Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (59 page)

"Fifteen degrees to port, Sir!"

"The second ship is opening fire!” Lieutenant Valac shouted.

Abaddon was nearly tossed from his commander's chair as explosions rocked the ship. Polarized hull plating did little to deflect a laser weapon or a pulse cannon.

“We’ve got a hull breach mid-ship on decks 9 through 11!!!” Lieutenant-Captain Shzzkt shouted.

"Pulse cannon … where's my pulse cannon?" Abaddon shouted. "Is that damned pulse cannon recharged yet?"

"Three seconds…" Lieutenant Valac said.

“Move 45 degrees to starboard," Abaddon shouted. "Full impulse power!”

The
Besat
fired a full barrage of rail guns which were only limited by the length of time it took for the crew to shove the next shell into the barrel. So did the smaller destroyers which escorted the aging naval carrier. Old, the
Besat
might be, but like
him
the old warship was full of piss and vinegar.

Abaddon flared his grey wings and grinned even though, at the moment, he had unfavorable odds. It had been a long time since he'd come up against a worthy opponent. He'd sure like to know what lizard the old dragon had put in charge of the aging vessel and if it was one of the admirals he'd come up against before … in the
old
days when they'd matched wits against one another constantly.

“Sir … the second ship has targeted their laser at our bridge,” the weapons officer shouted. "Should I aim the pulse cannon
there?"

Damn eager Sata'anic lap-poodle! The laser was a much more powerful weapon, but by the way the second naval carrier maneuvered, it was a newer rear-admiral, a youngster who like so many of the soldiers on both sides of this war had never seen
real
battle the way whoever was in charge of the
Besat
had. The second ship … it was a ploy. He could
feel
it all the way down to the barbules of his gunship-grey pinfeathers.

“No," Abaddon grinned. "Take out the
Besat.
"

Lieutenant Valac fired. That familiar shudder as the pulse cannon discharged the full force of her charge momentarily ionized the air and gave them all an ecstatic thrill similar to standing too close to a lightning strike. A substantial blast took out a three-thousand meter long chunk of the
Besat's
hull, along with most of the rail guns mounted along that side. Chunks of debris, as well as the bodies of squirming Sata'anic crewmen whose lives were stilled as explosive decompression imploded their organs, flew out of the ship.

The crewmen cheered.

"Full reverse thrust, both engines!" Abaddon shouted. "Deploy counter-measures!"

"Reverse thrust employed!" the engineer shouted.

Abaddon stumbled forward and flapped his wings to keep his balance as the
Jehoshaphat
jerked into reverse.

"Deploy counter-measures!" Lieutenant Valac shouted.

"Hull plating fully polarized," Lieutenant-Captain Shzzkt said. His gossamer under-wings hummed with nervous energy.

The second ship fired its laser weapon at the
Jehoshaphat
… and missed … not expecting her to jerk back instantly after firing her pulse cannons. Technically he wasn't supposed have the
power
to move that fast, but during the years he'd been sent out to pasture twiddling his thumbs, Abaddon had made a few black-market improvements. Including…

"Fire the antimatter torpedo at that little yappy bastard," Abaddon whispered with almost feral glee.

With a grim expression, Lieutenant Valac released the antimatter torpedo. The other crewmen stared at the video monitor with curious silence, to see what Shemijaza's weapon they'd all heard whispers about, but nobody had ever seen, would do. With an almost imperceptible 'pop' that was not an explosion, a putrid green vortex opened up where it had hit, taking that part of the enemy ship with it.

The vortex grew larger. Total silence reigned on the bridge as the vortex continued to grow. Funny. Abaddon didn't remember the weapon acting that way the one and only time he had ever seen one fired … against
them.
This weapon, it seemed, was far more potent than the ones the rebel leader had outfitted his own warships with to wage a guerrilla war against the Alliance.

They stared in silence as the enemy ship buckled as though it was being crushed by the Dark Lord's hand. It bent, then stretched, and gradually its was sucked into the hole. Putrid green tendrils of energy licked out of the hole like a hungry animal licking its face in the hopes it had missed some crumbs, and then it disappeared.

"What the hell was that, Sir?" Lieutenant Valac asked. As the weapons officer, not even
he
knew.

"A gift from Lucifer's father," Abaddon said. He stared at the place the second Sata'anic naval carrier had been. That feeling of victory he should have felt, of right action on behalf of their god, sat emptily in his gut.

The other crewmen sensed it too. His secret weapon? It did a lot more than his black market intelligence sources had
said
it would do and somehow that knowledge didn't feel very good. At least with a planet-killer everyone knew what the result would be.

“Several escape pods are separating from the
Besat
, Sir,” the communications officer said.

Abaddon stared at the mortally wounded ship, an old-timer like
him.

“Raise that channel to that commander," Abaddon ordered. "Tell him to surrender immediately and his crew won’t be harmed!”

"On it, Sir," the Communications Officer said.

Abaddon waited. A moment later a grizzled green face came onto the flatscreen, his uniform heavy with metals and his dewlap still burgundy despite his age. It was a familiar face, though one he hadn't seen in almost a century. Lizards only lived to be around 350 … if service in the military didn't kill them. Admiral Saladin had to be at least 385 years old.

