Saint (Gateway Series Book 2)

  Saint

  Gateway Series Book 2

  Brian Dorsey

  Copyright © 2016 by Brian Dorsey

  www.briandorseybooks.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or places is coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission from the author.

  Chapter 1

  “Gotcha bitch!” declared Cassandra Orion with a smile as the ship in front of her rocked from the impact of Hydra’s salvo of plasma rounds. “Let’s go get ’em,” she added, banking Hydra sharply to come alongside the damaged slave ship. “That last shot did the trick; their propulsion is down,” reported Orion over the ship’s intercom. “I’m lining us up to their docking port.”

  ***

  “Roger,” answered Tyler Stone as he racked the first round into his rifle. Standing in the docking tunnel, he looked back toward the rest of the assault team. “Ready?’ he asked.

  Beside him stood Major Mori Skye, a riot gun in her left hand. As she slid a pistol into the holster on her hip, she looked toward Stone and smiled.

  With the success of the mission against the Venato base, Mori had been promoted to the rank of major and elevated by the Longhouse Council to a Ka-itsenko, the honored Terillian title given to their ten best warriors. As such, she was authorized to wear the traditional war paint of her people into battle. The red and yellow diagonal stripes covering her face and the black handprint covering her lower jaw only accentuated the power of her eyes, which burned a brilliant green with the same determination as the day Stone first saw them. Her raven-colored hair, tied tightly into a set of three-weave braids, fell over the front of her shoulders. A badger tail was woven into the hair and hung about ten centimeters from the end of the braid. Nodding in acknowledgment, Mori brought the riot gun to the ready. Three more Scout Rangers, also Ka-itsenko, stood in close order behind her.

  First in line was Thay Flint. Thay’s thin, leathered face was completely black with war paint, save a red diamond around each eye. Thay had been authorized by the Iroqua matrons to carry out a mourning war of vengeance against the Xen and their allies until his grief was satisfied for the death of his brother; one tomahawk was etched with 35 notches to represent the Humani and slavers’ lives he had taken so far. His head was bald except a small tuft of prickly black hair running over the middle of his scalp. Holding a pistol in each hand, he reached down to ensure his two tomahawks were secured on his waist belt for quick access when needed.

  Behind Thay was the Akota, Henry River. His lower face and jawline were painted a brilliant white, which stood in stark contrast to the charcoal-colored paint from his nose to his hairline. Henry’s dark hair fell just over his ears and was intertwined with small white-tipped feathers. Confident, lean, and well muscled, he held an assault rifle at his waist, but Stone’s attention was drawn to the countless number of knives and other edged weapons attached to his assault gear.

  In the rear knelt Sandwick Hill of the Siksika, his lower jaw painted red with two thin red lines running from his jaw over his cheekbones to each eye. His hair fell freely over his shoulders with a small lock running down the center of his forehead to the bridge of his nose. Sandwick, the youngest of the group and first son of the primary chief of his people, held the butt of his assault rifle to his cheek for a quick look down the barrel. Although the rifle was his primary weapon, a riot gun was slung over Sandwick’s back and he kept a pistol at each side.

  Stone was still trying to learn the nuances of Terillian culture, and the battle dress of the Ka-itsenko was no different. He had seen only three of these super-elite soldiers in his career with the Elite Guard. One had killed three Elite Guard troops before evaporating into the forest of Sierra 7. Another was killed by Captain Emily Martin after a drawn-out hand-to-hand fight, and the third had planted a knife into Stone’s bicep before he was able to put two rounds into the warrior’s torso and force him to retreat.

  “We’re ready as well,” snarled Magnus.

  Stone turned his head toward Magnus. He could see Magnus’s thick, long hair puff out, stiffening like a Humani war dog. Stone sometimes forgot about the changes caused by genetic mixing of wolf and human DNA at the hands of the Xen on Venato that resulted in the creation of Magnus and his clan. Behind Magnus crouched Katalya, Mori’s genetically altered sister—and Magnus’s mate.

