid contact with Jack’s abdomen, lifting him off the floor and sending him through the air. He landed with a bone-jarring thud in the middle of the room, bouncing twice before coming to a stop.

“That… all you got… Supreme Commander?” Jack croaked out, blood seeping from both lips. “You’re getting… weaker.”

The Omegan licked blood off his knuckles. “You are a ridiculous little man,” M’isti sneered. “I did not become Supreme Commander by being ordinary or weak. “I am the greatest of our warriors!” He advanced on Jack slowly. “I will not die easily. Not from your little disease.” He reached down and lifted Jack up by his uniform. “And you will die, regardless. Boy.”

Jack sailed across the room and impacted the window on the hull, then dropped to the ground with a sickening thud.

“Were those ribs I heard cracking?” M’isti asked, amused. “Please. I would enjoy knowing just how painful this is for you. So confident in yourself. So confident in your plan.” The Omegan walked around the desk and looked down at Jack. “You are going to die. Your friends are going to die. Your planet is going to die.” F’ath M’isti smiled. “But let it never be said that I am not civilized. Do you have any last words?”

The captain of the War Angel used his left arm to push himself against the hull, and he took agonizing seconds to sit up and look at his foe. Jack knew then that he had miscalculated. That he was overly arrogant. He had led his friends – his crew – into a death trap. What if the rest of the Omegans had M’isti’s immune system strength? He was so sure. So very sure. And he had been wrong.

He looked up through a swollen right eye and saw the instrument of his entire planet’s destruction smiling at him. Jack nodded slowly, and F’ath M’isti paused to see what Jack was going to say. Jack beckoned M’isti to come closer, and the Supreme Commander crouched down next to his fallen foe. “I am listening,” the Omegan said. “Speak.”

Jack nodded. Then he swirled his tongue around his mouth, gathered all the blood that had gathered there, and spat it in F’ath M’isti’s eyes. As the Omegan’s rage exploded, the War Angel’s captain began laughing uncontrollably.