The Athena Operation (6 page)

CHAPTER 12: VERLIES

Seraph awoke in a fit of pain. He moved to stand, but the pain that shot up his left arm stopped him. His hearing started to fade back in. There was gunfire in the distance.

Seraph was trying to drag himself backward for better cover when someone grabbed him. He flailed his arm around in an attempt to defend himself.

His vision finally started to right itself—the shadows that were doubling and tripling settled together—and he realized it was Ret he was lashing out at.

“Sorry,” Seraph said.

Ret nodded. He was crouched behind a desk. “You all right?”

Seraph looked at his left arm. It was gashed in a few places, but they were scratches compared to some of his previous wounds. “Fine,” he said.

Ret handed Seraph his pistol. He popped out of cover and fired a few suppressing shots, then ducked back behind the desk.

“We’ve got to go meet Drever behind the base. The Confederate Military’s here, but they’re getting really fucked.” Ret popped off a few more blind shots.

“Shit. How long was I out?” Seraph crouched into cover near Ret.

“About a half hour. It was a bitch getting down to you; the seythra hit us full force upstairs. You’re lucky they didn’t kill you. It would’ve been easy for them to throw another grenade down here.”

“The civvies? Soldiers?” Seraph asked.

Ret shook his head. “All dead.” He popped back out of cover as the seythra advanced on them, and fired rounds into both of them, killing them.

They sat in silence for a moment, then Ret stood up. “Alright, let’s get the fuck out of here while we can.” Seraph grabbed his pistol off the ground and tucked it into its holster, and he and Ret made their way out of the building as quietly as they could.

Ret and Seraph exited the building, exhausted. Everywhere they looked, Confederate Military troops were being obliterated.

The bellow of bombs was a constant reminder that this was happening near and far. The warzone was nationwide, planet-wide. The heavy scent of smoke on the wind thickened as they pushed forward.

Seraph slowed to a stop as he looked down an alley at a burning building that had half-collapsed. Crawling away from the building was a little girl, only about six. She had been badly burned over the course of her body.

Seraph found himself frozen. He knew there wasn’t much he could do for the girl. Even if he rescued her and got her off this planet, her parents were probably dead and the galaxy was in the midst of a full-blown war.

Still, Seraph knew he couldn’t leave her.

Seraph turned to Ret. “You get a head start. You watch my ass; we’re getting her out of here,” Seraph said.

Seraph ran over to the girl. The collapsed building provided cover from prying seythra eyes.

“Hey, hey come here. . . come here, it’ll be alright, I’m getting you out of here, alright?” Seraph coughed as the smoke penetrated his lungs.

The girl was silent as Seraph picked her up in his arms.

Seraph hurried back to Ret and they moved forward.

The weight of the girl pressed into Seraph’s wounded shoulder. As they moved, a seythra emerged from an alley. Seraph raised his pistol and fired a shot into the seythra’s skull without a moment’s hesitation. The killing was becoming routine, automatic. Ret ducked into the alley the seythra emerged from. He scurried along the wall and peeked around the corner. The streets weren’t any clearer here. He looked back at Seraph.

“We can’t go head first. We should circle around, or-”

The sounds of an approaching ship cut Ret off. He and Seraph whipped around and saw the ship descending about a mile away, right into the heart of the base, where it was met with seythra gunfire. It was a moderately sized fighter ship, armed with dual cannons and machine guns on either side. As soon as it landed, soldiers spilled from the ship and fell on the group of seythra nearby.

“It’s about goddamn time.”

Ret and Seraph turned to see Drever, drenched in blood, standing behind them. His shotgun was in one hand and he had a knife in the other.

“Nice to see you, too,” Ret said. “So what’s the plan?”

“I-” Drever stopped, noticing the small girl on Seraph’s back. Drever held his tongue, against his will. “The military’s getting massacred. Our best shot’s getting on one of the ships and getting the fuck out of here. The one that just landed will do. Let’s fucking move!”

Seraph and Ret exchanged a glance. Stealing a Confederate ship was not exactly what they’d had in mind. Seraph listened to the gunfire grow stronger behind him. He thought of the little girl. He nodded at Ret. Right now, any plan was better than none. Ret sighed, then nodded back. He knew all they could do was run or be shot down in the streets.

As they came to the back of the base, the three ducked behind a pair of crates just tall enough to provide cover. They watched as the battle raged on and the Confederate forces grew thinner. One of the buildings had fallen completely and was now a smoldering heap of rubble. Tanks were overturned or blown apart and bodies lined the streets. The entire planet was turning into one large graveyard.

