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"Blue Tears" by Lady Rainbow
Rating: PG-13 Warning: Character Death ahead. (You were warned...) Please leave a review! Thanks! Seven Hayes heard the hiss of a hypospray; he glanced to his right and saw Doctor Rosie Arroyo there. Immediately, the agony in his head receded enough for him to concentrate on the matter at hand. He nodded as the stinging sensation in his arm also disappeared. “My squad is keeping our escape route open,” Talas told him. She motioned her people forward into the gloom. “Where did my brother go?” “Thataway,” Hayes replied, pointing down the corridor with his rifle. “Jhamel—“ She nodded abruptly. “Then we go ‘thataway’.” The joint Andorian/Terran force pushed forward, but just around the first bend in the hall, they met stiff resistance. Kemper pulled a pair of grenades from his belt, activated them, and rolled them in the direction of the laser barrage. Hayes turned his head as the bright flash lit up the corridor and the lasers stopped. Talas shouted an order to her troops and they continued forward. “Del Rio’s been hurt,” Arroyo reported. “Flash burn on his leg. I’ve sent him back with Thomas.” A second later, an Andorian screamed as a disruptor bolt hit him square in the chest. His arms windmilled as he fell backward, then Kemper swore vehemently as MacHamlin went flying in the wake of another grenade. The unfortunate MACO hit the wall and didn’t move again. By unspoken agreement, Hayes’s group provided the covering fire for Talas’s as they inched forward, then Talas’s did the same for Hayes’s group. Slowly, but surely, they pushed deeper into the planetoid. Sweat trickled down Hayes’s forehead and down his cheek, but he barely noticed it. Every second stretched into eternity, every one of his senses focused on achieving the objective. Jhamel’s pain echoed in the recesses of his mind; what had happened to Shran and Talla? Finally, he saw a hatch sunk into the wall. It hung askew on one of its hinges, as if some superhuman force had wrenched it open. Shran, Hayes thought, using Andorian strength doubled by desperation. Hayes nodded at Kemper, who signaled to his group to cover Talas as she approached the hatch. She inclined her head, listening to the sounds within, then she gestured for her lieutenants to advance. Talas followed with her squad; Kemper himself accompanied Hayes. They walked into the aftermath of a wholesale slaughter. Empty red-and-black armor was littered everywhere, with green and rust-brown blood splattered upon the walls. In the middle of it was Shran, his EVA helmet off and the rest of his EVA suit slashed to ribbons. His antennae twitched uncontrollably, eyes wide, hair mussed into his eyes. He stood back to back with Jhamel, whose long white hair was streaked with green liquid, already dried and matted in clumps. Her unseeing eyes panned over the chamber like a wild animal’s. Both of her hands were curled into claws, ready to tear into the nearest enemy. Talas lowered her rifle, then pulled off her helmet. She called out to her brother and sister-in-law; sense returned to Shran’s eyes as he finally recognized his sister. Jhamel swayed on her feet and only Shran’s reflexes stopped her from collapsing onto the floor. “Brother, where is Talla?” Talas whispered hoarsely. “We must leave here. Our rearguard cannot hold out for much longer.” Shran’s antennae bent toward the shadows. His voice was calm, too calm. “She is here, but she is hiding. When the Vulcans attacked, I told her to run for cover—“ Hayes heard scrabbling noises and turned in that direction, only to be mowed down by a small, snow-haired whirlwind. Talla threw herself into his arms with a sob. He held her tightly and murmured, “Talla, it’s all right. You’re safe now.” “Sha'rlar Ma’tteu,” she cried. “Please, take me away from here. Take me home.” He nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’ll take you home, Talla, I promise. You need to be strong now and follow everything I say, all right?” Talla sniffled and wiped her nose with her hand. Despite himself, Hayes smiled at he gesture. “All right, Sha’rlar. I can be a warrior too.” “I know you are,” Hayes said gently. He nodded at Talas, who put her helmet back on and directed her brother back toward the hatch. Shran carried Jhamel in his arms; the Aenar’s eyes were riveted to the ceiling and her head lolled limply against her mate’s shoulder. Arroyo scowled at the readings on her scanner. “Captain, she’s in shock,” she said. “Neurotransmitters are fluctuating all over the place, heart rate and blood pressure close to dangerous levels...” “The Aenar are pacifists, as a rule,” Talas reminded her grimly. “They avoid conflict whenever possible. I’m sure Jhamel had to defend herself and her daughter...to the point where she had to do the unthinkable. That alone