Alien General's Fated (Brion Brides 5)(40)

He stood in a large hall somewhere twelve stories above the deck among the eerie silence. Even sprinting, it would take him ten minutes to reach it. The problem he was considering was whether or not the Host was trying to lure him away from it.

The general had placed himself right in the middle of the ship, as much as he was able. He was at an even distance from everywhere the Host could be sighted, ready to take off at a moment's notice. The lower decks would put him dangerously far from the bridge.

Was it the Host itself? What was down there that was important? Ryden knew the deck had no direct access to anything relevant to the hive mind's wishes. Not the weapons, nor the shields, not even the warp drive. What else could it be after?

The answer jumped into his mind, unbidden.

Ryden activated the tracking system inside every Brion battle spear. He'd resisted doing it before for two reasons. One was what he'd told the others that to pursue Aria would be to betray her location to the enemies, if they were watching, and the hive mind was always watching.

The other was that he suspected it would distract him, as it had before. His gesha, his true heart... to see she was in danger meant all other things took a backseat. He was unwilling to allow that to happen, but he had to be sure.

The general focused the tracking device on Lieutenant Joya's spear. And as he'd thought, there it was. Near the ship's core, right on top of the entrance. She didn't seem to be moving.

He was running before his conscious mind had reached the conclusion. Like before, an all-encompassing sense of certain knowledge filled him. If there was one thing the hive mind had taught him, it was that he shouldn't question his instincts.#p#分页标题#e#

And that if there was something odd, it probably had to do with the Host. It didn't matter that Ryden still had no idea why it was there; all that concerned him was that it was there with Aria.

It was good she didn't have a tracking device of her own, because to see that light unmoving would have driven all sense from Ryden's mind.

He barked orders to the other captains, telling them to close in with all speed. He could hear their responses. The voices that answered were firm and strong, despite knowing they'd more than likely die at the hands of the Host. Not one of them hesitated. The general heard that as plain as day. All of them immediately picked up speed.

He growled. Many brave Brions would die before he got there. All he could hope for was that Aria had the good sense to hide, whatever she was doing there.

Ryden stormed through the halls with his closest warriors, calculating for the fastest route. Ship schematics flashed before his eyes, ruling out dead ends, offering quicker ways down the cursed decks separating him from the enemy. The ship's core wasn't the place he would have chosen for the final confrontation, but there was nothing to be done. His place was where the Host was.

Rounding the next corner, he came face to face with the largest Clayor squadron the Host had thrown at him yet. It meant the hive mind was truly feeling threatened now, its plans crumbling apart. It also meant that a hundred of the enemy stood between him and the Host.

It was not a game he was willing to play anymore.

"Give no quarter," he snarled.

His warriors attacked. Ryden himself charged into the mass of the Clayors first, his spear rising and falling, spilling the guts of his enemies. There was a change in them, however. The average Clayor was a mindless puppet at the hands of the hive mind, capable of thinking two steps ahead at most. If the hive mind wasn't paying very close attention, they could easily be uncoordinated and made for ridiculously easy prey.

The ones crowding him now reminded Ryden of the ones that had torn General Poliren to pieces. They knew he was going after the Host, which meant he was closing in and the Host was afraid. The sense of self-preservation found in every species, even the Brions, had been cut. The howling mass of the Clayors were doing everything they could to hold him in place.

They pushed over their own kind to try and suffocate him, bring him down, make him fall. Ryden knew that if he lost his footing there, it would be the end of him, but the sheer weight of dozens of bodies was not easily discarded. The Clayors bit and stabbed and hissed, gladly throwing themselves on his spear to give another the chance to aim a knife at his heart.

Ryden hadn't breathed out since he engaged the enemy. Every beat of his heart threatened to be his last in the screaming horde of the enemies. Beside him, his warriors had fallen into the same rhythm, barely having the time to think, only killing. He saw a long-time friend brought down by the Clayors, a knife cutting a deep gash across the man's thigh.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryden saw him stumble back, and that was the end of him. Dozens of knives pierced him in the next second. He registered the loss coldly, filing it away as a fact of the battle, storing it for a later time when there was a moment to grieve.