  Despite the impending assault, Stone paused to reflect. Less than a year ago, the Terillians were his sworn enemy and he had no idea Magnus and his clan existed. In this short time, however, Stone had undergone an unbelievable transformation from Alpha Humana’s most highly decorated soldier and fiancé to the daughter of one of his planet’s most powerful men to his current situation: fighting in a clandestine mission in the company of his former enemy.

  But Stone knew he had no choice in the matter. Once he became aware that his planet’s elite, the First Families, were in league with their Xen masters who had in fact conquered Alpha Humana generations ago and set up the civilization he grew up in as a fallacy to maintain control, he realized the only way he could save his people was to become their enemy. Convinced of the truth by his former enemy and now lover, Mori, and by the revelations of his once fiancée the Lady Astra Varus, her father, and by the treachery of General Cataline Tacitus, Stone now knew that the current war between the Xennite Empire and the Terillian Confederation had been purposely manufactured by the Humani First Families to placate their Xen master’s need for more slaves on their home planets—a move necessitated by the spread of a deadly virus killing off large portions of the Xen’s human chattel.

  Much had happened since Stone’s decision to turn against his native world. Stone and his new companions, including the colorful crew of the Hydra, had managed to destroy a clandestine Xen base on Venato that had been created to manipulate the virus for two nefarious purposes: first, alter human DNA to simultaneously survive the virus and create a docile slave population; and second, weaponize the virus for use against Terillian and other worlds.

  After their escape from Venato, Stone, Mori, and the crew of Hydra took refuge near the border of the Terillian Confederation. On the borderland, the remainder of Magnus’s clan, having escaped Venato on Hydra, chose a remote planet just inside Terillian territory to make a homestead for themselves. Still seeking vengeance for the atrocities carried out by the Xen, Magnus and Katalya left their clan behind to continue the fight. And Mori, now elevated to a Ka-itsenko, was provided a hand-picked team of warriors and told to continue her personal war against the slavers in the Dark Zone, the no-man’s-land of several systems that lay between the two powerful civilizations.

  “Hold on!” echoed Orion’s voice over the intercom. “We’re lining up with their gravitational reference.”

  Stone quickly regained his focus and thanked his luck that Orion was Hydra’s pilot. Breaching a hull and jumping from one’s own deck onto the overhead of another ship always meant a bad day. He had seen three Guardsmen break their legs when the floor they thought they were jumping onto was in fact the overhead of a six-meter high cargo hold. But Orion would make sure Hydra had the same horizontal reference as the ship being boarded. Stone slightly shifted his balance as Orion oriented Hydra to the slave ship’s reference horizon.

  Hydra shuddered and a low metallic thud signaled that the docking bay had made contact with the slavers’ ship.

  “Go get ’em,” came Orion’s voice over the intercom again as the inner docking door locked shut and the outer opened to expose the outer hull of the slavers’ ship.
r />   Stone looked to Mori and nodded.

  “Since their ship isn’t designed for docking transfers,” said Mori to Magnus, “we’re gonna need to blow the hatch.”

  As Mori spoke, Stone watched as Thay and Sandwick attached a large rectangular pad to the hull of the slavers’ ship and then fell back into their stacked position.

  “Cover!” shouted Mori. “3, 2, 1…”

  As Mori finished the countdown, Sandwick activated the blast mechanism. The explosion from the shaped blast was muffled by the protective pad, but pain shot through Stone’s ears as they popped, the rapid mixing of atmospheres between the two spaces equalizing the pressure across his eardrums.

  “Go, go, go!” shouted Mori. She led the way as she leapt through the hole in the slave ship’s hull, her riot gun held close to her shoulder.

  Stone entered the breach as Mori was still midair. Pivoting to his left, he saw the flash and heard the blast of Mori’s riot gun. He saw a slaver on his knees directly in front of him. Still recovering from the blast of the breaching charge, the slaver sluggishly swung his pistol toward Stone. Stone squeezed the trigger and a salvo of three rounds exploded from his rifle, tearing into the slaver’s chest.

  As the echo from the shots cleared, Stone heard Mori call out.

  “Clear.”

  “Clear,” repeated Thay, now positioned to the right of the breach.

