The moment Nikol uttered the last word, Irzak’s dark skin blanched to the same dull brown as his horns. “Sir, Lothar was most adamant that we not fall back until we had the Jutak warrior, Torkel Alonson, in our custody.”
Nikol’s head snapped around, away from the encroaching soldiers. Loud buzzing filled his head. Despite the dire circumstances and bad odds, Irzak’s words had his full attention. “What did you say? What are you talking about?”
“The J-J-Jutak, sir. He’s here with his men. Our orders are to take him into custody and bring him to Marenia for Lothar to deal with directly.”
Nikol’s blood heated. This cursed vendetta of Lothar’s against Torkel Alonson was tiring. It was also antithesis to Nikol’s own plans regarding the leader of the Jutak warriors. “Do we have eyes on him? Where is his last location?”
Irzak pressed the black circle on the band about his throat, activating his communicator. He nodded a few times, frowned then ended the communication and faced Nikol.
“According to visuals, the Jutak and two of his men are converging on our location as we speak,” Irzak said.
The two of his father’s soldiers trying to get to the transport probably had a direct line of sight on them.
“You, you, you!” Nikol signaled the three men with him. “Pull back.”
They eased to his side.
For once, Nikol was grateful for the fear he inspired, which caused them to comply without question. Keeping his face blank was a habit Nikol had perfected long ago in his youth. At this moment, he needed the skill more than ever. To Irzak and the others, he had to appear calm, inside worry began a slow twisting spiral.
“What is the plan, Nikol? What will you do now that we have the Jutak almost upon us?”
There was an eager light of challenge in Venzin’s narrowed brown eyes. He was the dangerous one. A close supporter of Lothar’s evil machinations.
Irzak and the other two waited quietly. They’d follow Nikol even if they disagreed.
There was only one option. Nikol turned calmly and shot Venzin in the chest. Dispassionately, he noted the shock on the face of the other Marenians as Venzin crumpled to the ground, his weapon falling to the side with a clatter.
Nikol made eye contact with each directly. “Anyone else have questions?”
“No, sir.” They chorused in unison.
Sometimes ruling by fear and terror had its advantage.
Chapter 17
“Vee in position.”
“Kyele in position.”
Torkel listened as his team’s confirmations poured in through the comm. Relief had him exhaling roughly. “I’m in position as well. Kyele and Vee, I have a visual on you. Jaron, Bane everything good on your end?”
“Prisoners secured,” Bane announced.
There was a discordant note to the usually calm soldier. More than likely it had something to do with the female prisoner Jaron wanted to take back with them to Enotia. No matter. Torkel would discover the details later. For now, they had to stop the Marenians’ attack.
“Do either of you have a count?” Torkel asked as he gazed at the shuttles and transports lined neatly in a row along the launch pad except for the Marenian vessel awkwardly placed at the space port. “How many are we facing?”
“Two further back with CV-8 personnel closing in on them. Three maybe four more outside the Marenian transport including Nikol,” Kyele said.
Torkel took a last survey of the scene. He couldn’t identify any of them individually, just brawny horned figures with weapons dressed in dark clothing and boots. “We have them boxed in. With the security staff on one side, if we counter from this end, they’ll have nowhere to go.”
“Making our way toward you.” From Kyele.
“Coming in.” From Vee.
It didn’t take long before both joined him, Torkel fired over their heads in a continuous stream in conjunction with the CV-8 guards.
Shoulder to shoulder, they stayed low to the ground in a squat. There wasn’t much cover. “Bane and Jaron entered the transport from the back end and have the prisoners detained onboard.”
Kyele grunted in acknowledgement. Torkel’s attention zoomed in on Vee’s thigh. So far no leakage or signs of bleeding. He raised his gaze and met Vee’s stare. His diamond-green gold eyes were clear. The corners of his mouth curved and he tipped his jaw up. Torkel relaxed and refocused on their current situation.
The security of CV-8 knew they were here and recognized their uniforms. Torkel leaned up and one of the security staff spotted him. They communicated with short and simple hand gestures. A clear objective was reached.
Everything started as planned. The security guards rushed forward, laying cover fire to pin the Marenians in place. Even from a distance, it was hard to miss one Marenian falling to the ground.
Kyele and Vee exchanged a stunned glance with him. Torkel shrugged. It had come from their own end. One less target for them. “Go!”
They launched from their position to assist. The remaining Marenians charged forward as well. Once in close proximity, weapons gave way to brutal contact. Fists flying, legs sweeping in a fierce version of hand to hand combat required all of Torkel’s attention.
They were winning, forcing the Marenians back and almost overrunning them.
An agonized cry unlike any Torkel had ever heard before, reached him. He twisted his opponent’s neck, not waiting to watch him fall and spun around. Vee’s right arm hung limp from his side. His golden skin was leeched of all color but he continued fighting. Kyele had adjusted to Vee’s back, guarding his right.
The distraction cost Torkel. A Marenian came up behind him and jammed a laser in his back. “Jutak! Tell your men to stand down!”
Torkel hesitated and received a painful jab in his back. He thought of Faye and Shiloh. His Chosen and daughter. He had vowed to make every effort to come home safe from each mission if possible.
“Kyele, Vee.” Torkel waited until he had their attention. “Hold.”
Their gazes moved in his direction. Assessing the threat to him with a single glance, both stopped fighting instantly. Two Marenians rushed over and wrestled them to the ground. Not able to defend them left Torkel gritting his teeth.
The Marenian threatening him chuckled. “Now tell the security here.”
“I don’t command them,” Torkel snapped though the fighting had ceased and all eyes were on them. Of course, the staff at CV-8 would defer to Jutaks.
“Tell them or die here, now!” A punch was delivered to his face followed by another. Heart pounding, Torkel didn’t make a sound as he dropped to his knees from a brutal shove.
“Hold, CV-8!” Torkel roared over the throb in his head as blood streamed into his eyes. He opened his comm with a swipe of his thumb over the bud in his ear.
“Enough, Irzak! Get them on board! Except him,” a deep voice commanded.
Torkel’s gaze locked on the evident leader. He recognized the criminal right away. Nikol. Son of Lothar as far as their intel could determine. Broad and muscled, the notorious criminal was very similar in build to him and Bane.
Curved horns burnished in color, one shade darker than his reddish brown skin flowed from each side of his temple. The eyes shooting fire at him beneath thick brows were brown, rich and dark. Also similar to Torkel’s own eyes. His hair was a straight sheet of black pulled in a long tail that fell below his shoulder blades.