208. What Are We Waiting For?
208
What Are We Waiting For?
A ’Dar
Unless Zedd begins the activation sequence early, it will take one-half to one standard hour between when she begins the process and when the pirates are strong enough to stand up and begin their hunt.
This gives Maya and me time to get to the armory. It’s clear the pulse stopped many of the power mechanisms onboard, including all lasers, but I don’t think the darnings are laser-powered.
As we discussed before we left my cabin, she stays on my left and slightly behind me. That will be the best position for me to keep her safe. She’s terrified. Her pupils are dilated in fear, and her inhalations are shaky. There are still 44 females on board, which means 41 of them are not human and will happily try to kill my mate.
A large Xenon warrior like myself won’t be enough of a deterrent to protect us from attack. As I’ve watched the footage, several of the contestants have formed coalitions. I’m sure they will turn on each other at the end if they get that far, but at the moment, there are a couple of pairs and one triad who are hammering the competition hard.
We silently stride the hallway to the stairwell, then take them down to Deck Two. Even if the females knew where the armory was, which they might since they were given rough schematics of the ship on their Game-issued computer pads, they wouldn’t be able to open the door because of the biometric locks.
Despite our quiet footsteps, sound echoes in the all-metal stairwell. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised when a door above us slams open. Whoever it is doesn’t bother to move silently. Just the opposite, they’re stomping down the steps toward us.
I pull my short sword from its scabbard on my belt. The broadsword on my back is too big and unwieldy to be effective in the close quarters of these stairs.
Grabbing Maya’s hand, we hurry down the stairs when a door bangs open from below us. This must be one of the teams who have coordinated against us. Somehow, they figured out our whereabouts and hemmed us in.
When we get to the next landing, I wordlessly push Maya into the corner behind me, pull another knife from my gauntlet, and prepare to fight off our attackers.
The swift glance I got of my mate gave me all the information I need. Her eyes are wide with fear. If I hadn’t gotten a glimpse of her, her scent alone would reveal her terror. She’s a strong female with a great deal of heart, but she’s smart enough to know not to argue my strategy. The landing is small, and even if there were room, how much help could she be with her short blade and lack of skill?
I see the one above us first. An Anthen. They are one of the largest species in the galaxy, with prodigious strength.
Even two of these females shouldn’t be a difficult match. Although they have found blades from somewhere on the ship, I should be able to take them both.
They have to fight for their lives, but I have something even more compelling to fight for. My mate.
I lunge upward at the first one, but she has the advantage, coming at me from above. The second one attacks from below, slashing her sword.
When I became an officer in the military, I could have grown complacent. I never missed a day at my workouts, though. I sparred with many of the crew or practiced in simulations on the Holodeck with multiple weapons.
My muscles may have lain dormant for almost two thousand years, but the cryo bed kept me moving. Before the crash, I practiced every day with both arms. I’m ambidextrous, which is good. I must battle both females at the same time.
Slashing, thrusting, reaching high, and then stabbing low, my blade neatly separates the female on the landing’s hand from her arm. She won’t be able to wield her sword with a bloody stump.
Before she can retrieve her weapon from the floor with her other hand, Maya crouches, kicks out between my legs, and sends the sword clattering down the stairs. It’s the work of a moment to dispatch this foe with a slice across her jugular.
With her slumped to the floor and all of my attention on the female above us, I fling my hunting knife, hitting her directly in the cleft of her unprotected neck. Even through gurgling blood, she curses and makes one more attempt to slash at me. She loses control of her limbs and slumps to the floor before she can manage another strike.
I turn to Maya, expecting to find her a blubbering mass of tears. Instead, she stands tall, says, “Well done,” kicks the blade from the hand of the exsanguinating Anthen on the landing, then turns to me and asks, “What are we waiting for?”