Saint (Gateway Series Book 2) Read online

Without turning, the man continued. “It seems as though one of your followers has accepted.”

  Stone could see the concern on Mori’s face. They had been ready for a shootout with slavers or even prepared to tangle with the Elite Guard but this was different.

  “She doesn’t choose who I fight,” said Thay. “I accept your challenge.”

  Stone watched as Mori nodded in frustrating acknowledgment. Terillian military discipline was so different from the Humani.

  “Very well.” The man smiled.

  With Stone and Mori covering him, the man slowly withdrew his pistol. Once in his hand, he ejected the clip and removed the round in the chamber. With the same deliberate motion, he returned the weapon to its holster.

  Thay made his way to Stone’s side, his eyes glistening. For a split second, Stone thought of the look in Emily Martin’s eyes prior to combat. But this was different. Where Martin craved the excitement and rush of combat as the ultimate proof of her abilities, Thay’s motivation was much baser. It was pure, old-fashioned, grief-driven vengeance.

  “I’ll show you how to kill without hesitation.” Thay grinned as he withdrew one of his tomahawks and slid a long single-edged blade from its sheath on his tactical vest.

  “I am ready,” the man stated. “Followers rise!”

  With his command, the entire group rose to their feet and turned toward the entrance of the cargo bay.

  Stone’s pulse quickened.

  “Stand easy,” said the man. “They are simply waiting to see what will come next.”

  “What do you mean ‘next’?” asked Stone.

  “These people are under my charge, and as their priest it’s my duty to ensure safe passage to the Divine City so that they may serve as followers of the Saint.”

  “Who’s the Saint?” asked Mori.

  In unison, the entire crowd shouted, “The Saint embodies the Word. The Saint is the vessel of the Word. The Saint is the only true interpreter of the Word. The Saint is the well of faith from which the Word flows.”

  Stone quickly glanced to Mori. Her eyebrows were raised and her lower jaw tightened in a look of puzzlement.

  “Who the hell are you people?” she asked. “We are here to help you. Don’t you know this is a slave ship headed for the Xen Empire?”

  “We serve the Saint,” replied the priest. “And we are on a pilgrimage to the Divine City. It’s the will of the Saint.” The priest turned slightly to acknowledge Magnus and Katalya as they entered the room, their weapons ready. “And I will defend my flock until I fall.” He turned toward the group of followers behind him. “Then they will defend the Word. Because what is the Word?”

  Again the group responded in unison, “The Word is peace. The Word is stability. The Word is order. The Word is undeniable. The Word is inevitable. The Word is truth.”

  “C’uwé?” asked Katalya to her sister in Akota.

  “We’ve got trouble,” replied Mori.

  Thay spoke next. “What type of devil has these people under its spell? They ar—”

  “And what of the Believers?” interrupted the priest.

  “The Believers hear the Word and understand. The Believers turn themselves over to the Word. The Believers serve the Saint through the Priest-Bishop. The Believers do not fear death.”

  “You do know,” said Thay as his head turned back toward Mori, “we’re gonna have to put all of these crazies down…after I’m done with this one.”

  Thay stepped toward the priest. “If this Saint of yours is so powerful,” he mocked, “maybe he can transport himself out here into the nothingness of space to save you.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” said the priest, smiling. “For while powerful men plan to change worlds, common men bleed to change them.” He drew his double-edged short sword.

  “Cute,” replied Thay. “Then I guess it’s time for you to bleed.”

  “The Saint’s will be done,” he replied and turned toward the group behind him. “If I fall, remember the Word transcends death.”

  Estimating over fifty followers, Stone back-stepped to create a larger field of fire between himself and the crowd. In his periphery, he saw Mori, Magnus, and Katalya doing the same.

  As the audience looked on, Thay and the priest collided.

  Thay leapt toward the priest, his tomahawk extended above and behind his head. As he landed he brought the weapon down in a powerful, sweeping motion. His first move was blocked by the priest’s sword, but Thay thrust the blade of his knife toward his opponent’s abdomen. The priest’s reflexes were quick, however, and he spun away from Thay’s attack and thrust his sword downward at the back of Thay’s head. Thay blocked the move with his tomahawk and drove his opponent’s sword toward the ground. Twisting his body, he let out a grunt as he drove his knife into the priest’s shoulder just as the priest crashed his fist into Thay’s nose.

