They crawled to the edge of the rocky
outcrop and peeked over. The east guard tower was ten meters ahead. It would be
entirely possible to hear a krogan posted there snoring from here. But Nihlus
could hear nothing.
“Change
of watch?” Saren said. He lowered his visor. A moment later, Nihlus heard the
delicate buzz of the optical focus. “There’s no one in there.”
Well, yes. The tower was a cube of
concrete with a rusty iron fence encircling the top and a slanted roof to keep
the equipment dry. There was no way to hide a krogan on it. Or anything, for
that matter. A ladder with six rungs led up from the ground on the east side. A
sturdy sliding door faced them from the south side. That would be the service
elevator.
Everything was just as Farril had described it. Only his boy, what-was-his-name-krogan was missing.
Continue reading House in an Invictus Jungle
Saren spun on his toes, making a full-circle sweep with his
arms extended sideways. The violence of the motion stirred the air like a fan.
When he reached the apex he ducked and repeated the sweep in the opposite
direction from a half-squat, while Kryik executed the mirror move centimeters
above his head. It was the flashy, optional finisher for the second form, done
by young athletes in competitions to impress the judges.
Saren felt neither young nor athletic. The entire exercise could have lasted no more than ten minutes, yet he was breathless. As he stepped back, Kryik spun one more time. Out of turn. A poorly thought-out improvisation or an honest mistake—it mattered not. Saren bent back at a hazardous angle and evaded Kryik’s slashing hand a split second before losing an eye.
Continue reading Gravity
Nihlus awoke to the sounds of hurried steps and shouting. He
jumped up, vision still blurry, hit the low ceiling of the tent and got a
crest-blade stuck within a seam. Saren’s corner was abandoned and
the tent was unsealed. He cursed and fumbled to free himself.
“Sarge!” Vezeer said, stepping
by the tent. “You better come over here. Quickly!”
“What is it? Argh! Talk to me,
damn it!”
But Vezeer was already gone. Nihlus yanked, and something tore, but he was free. He crawled out on all fours and started stumbling in the dark after the sound of Vezeer’s quick-paced footsteps. Flashlights were dancing ahead. Still half asleep, he caught on every bush and branch on the way. Something heavy thrashed about, crunching twigs. It sounded like a predator struggling with oversize prey. Nihlus ran.
Continue reading Betrayal
The noise was insufferable. His heartbeat was lost in it. He didn’t know if he was asleep or awake. Dead or alive. He tried to move and the blackness around him swirled into a wormhole, pulling him in. There was nothing he could do to fight it. He couldn’t even scream.
How’s he doing?
It won’t be much longer, Sarge.
Is there nothing we can do? Get
him to a proper hospital?
Wouldn’t change a thing. I’m sorry.
It’s not your fault.
I’m sorry anyway.
Continue reading Fever
Okeer had taken permanent residence in
the communications room. The first time they had tried to dislodge him, he told
them to shut the fuck up and get the fuck out in not so many words. They didn’t listen. The second time, he ripped someone or
another apart with a barely charged biotic shock. They grew quiet after that.
He needed the silence to work, to think. The ground was slipping under his feet and although it was not yet time to run, it was time to start walking. Wortag had agreed to his proposal easier than Okeer had expected. Why would he trade when he already had Okeer in custody? He was probably dragging it out while he looked for another buyer. Not that Okeer had ever had more than vague, wishful hopes regarding their deal. He offered collaboration to a krogan organization first as a familial courtesy, risking loss of time for the unlikely possibility that one of his kind would be wise enough to just listen to him. If Wortag had agreed to finance his research, Okeer would have stayed and kept his word. But Wortag was no different from other krogan: greedy, impulsive, aggressive, impatient. Whatever the secret behind his abrupt success over the last couple of decades, it sure wasn’t intelligence.
Continue reading Orderly Retreat
Nihlus could swear the ground shook when
the krogan fell and he hoped to Spirits that the cracking noise wasn’t from Saren’s bones being ground to dust under
his weight. He rolled sideways just in time to avoid being ground to dust
himself as the krogan turned on his back and swung his massive arms. He was
blinded by the glass from the visor Nihlus had smashed into his face, but he
could still defend himself. Nihlus groped for the knife strapped to his right
thigh, dodged one strike, then another, and finally sunk the blade under the
krogan’s chin through the crack in the armor. He had to lean into it with both
hands before the krogan stopped thrashing.
“Oh, man,” Pan said, darting past him. Theeka came walking from the same direction. She was unsure on her feet, barely holding onto her rifle, but it didn’t look like she was injured. “Holy shit,” she muttered.
Continue reading Not This Squad