Thief of Stars (Final Dawn, Book 2) by T.W.M. Ashford

Author:T.W.M. Ashford [Ashford, T.W.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-03T22:00:00+00:00

13

Dead Shoulders

The scene was heartbreaking.

Adult Krettelians clad in scrappy cloth woke their children and pulled them down from their bunks. The few possessions they had were hastily dumped into sacks. Everyone in the refugee hall was either shouting or crying.

“This is a disaster,” Jack muttered to himself.

He wandered through the chaos in a numb haze. The last time he’d been in the hall the Krettelian refugees had shrunk back from him in fear. Now they rushed past him as if he wasn’t even there.

Jack pursed his lips. Something was off – something beyond the general aura of despair. The hall was chock full of panicked civilians. But where had all the guards gone?

Klik was crouched beside a pair of terrified infants, trying to calm them down. She didn’t look very calm herself. Her black eyes were wide and glassy, her movements staggered and unbalanced. The children shrank back from her.

Rogan tried to grab her by the shoulders while Tuner tugged at her cloak. She shrugged them off, angry and confused.

The ancient sewer’s foundations shook. Plumes of dust pirouetted down from the stone ceiling. Screams from deep inside the neighbouring sewer pipes grew louder.

They didn’t have time for this. They had to get back to the ship.

“Rogan,” Jack shouted, his throat hoarse. She glanced up at him from across the hall. “We need to—”

The westerly wall exploded in a cloud of bricks and rock. The blast threw Jack across the room. He landed in an ugly heap beside a busted computer system. Grit rained down on him. Jack coughed out of reflex, despite his helmet. His ears were ringing.

Shaking his head clear, he pushed himself up onto his knees. The air was thick with dust and, on top of that, his vision had blurred from the impact. Yet he didn’t need to see clearly to know what was going on.

The Mansa were here.

He scrambled to his feet, clutching the broken computer terminal beside him for support. He peered through the smoke and debris, but he couldn’t make out Rogan or Tuner anywhere. Or Klik, either. What he could see were dozens of Krettelian bodies spread out across the shattered ground, their black eyes staring lifelessly at the pipes running overhead. His anger towards Klik vanished in an instant. He hoped she wasn’t amongst the dead.

“Rogan? Tuner?” He realised he didn’t need to shout – he could contact them far more easily through his helmet’s comm channels instead. “Can either of you hear me?”

A sharp burst of static filled his helmet. Jack switched it off before his ears started bleeding. He thought he heard one of their voices amongst the waves of white noise, but he couldn’t be sure. The Mansa must have been blocking all of their comms somehow.

Lasers and plasma bolts peppered the crumbling brickwork down at the opposite end of the hall. Hiding behind the computer, Jack watched as a pair of Krettelian resistance fighters retreated from a connecting corridor, firing their antiquated rifles at unseen Mansa forces. There was no real battle of which to speak.

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