Page 20 of The Warrior's Oath
The sun was beginning to lower in the sky when they drew near their destination. Even without the benefit of vision runes, Nyota could clearly see glimpses of broken treetops as they approached. The days seemed longer here than on Earth, so odds were they had a fair bit of daylight to work with before night fell upon them, and as they quietly wove through the trees, Nyota was grateful for it.
The container section was visible up ahead, and it was intact. Scorched ground where the superheated hull had burned the vegetation was the only fire damage she could see. This ship hadn’t crashed. It had landed.
Korvin motioned for her to crouch low. Nyota quickly did as she was directed. He held up one hand for her to stay put, then silently moved forward, vanishing among the trees and foliage before her eyes even though she knew where he was going.
She squatted there motionless for several minutes, her eyes and ears straining for any sight or sound that might tell her what was going on. She received neither.
“It is safe to stand.”
She jumped.
Korvin’s voice came from right behind her, and she hadn’t even heard him approach. She spun around and smacked him in her surprise, noting the slight amusement in his gold-rimmed eyes.
“You son of a bitch, you scared the shit out of me!”
“Apologies. If you require privacy to relieve yourself, I will leave you—”
“No, not like that. It’s a figure of speech. Jeez. Just don’t do that again, okay? My heart nearly exploded out of my chest—Again, a figure of speech, Mister Literal.”
Amazingly, a little grin creased the corners of the dour man’s lips.
“Understood,” he replied. His expression turned serious once more. “You may accompany me to the craft, but I warn you, it is not a pretty sight. There is death here. You may remain here if you prefer.”
Death.
People had made it to the surface only to lose their lives as they were so close to freedom. And some of those might have been her friends. Or cellmates, as the case may be. They’d not really known each other long enough to form real friendships, though surviving together under Raxxian captivity was stress enough for a mutual bond to be forged, regardless.
Nyota steeled herself as best she could. “No, I’m coming with.”
Korvin nodded, satisfied with her response. “Very well.”
They pushed through the underbrush, stepping clear of a few fallen trees before entering the small clearing formed by the out-of-place craft plopped down smack in the middle of the forest.
The ship was intact, she noted. A bit scorched from the ordeal, but otherwise whole and sound, making her wonder what happened to the people inside. Had they lost pressure? What took their lives?
The answer became clear as they rounded the side toward the open airlock hatch.
“Is that…” Nyota gasped, staring at the bloody, green-scaled limb on the ground before her.
“Yes. An arm. Raxxian.”
Despite his assurances they were safe, she nevertheless felt a rush of panicked adrenaline fill her body. As they moved closer, she saw other, far worse sights. Bodies, a few alien species she didn’t recognize as well as several she did. Humans.
“The Raxxians found the ship and killed them,” she said quietly.
“No.”
“What do you mean, no? Look at the bodies.”
“I mean, there were Raxxians already aboard this section when it separated from the main vessel, and they attempted to recapture the livestock when it crashed down in this place.”
“That’s what I said.”
“You said the Raxxians found them and killed them. While they did kill several who had been attempting escape,” he said, pointing to the charred blast marks in the backs of several fallen would-be escapees, “they did not find them so much as arrive with them. This clearly occurred immediately upon arrival. The bodies are cold and stiff. This was not a Raxxian recovery team. These were ship’s guards.”
“Same difference. They killed people, Korvin. Shot them in the back in cold blood.”
“Yes. Raxxians are a cold-blooded race.”