  Thay stumbled backward from the blow as a roar of gasps rose from the crowd of followers. Still holding the rifle in the direction of the followers, Stone positioned himself so that he could simultaneously watch the fight and keep an eye on the crowd.

  The priest looked down toward the blade still embedded in his left shoulder and smiled. “Pain is an excuse for the weak-willed and the non-Believers,” he said as he grasped the knife firmly and slowly pulled it from his body.

  Thay countered his opponent’s smile with a hungry grin of his own. “Then let’s just see how much you really believe,” he retorted as the blood from his nose ran down his face, painting bright red streaks against his teeth.

  Retrieving a second knife from his vest, Thay again lunged toward the priest. When they collided, Thay blocked a downward thrust from his opponent’s knife to his right. The priest repositioned his grip on his sword and slashed Thay across the chest. As the blade cut across Thay’s body, he drove his knife into the priest’s side.

  Thay took a step backward as his combat vest fell to the floor, the straps sliced by the priest’s blade. The stranger’s sword had also found flesh; Thay’s uniform was sliced at his chest and quickly staining red as the blood began to flow.

  But Thay seemed unaffected. He quickly retrieved his second tomahawk, and with his peoples’ traditional weapon in each hand he spoke. “You’re skilled, brother warrior, but I don’t think you can allow me to leave many more blades inside you.”

  The priest, his body slightly bent with Thay’s blade still protruding from his right side, slowly stood fully erect. “I can feel your hatred,” he replied. “You wear it like a coat to keep you warm from the cold but that same warmth will ignite into a fire that will consume and overwhelm you.”

  “It already consumes me,” replied Thay. “And I welcome it.”

  “I’ve looked with yearning toward the day I give my life for the Word, non-Believer,” continued the priest. “Unleash your hatred and let the Word flow.” A smile came to his face. “Plant your blade one last time and let the Saint’s will be done.”

  Thay turned his head toward Mori, who shook her head, warning him to stand down. Then he turned toward Stone. The blood from his nose still flowed down his painted face and his shirt was soaked crimson from his chest wound. A wicked smile crept across his face, exposing his blood-stained teeth. “Time to see if you are a wolf or a dove,” he said to Stone.

  “Damn it,” mouthed Stone. He knew Thay wouldn’t back down.

  “Thay,” said Mori slowly, “you need to—”

  Before she could finish, Thay gave Stone a wink before turning and flinging his tomahawk toward the priest.

  The priest stumbled as the blade struck his forehead. After a slight pause that seemed like minutes, the priest’s body fell backward onto the deck.

  Tension gripped the room and the silence consumed Stone’s consciousness. He looked into the eyes of the followers.

  Vacant.

  “No one is here to hurt you! We are here to free you!” yelled Mori to the crowd.

  Silence again.

  Still focusing on the crowd, Stone felt with his right foot for Thay’s rifle, which was lying on the deck to his right. Making contact with the weapon, Stone flicked his foot to send the rifle sliding toward Thay’s position. As the weapon skidded across the floor to Thay, the light metallic scratching sound tore through the stillness enveloping the compartment.

  Stone focused on a single young man in the crowd; he could see an odd combination of detachment from what was happening and personal determination on his face. It was about to start.

  “Only the Word brings freedom!” shouted a voice from the stirring crowd.

  “And the Word transcends death!” responded the crowd in unison and they rushed forward.

  “Fire!” shouted Mori and the compartment exploded with gunfire.

  Looking down the barrel for his first target, Stone saw a wall of white, gray, and red swarming toward him. He pulled the trigger and his rifle recoiled as he sent round after round into the wave of human flesh. At least eight fell in front of Stone as they closed on him. He stepped back and continued to fire. Three more dropped.

