Chapter 14
TASK
SFS POLARIS
Caelinus strolls through the doorway into the dark room, eyes still fixed on his Prism.
The screens on the metal walls of the room are dimly lit, showing the status of the ship’s life support systems, some blinking green, while one blinks an ominous red.
Caelinus moves towards the malfunctioning screen, reaching for the switch next to it.
Task sees the shadowed assailant emerge from a dark corner before Caelinus does, and he activates his energy shield, a blue glimmer settling over him, reaching for his surge-saber in the same breath.
“Duck!” Task shouts, and thank Odite for years of training in the Force, because Caelinus drops to the ground like a stone. Task dives over him, swiping his surge-saber across the assailant’s sternum as he lunges forward.
Before he’s finished his killing arc, he’s accosted from behind, a tremor echoing through his energy shield as someone tries to breach it.
He whirls around, facing a different attacker this time.
He makes quick work of him, swiping his surge-saber left, right, and stabbing through the attacker’s ribcage, feeling the satisfying pulse of energy shoot through the man, frying him from the inside out.
He watches as he falls to the floor with a thump.
Caelinus stands from his position on the ground, alert as he canvasses the room.
He’s quiet, eyes darting around, when he holds up a hand and points.
Task sees them, two other figures tucked into the metal gangway hanging overhead, cast in the red glow of the emergency lights.
Task tries to make sense of it, that there are people on board the Polaris trying to attack them. Potentially trying to kill them.
“You’re cornered now,” Task says loudly, confidently, as he strolls in a circle, surge-saber outstretched. Caelinus prowls closer to them, stepping up on to the first rung of the metal ladder leading to the gangway. “You won’t get out of here alive.”
Though a moment ago his mind was whirring, he feels it clear now, as it often does when he fights.
He’s focused only on the two people still crouching in the gangway.
His heart pounds against his chest, adrenaline pulsing in his veins.
It’s not from fear, though, it’s excitement.
The chase is his favorite part of battle — stalking the opponent, cornering them, making them pay.
“Come out, come out,” Caelinus sings, a small smile on his face as he climbs the ladder, inching towards the two who still haven’t moved.
And then, in a clang of metal, a flash of light, one of them has jumped down from the gangway, landing on the floor in front of Task, the other rushing Caelinus, forcing him from his perch on the ladder with a well-timed kick.
Task hears Caelinus grunt as he hits the ground, but he’s focused on the assailant in front of him, the one wielding a laser-gun that’s standard issue in the Nexarian Force. Could this be one of his men?
It doesn’t matter, can’t matter, because the attacker is pulling the trigger, forcing Task to duck and stumble to the right.
Whoever it is, he wants them dead. The attacker releases another stream of laser fire at him and Task feels his shield absorb it, redistribute it as he steadies himself and grips his surge-saber, advancing on the attacker.
He sees the moment the attacker realizes the laser-gun is empty, out of power. A squeeze of the trigger and nothing. Not one of his men then. They would never go into a fight with a barely charged laser-gun; a rookie mistake.
“A shame how easy this will be.” Task approaches him, ignoring the clash of weapons behind him as Caelinus battles the other.
He hears a shriek of pain, the distinct sound of a surge-saber piercing flesh, a thud as a body drops to the ground.
A pattering of footsteps as he stalks toward the attacker with the empty laser-gun, who is now dragging a lumi-dagger from his belt, holding it up with a shaky hand.
He must not know what Task possesses, that he’s up against more than just Oraxian weapons, and Task pities him.
How awful it must be to be so helpless, so powerless, to stop your fate.
“That’s not going to do much.” Task sheaths his saber and flips his own lumi-dagger into his palm, slowly encroaching on the attacker’s space. He backs up, hitting the wall of the ship, eyes locked on Task’s, arm still extended.
“Fuck you,” the attacker snarls, even knowing that he’s trapped.
He swipes his hand to drag the lumi-dagger across Task’s chest, but it meets his energy-shield, bounces off it.
Piercing an energy-shield takes sustained force, and while the cuts of a lumi-dagger could do it eventually, it won’t help the attacker right now.
He’s outpowered, in every sense of the word.
