Escape from heavalun, p.39
Escape From Heavalun, page 39
The trio moved slowly and methodically through the palace’s halls, checking each door they passed and clearing each room. Because of their boundless experience, they were the most silent thing within the halls, save for the hundreds of cooling corpses littering each step on their journey.
The sounds of open battle echoed off each surface of the palace grounds. The harmonic chimes of machine gun fire kept a steady rhythm while the snappy cracks of rifle fire overwhelmed the breaks. It was as if thousands of small orchestras were competing to be the dominant sound in the endless symphony of war.
It took a keen ear to pick up the subtle changes as one individual performer’s ticket was punched. If the trio knew who was on their side and who should be dusted on the spot, they could likely tell how the battle was being conducted.
Without that information, they could only continue toward their goals and pray that the loyalist forces were staging a valiant defense.
Their short, tactical pause in the library was beneficial. It allowed the group to modify Burlai and Conor’s main plan. Their plan was mostly identical to the previous one, but now, once they had gathered Eivaley and Mulaney, they would go to the throne room.
The throne room not only had the Empress’s direct guards but also one of the several entrances to the bunkers under the palace.
Vuraley was sure the direct guard would still be loyal despite Conor and Burlai both questioning it. Whether they were faithful or not really did not matter; that fact changed nothing about their plans.
If they could reach the throne room, they would be safe. Hunkering down and calling the cavalry would be the most effective choice. Even Burlai mentioned that once they were there, he could call in some favors and have critical support here in less than an hour.
The bunker had everything they would need to survive for months without aid: food, ammo, weapons, medicine, and communication tools. Vuraley and the Empress could quickly deploy and organize the Kurlatra military from there to eliminate any rebels who might remain in the palace.
It would also allow Mulaney and Eivaley to be protected from whatever the little pink bitch had planned. It was undoubtedly the most sensible option for them- all that stood between them was an unknown number of enemies they could not discern easily from loyalists.
What could possibly go wrong with this plan? Conor and Burlai both chuckled at their odds of mission completion, realizing that the chances of success were astronomically low, but Vuraley had none of that.
The High Champion clearly expressed that Conor and Burlai could do this---even without his help. They did not linger on that comment’s weight at the time and instead moved on, needing to be quick.
The trio were lucky so far; all they had come across were the signs of needless slaughter and no armed contacts. Hundreds of killed soldiers and servants littered the halls, staining the floors red. The butchering was so extensive that even Conor was nearly gagging from the smell of viscera.
Whatever Thuraley’s endgame was, they could not tell. What would justify the wanton slaughter of every sapient within the palace grounds?
Not even Vuraley, who had seen his fair share of coup attempts, could come up with a reason for their deaths. That seeing his people torn to shreds was bothering him was easy to see.
With each corpse, Vuraley lagged a bit more, and the violence in his eyes started to fade. Conor had seen that look before. Vuraley was tired, beaten down, and had lived so long away from the fight that the reality of being back weighed on him like iron shackles.
After nearly twenty minutes of bounding through the once sacred ground, their luck ran out, and they, at long last, spotted a group performing this horrendous slaughter.
The trio silently agreed they were going to kill these soldiers, an understanding that was solidified when Conor and Burlai aimed and Vuraley bounded forward at a speed no unaugmented creature had any right to be capable of.
Only twenty paces away, a squad of Kurlatra clad in equipment different from what the royal guard typically wore were dragging a pair of maids out of a room by their tails. The women thrashed and screamed for help, something that only resulted in the captors kicking their heads.
The impact was hard enough that they all could hear the woman’s jaw shatter like glass, something that was only emphasized by the two women’s screams twisting to bloody gurgles.
“Hey man, what the fuck? We had not even got to have fun with them ye—,” one of the monsters began, but his comments about their debauchery were cut short by his words shifting into a bloody gurgle as blood poured out of the meter-long sword sticking out of his neck.
“You scum-sucking bastards,” Vuraley roared, overpowering all sounds of war.
In one swift motion, he heaved his blade and ripped it up and through the soldier’s head, splitting it in two. Blood erupted from the man’s canyoned neck, showering the soldiers, maids, and Vuraley in crimson ichor.
None of the other soldiers even had a chance to comprehend that their comrade was dead before Vuraley pressed his attack; twisting his blade around, in one swift motion, his sword whizzed through the air, lopping off two more of the soldier’s heads.
In the meantime, Burlai and Conor shot the other two. Conor simply fired a quick Mozambique drill into his target, two rounds splattering his heart on the ground while one spread his hopes and dreams on the marble floors.
Initially, Conor planned on just dumping a 50mm into the group to solve the problem in one shot, but Vuraley had moved at a speed Conor’s systems could barely track. So he had to change plans instantly so the High Champion would not end up as red mist along with the soldiers and the maids.
Burlai, on the other hand, knew exactly what he would do from the first sight of the soldiers. He only fired his rifle three times because that was all he needed.
