Abrams continued to throw him off balance, tugging his sleeves and tripping him. However, the old man eventually tired and Enzo’s attacks got closer to their mark. Finally, two jabs followed a leg sweep and he was on top of Abrams. Once he had locked down the slippery old man, the fight was a forgone conclusion. Enzo rained punches on Abrams, striking him repeatedly in the face. The Prophus gasped and a wave of them surged forward to protect their leader.
“One more step and my men will open fire,” Enzo screamed. Immediately, a hundred Genjix rifles trained on the prisoners. The Prophus officers barked orders to stand down.
Victory is yours. End this display.
But Enzo was not done yet. As the old man lay unconscious on the ground, Enzo began to kick him in the ribs, breaking more bones.
Stop this at once. You are acting mad!
“I am in perfect control, Zoras. Watch.”
Enzo continued beating on Abrams, playing the part of a madman intent on pummeling this helpless old man to death. And while he had a look of fury on his face, his mind was calm. He was no more angry beating on Abrams than a butcher hacking a side of beef. He pulled Abrams up by the shirt and clocked him in the jaw. Abrams groaned and lay sprawled on the ground, not moving. Enzo stomped down hard on Abrams’s knees, relishing in seeing exposed bone. The old man would never walk again. Enzo then pulled his knife from his belt and knelt down to cut the Quasing out of this undeserving human. There was a flash in the corner of his eyes.
“You animal” was all he heard before one of the Prophus collided with him. Then Palos and his guards appeared, pulling the idiot man off. Enzo smirked. This was exactly the effect he was looking for. The rest of his bodyguards pulled Enzo back to safety.
The powder keg had been lit and the room exploded into a full blown melee; chaos ensued. The unarmed Prophus prisoners attacked en masse, a futile display of courage that was rewarded with barrages of gunfire. Enzo had to admit, even in the chaos, the enemy was organized. Their line reached as far as the Admiral’s body. He was dragged back into their ranks and then they tried to retreat into the submarine. It was too late, however.
The Prophus were surrounded and outgunned. It became a bloodbath as the Genjix soldiers mowed them down. Fortunately for them, his men were still using non-lethal munitions. Before long, three hundred Prophus agents lay in heaps of bodies lining fifty meters long.
Enzo watched a few familiar sparkles of Quasing float into the air. Some of the Prophus must have died after all. Non-lethal munitions could kill just as easily as lethal ones if they struck a vital area. No matter. A few casualties were acceptable.
What were you thinking? You risk your standing. Terms were agreed upon! You will never be able to negotiate with the Prophus ever again.
Enzo wiped the blood from his face as his engineers brought out Penetra scanners. “I do not intend to ever negotiate again, Holy One. The terms of the surrender were that forty percent of the vessels were ours to handle as we saw fit. I was treating Abrams as I saw fit and was attacked. I have honored our terms. They have not. We are no longer held by the terms of surrender. They are all my prisoners now.”
ELEVEN
CAMERON
When I confronted the strange beast, my host realized that he could not be beaten, that this monstrosity was a new form of my kind. I later learned that this strange cousin was the next step in my host’s evolution known as Gigantopithecus.
When I attacked and wrapped my teeth around his shoulder, something awoke in me, and for the first time in millions of years, I remembered. I was sentient and present once more. To my great shock, I recognized a presence; it was Myyk, and he had come searching for us.
Tao
Roen pulled up to the front driveway of Louis and Lee Ann Tesser’s house in his rental car and turned the engine off. He stilled his rapidly beating heart and tried to collect his thoughts. He was actually going to see his boy! It was a three-hour drive from Los Angeles to San Diego, and his mind had raced the entire way.
This is not a good idea.
“He’s my son. How is it ever a bad idea to visit him?”
I was referring to his grandparents. You are probably in mortal danger.
“That’s the truth,” he muttered as he got out of the car and scanned the premises. A winding brick path led to the front door. There was a three-car garage at the west side, and if he needed cover, a grove of trees to the east within sprinting distance.
Originally from New York, Louis and Lee Ann were living out their golden years on seven acres of hills and woods on the outskirts of the city. It was the perfect place for Cameron to grow up, except for the fact that he wasn’t with his parents.
Filled with apprehension, Roen made a trip around the house to scout the grounds. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Louis working in the backyard. He decided to face Louis and get the hostilities over with. There was more room to maneuver outside. If he accidentally broke one of Lee Ann’s figurines while dodging Louis, then he would definitely have to suffer both their wraths.
Roen walked toward Louis, more nervous making than he would be crossing a mine field. He wondered what he’d say to the grandfather of his son. Maybe Louis, having time to have calmed down, would embrace him. They were family after all. That had to count for something, didn’t it?
Doubt it.
“Pessimist.”
I wish you had left the engine running.
Louis was whistling and shoveling dirt with his back to him, gathering mulch or raking or whatever one does with landscape. Eva, their Airedale Terrier, padded around the lawn, sniffing and rolling on the grass, generally being the worst guard dog in history. It looked like Louis was scooping a mound of black soil from a wheelbarrow and building another mound on the ground next to a bed of white flowers. He was also sprinkling the black dirt around a small area enclosed with white rocks. It seemed like a lot of work moving all that earth back and forth.
Roen was not one of those suburban types who ever understood the purpose of a lawn. The lure of having a patch of grass that needed mowing every week escaped him. Yeah, there was a lot of open space, but that just meant more work to do. But then, Louis grew up in the country on a farm or the swamp or the jungle or something like that before he moved to New York, so this had to be what farm country jungle people did for fun.
As usual, the world’s worst guard dog did not even notice him until he was practically on top of them. And staying true to form, instead of barking a warning, Eva cocked her head to one side and began to thump her tail. Louis finally noticed him when Eva’s butt began to join in on the wagging. He looked up and stared, mouth agape.
“Hey, Louis,” Roen began. “How’s it going?”
Louis swung the shovel over his shoulder. “Hey, Lee,” he yelled.
“Yes, dear?” Her voice came from somewhere in the house.
“You know where my varmint gun is?” he said, eyes still intent on Roen.
Well, this is panning out exactly as I expected.
“It’s locked up in the cabinet where you keep all your guns,” she replied.
“Look, I know you’re upset,” Roen began. “And I get it. I messed up a bit.”
“Could you bring it out?” Louis continued. “And some shells too.”
“Where did you put the box of ammo?” she asked.
“On the top cabinet of the kitchen counter. In the far back behind the sugar,” he answered.
I wish you had worn your Kevlar.
“Louis isn’t going to shoot me. Besides, a varmint rifle’s like a.22. It’ll barely break the skin.”