“There.” Drever pointed to the Confederate ship. It was riddled with bullet holes, but still operational.

“So, what, we just run for it and hope there aren’t any seythra snipers on this side?” Ret asked.

“No, Seraph and I will run for the ship,” Drever said. You use that rifle, pick off any seythra that notice us. We’ll head back this way and pick you up before we take off. It’ll have to be fuckin’ quick, but I’ve done shit like this before.” Drever moved back and reloaded his shotgun.

Ret fumbled with his rifle. “If you guys miss me, I’m fucked. I could go down, then you guys could get picked off.” He pulled the bolt of the gun back to secure a round in the chamber.

“It’s a risk we gotta take. Just focus.” Drever cocked his shotgun. “We gotta fuckin’ move, though. We need to take advantage of what’s left of the Confederates and hope that the seythra concentrate on killing them instead of us.”

Ret cringed at Drever’s cruel plan: using the military as fodder so they could make their own escape. Even yesterday, Ret would have argued. He would have insisted that they find another way. But things had changed since then. These were dire circumstances.

“Ready?” Drever asked.

Seraph set the girl on the ground next to Ret. She was barely conscious, and she looked even worse than before.

“Watch her,” Seraph said.

Ret nodded and pulled his sniper rifle from the strap.

Seraph turned to Drever. “Alright. I’m ready.”

Drever and Seraph took off at a full sprint, going from cover to cover while it was available. They stuck to crates, debris, and larger parts of destructed buildings, managing to avoid most of the sniper fire. One shot grazed Drever’s arm, but he didn’t slow his pace. With the rest of the ground forces distracted by the dwindling Confederate soldiers, they got by more or less unscathed.

As they closed in on the ship, both men raised their weapons to the door. The scene before them felt oddly out of place: foreboding, despite the fact that the only symbol of hope was within feet of them.

The door to the ship slid open and the pilot emerged, shoving an assault rifle into Seraph and Drever’s faces. The two turned their weapons on him in return.

“Easy, easy. We’re with you. Confederate Military,” Seraph said. He was relieved to see another soldier.

“Drop the guns,” the pilot said. “I’m under strict orders to keep everyone away from Confederate ships until the situation is under control.”

“I am Confederate Military!” Seraph shouted. ”I’m Commander Seraph Aydrian, and we need an evac. We’re getting massacred here! Look around!”

Seraph could see that the Confederate Chamber still didn’t understand the severity of the situation. The Chamber had seriously underestimated the damage if they hadn’t prepared for evacuation.

“I’m giving you one last chance,” the pilot shouted. “Stand down and walk away. I’m just doing my job.”

“Look, we’ll-”

A loud blast cut Seraph off and the pilot flew backward into the side of the ship. He collapsed to the ground, blood blooming on the front of his uniform.

Seraph turned to see Drever holding his smoking shotgun.

Drever lowered the weapon. “It had to be done.”

“Goddamn it! That’s the fucking military!” Seraph screamed. “How fucking reckless are you? They’re on our side! They’re our only fucking hope!”

“He wasn’t going to let us on that ship, jackass. He was getting ready to fire on you.”

“Bullshit! I was wearing him down! Fuck!” Seraph shook his head. “Let’s fucking go. Move it.”

Drever followed Seraph onto the ship, confident that Seraph agreed with him, and knew there were no other options.

**

Ret set up his rifle, doing his best to steady his hand

He sighted in an enemy sniper and fired a second too soon, just missing the mark. The sniper returned fire and the bullet missed Ret’s head by mere inches. Ret ducked into cover and fumbled with a spare magazine. The gunfire aimed at him grew louder.

Ret slammed the magazine back into the rifle and chambered a bullet with the bolt. He turned to take aim again, but instead found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol.

Ret charged forward, tackling the seythra. The two contended for control of the gun. Ret grasped at the seythra’s fingers, trying to loosen his grip on the gun. The seythra dropped his grip on the gun all together, and blasted a balled fist into Ret’s jaw, following up with a full-force kick to his chest, sending him crashing into twin metal crates.

The seythra hurriedly got back on his feet, grabbing his gun and aiming it at Ret. Ret slowly put his arms in the air, realizing he had nothing left, no tricks to pull or advantages he could use. No ace up his sleeve, no secret weapon. He was staring death in the face through the barrel of a gun.

“P-Please,” Ret stammered.

