Hernan Trevino stood up, abruptly. “Very well, then. This is not a safe place for you.”
“But . . . .” Josué reluctantly picked up the silver case and stood. “Can’t you return with me?”
Hernan shook his head and led him back to the passageway. “I would put the Syndicate and you in jeopardy. They can track me with this.” His grandfather held out his arm. A small red light blinked under the skin of his wrist. “You are all we have left. Do your best to survive. Now go.” His grandfather’s lanky arms enfolded him in a hug, bringing back the memory of the war council room where they’d first met – a lifetime ago.
The man pushed him out of the room and into the passageway, but not before Josué watched a tear slip down his grandfather’s cheek.
The door slid shut.
Chapter 13, Disaster
Sitting on his viper, Josué looked up at the jail. The only other living member of his family was in that building. How would the Trevino name survive if his grandfather wasn’t around? What if it were only up to him? Josué shook his head, deciding he simply wasn’t ready.
Pushing the viper onto the vacant street, he set it to a slow crawl. He had to figure out how he could help his grandfather. As he made it to the street corner, a whining hiss ripped through the air above him. Josué looked up in time to see a sleek silver missile, riding a long white plume, puncture the jail wall like a javelin.
Josué held his breath and counted. . . . six . . . seven . . . eight . . . . He prayed it was a dud and pulled his feet up to go, but then the ground shook and a flash of red and white burst from the hole. Brick and concrete rained around him.
“Grandfather!” he shouted.
Another whining hiss startled him to action. His grandfather’s admonition that he would be next spurred him on. He revved his engine and zipped around the corner. Two blocks passed before the ground shook a second time.
***
Smoke dimmed the sun as Josué parked in front of Garvin’s old apartment complex.
At the bottom of the stairway he blinked the tears away and leaned against the railing. He slammed his fist against the dull silver metal. Damn Apolino, whoever he was.
He climbed, pausing at the bottom of each flight of stairs. At the command level, he wiped his eye and opened the door.
Germán and Garvin stood in the first apartment to the left in an old yellow kitchen. Curled linoleum and grease-stained tile outlined the makeshift war room. A long white table sat between them. On it a hologram of the city was projected.
Josué bit his lip willing himself not to cry. He stepped over nail-scared studs, stumbled to an empty chair in the corner and plopped backward. The chair rolled a few inches to bump into the wall. Clutching the silver case to his chest, he rested his chin on its handle.
“. . . we’ll fall back to the Southern Operations Center, here,” Germán continued to Garvin in softer tones. Josué watched the hologram zoom out and pan to the south. It traced the mountain range behind the city then zoomed in on a fortified rock structure. “It will be every man for himself until we get there.”
There was no answer. Josué looked up. He was startled to see they were both looking at him. “Did I interrupt?” He tried to clear whatever it was in his throat making his voice sound like he’d swallowed an avocado whole.
They just looked at him as if they wanted him to say something.
“Is he dead?” Josué asked, wiping his nose with his wrist.
Germán frowned and nodded his head. “They got him.”
Looking at the grease stained yellow floor, he kicked his feet. Tears splash silently onto the silver case. He barely knew his grandfather, but he was gone now – just like his father, just like his whole house.
After a moment Garvin cleared his throat. “Miguel says he won’t let any more federal ships onto Sonora IV. The one last night was disguised as a freighter.”
Josué remembered the name Miguel from somewhere. He wondered why they thought he should care.
A pregnant pause filled the room.
“That should give us a fighting chance, eh, Master Trevino?” Germán asked.
Josué blinked and straightened in his chair. Had Germán just called him Master?
“That’s right,” Garvin said. “Maybe we should give you a tutorial of the Syndicate, since you – uh, are its leader now.”
Josué wiped at his eyes and placed his feet on the floor.
