Welcome to the next episode of the Space Opera saga of Alex Deroma.
I've based it very loosely on a prompt in the Worldbuilding Community - Worldbuilding Prompt #575 - The Worst Luck - using the prompts creates an interesting tension between sticking to the rough outline I'd planned out, and enabling the story to go in interesting unplanned directions.
This raid was different. Alex knew that Slaver resistance to the rebellion she was trying to spark was stiffening. The last time, the central habitation in the settlement had contained eight of the monsters, twice as many as usual. So for this raid, she took along the six most promising of the freed slaves who had joined them.
They still weren't attracting enough recruits. Maybe one or two from each raid. The rest would just look dully at them and go back to tilling their sodden fields. At least they had no shortage of weapons; they were taking more than enough from the Slavers they slew.
The recruits weren't great, either. The Kerber had been a slave race for so long that they lacked any martial ability, and the habits of alertness, aggression and determination had long since been bred out of them. But they were good at following orders, and they weren't stupid, so that was a good start.
Looking through her scopes, Alex could see that the Slavers had set up a few barricades outside their central dome, and at least one of them looked to have a heavy weapons team lurking behind it. Nice, they could do with some proper support weapons.
She signalled to Garrad on her left with the small mirror she carried, and to Viard on the right, and all three teams started moving stealthily down the slope. There was no reaction from the Slavers.
Creeping right up to the line of huts at the edge of the settlement, there was still no sign that they'd been spotted. Normally by now, the Slavers would be randomly firing in their general direction, or charging hoping to make contact with flailing neuro-whips.
Garrad and Viard were out of sight now, it was just Alex and her pair of Kerber recruits. Moving forward carefully, they were almost at a position where they could flank the still oblivious heavy weapons team. She really wished they could have found some usable communications equipment on one of their raids, but nothing had turned up.
They'd made it ! Jumping out from behind the thin plastic dome of a slave hut, Alex levelled her sheller and fired a burst along the line of the barricade. What the ? Two sacks of grain with hats on, and a lawnmower with a broomstick strapped to the top.
It was a trap !
More firing rang out from the right and left. Then the two Kerber beside her crumpled silently, blood spreading on their fur and clothing. She turned, and saw reptilian shapes phasing into existence. Slavers with chameleon suits; three of them, all pointing pulse rifles at her.
Image created by AI in Wombo.art
"Drop gun ! On knees ! Now !"
The staccato bark of the translator at the nearest Slaver's waist was clearly just approximating, but the meaning was clear enough. But why didn't they just shoot her ?
Four more Slavers emerged, hustling a disarmed Garrad before them, shoving him down into the mud to kneel next to her. There was no sign of his two Kerber, either.
Then Viard appeared. Still armed, his rifle slung casually over his shoulders as he sauntered forward between two more of the reptilian beasts.
Seeing Alex, his face broke into a twisted smile. "About time you got what was coming to you, bitch."
Her expression of blank confusion appeared to amuse him. "You don't even know what you did, do you ?" he continued.
"You strut around like royalty, not giving a damn about the people you lord it over. And you have that blue whore with you always, that Mufl sidekick. I had a girl like that, once. I loved her. But your sort got her killed, spread her brains all over my face. And then you have the arrogance to assign me to your own ship. You deliberately torture me, make me watch you doing what I should have had !"
Viard's expression changed as he spoke, from cruel amusement to uncontrolled rage.
Alex cursed herself for not even knowing all this. She'd been so busy trying to whip the Battle Corps into shape. She knew that many of her people bore scars from the Battle of Tharwell, but hadn't realised it was this bad. Trust her luck to have been so unaware of the effect her closeness to Trass would have on the young Comtech.
One of the Slavers, by it's markings most likely the leader turned to look at Viard.
"You have done a great service to the Confederacy, soldier. Thank you. When you contacted us, we promised you that you would see this one suffer, and that we would reward you handsomely."
Then it shot Viard between the eyes.
With what was probably the reptilian equivalent of a grin, it looked at Alex. "He saw you on your knees, suffering. His reward as a traitor was to die. It was a handsome reward just as we promised. We did not torture him."
Gesturing for one of it's subordinates to bind their hands, it continued. "You two will not be so honoured. You will be a spectacle and an example. For you I make a promise, also. Your deaths will be agonising and degrading. Now come. You have a long walk ahead of you, Imperial scum."
To be continued.....
Previous parts of Alex's Saga;
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Mira and the slaves first appeared in Worldbuilding Prompt #546 - The Hovels of Margal VI
The First Saga, the Tale of Fedric - Final Part - with links to all the previous parts.