  As the wave grew closer, Stone dropped his rifle and reached over his shoulder to grasp his sword. Squeezing the handle, he snatched the sword from the sheath and in one motion slashed downward into the onrushing attackers. The blade cut through one attacker at the neck, slicing flesh and bone and continuing into the left arm of a second attacker. The sword had enough energy to amputate the man’s arm but only partially penetrated the attacker’s torso.

  As Stone withdrew the sword, another attacker impacted his left side. Jolted, he pivoted and brought his knee into the new attacker’s head, causing him to recoil backward. Stone slashed with his sword again, eviscerating the assailant.

  Before he could react to the next threat, Stone’s feet left the floor as two more attackers hit his right side and both thighs. Falling forward, Stone pulled his sidearm from its holster and twisted his body to face his opponents. He fired two rapid shots point-blank into the attackers as he hit the ground. The first fell dead instantly, Stone’s bullet entering just above her right eye and exiting in a cloud of red mist, bone, and gray matter. The second attacker rolled onto his side with a wound to his shoulder. The wounded man put his hand onto the deck to pull himself up again. As he did, Stone fired two more rounds into the man’s torso and he collapsed.

  Stone pivoted and swung his pistol toward the direction of the attackers. In front of him stood a single young woman, her right arm shredded by a bullet and blood pumping from another wound in her abdomen. She stood motionless three meters from him.

  Holding his weapon on the woman, Stone quickly scanned the room. The deck of the cargo bay was littered with dead and dying attackers. Mori stood on the far end of the compartment, her pistol in one hand and sword in the other. Scattered around her were close to a dozen attackers. Katalya was replacing a clip in her rifle and Magnus held his weapon in the direction of the woman in front of Stone. Finally, Stone looked toward Thay, who was removing one of his tomahawks from the chest of a dead attacker.

  With the room clear, Stone turned back toward the woman. She couldn’t have been more than nineteen years old, her young complexion and attractive face highlighted by tufts of golden hair that boxed in both of her cheeks, almost like a picture frame.

  But her eyes still held a vacant, determined gaze as she stepped toward Stone.

  “Stop!” shouted Stone. “I don’t want to have to kill you!”

  The woman looked directly at Stone and spoke.

  “Believers do not fear death. Death brings the ultimate truth,” she said as a smile of contentment spread across her face.

  “You don’t have to do this,” added Mori.

  “Believers do not fear death. Death brings the ultimate truth,” the woman repeated, glancing toward the ground. At her feet lay the sidearm Thay had left with Stone when he accepted the priest’s challenge.

  “No!” warned Stone.

  Without speaking, the woman reached down toward the weapon.

  A single shot echoed through the compartment as Stone sent a round into the woman’s right thigh.

  She let out a moan and collapsed onto one knee.

  “Damn it, stop!” Stone pleaded.

  The woman’s face transitioned from a grimace of pain to her previous blissful smile.

  “Believers do not fear death. Death brings the ultimate tru—” She lunged for the pistol.

  Stone felt the recoil and heard the roar of his pistol resonate throughout the cargo bay as the woman’s head snapped backward and she fell to the deck.

  “Finally!” bemoaned Thay. “If she said ‘believer’ one more time, I would have shot her myself.”

  “Screw you,” Stone shot back, glaring at Thay. Stone knew he had to kill the young woman, but he didn’t have to feel good about it.

  “I don’t know if you’re a wolf,” replied Thay coolly as he walked toward the priest to retrieve his other tomahawk. “But you’re not a dove either.”

  “What the hell was that?” asked Katalya as she and Magnus joined Mori at Thay’s side.

  “I have no idea,” replied Mori. “They had no weapons and still came at us.”

  “And I haven’t seen any slaves look or act like that before,” said Stone.

  “And this one’s highly trained,” added Thay as he leaned over to withdraw his tomahawk from the priest’s body.

  “Regardless of what they thought,” reckoned Stone, “they were on the way to Xen territory.”

  He looked toward Mori, who had just finished taking a DNA sample of one of the victims. She looked back toward Stone and gave him a slight nod of confirmation.

  “I take it they’re a match for genetic alteration,” grunted Magnus.