“Your grandfather divided the Syndicate into five cells within Sonora City, down here,” Garvin said. Then he squinted and pointed to the ceiling. “Up there, we control a hundred of the fastest star cruisers, manned by the most feared crews in the Galaxy.” A contagious smile spread across the man’s face.
Josué sniffed and scooted his chair away from the wall.
“That’s right,” Germán added. “We could blockade an entire planet if we had to.”
“That’s why Ormand never pushed your grandfather too far,” Garvin interjected. “He knew the power of the Syndicate.”
“It seems Apolino needs a lesson in that power, now. Though we have to be careful how we give it to him.” Germán walked back to the table. “We don’t want to risk an all-out war with the Federation.”
Josué wondered if he cared about the Federation. With men like Apolino at its helm, how could it be worth anything? How had the Federation helped this planet?
“That’s right, but we do want to make our point and make it effectively.” Garvin stood up.
Josué listened intently. His finger began to tap against the silver case. If what these men said was true, there was still hope. His grandfather had tried to show him this, but Josué couldn’t have seen it before now.
“What do you suggest we do?”
“Evacuate,” Germán said simply.
“Germán is right. We’re sitting ducks here. If Apolino wants the city, let’s give it to him. Our sources say the Omri Family was just as surprised by the size of the invasion as we were. Apolino will find his hands full if he tries to move in. When night falls, we make an exit to Southern Ops. There we fortify ourselves for a standoff.”
Josué nodded. It was different from what his grandfather had said, but sounded logical. They were supposed to keep the city. That didn’t mean they had to stay in the city. They might still be able to keep it, fighting from Southern Ops. They would have to try.
Josué looked down at the silver case. His grandfather had told him something else. Somewhere in the back of his mind Josué saw the yellow eyes of the native woman from the jungle. He straightened and half-stood. “There is something I have to do before I go to Southern Ops.”
Germán looked at Garvin then back at Josué.
“I’ve got to find the native village and bring them this.” Josué held up the silver case.
Germán forced a smile. “Right now?”
“It’s something Grandfather said I should do.” Josué sniffed and stood all the way up.
“I’ll go with you then,” Germán said quickly.
Garvin looked at Germán, a slightly helpless expression filling his face.
“I told the old man I’d watch over him.” Germán avoided Garvin’s eyes.
Garvin nodded. “Right. We’ll meet up at Southern Ops then – when you are finished.”
The red light on the ceiling began to flash. Germán and Garvin looked at each other.
“We’ll see you there then.” Garvin clapped Germán’s shoulder.
“Good luck to you.” Germán shook Garvin’s hand. The three hurried out of the room.
Josué followed Germán into the hallway and down to the bunk level. A flurry of movement filled the room. Men strapped on guns. Feet shoved their way into boots. People ran in and out. The silent pulse of the red light gave the building a fervent energy. It was as though someone had kicked over an anthill.
Felisa stepped into the room. “What now?”
“Follow me.” The big man led them into the hallway. The
y raced down five flights of stairs and stopped at the bottom. Germán cocked his ear against the metal exit door.
The hissing whine of another missile echoed through it. “Open it!” Josué pushed on the crash bar. The door flung wide before it was taken off its hinges by a blast from the alley. Through the empty doorframe, lasers flashed in blurs of red and blue.
Germán ducked behind a large dumpster against the wall. Josué and Felisa dove after him. Josué looked up in time to see the missile penetrate Garvin’s hideout. He held his breath and counted to ten before fire erupted through the windows and doorway.
Chapter 14, Escape
Laser bolts flash the length of the alley like static electricity. Josué pushed himself as far against the wall as he could, wondering how long they could stay like this before the building fell apart over them.
Germán peered around the dumpster and fired at the Galactic Warrior pinning them in the alleyway. Ten Syndicate members hid in the alley, firing from behind barricades. Red bolts of light splashed off the white armor like rain on a bucket. Each hit pushed the battle-tech a little further off-balance.