The seythra didn't hesitate to fire a shot into Ret's chest. Satisfied with the limp body Ret became, the seythra turned to the little girl. She looked up at him with desperate, aching eyes. He studied her for a few moments, then raised his gun and fired a shot into her head.

“No!” Ret shouted.

The seythra turned to Ret, shocked he was still alive. He raised his pistol to Ret's skull. The seythra was about to fire when he was blasted with a spray of bullets. Ret jerked around to see Drever leaning out of the side of the Confederate ship, shotgun in hand.

“Let’s go!” Drever shouted over the roar of the spacecraft.

Ret's clutched his upper left chest area where he took the shot. It was bleeding, but he could work through it. He took one last glance at the body of the young girl. As he got to his feet and picked up his rifle, he could only imagine the pain and horror of her last day alive. She had been suffering far too long, and Ret had let that fucking seythra kill her. Ret boarded the ship and left the girl behind, but he could not stop thinking about her.

CHAPTER 13: PRECARIOUS

OCURRENCES

Seraph had limited experience piloting a vehicle, but he managed to get the ship out of Vidron painlessly. Gunshots rattled the sides of the ship, but the ship was up and out within a matter of moments. Seraph flipped the ship to auto-pilot. He stood and exhaled deeply. He had no idea what they were going to do. Back on Vidron, the Confederate Chamber was likely either dead or close to it, and the majority of the Confederate Military forces had been destroyed. What scattered soldiers had survived were out of contact, on their own, and doomed to die.

Seraph ran a hand through his hair. It was caked with sweat, blood, and grime. Sitting down had made him realize how tired he was. He shook his head. He wouldn’t allow himself to entertain thoughts of things like sleep. Not now.

Seraph moved back to the main room of the ship. It was small and cramped. Blinking buttons and switches lined the wall, holding the life of the ship in firm order. Gunsmoke lingered in the air, a faint reminder that even though they were out of the battle, nothing was over.

Seraph took a seat. He fought his exhaustion and looked around the ship. Ret was in one corner, Drever in another. It took Seraph’s tired brain a moment to realize that someone was missing.

He shot a glance at Ret “Where’s-”

Ret shook his head. “I’m sorry, Seraph. I’m really fucking sorry. This seythra jumped me, he pinned me down, shot me and . . . he fuckin’ shot her.” A few tears escaped Ret’s eyes and began streaming down his face. He whimpered as he shifted his position, clutching his wound.

Seraph remained silent for a moment. His fist clenched. He wanted to scream, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He had to maintain himself, despite how hard it was. He slumped onto the ground and closed his eyes. He wanted to maul every fucking seythra he could get his hands on. He wanted to cut off their limbs. He wanted to burn them alive.

This wasn't just about the girl. It was about all the innocents he’d seen shot down in the streets. Something had happened to the seythra. Somehow, their hunger for power had grown so strong that they were willing to slaughter civilians to secure it. All Seraph could think was
why now?
He couldn’t figure out the catalyst that had set this nightmare in motion.

He knew that if he was plunged into another fight anytime soon, he was going to act out of rage and end up doing something incredibly stupid, probably getting himself killed. Though his death would hardly be significant among the number of dead.

Ret cleared his throat. “We gotta figure something out. Either go back down there and try to get to the Confederate Chamber, or . . .”

“No, to fucking hell with that. We’re getting out of here. We need to get somewhere secluded, start a camp, get settled in. Fucking Torca if I have to.” Drever let the majority of his gear spill onto the table.

“The military is what’s going to help us win this war. Not running and fucking hiding!” Ret yelled.

“You just don’t get it, kid!” Drever shouted back. “This ain’t about winning or losing! The seythra got more fuckin’ numbers than the confederates. We are fucked, kid! You either survive or die trying. You wanna go risk your ass and die trying to get to the Chamber? Then fuckin’ go! But I’m going to survive!”

“It doesn’t matter. We can’t go hide forever. We have to try and stop it.” Seraph knew he’d rather be fighting the seythra than holing up underground on some third-world planet.

“Great. You fuckin’ idiots are going to get me killed.” Drever shook his head and walked away.

A loud crackle from the ship’s radio seized their attention. The message was broken and heavily distorted.

“-elp. C--derate Cha-r . . . -till alive . . . -skirts of Vidro- . . . -Kaken’s Industry-”

The radio fell silent. Ret tried to revive the signal, but it was dead.

“Did you guys get that? The Confederate Chamber, they’re still in Vidron by the Kaken Industry Plant!” Ret smacked the radio, trying to revive the signal.