will destroy her mind if we don’t get her into intensive care now.” The anguish I felt...that was why Jhamel screamed in my mind, Hayes realized. She was forced to kill, against her peaceful nature. He throttled back a surge of rage at what the Vulcans—or, as he suspected, the Romulans—had forced upon her. For an Aenar, that could mean a slide into madness and death. “More bad men, Sha’rlar,” Talla whispered as she tugged on his hand. The little girl’s antennae curved in the direction of the attackers. “Three of them hiding there.” Kemper spoke up. “She’s right, sir. You and the little one get under cover. We’ll take care of this.” Before Hayes could protest, the major added, “You made a promise, sir. So shut up and let us do our jobs, okay?” Hayes clamped his jaw shut at his Armory officer’s brusque tone and did as Kemper asked. Talla crouched down in his arms and he squeezed his eyes shut as the battle raged above them. The surge of fatherly protection surprised him as he reassured Talla while the girl trembled in his arms. When we get out of this...I want to talk to Hoshi about a few things— “Clear,” Kemper called. “Let’s go.” “Come on, Talla.” Hayes led her by the hand as they followed the others. The sounds of battle from the surface didn’t sound reassuring. He ran into Corporal Chang near the entrance to the tunnel. The MACO issued his orders with a calm, steady tone, but when Hayes bumped into him, Chang nearly hit him with the barrel of his phase rifle. Luckily, Chang realized who he was, especially when he saw Talla. “You found them, sir,” Chang said, his tone showing his relief. “But Lady Jhamel—“ “She’s hurt,” Hayes told him shortly. “Any report from Columbia?” “We lost contact with them about an hour ago. Lieutenant Taylor just reported that her electronic countermeasures are starting to break down; she figures twenty minutes, perhaps less. We have to get out of here now.” Chang sighed and added, “We’ve lost five and another four injured. The Andorians are worse off than us...I’ve sent back whoever I could. What you see is what’s left.” “Signal the troops to retreat back toward the shuttlepods,” Hayes ordered. “Cover Shran, Jhamel and Talla.” He glanced at Arroyo. “Rosie—“ “I’ll make sure she’s all right,” Arroyo replied. She extended her hand toward Talla. “Talla, you can help me take care of your mother.” Talla hesitated, but Hayes said, “Go on, Talla. I’ll be there soon.” “You had better be, Sha’rlar.” He laughed. “You sound like your father. Go on, honey. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” He took a deep breath as she went with Rosie and a combination of Chang’s and Talas’s people. He saw Shran’s grateful expression. “Thank you, Clan Brother.” Hayes smiled, even though Shran couldn’t see it. “Go take care of your family, Shran.” Then they started the painful trek back to Shuttlepod Seven and Lokari. Shooting, retreating, finding cover, shooting again. Both Kemper and his Andorian counterpart threw a steady stream of grenades and sok’kairu flares to confuse and scatter the enemy. Talas’s Second Squad detonated charges they had placed around the bases of the anti-aircraft emplacements. Smoke and flames engulfed the ring around the main tower. Hayes coughed and took a deep breath as his chest spasmed in pain. A tingling sensation spread down his right arm; he had to consciously keep a steady grip on his phase rifle. A blast knocked him off his feet, but his reflexes kicked in and he rolled back onto his knees. “Kemper! Chang!” he shouted, but his helmet communicator buzzed in response. Either his comm was damaged, or Kemper and Chang couldn’t respond. He tried to get his bearings in the cloudy haze, but his tumble had thrown off his inner sense of direction. Hayes swore as he tried to get to his feet, then another spasm slammed him back down to his knees. Something was broken; he pressed a hand under his ribs on the left side and it came away bloody. His mind finally registered a piece of shrapnel there, probably debris from the last blast. Oh, hell, he thought. Hayes crawled in the direction of Shuttlepod Seven, praying he’d reach Taylor, Katakanian and Money before his strength gave out. Gotta keep moving. Talla’s gonna be pissed if you break your promise. She’ll never forgive you, and neither will Hoshi, and those are two women that you really don’t want mad at you... He thought he recognized the next ridge...that was where Shuttlepod Seven and Lokari were hidden. C’mon, Shran, get the hell out of here. You’ve got to get Talla and Jhamel to safety. As if in answer, the Andorian pod blasted into the sky like it had been catapulted there. Hayes sighed in relief. Then he saw shadows through the smoke, shadows that didn’t belong to any of Columbia’s crew or Talas’s squads. Hayes swung his phase rifle, ignoring the stab of pain that went through