Three shots, all ripped through his target’s T-box. Despite the man falling like a puppet with his strings cut after the first shot, he tracked the dead man and put two more through his brain before he had even settled on the ground.
Burlai was thoroughly a man who knew how to operate and kill. He had never explicitly told Conor all of his abilities because he was cautious of the man, but shooting at this level was nothing to him.
If Conor ever showed signs of wanting to kill Mulaney, Burlai already had a plan to dust the Human. Burlai had mastered sniping long ago and was one of the most experienced and trained in the universe. He had in the past made fist shot hits at nearly five kilometers. If Conor needed to be removed, his augmented advantage did not matter when your death came from distances most could not fathom.
Once the less than a second fight was over, the two shooters moved forward to support their melee god. Before Conor and Burlai reached Vuraley and the maids, the High Champion was already comforting one of the maids. She looked up at him pitifully, her eyes overflowing with tears while she gargled words through her blood.
“Shhhh. Don’t try to speak,” Vuraley said, holding the woman’s hand. “I will keep you safe.”
She meekly nodded and clung to the Vuraley, the sound of her jaw crunching audibly. The fact she did not scream showed a sure sign of how hearty this woman was. Most would have at least tried despite her injuries.
Vuraley looked over at Burlai, who had taken a defensive position to guard him in one direction while Conor had done so, facing the other.
“Burlai, grab the other. Let’s get them back inside the room,” Vuraley ordered while he picked up the wounded maid and started toward the door.
“Rodger,” Burlai said, picking the woman up and taking her inside.
They dragged the two wounded into the room and left the bodies outside. Once inside, Vuraley took several minutes to calm the two women, ensuring they would not be harmed.
As Vuraley softly spoke to the two wounded women and worked quickly to treat their injuries, the sounds of battle only escalated. Joining the constant roar of death and destruction were the distant booms of artillery and the howling wails of jets overhead.
None of them knew it then, but the sounds of those weapons of war were the beginning of the end of the Kurlatra empire as they knew it. After tonight, nothing would ever be the same; it was considered so pivotal that the day would be entombed in fame as ‘the last sunset.’
This day was the dawn of a new age for the empire and its people. The three men in the small room of the palace did not see the hands of fate moving, nor would they truly come to terms with their effects—at least those who survived.
Therulay was not just attempting to overthrow her own family; she aimed to clear the scoreboard, wipe the map, and be the only one left standing.
She would ensure that all the nobles on the planet would be dead by the end of the night, leaving her alone to stand at the pinnacle of divinity. She alone would steer the empire to the future.
“Alright, they have both passed out,” Vuraley whispered, kneeling beside Conor. “But I am not sure what will happen to them now.”
“So, let’s leave them,” Conor said. “We have to get to Mulaney and Eivaley.”
“And the Empress,” Burlai reminded Conor of the change in their typical plans.
“Yeah and her,” Conor rolled his eyes. It was not that Conor would disregard the Empress; he just had his priorities and would act in his best interest. Luckily enough for him, that was precisely the same mindset that Vuraley had.
“No, you two go save my daughters,” Vuraley surrendered. “I cannot go with you two, so we will part ways here.”
“Are you sure we can’t just leave them?” Conor asked, pointing to the two passed-out maids. “It’s not like they are going anywhere.”
Vuraley sighed and shook his head before patting Conor on the shoulder.
He knew Conor would make this argument. While Vuraley believed that Conor was a good man who would do right by his daughter, he was still impulsive. That impulsivity came from his still not understanding the entire scope of what his role entails.
Sure, if his actions revolved around Eivaley, he was just as good as any other noble. But otherwise, his treatment of most people was lacking. He still treated most of the Kurlatra who were not directly related to him as disposable, at least as someone whose survival did not worry him.
That habit of Conor’s is something that Vuraley would have to work on once this coup attempt was all said and done. If Conor ever became the High Champion, he would have to constantly consider the optics of how he treated the commoners. Vuraley would prefer that Conor genuinely would care about them, but getting the Human to understand that the people mattered just as much if not more than the average noble.
“No, I won’t leave them here to die. I will get them to the royal doctor, then meet you two in the throne room,” Vuraley explained. “While I’m doing that, you two need to save my daughters.”
“Are you sure?” Conor asked.
“Yes, I am,” Vuraley said, his words as calm as his demeanor. Vuraley knew his path and lived by his choices. While he was the High Champion and needed to protect Eyurali, he also had to safeguard the life of all Kurlatra.
He was also well-seasoned and knew when to delegate responsibility, and this fight was their moment. The two young men before him were the future of the empire. They would lead it to places he could never fathom.
“Come on, Conor. The High Champion has made up his mind, and we are burning time by arguing,” Burlai said, standing up and working his way toward the door.
Conor momentarily looked between Burlai and Vuraley, a strange feeling boiling in his stomach. This was not the right call. All of his instincts screamed at him to try to convince Vuraley to just abandon the women and come with him.