  “It looks that way,” replied Mori, rising to her feet and activating her comms link to Hydra.

  “Hydra this is Alpha 1, you can call off the transport, no survivors. It’s a mess down here.”

  “What next?” asked Katalya.

  “I don’t know, but this is too weird to ignore,” replied Stone.

  ***

  Mori looked over the carnage around her as she made her way to the priest’s body. Each step she took was over the torn and bloody body of an unarmed attacker. Reaching the body, she inspected Thay’s handiwork.

  “He knew what he was doing,” interjected Thay as he stood next to Mori. “He’s as well trained as most Rangers.”

  “None of this makes sense. Elite Guard troops on a slave ship and slaves that don’t want to be rescued,” added Stone.

  Mori knelt next to the priest’s body and read a portion of the text covering his bloody torso:

  The Saint embodies the Word

  The Saint is the vessel of the Word

  The Saint is the only true interpreter of the Word

  The Saint is the well of faith from which the Word flows

  “We’ve got to find out who this ‘Saint’ is and why all of these people were willing to die for him,” concluded Mori.

  “Magnus, Katalya, did you see the point of origin from NAVSYS while you were on the bridge?” asked Stone.

  “Yes,” replied Magnus. “Echo 2.”

  “We don’t have any significant forces in Echo,” replied Mori.

  “As far as I know, neither do the Xen,” added Thay.

  Mori paused for a moment of contemplation. “Something’s going on there. Something new. Something that needed Elite Guard troops to protect it.”

  “So Echo?” asked Stone.

  “Echo it is,” said Mori. “But we need to get more intel.”

  “Back to the fleet?” questioned Thay.

  “Back to the fleet. Then Echo,” answered Mori.

  Chapter 3

  Rebecca Sterling’s feet tapped against the marble floor as she and her Association partner stood outside the ProConsul’s chamber.

  “Stop fidgeting,” warned Alden Faulkner.

  Rebecca’s fellow envoy wore a heavy double-breasted overcoat and jet-black leather boots triple latched with brass buckles. The leather over-vest underneath his coat was concealed by a deep royal purple scarf bunched around his neck. His eyes were hidden behind brass-rimmed goggles and he wore a purposely wrinkled and bunched felt tall-hat.

  Rebecca Sterling was similarly dressed in the normal attire for Association members and their high-level employees. A brown felt top hat covered her scarlet hair, except for a long braid which ran over her shoulder and down the front of her body to her waistline. Her black silk, long-sleeved shirt was covered at her torso by a brown leather corset purposely meant to accentuate her breasts. Her brown skirt flowed to the floor and was split on the left side to show long, toned legs and the stocking that protruded from her calf-high laced boots to halfway up her thigh.

  “Remember,” Alden cautioned, “use formal Humani vernacular and tone at all times.”

  “Yes, of course. And which one of us will be the eye candy?” asked Rebecca, the junior of the two.

  The Association always sent two envoys. One male, one female. And both were required to be as attractive as they were intelligent and personable. Rebecca had been on several political missions within the Dark Zone and even one to Terillian territory, but this was her first time on Alpha Humana and her first encounter with the ProConsul.

  “It could be either one of us according to our sources. We’ll just have to play it by ear.”

  “All right,” said Rebecca, smiling as she positioned the slit in her dress to show more leg. She could feel the nervous energy welling up inside her. If she pulled this off, she would make enough money for a reserved seat at the Steamworks Bar on Port Royal, a clear sign that an envoy was moving up in the Administration hierarchy. Giving a quick tug on her stocking, she continued. “Even with the scar, I hear she is breathtaking.”

  “And deadly,” warned Alden. “ProConsul Astra Varus isn’t your normal political leader. She’s smart, intuitive, calculating…and ruthless. And she knows how we conduct discussions so just be straightforward and proper, and let her control the conversation.”

  “But that goes against our training—”

  “Listen,” huffed Alden, “if she thinks for a second we are trying to play her, we’ll have our asses beaten and thrown back onto a transport to Port Royal…if we’re lucky.”