him, pulling the trigger. Harsh voices in an unfamiliar language rang out all around him. He fired as he scuttled backward, not relenting in his attack. Then he backed into a wall that shouldn’t have been there. Hayes whirled around and he met the eyes of a Romulan. A Romulan. Without his helmet. The man wore the silver-and-scarlet battle armor, armed with their version of a phase pistol. His short-cropped silver hair reminded Matt of Ambassador Soval; the deep lines in his forehead and on either side of his mouth told of a hard life. The piercing blue eyes met Matt’s and in that minute, they just regarded each other, warrior to warrior. And it was then Matt saw the man’s ears. Pointed, like a Vulcan’s ears. Vulcan? These people are exactly like the Vulcans? At first, he thought he was hallucinating from loss of blood, but he checked again and, yes...the man’s ears were tapered to a point. Finally, his brain caught up with itself and the implications shocked him awake. The Romulans are relatives to the Vulcans? You can’t tell the difference at first sight...oh, my God...what if they have agents in Minister V'Lar’s government? They’ll blend right in... Oh God, Hoshi. She’s in danger on Vulcan... His expression must have given away his thoughts, for the Romulan’s eyes narrowed and the thin lips flattened in a grim line. Then Matt understood: no one had ever seen a Romulan without his helmet and survived to tell anyone about it. Jeremiah Matthew Hayes had just learned too much, and so he was a dead man. He felt an unnatural calm come over him, an unnatural calm tinged with regret. He wished he could see Hoshi again, tell her again he loved her. He wished he could somehow tell Columbia what he’d discovered, wished he’d managed to avert a war, instead of being the catalyst. All this passed through his mind in an instant. Then he saw the Romulan incline his head toward the phase pistol in his hand; the Romulan’s own weapon was still in its holster. Matt managed a smile through the pain coursing through his body. So, it’ll be an old-fashioned Western draw. The best shot at five paces. He can’t shoot a helpless foe, so he’s giving me an honorable way out. Shran would understand this guy. And like a ghost, Shran’s voice said, “An honorable end is better than the alternative. Better to die on your feet, like a warrior, than on your stomach, like a worm.” “For honor,” Matt whispered. “That’s good enough for me.” And the Romulan smiled, as if he understood Matt’s words. Perhaps he did. Matt straightened, fighting a wave of dizziness as he swayed on his feet. The Romulan didn’t move an inch. They regarded each other for a heartbeat more; Matt had a giddy feeling, as if he was an ancient gunslinger in the old Colorado boom towns of his family’s history. “All right, you bastard.” He took a deep breath. “Draw.” He whipped up the phase pistol in his left hand, but before he could fire, liquid fire burst into his chest. His knees failed to support him and he slid to the ground, landing on his side, then his back. Dazed, he saw the Romulan’s face floating above him; the phase pistol was still glowing. Damn, he’s fast, Matt thought faintly. In those final seconds, images flashed through his mind: his wife, his mother, his crew. Mark Harris and Section 31. Trip Tucker. Nate Kemper. Soval. Getting married. His wedding night. And the last... What the...who the hell is that? He saw the laughing face of a young girl, with Hoshi’s long black hair and his green eyes. No, wait, not green...the eyes were blue. Then she laughed again, and extended her hand to him. Come on, she said. Come and play with me. We have all the time in the world now... Silently, the Romulan knelt at the Human captain’s side. He placed a hand on the pulse point on the man’s neck: steadily weakening, weakening...then it ceased completely. A single tear slid down his face as he whispered the ancient blessing of his people, “Elements, grant this soul wings to fly to its eternal rest. Air, speed its flight. Earth, reclaim him to Yourself. Water, cleanse him of all sorrow. Fire, embrace him in Your Light.” He heard shouts from nearby; the captain’s men had realized their leader with missing and were in search of him. The fires flashed on the single gold band around the captain’s left ring finger; the Romulan was tempted to take it, but decided not to. He heard movement behind him and glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the strike force. His second-in-command’s face reflected his sorrow, but as always, the man was a soldier. “Centurion? What are your orders?” The centurion got to his feet and turned his back on his fallen foe. “His people will arrive soon for his body, and for the remains of the others. We must leave and report that our mission was a success.” |
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