A lucky shot found a burnt out seal and the warrior’s armor lit up from the inside. The bulky battle-tech tottered forward, its legs giving way before the body fell, face-down.
Syndicate members surged out of the alley, some into the neighboring buildings others down the street. Two men ran to raid the fallen warrior of its armor.
“Let’s move,” Germán shouted.
Snapping to his feet, Josué jumped across the alley and into the door Germán held. The voice weapon’s silver case bumped against the wall as he hurried inside.
They ran to the front of the building where two stories of windows framed another duel between Syndicate fighters and a battle-tech warrior. The flurry of hits splashed like fireworks against the battle-tech armor. A stray shot wrenched the large blaster out of the warrior’s hand. It burst into the lobby with a shower of glass and skidded to Felisa’s feet.
Picking it up, she aimed at the soldier and squeezed the trigger. A blue bolt erupted from the oversized weapon, pushing her to the floor and hitting the warrior square in the neck. It burned a hole the size of a watermelon in it. The battle-tech fell forward.
“Are you alright?” Josué helped her to her feet.
“Keep moving!” Germán shouted.
Felisa balanced the blaster on her hip and slung the strap around her shoulder. It was as tall as she was, but she carried it with poise. They followed the big man down a stairway and into a tunnel.
Phantom gongs chased them through dingy hallways. Josué didn’t think it could get any worse until they reached a section of the underground that was silent. All he could hear was his boots echoing in the empty tunnels. “Hasn’t anyone else tried to go through the tunnels?”
Germán trotted confidently ahead of them, weapon at the ready. “I guess not.”
Josué looked at Felisa with arched eyebrows.
Relax. He knows where he’s going.
After a few more turns, Josué couldn’t contain himself. “Where are we going?” He turned away from Felisa’s pursed lips, warning him not to ask.
“There is a section of jungle closest to the wall on the west side of the city. This tunnel will take us there.”
Josué sighed and tried to catch Felisa’s eye. I wanted to know. But she was already walking ahead of him.
The sounds of fighting renewed above them. The noise was a strange, welcome relief; at least there were Syndicate members left to fight.
At one point they climbed out of the underground tunnels to cross a city block. By then, the sun sat low on the horizon. Broken buildings and smoke stretched an ornate pattern against the red sky. Josué marveled at how much destruction could take place in so little time.
Germán led them to another underground network of tunnels, stopping at a T then it was up a stairway and out onto the city wall. From there they saw the battle-tech ring encircling the city.
The thin line of trees and brush followed the river to the wall where it entered the city. At the sight of the jungle, Josué felt hope. One tree looked near enough to jump into.
“If we get to the jungle, I can get us to the village,” Josué said, though he wasn’t even sure which direction Trevino Manor was from where they stood.
“That is what this is for.” Germán produced a small round ball from his belt. He twisted it until it glowed blue-green then placed it in the middle of the walkway. He cocked his head to the side then toed it closer to the edge of the wall. “That ought to do it. Follow me.”
Germán led them to a round trapdoor fifty feet away and lifted it. A straight-rung ladder descended into the darkness below. The big man started down, his bulk filling the round stairway.
Josué entered after Felisa, navigating the ladder with one hand, keeping a death grip on Enrique’s weapon. The delicious sounds of water rippled under their feet. A silky black swirl reflected the sunset for one instant. The smell of jungle blew up and around him, and with it the taste of freedom.
At the bottom, they splashed into waist-deep water leading out of the city through a curved tunnel. An iron gate sealed the way out. A chain the size of Germán’s arm kept them from going any further.
“Stand back,” Germán said as he drew his blaster. “I’ve got to time this just right.” He handed what looked like a thick black pen to Josué. “When I say ‘go,’ press the red light.”
Josué nodded and held his thumb over the light, making his nail glow fiery red.
“Go,” Germán said and shot his blaster at the lock on the chain.
Josué jammed the light as hard as he could. A rumble shook the wall. Rock and dust rained around them. The chain fell into the water.
