Part 23 (2/2)
CHAPTER 36.
The throng was in the hundreds of thousands, and they were clearly on Truk's side, Rala saw. She had hoped he would not be so convincing in his remarks, but the steady diet of plat.i.tudes and cliches he fed them found their mark. Perhaps she had underestimated their need to be comforted by the warm banner of Minith solidarity. Not that it mattered. Events would unfold as she had planned them, and there was nothing Truk, or any other Minith, could do to stop that. If the people needed a rallying point around which to gather, she would provide it.
The warm grip of a pulse pistol gave her comfort as she made her way past her guards and approached the steps to the stage. All eyes were on Truk, but she kept the pistol hidden in case an observant bystander happened to look her way.
She took a deep breath, steadied the quivering in her ears, and took the first step. She tuned in to what Truk was saying as she ascended.
”...are the reasons our home world was destroyed. These humans, who I have captured, are responsible!”
He was just bringing out the captured humans. She reached the stage, saw the pale forms being forced from the holding container at the rear of the stage, and smiled at the perfection of her timing.
They were his-just as he had dreamed. Every word he spoke, they gobbled up without question. He was so confident in his control of the a.s.sembled underlings, he claimed responsibility for the humans' capture himself. These fools would never know otherwise, and if they did, they would readily forgive him the slight exaggeration.
The six thin sheep were herded out of a container box at the rear of the stage. They appeared emaciated and in poor health. Three months in Minith captivity had not treated them well, and Truk silently stewed at Rala's oversight. She should have thought to fatten them up and dress them properly before sending them out.
He noticed a second holding container, similar to the one the humans had just exited, and he wondered briefly what it held. Rala had not mentioned anything about it. Oh well, those things were out of his control now, so he pushed on, anxious to play up this next part to the maximum.
”These are the only remaining humans from the pitiful attack they attempted not long ago. All of the others were killed,” he announced to the crowd. The triumph of the announcement filled his voice. News that they held human captives had been withheld from the population for specifically this reason: to allow him to be the one to tell them.
The air was filled with waves of ”oooh-oooh-oooh” as the ma.s.ses sent their calls of recognition and respect toward the stage. Truk would have gladly basked in the moment except for one thing.
Rala was moving across the stage toward him. This was not in the script.
”Trade Minister Rala, what are you-”
With a slight wave of her left hand-the one that did not hold a weapon-Rala sent a message to the Minith workers operating the sound system.
”Trade Minister Rala, what are you-”
And just like that, Truk's voice ceased to be projected through the sound system the Waa had erected across the entire city. Instead, her voice went live.
”That will be enough of your mindless chatter, Truk.” The look on Truk's face was priceless, and Rala felt the energy coursing through her veins. ”I'm sure we've all heard enough from you. Six years under your rule has been too long.”
As planned, numerous, scattered choruses of ”oooh-oooh-oooh” found their way to the stage. Her co-conspirators were following their scripts perfectly.
”What are you doing, Rala?” Now that his sound feed was cut, only Rala and a few of the closest guards could hear the exchange. Everyone in the city heard her response, though.
”I am eliminating a liar, a thief, and an imposter, Truk,” she stated. She pulled her right hand from its hiding place. The pistol it held was visible for all to see. ”You do not deserve to lead our race. For nearly six years, you have known it was the humans of Earth who destroyed our planet. Yet, you did nothing in that time. Instead, you allowed them to breed and go unpunished while you made deals and profited from the agsel trade.”
Truk did not respond verbally to the accusation. Instead, his body trembled, and his ears twitched rapidly with rage. The sight was captured on the giant screen behind them for all to see. For the Minith watching the exchange, the reaction was the same as an admission. The ”oooh-oooh-ooohs” that suddenly filled the air no longer delivered recognition and respect. The tone with which they were shouted now hurled waves of indignation, disgust, and threats toward the governor.