“Kid, let it go,” Drever said. “If that ain’t a baited radio message, and it is legit, you’re talking about a fucking suicide run.”

Ret turned to Seraph, his face lit with hope. Seraph shook his head. As much as he didn’t like it, he knew that the odds were Drever was right on both accounts.

“Ret, I’m sorry, but Drever’s right. It’s just too damn risky. Look, standard protocol states that in the case of severe disaster on Vidron, the Confederate Chamber is to be immediately evacuated to Danae Pilus. There’s some sort of underground building there where all the major government officials and politicians are supposed to go. If we want to fight this thing, we have to start there, with or without the Confederate Chamber. Someone there will have information.”

Drever sighed. “Well it’s not as bad as half the plans you idiots have come up with so far.”

Ret groaned. “Fuck! Alright . . . alright, we can go!” He buried his head in his hands. Neither Seraph nor Drever said a word.

Ret's shoulder and chest throbbed with pain. He raised his head and stared out one of the windows at the fading image of Vidron. He couldn’t help but imagine masses of people begging for help as they were mauled by gunfire.

He wouldn’t be there to help them.

Seraph moved up to the cockpit and took a seat behind the controls. He turned to his comrades. “It’ll take days to reach Danae Pilus at normal speed. We’re going to have to engage the hyperdrive to get there if there’s any hope of saving . . . whatever’s left of Vidron.”

Seraph glanced over the screens that displayed alerts and statistics. He did his best to recall the training courses he’d taken long ago.

“Ship’s sustained twenty percent damage, probably random seythra fire. But our right wing has taken a bad shot. It’s still good, but we should watch it. Last thing we need is to go down in the middle of fuckin’ space.”

Seraph navigated the menus filled with technical jargon he couldn’t even pronounce until he came to information about the hyperdrive.

“The Knex Drive is at a thirty percent charge. Hang on.” Seraph tapped away on the keyboard attached to the main terminal. Ret came up behind him and glanced over his shoulder.

“It’ll drain us to get to Danae Pilus,” Seraph said. “We can do it, but we’ll be at a two percent charge after arriving. If there’s seythra, or if we get attacked by god-knows-what, we’ll be fucked. Won’t be able to get out of there quick enough on this thing’s normal speed alone.”

“Just do it,” Drever said. “Ain’t like we’re riding on much else anyway. Hell, we’ll all probably be dead this time tomorrow.”

Seraph figured that, again, Drever was probably right.

“Alright, we’re off. Autopilot’s got it from here. Hope to god that’s the right call.” Seraph ran his hands through his hair as the Knex Drive sensor lit up. The ship transitioned to hyperspace.

**

“You are nearing your destination.”

The ship’s computerized voice startled Ret and Seraph, while Drever continued to sleep. Seraph had half fallen asleep himself, though he kept himself from giving in entirely. He knew that he couldn’t let himself fall prey to exhaustion.

Seraph stumbled to the pilot’s seat and glanced out the center window. Danae Pilus was a galaxy away from Vidron, deep in the outskirts of the Triangulum Galaxy, part of the Tri-Galaxy area that incorporated the Milky Way, Andromeda Galaxy, and the Triangulum Galaxy, all three together forming what was known as the Ternion Range. Seraph had never seen Danae Pilus before. The Confederate Chamber’s jurisdiction fell only within the Andromeda. The Milky Way and Triangulum often found their own—not necessarily legal—local authority forces.

Danae Pilus was out on the ridge of the Triangulum, not the easiest spot to reach.

Ret moved up behind Seraph, rubbing his bandaged wound. Aceso administered hours prior left it numb. “How are we looking?”

“The radar isn’t detecting any other ships in the vicinity,” Seraph said. “It’s looking pretty bleak. Nobody’s made it here? No seythra, no other confederate officials, no politicians, no soldiers? I don’t know.” Seraph felt uneasy.

Ret shook his head. “Shit, things just keep getting worse, don’t they?”

“Maybe not. Let’s just wait and see.” Seraph let loose a yawn and cracked his neck.

“I hope the fesar on Danae are ready for war,” Ret said. “Maybe news about the attack hasn’t even reached the Triangulum yet. That, or they got hit first, and we’re walking into a planet filled with corpses.”

Seraph remained silent. He punched in the coordinates of the retreat shelter and marked it as the next destination. The coordinates had been drilled into every soldier’s head at the end of basic. Of course, nobody expected that they’d ever actually have to use them. The ship’s computer acknowledged the new coordinates with a chime and began the descent onto Danae Pilus.