Germán pushed open the gate, motioning for them to get low. As they swam upstream, Josué turned to see a battle-tech warrior inspecting the wall. Germán’s grenade had broken up a large section of it. A parapet lay like a dinosaur scale, half-buried at the warrior’s feet.
Josué’s heart soared. They had escaped!
Chapter 15, City Subdued
Ormand scowled as he sat on his couch in front of the holographic wall. Looking at Apolino’s face did little to improve his mood.
The presence of Galactic Warriors had not been in any of their plans, no matter what Mr. Ciro had come to tell them. It would be difficult for Ormand to work around. Not impossible, but difficult.
“Good morning, my dear Ormand. I trust this day finds you at peace.” Apolino smiled a smile a raptor would envy.
Ormand gripped the sides of his couch and struggled to think of the right reply. “Good morning to you, Mr. Apolino. If you would have announced your visitors, we could have provided better accommodations for them.”
“Oh, you mean my personal guard? It’s just good PR, Ormand. Sonora City has become a war zone. The Galactic Security Council has been up in arms for me to do something about it for months. Surely you’ve heard. They forced my hand, really. Someone had to stop the bloodshed.” Mr. Apolino winked. “You would have preferred Federal troops to my own?”
Ormand grinned, a sharp pain piercing his jaw. He wondered how fast he could get sicario to the man’s door. No, not sicario, he thought, he would handle this a different way . . . .
“I might have told you sooner, my dear Ormand, but my envoy, Mr. Ciro, has turned up missing. Have you any idea what may have happened to him?”
“No.” Ormand grinned. “Sorry to hear that, I kind of liked Mr. Ciro. He had a quiet manner. Atlantos and I will miss him.” Ormand was sure Apolino knew Mr. Ciro was dead, though the man’s expression didn’t betray that knowledge.
Apolino’s stared down in a contemplative manner. “Well. I trust you will find the time to meet General Lacy during his tenure in your city.”
Ormand nodded. “The captain of your guard? I’ll be sure to meet him.”
“He has some important information for you. It seems Hernan
has departed our company. An unfortunate missile strayed into the jail during our entry to your illustrious city.”
“A hasty move on your part, I might add.” Ormand felt the tightness return to his jaw. “Hernan was of use to us.”
“Of use to you.” It was Mr. Apolino’s turn to smile. “Hernan lost his usefulness to me a long time ago. I’m glad to be rid of him, frankly.”
Ormand shrugged. “You will have a harder time getting your cut from the Syndicate without him.”
“I will own the Syndicate without him.” Mr. Apolino’s gaze seemed almost fierce.
Ormand knew a bluff when he heard one. The Syndicate would fight to its death before it would allow Apolino to rule it. This man had lost his senses.
Apolino’s smile stayed frozen in place. “We’ll see what happens. We are in this to win it. The next few weeks will reveal how robust the Syndicate really is. If they wear down these troops, I’ll just have to send more. The Galaxy has become interested in stopping the senseless bloodshed on your planet.”
Ormand swallowed. “You haven’t forgotten our agreement, have you?” Ormand stared straight ahead. He sensed Apolino had just pushed. If he ever started to shove, Ormand would make sure he found out how nasty the Omri Family could really get. A chill went down his back as he thought of all the destruction he could bring to Toreón.
“Be at ease on that, my dear Ormand. Who else do I have to govern Sonora IV when the dust settles? Don’t worry. You are still a part of the plan. No one knows better than you how to maintain order on that overgrown jungle of yours.”
Ormand wasn’t sure. He would have to be more careful from now on. He stretched in his seat, placing his hands behind his head.
Apolino spoke again, “Oh, there is something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. About my cut of Trevino wine sales . . . I think it would suit me better to become part owner of the label. Trevino wine is a product I am interested in investing in.” Mr. Apolino’s eyes met Ormand’s.