"General Abaddon," the old lizard said. "I hear congratulations are in order, that your own people elevated you above the woman?"

"They did," Abaddon said. He tucked his wings against his back, a gesture of respect this grizzled old lizard deserved. Admiral Saladin did likewise, tucking his tail up tightly along his right side. This was one of the few lizards who'd ever whupped Abaddon's ass.

"You did not go for the more heavily armed ship," Admiral Saladin said. Behind him, the bridge was filled with smoke and sparks shot out in the darkness.

"I knew better than to underestimate the more experienced admiral," Abaddon said. His expression softened. "I only made that mistake
once
in my life, and it cost me the battle and very nearly my life."

"Yes, it did." The old lizard's fangs protruded in a pleased grin as they both knew
who
had administered that spanking. "And they say you can't teach an old Angelic a new trick."

"Surrender and let me bring your crew on board my ship," Abaddon said. "You'll be given full quarter. You and your crewmen. You have my word."

Admiral Saladin tasted the air and spoke something in the Sata'anic language to a crewman who was just out of sight. Abaddon understood what the old lizard said. He was ordering the crew to use the one remaining engine to turn the ship so they could lob a full barrage of rail guns from the undamaged side.

"You know I can't do that," Admiral Saladin said. "There is only
one
way old warriors like us can leave this world and keep their dignity, General Abaddon? And it's not in bed, surrounded by our offspring."

Oh, goddess! He
prayed
it wasn't true. But he knew it was.

"Yes," Abaddon said.

The old lizard gestured to his forehead, his snout and his heart. "Shay'tan be praised."

"May your god guide your spirit into the Dreamtime," Abaddon said softly.

With a fatalistic grimace, Admiral Saladin cut off the video feed.

"Sir! He's diverted all power to his impulse engines!" Captain Skzzht shouted. "I think he means to ram us!"

Abaddon closed his eyes.

"Target the bridge with the pulse cannon," he said.

"It's not done charging," Lieutenant Valac said.

"He'll wait."

Four … three … two … one…

"I've got full power, Sir!" Lieutenant Valac shouted.

"The
Besat
is firing on us!" Captain Skzzht shouted.

"Fire," Abaddon said to Valac, almost a whisper.

The
Besat's
rail guns slammed into their polarized hull plating, causing damage, but nothing catastrophic because they'd been given enough time to recharge during that small conversation.

The
Jehoshaphat
shuddered almost as if in ecstasy as the ionized charge moved through the ship as she let the
Besat
have it with both pulse cannons.

The
Besat
ignited and was no more.

"Go with your god, old adversary," Abaddon said softly.

Tucking his enormous grey wings against his back, he sat back down into his commander's chair and listened to the damage reports come in from the other ships. The old dragon had made him bleed, but not as much as he'd feared. At last the call came in that he'd been waiting for. Not Earth, but the reconnaissance party had found something
extremely
interesting.

"Captain Skzzht," Abaddon said, "you have the bridge. Lieutenant Valac … come with me. Let's go see what Shay'tan didn't want us to find."

~ * ~ * ~

December, 3,390 BC

Earth: Village of Assur

Namhu

It wasn't easy being the younger brother of the 'Savior of the Champion.' All everybody talked about was how brave his sister was, how many men she'd fended off, and how important Pareesa had become now that Mikhail was laid up at Immanu's house. And now he, Namhu, was expected to take up the slack by doing all of his sister's chores!

He carried the bucket full of kitchen scraps out to the goat pen. Twice per day she needed to be milked, especially now that her kids had been sold. She was an older goat, reliable with her milk, light brown with shorter, hazelnut-brown fur around her head and legs. The poor creature had suffered far past her morning milking time and her milk-bag was so swollen that the she waddled bow-legged, chastising Namhu with expectant brown eyes. Pareesa had skedaddled before sunrise, and it had happened enough times that the goat now associated
him
with alleviating her discomfort instead of his sister.

"S'okay!" Namhu soothed the creature as he tied her to the fence and placed the hide-lined milking bucket beneath her. "You know
-I-
won't forget you."

He squeezed his hand around her teat and pulled gently downwards, extracting a squirt of milk into the bucket. With a contented '
mehhh
,' the goat stuck her face into the bucket of treats and began to munch on the leftover emmer stalks, vegetable peelings and a crust of bread so hard and stale even his mother had given up on reusing it. Namhu fell into a rhythmic tug, the only sound being the goat's contented chewing and the whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of milk hitting the bark-tanned hide lining the bucket to make it waterproof. At nine years old, it was expected he would help out with the family chores, but why did Pareesa get to shirk her duties?

"Namhu!" his mother called. "Could you please go down to the well and draw me some water?"

"Awww! Mom! I'm milking the goat right now. Why can't Pareesa do it?"

"Pareesa's not here," Mama shouted out from the kitchen. "And besides, drawing water is
your
job."

"
This
is Pareesa's job!" Namhu scowled.