This had gone easier than she had expected. Truk did not deny any of the accusations, and his non-verbal responses screamed admission. Though Rala knew only part of her charges were true-it was she who made the deals with the Zrthns, after all-his reaction was good enough to convince the crowd. The inaction on the part of the armed guards surrounding the stage did not hurt her cause. They stayed firmly rooted to their posts and continued to face outward, toward the crowd.
”By a general consensus of the Minith of Waa,” she indicated the crowd with her left hand. The ”ooohs” reached their highest level of the day-and they were ”ooohs” of agreement. Rala pointed the already raised weapon directly at Truk, who stood less than fifteen meters away. ”I sentence you to immediate-”
Ghin came seemingly out of nowhere and knocked the gun out of the Trade Minister's hand with a kick.
Through a veil of purple rage, Truk absently watched his aide follow up the kick with a swift backhand strike to Rala's head. Truk stood motionless, unable to move as he worked to sort out the chain of events that had led to his current predicament. One moment, he was on top of his world. The next, he was a slim trigger pull from death.
Rala. The person he would have least expected to turn on him had done exactly that.
Truk shook with his body's sudden inability to act as he watched Rala bounce back from the initial blows Ghin had given her. To Truk's surprise, the female shook off the blows and began handing out vicious punches and kicks of her own. He'd had no idea she could fight. The fact that she was not only holding her own, but was actually getting the best of Ghin, showed how good she was. Ghin was a master at hand-to-hand-one of the best he had ever seen.
The two flew off the raised dais on the center of the stage. In their wake, Truk noticed the weapon Rala had been carrying. He calmly crossed the ten meters, scooped up the gun, and looked around for his target.
She and Ghin were tangled in a heap at the front of the stage. Blows were still flying between the two. He suddenly had a decision to make. He could wait for the two to separate, or he could fire and most likely hit them both.
Sorry, Ghin, he decided.
”Screw this,” Grant announced. ”Let's go.”
The plan Rala had pa.s.sed by him earlier in the day had gone well at first. Then it didn't. He didn't know what happened, but when her voice was cut off in midsentence, he knew the jig was up and it was time to move. He reached down, released the latch holding the gate on the container closed, and rushed out, weapon at the ready. He felt Conway on his heels and knew t.i.tan and the Telgorans were not far behind.
The first thing he noticed was the breeze. The evaporation it caused when it pa.s.sed over his sweat-soaked body cooled him immediately. The second thing he noticed was the sc.r.a.p taking place at the front of the stage between Rala and another alien. Then he saw the large male Minith on a raised portion at the center of the stage pointing a pulse pistol toward Rala and the other fighter.
Grant's reflexes took over. The round he sent toward the clown with the pistol struck the alien's upper body and spun him to the right. The alien's shot went wild and took out a large corner of the screen above Grant's head.
The armed Minith soldiers situated around the perimeter of the stage-who had appeared to be letting things progress on their own-suddenly seemed interested in the happenings on the stage. Several of the soldiers' pulse rifles were turned in their direction at once. Two released bolts of the deadly red pulses-one of which struck a human captive from the first container. As a group, the remaining captives. .h.i.t the floor to avoid being targeted. Good training, Grant thought.
Conway opened fire on the armed aliens and was quite effective in her shot selection. Very good training. But the numbers were on the side of the Minith, and they quickly began returning fire.
It was at this point that Grant remembered the item he had tucked into the sleeve of his s.h.i.+rt. He hit the ground, slipped the small, b.u.t.ton-like device into his palm, and pushed it quickly three times.
CHAPTER 37.
The sounds of Minith weapons and those irritating ”oooh-ooohs” were immediately replaced by the sounds of hundreds of thousands of Minith bodies dropping to the ground. After a moment filled by the strange sounds of muted thumping and rustling-and two single blasts from Conway's rifle-complete silence filled the air.
”Hold your fire, Conway.”
”No s.h.i.+t, General.”
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