The Honour of the Knights (First Edition) (51 page)

“
What are you doing?” Kelly asked in a suspicious
voice.

“
I want to see what this bastard looks
like,” Dodds said, eager to see what lay beneath that
ominous-looking black helmet. It was round in shape and all
encompassing, betraying none of the
wearer
’
s
appearance to the world outside. Two tubes and a thin black cable
ran off the back, feeding into the main suit. It looked as though
the tubes existed to aid with respiration, although since Dodds had
never seen anything like it before, they could have existed for any
purpose. He found they were all easily unclipped and, after doing
so, slipped the helmet off the soldier
’
s head.

“
Wow,” Kelly said, drawing closer.

Dodds could not say what he had been expecting to find
beneath the mask, but he had not anticipated this: the
peaceful-looking face of the man that he looked upon was - in a
word - beautiful. The man
’
s skin was flawless, with no moles,
scars or even any signs of stubble present anywhere; not even the
tiniest of cuts or imperfections. The skin was so smooth and
healthy-looking that the man could well have been wearing make-up.
The man was dark-skinned, the hair on the top of his head short and
almost unbelievably uniform in length. He looked more like a model
than a soldier.

“
What
’
s that?” Enrique asked, drawing
Dodds and Kelly away from the man
‘s
face. On the left breast of the
soldier
’
s suit
was a white emblem unlike anything they had seen before: contained
within a circle was an outline of a man holding a spear in front of
him. Both of the man
’
s hands gripped the shaft of the weapon, his left higher up
the shaft than the right. The spear was set at a shallow angle, the
tip pointing to the top left of the circle. A sash, tied at the top
of the shaft just below the point, curled its way around the
man
’
s body. The
man himself was bald and appeared to be naked, apart from where the
sash preserved his modesty; though the man was depicted more or
less from the waist up, so it was difficult to tell.

Dodds
stared at the emblem for a moment and then ran his fingers over it,
feeling the raised outlines of the image.

“
That
’
s not an Imperial insignia I
recognise,” Enrique said, his own fingers working over the
emblem.

“
No, I’ve never seen that one before, either,” Kelly
added.

Neither
had Dodds. Like most, he was more accustomed to the noisy Imperial
Coat of Arms, being a clutter of swords, laurels, felines and just
about anything else the designer had been able to cram into the
space the design afforded. This symbol by contrast was a lot
simpler than that, though not as simple as the designs of the CSN,
UNF, or indeed the INF themselves, those being composed of nothing
more than the disjunction of a few basic shapes.

“
There
’
s another one on his right arm,”
Dodds said, comparing it to the first and discovering them to be
identical. He looked over at the helmet he had removed from the
man, but discovered that it was devoid of any such markings. He
peeked inside, unsurprised to discover its main purpose being to
serve as protection for the wearer
’
s head. He noted the eye sockets
within, the insides being clear unlike the red exterior. Two
circular grilles on each side at ear level appeared to aid hearing.
What looked like a small inset, unmarked button resided on the left
temple. He put the helmet back down, more intrigued with the
strange white pictorial image on the suit.

As he and Enrique continued to try and make sense of the
emblem, Kelly reached down to the man
’
s right leg and removed the weapon
holstered there.

“
What you got there?” Enrique asked the small
woman.

“
Think it’s a plasma pistol,” she said, wandering back towards
Estelle and Chaz, turning it around in her hand as she examined it.
“Looks like a high-power version.” There was a low, high-pitched
whine as she switched it on, a small digital counter on the side
lighting up to display the number of shots remaining in the energy
capsule. “Got a full clip, too.”

“
Careful
!”

It was Chaz. Dodds looked over to see that the sound had
broken his concentration and that he had stopped cutting, turning
his attention from Barber
’
s stomach to where Kelly stood
holding the gun. The big man’s hands were even more blood sodden
now, covered up to the wrists. He was looking at Kelly with an
irritated expression on his face.

“
What are you two doing?” he asked of Dodds and Enrique, who
were still knelt over the unmoving body of the invader.

“
Just taking a look,” Dodds said.

“
Then make sure
he
’
s
actually dead!” Chaz said.

“
Huh?” Enrique said. He met Dodds’ eyes.

That was an odd thing to say. Dodds glanced about to see all
eyes were on Chaz, the three other
Knights
, like himself, a little
bewildered by his strange comment.

“
What did you say?” Kelly said.

Just as Dodds was about to press Chaz further with a question
of his own, a strange noise beside him drew him back to the body.
Something clattered, bounced and then rolled along the floor. It
was followed by another very similar sound and this time the
“something” rolled into his fingers. Looking down, he saw a bullet.
Dodds picked it up, and discovered it to be wet and sticky as he
rolled it around between his fingers. The bullet, just like his
fingers now were, was covered in blood. His eyes followed the faint
splotches of blood on the floor from where he had retrieved it,
tracing them back to the soldier
’
s body.

“
What the hell…” Dodds said.

“
Oh my God! Dodds!” Enrique cried.

Dodds
looked back in time to see the eyes of the soldier fly open. The
very next moment, and with incredible speed, a hand shot up and
grabbed him tight around the throat. Dodds choked as the soldier
easily got to his feet, still maintaining a tight hold on him, even
as Dodds tugged against the hand holding him.