Right then, there wasn't a moment to breathe. Every move the general made felt like he was fighting underwater, making it harder than it should have been. He gripped his spear so tightly his knuckles were white, knowing that to lose the grip was to die. Every blow he gave was an uphill fight because not only did he have to strike to kill, but he had to rip the weapon free in the next second or risk the Clayors trapping it inside their very bodies.

He lost track of time. All that surrounded him was blood, death, and the Clayors hissing at him. It felt like ages before the surge started to give in, before he saw the hall he was in again. And still, even after certainly knowing they were dead men walking, the Clayors didn't retreat for a second.

To the last one standing, they tried to wound him. When they lost their knives, they used their long nails, and when he cut off their hands, they threw their mangled bodies at him to press their teeth into his hands.

They all fell. Ryden and his warriors were left standing on a pile of corpses, breathing heavily. The blades of their spears were blunted from the battle, their hands raw from the exertion. All of the Clayors were dead, but the general hadn't moved an inch for long, long minutes.

Minutes were ages at a time like that.

The only thing that comforted him was that the tracking device still locked on to Joya's spear suddenly registered movement.

It was pure madness, but Ryden knew where the shortest route lay for him to even hope to reach the Host in time. Hoarsely, he ordered the warriors to run along, turning away from them. A few sent him curious glances, but all of them obeyed without question.#p#分页标题#e#

The general left the battleground behind, marching onto the entrance to the core on his deck. The Host had forced his hand, but he swore it was the last time.

The warriors guarding the core pulled away as he approached. Ryden strode past them, right onto a walkway connecting the outer rim to the warp core in the middle of the chasm. He looked down, but even his eyes were unable to see what was going on more than ten decks below. It was impossible to hear anything over the sounds of the engines.

The only way to know was to go and see for himself.

He heard the gasps of surprise when he took a good look at the level below him and gripped the railing of the walkway.

It may have been madness, but it was the fastest way down. To where he needed to be. Ryden jumped.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Aria



Aria picked up Joya's fallen spear with shaky hands.

The warrior lay before the Host's feet, her chest sliced open by the Clayor knife. The spear had fallen from her grip when she died and rolled Aria's way. It was heavy, so incredibly heavy Aria could barely lift it, especially with her left hand hurt.

The Host watched her feeble attempts with amusement.

"Do you think that will be of use to you, little Terran?" the hive mind asked, its deep voice dripping with malicious glee. "It's not made for your kind."

"I know," Aria said, supporting the spear on her hip, trying to take some of its weight off her injured hand. "But I'd rather die with a weapon in my grasp."

The Host laughed, the sound echoing in the large room, audible even over the core.

"You've spent too much time in Brion company."

"Maybe," Aria allowed.

In truth, it was her last message to Ryden. Everyone around her was dead or dying and she saw no way out. The coils were in her reach, but she'd never be allowed to approach them now.

She would never see the general again, never talk to her gerion again. Never actually bind to him, even if Aria knew they belonged to each other forever.

At least, she thought, he would find her corpse defiant in the face of the enemy. A Brion could appreciate such a gesture.

The Host stopped laughing. Aria watched as the tall champion slowly came closer to her over the bodies of her fallen guards.

"I have not forgotten your betrayal, Terran," the Host snarled. "And I have not forgiven."



***



Aria had approached the engine coils when the first alarm sounded. She looked back at Joya, who was listening to her com link intently.

"The Clayors have sent backup from their flagship. The enemy is onboard."

The real enemy had been onboard long before that, of course. Aria nodded, thinking that she could actually feel her blood rushing. With shaking hands, she started removing the covers from the compartment the coils were housed in.

If she got to them, if she could only get them far enough from the Host, the enemy couldn't use the Conqueror against Ilotra. Aria saw no other way. It wouldn't even damage the ship, merely freeze it in place. If all went as she planned.