For some reason, the feeling in his gut was the same one he felt when remembering Brakul’s death. But Conor could not let that stop him now.
Vuraley was capable and could defend himself; hell, he likely would have rallied dozens of soldiers when he arrived at the throne room. This feeling just had to be Conor being paranoid once again. The High Champion would survive no matter what came his way.
The Human swallowed his feelings and followed Burlai; they were the only two who would save their women, so they had to go. Just as Conor rounded the doorframe and returned to the hall, he peeked back and saw Vuraley smile, seeing them go.
The High Champion looked upon Burlai and Conor with pride. It was the same look a father would give to his sons when they made a good choice on their path in life. Despite how reassuring that look was, Conor could not shake the pins and needles in his mind telling him that would be the last time he saw the High Champion alive.
Section Thirty-Two
Becoming Nikitals
Conor and Burlai had the worst luck once they left Vuraley behind with the two wounded maids. Apparently, Urla must have thought it would be absolutely hilarious to hand all the get-out-of-jail-free cards to the High Champion. Hopefully, he was going to put them to good use.
They had barely made it two hundred meters before the battle was shoved back into their laps. Or, more accurately put, a platoon of soldiers decided it was time to cut down some nobles.
They came under immediate fire as they turned into the last set of hallways where Mulaney and Burlai’s room was. It was like this group of soldiers was lying in wait, which, to be fair, they likely were.
Therulay knew where they slept and likely took steps to ensure their deaths along with the girls. Thankfully, Conor spotted their formation on his target tracker and reacted before the enemies could get off a full burst of fire.
Bullets snapped like whips, mere millimeters from their heads, as Conor raised his rifle, emptied a magazine into the ambushers, and ducked back into cover. He saw that he caught at least two of the soldier’s heads with his suppressing fire, but most of his shots bounced off a glimmering energy shield that protected the rest of the formation.
“It never can be easy, eh?” Conor chuckled, dropping his empty magazine and looking over at Burlai to see if he had been hit.
Burlai took a moment to check himself for injuries, and thankfully, all his insides were still where they belonged. Thank fuck they both managed to weasel out of the attack opening unscathed.
Burlai peeked around the corner and fired off a few short bursts, suppressing the enemy’s position. From his short peak around the corner, he could quickly see what Conor was talking about.
There were not just a few soldiers down the hall; no, there was an entire platoon. They had taken their time to set up and lock down the hall. Sandbags stood nearly chest high, and that damned machine gun team was on point. Even as Burlai’s rounds struck the sandbags and ricocheted off the power armor shields, the soldiers remained calm and returned fire.
Ironically, one of the lights shining in the darkness for them was that energy shield generator. Both of them recognized the type: a directional shield that only protected the soldiers from the front, leaving them exposed on all other sides. Not only were the enemy left in the open, but so were the shield generator and its pitifully easy-to-damage case. A case that just so happens to be filled with energy packs that, if one caused a massive enough explosive force to be applied to them, had a tendency to explode.
“It never can be, but could you please use some of those grenades?” Burlai asked, ducking back into cover.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Conor replied, peeking around the corner and launching his assault.
Conor and Burlai had already discussed how they would handle most forms of contact they could come into while moving through the palace. They were just two men and could not handle a head-to-head fight most of the time.
They were outstanding warriors, but the numbers were not on their side; while their abilities might tip the balance of battle in their favor, it would not shift the odds enough for them to emerge unscathed.
The only thing they had that would genuinely give them control of the tides of battle was their few force multiplication tools. Conor’s augments and ability to see in dozens of spectrums beyond visible light were one, their small footprint as only two people was another, but in this case, high explosives were king.
Bloop!
The under-barrel grenade launcher echoed through the dim hallway. The deadly egg arced through the air and slammed into the ceiling above the barricades, sending hot shrapnel raining down on the soldiers.
The thousands of scalding metal bearings ripped through the defending troopers’ bodies, armor, and weapons alike. Not only were the enemy affected, but the attackers were as well. Hundreds of the small speeding balls of death ricocheted past Conor and Burlai despite them being nearly thirty meters away. A few of the flaming bits of frag even dinged off Conor’s augmented arm.
Conor doubted one round would be enough to disable any power armor, so instead of pausing to check, he got to work, using all the gear he had appropriated earlier.
He canted the slide of the grenade launcher and allowed the spent cartridge to fall; before the smoking brass had even bounced off the ground, he had sent another grenade into the tube, closed the breach, and fired again.
With each shot, the number of screaming troopers on the other side of the cover grew until Conor’s unrelenting barrage had done enough damage, and the area began to fall into deathly silence. Even the periodic staccato of the machine gun had died when Conor released his final launcher round.
Conor dropped the eighth empty cartridge, which clattered lightly against its brothers on the ground as he peaked around the corner. Seeing his handiwork, he whistled before stepping entirely out, knowing he was perfectly safe.
“You think that was overkill?” Burlai asked, sweeping forward with the Human, the massacre coming into focus as the heavy haze began to fade.