The soldier
’
s other hand fumbled about his right leg, closing several
times around nothing as he tried to locate his missing gun.
Realising it had been taken from him, he looked about until he
spotted it in the hands of Kelly. He also caught sight of his
shotgun, hidden beneath a gurney where Dodds had kicked
it.

With minimal effort, he threw Dodds from him, attempting to
knock down the small woman that was staring open-mouthed at the
unfolding scene. The woman reacted much faster to the incoming body
than she had to the incoming Imperial fighter earlier that day, and
Dodds crashed to the floor, skidding along past where Estelle and
Chaz stood over Barber
’
s gurney, still trying to discover the whereabouts of the
data card.

* * *

Enrique
saw Dodds land, roll and then remain still, before he turned back
to face the man who had just got back on his feet. He raised his
guard.

With one
of his opponents out of the way, the soldier turned his attention
to Enrique, the blonde-haired man now the only thing that stood
between him and his armaments. Weaponless, but not altogether
outnumbered, the soldier fell back on his fists.

Enrique avoided the first blow, as well as the follow-up,
before returning three of his own into his
opponent
’
s face.
He held back none of his power as he struck the man, the blows he
dealt enough to floor many of those he had sparred against in the
past few years, almost certainly knocking them out.

The
combination over, he hopped back, only to see that his opponent was
still standing, the strikes not having had the effect that he
desired. No blood, no sweat, not so much as even a grunt. Nothing.
The soldier had not so much as even reeled from the blows. Enrique
suddenly felt as though he were a featherweight boxer, pitched
against a super-heavyweight.

It was
then that he noticed just how big and tall the soldier actually
was. It seemed that even Dodds, who had tackled him earlier, had
not found the time to appreciate the height of the man. He was just
as big as Chaz and also as stocky, but with something else added.
Enrique had sparred with Chaz many times and, on more than one
occasion, the big man had called time outs when Enrique took it too
far. Enrique knew there would be no such call here, however; not
because the pair were fighting for their lives, but simply because
the soldier did not need one.

The soldier once again swung at him, as if nothing had
happened. He managed to parry the attack, but failed to land his
own counterattack. The two then engaged in a more serious fight,
fists flying, legs attempting to connect kicks, grapples made and
broken. Enrique
’
s
face betrayed his situation, stunned at the fact that the soldier
was still standing. He knew he was not going to be able to hold off
the soldier for very long.

“
Estelle, shoot him!” he called, ducking under a swing and
looking to his wing commander for assistance.

“
I can’t, it’s empty!” Estelle shouted back. She looked back
at the clutter of items next to the gurney, unable to recall seeing
any more magazines; although they might be in there, somewhere. She
did the only thing she could think of, and with all her might, she
threw the pistol at the soldier’s head. It missed.

“
Thanks!” Enrique said as the gun bounced off the wall and
clattered to the floor.

The
soldier caught Enrique’s leg as he attempted to deliver a kick to
him, tipping Enrique backward. He crashed into the gurney behind
him, overturning the metal trolley and causing it to smash onto its
side.

Estelle
ran, seeing the shotgun exposed and anticipating the soldier’s next
move. Reaching it first, she kicked it further back up the room
before then attempting to take the man on, herself, hoping to give
Enrique a chance to get back to his feet.

* * *

Their
plight had not gone unnoticed by Chaz, who was working faster than
ever now that the urgency of the situation had reached new heights.
Just as he thought he wasn’t going to find anything, his fingers
closed around something small, solid and cylindrical. Drawing it
out and wiping away blood, he discovered it to be some sort of tiny
plastic capsule. Inside was something thin and blue. That was good
enough for him.

Stepping back from Barber
’
s body, he saw that the soldier was
starting to overcome Enrique, the black-clad invader landing two
successive punches across the man’s face. Enrique cried out with
the blows and stumbled backward. Estelle was lying on the floor
behind him, the wind knocked out of her from a boot to the stomach,
her reward for coming to Enrique’s aid.

“
What are you standing there for?” he
shouted at Kelly, who had remained rooted to the spot following the
soldier
’
s
miraculous resurrection. She did not seem to even hear Chaz or be
aware of anything, until he wrenched the plasma pistol from her
hands and shoved her aside, lining himself up with the
soldier.

“
Enrique, get down!” he barked at the man up front. Enrique
did not need to be told twice and fell backward, away from his
enemy.

Chaz proceeded to fire the pistol three times: the first bolt
struck the soldier square in the face; the second tore straight
through his right temple; the third shot struck the soldier in the
forehead, almost taking the top of his skull off. The
man
’
s lifeless
body tottered for a fraction of a second before it slumped down
onto the floor.

Chaz
strode forward, ignoring everyone else and knelt over the body,
keeping the pistol trained on it the whole time. After some
inspection, he was satisfied that the soldier was now dead. He then
started looting the man’s suit, pulling out all of the various
items that were contained within and about it.

* * *

Dodds pulled himself to his feet once more, his back sore
from the landing. Enrique flipped over and started to stand, moving
to help Estelle who was still trying to draw breath. He caught
Dodds’ eye as he did so, glancing at Chaz and then back again,
wanting to know, as Dodds, the same thing:
Where the hell did he learn to fire a gun like
that?

His short-known
team mate had
handled the firearm as if it was second nature to him; as though he
had used it every single day for years and years. Whilst Estelle
had held Barber’s pistol as though it burned her hand, Chaz had
wielded the gun with total confidence. And the accuracy of the
shots he had gone on to fire, had more than asserted his
marksmanship.