Another clash of weapons behind him, the whine of a surge-saber, and a shout that sounds like Caelinus’ causes Task to lose focus, look behind him to make sure he’s alright.
The attacker ducks under where Task’s arm had him trapped, joining the assailant battling Caelinus, throwing his lumi-dagger at Caelinus’ back.
It bounces off Caelinus’ shield, but a red welt remains, indicating a weakening.
The other attacker has a metal sword, of a type that Task has never seen before, perhaps something from even before the Dark Ages of Americana.
With each jab, it pierces Caelinus’ energy shield further.
Caelinus pivots and swings at the attacker, but before he makes contact, Task lunges forward, wrapping his arm around the attacker’s neck and dragging him off his feet.
In an instant, he feels the pain from this man seep in — a flash of his wife’s death, the loss of a child, the pang of hunger.
He tries to ignore it, doing only what he’s been trained to: kill.
He refracts it back into the attacker, filling him up until he’s shouting and writhing, voice cracking in agony, and then he stills.
Task lowers him to the ground and steps up next to Caelinus, who still battles the lone assailant left standing, surge-saber against broadsword, a matchup they’d never prepared for in training.
Every time the saber and sword collide, it’s like the sword cuts off the energy emanating from the saber, making Caelinus’ weapon falter for a nanosecond.
Between that and the beating Caelinus’ energy shield has taken, Task can see he’s tiring, bleeding, even as he lunges forward again to try to land a blow on the final attacker.
Task tries to slip behind the attacker to catch him unaware and knock him out from behind.
But the attacker spins on him, sensing his plan before he’s managed to move into position, cutting the blade of the sword across Task’s chest. He feels the impact to his energy shield, the way it struggles to regenerate after being hit.
If he can get close to the assailant, he can put his hands on him, take him out, but the assailant is a good fighter — seems to sense their movements before they make them.
Caelinus is bleeding, sweating, staggering up behind the attacker, but he dodges the thrust of Caelinus’ saber, rolling to the ground and popping back up, panting.
“You think you’re doing the right thing,” the attacker breathes out. “But you’re not. You’re fighting for the wrong side.”
The words startle Task, an unexpected overture from this unknown assailant.
He casts a glance at Caelinus as he and the final attacker slowly circle each other.
He thinks he can tell what Caelinus is doing — if he’s not enchanting, then he’s keeping the attacker distracted the old-fashioned way.
And if can keep him distracted, Task can grab him, use his pain echo and end this.
The sound of heavy breathing fills the engineering room, footsteps echoing as Caelinus and the attacker survey each other, as Task waits in the shadows for Caelinus to make a move.
Caelinus jabs forward, the assailant dodges, and Task dives to the ground, arm outstretched.
But the assailant picks up his foot before Task can make contact, brings his sword down and drives it into Task’s hand.
Task shouts, the pain of the injury radiating up through his arm.
He’s angry now, pinned here until the attacker removes the sword, but tries to use the momentum of his body to grab the attacker’s other leg.
He looks up, sees Caelinus drive the saber into the attacker’s chest while he was distracted with Task on the ground.
As the energy lashes through the attacker, his aquamarine eyes lock with Task’s, his pupils blown wide in pain, and he whispers, “They would be so disappointed in what you’ve become.”
His body crashes to the ground and Caelinus withdraws the surge-saber, sheathing it at his back again and reaching down to pull Task up.
“What the fuck was that?” Task says, clutching his bleeding hand to his chest.
Caelinus shakes his head, dismissing it.
“People say delusional things when they’re dying.
” He wipes the sweat from his brow, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.
He pauses as a message comes in on his Chronogram, words streaming in front of his eyes as the little device casts an image into the air.
“Voss is upset he missed the fun,” Caelinus smirks, looking demonic in the reddish light, blood smeared over his face.
Task should feel euphoric, that they succeeded in subduing a threat to their lives, and yet, the words of the attacker linger in his mind. You’re fighting for the wrong side. They would be so disappointed in what you’ve become.
He feels violent, a rage pooling in his gut that threatens to overwhelm him. He takes a breath in, trying to resettle the pain he absorbed from the kill, focusing on their win. He moves to the entryway, not looking at Caelinus. “Can you figure out how to get the electricity back on?”