  “Clear,” responded Stone as he turned to examine the rest of compartment.

  Behind Mori lay the body of the slaver that drew her fire as she entered. Between Stone and Mori knelt Magnus and Katalya. To Mori’s right were Henry and Sandwick with Thay to the far right.

  Stone saw Mori turn toward him, her braids swinging around to catch up to her glance.

  This is the first time Stone had seen Mori in command of an operation; she was born to it.

  “Magnus, Katalya,” she ordered. “Clear the bridge.”

  Magnus nodded in acknowledgment and he and Katalya quickly moved toward the entrance of the compartment. As Katalya passed Mori, she stopped and lowered her forehead to Mori’s.

  “Stay safe, tanka,” spoke Katalya softly to her younger sister using her native language.

  “You too, c’uwé,” answered Mori.

  Katalya turned back toward Magnus and they quickly exited the compartment.

  “Henry and Sandwick,” continued Mori, “clear the crew berthing.”

  “Hau,” replied Henry in acknowledgment as he looked toward Sandwick, himself shifting from his assault rifle to the riot gun slung over his shoulder.

  “Ready?” asked Henry.

  Sandwick acknowledged with a slap to Henry’s back and a nod.

  As Sandwick and Henry exited the compartment, Mori turned back toward Stone and Thay.

  “Let’s clear the path and get down to the cargo hold. That’s where they’ll keep their captives,” Mori ordered as she reloaded her riot gun, replacing the round she had expended on the slaver. “Thay, you take point.”

  Without a word, Thay holstered one of his pistols and drew a tomahawk from his waist belt. As Thay looked at Mori, Stone saw an opportunistic smile come to warrior’s face. A pistol in his left hand held extended forward and his tomahawk close to his waist, Thay loped toward the passageway outside the compartment.

  Moving quickly and quietly, the three made their way to the midlevel of the slave ship. The group entered what appeared to be another storage room divided into three lanes by two large storage racks running the length of the space. Entering the room, Stone saw a slaver jump from behind the far end of the right storage rack. “Contact!” he shouted and all three dove for cover as the air filled with pellets from two rapid blasts from the slaver’s weapon.

  Stone curled himself into a ball and grunted as the pellets ricocheted off the bulkhead and pelted his body. Their velocity reduced by the force of the impact with the bulkhead, the small steel balls peppered his back and sent a flash of pain through his body.

  He looked to see Mori curl her body toward one side and wince in pain from her own pelting.

  “Damn it!” she grunted.

  The welts were already forming on his back when another blast sent a second hail of pellets ricocheting in his direction.

  Mori answered with two shots from her riot gun. “Let’s see how he likes it,” she grumbled as she fired a third round.

  Thay burst from his position and sprinted past Stone, who could only watch as Thay ran straight down the alley that only seconds ago was filled with deadly pellets.

  The slaver shifted his body and leaned into view to send another round toward the three.

  But Thay had covered too much ground. As the slaver’s gun extended from the cover of the storage rack, Thay directed the barrel away from his body and in a sweeping movement, slammed his tomahawk into the slaver’s skull. The blade sank deep into the man’s head as he fell to the ground.

  Another slaver leapt from cover behind a nearby storage crate and sprinted down the passageway to make his escape. Stone raised his rifle to fire but Thay’s second tomahawk was already in flight. The slaver’s scream echoed through the passageway as the tomahawk tore into his spine. The wounded man fell to his knees screaming as he reached frantically for the weapon embedded in his back.

  Thay was on him instantly, leaping into the air just before he reached the slaver. Still airborne, Thay grabbed the man’s hair as he passed and drove his face toward the floor. Stone heard the thud and crack of facial bones breaking as the slaver’s head impacted the metal deckplate.

  Thay quickly pulled himself to his knees using the slaver’s hair as leverage and pivoted to a position straddling the slaver’s lower back. From his knees, he jerked the tomahawk from the man’s back, resulting in another ear-piercing scream. Thay quickly spun the handle of his tomahawk and planted the thin-tipped point of the tomahawk in the back of the man’s head with a grunt.

  This guy is good, thought Stone as he and Mori reached Thay after clearing the remainder of the room.

  Thay drew a large knife from his tactical vest. Grabbing the dead slaver’s hair, he placed the blade to the man’s scalp.

  “Thay!” shouted Mori. “No! Don’t!”

  Thay’s grip on the slaver’s hair tightened.

  “Iah tetkaie!” ordered Mori in Thay’s native language.

  Thay paused and looked up toward Mori, still holding the hair of the dead slaver.

  His dark eyes glared back at Mori.

  “Don’t fret.” He smiled and added, “It’s only symbolic.” He moved his blade over the man’s head as if he was taking the man’s scalp and let the victim’s head fall back to the deck. Still straddling his victim, he again withdrew his tomahawk and began to etch new marks into the handle.

  “Why do you care what I do with this pig anyway?” asked Thay as he finished etching his tomahawk.

  “I just want them dead,” replied Mori. “After that, I think of them no more.”

  “I like to think about them,” Thay said, smiling. “Their deaths warm the lodge fires of my family and clan.”

  Growing uncomfortable with the conversation and realizing they had not completed their mission, Stone interrupted.

  “Mori, Thay, we need to get to the cargo bay.”

  “Yes,” replied Mori, clearly embarrassed by allowing herself to lose focus and by the unseemly conversation between her and Thay. “I’ll take point,” she added with a quick glance toward Thay.

  In a few minutes the three had made their way to the lower level of the ship. At the bottom of the ladder, Mori pulled out a small digital device and flipped through several screens.

  “Looks like there should be one more compartment before the main cargo bay,” she said, placing the device back into her pocket.

  “If this flying trash can is still per original design,” added Thay.

  “Either way,” said Stone, pointing toward the closed armored doors in front of them, “we’re going that way.”

  “Then let’s ge
t to it,” replied Mori.

  Stone took position on the starboard side of the hatch. Crouching down with his right shoulder toward the bulkhead by the hatch, Stone held his rifle at the low-ready position. He looked across to Thay, who had taken a position opposite him. Once both were ready, Stone turned back toward Mori.

  “Ready,” he reported.

  Mori placed an electronic entry box on the control panel, holding the pistol grip of her riot gun in her right hand. “Stand by,” she warned.

  Stone gripped his rifle tightly and took a deep breath.

  “Firing!” shouted Mori as she flipped the switch causing the armored door’s circuitry to be overridden.

  The door slid open.

  Someone burst through the hatch toward Mori. A shot from Mori’s gun rang out and the assailant tumbled backward. Stone’s heart jumped as he recognized the uniform; it was a Guardsman. Dumbfounded, he almost failed to notice a second man step into the opening and swing his sword toward Stone’s head. Falling backward, Stone heard the metallic singing of the sword and the brush of air as the blade missed his head by millimeters.

  The Guardsman stepped toward Stone. Over his attacker’s shoulder, Stone saw Thay stand to fire his pistol only to be attacked by another Guardsman. Refocusing on his own defense, Stone swung his rifle above his chest to block the Guardsman’s next attack. The attacker instantly recovered and positioned his sword for a downward stab.

  “It’s the Traitor!” shouted the Guardsman as he recognized Stone.

  Then the face registered with Stone. It was Lieutenant Ghant from 2nd Battalion. The two warriors locked their gaze on each other. Stone could see nothing but hatred in his opponent’s eyes.

  Ghant shifted his weight as Mori lunged toward him, her sword drawn. From his back and with his reflexes stunted from the shock of seeing Elite Guard troops, Stone could only watch as Ghant parried Mori’s thrust and countered with a strike to her right jaw. Mori grunted from the impact and stumbled but quickly regained her balance and lowered her shoulder into the man’s rib cage. Slamming the man against the bulkhead, Mori landed two blows to her opponent’s rib cage in rapid succession. The Guardsman curled his body inward in pain but responded with a series of elbows to Mori’s shoulder blades, knocking her to the ground. Hitting her knees, Mori reacted to block the Guardsman’s knee and punched the inside of his right leg.