Atlantia Series 2: Retaliator by Dean Crawford Page B

a time, covering each other as they closed in.
    A blast of plasma rounds raced up at Evelyn and she whirled aside into cover as the shots howled by and sailed off to hit high on the port wall of the hull. The spray of plasma was already becoming a fire hazard and she could smell smouldering plastics, a haze of blue smoke hovering in the air.
    Bra’hiv settled into position, his rifle’s barrel resting across a steel drum as C’rairn covered him from behind. Qayin positioned himself alongside Evelyn as the general’s voice called out.
    ‘We have you surrounded!’ he boomed. ‘There’s no use in fighting. Come out with your hands in the air and we’ll take you into custody. You will not be harmed, is that understood?’
    A deep growl reverberated across the hold and Evelyn realised that they were not being understood. The growl was neither animal nor human, and the sound of it sent a pulse of concern twisting through her belly. They were facing something that would fight to the death like a wounded animal, yet had the intelligence of a human being.
    ‘It’s gotta be a Veng’en,’ she yelled.
    Lieutenant C’rairn glanced across at her. ‘Great. Now what do we do?’
    Evelyn knew that the Veng’en were sufficiently war–like that their quarry would be likely to shoot itself rather than admit defeat or surrender to humans. She watched for a moment and then made a decision.
    ‘Qayin,’ she whispered, ‘give me your medi–pack.’
    The big man looked at her and frowned. ‘You injured?’
    ‘No, but he is,’ she gestured toward the far wall of the hull. ‘Maybe we can get him to trust us.’
    ‘A Veng’en,’ Qayin said. ‘You kidding me?’
    ‘You got any better ideas?’
    Qayin shrugged as he unclipped his medi–pack from his webbing and handed it to her. Evelyn took the compact package and holstered her pistol as she crouched in cover and hurled the pack across the hold. The package hit the wall where she figured that the injured Veng’en was hiding and dropped with a distant thud to the deck.
    ‘You really think that it’s going to come out for a chat?’ Qayin asked.
    Evelyn shrugged and looked across at Bra’hiv. The general pointed forward and as one they broke cover and began moving silently toward the fallen Veng’en. Evelyn kept her pistol pointed out in front of her, her finger on the trigger and ready for the slightest evidence of a threat from their quarry.
    She reached the edge of the hull wall and peered around a stack of crates to a narrow passage between the crates and the hull wall.
    A figure was slumped against the crates, its legs sprawled before it and one hand resting on the medi–pack that Evelyn had hurled, but the pack had not been opened. In the glow from her flashlight she could see its chest heaving, hear its breath rasping in its throat. Its mouth hung limp, a long tongue drooping from its jaws. Humanoid, reptilian in appearance and wrapped in what looked like several magnetic gravity–suits, the Veng’en’s eyes reflected the flashlights in bright discs that glowed in the darkness.
    Beside it, on the deck, lay a plasma rifle.
    Evelyn lowered her pistol as she saw that the Veng’en was neither armed nor apparently aggressive, but its thigh was scorched where a spray of hot plasma shrapnel had landed on it. She edged closer, raised one hand palm–forward to the Veng’en as she eased toward it. The glowing eyes flicked up to look at her and despite their soul–less nature she could sense the hatred burning inside them.
    Evelyn looked at the Veng’en and realised what had happened.
    ‘We didn’t hit it hard,’ she said finally. ‘It’s exhausted.’
    The Veng’en reached out for the plasma rifle and Evelyn froze as it aimed the weapon at her. She could see its breath puffing in dense clouds from its massive chest and lungs, eyes glowing in the flashlight beams.
    ‘Stand down, ensign,’ Bra’hiv growled from nearby.
    The Veng’en turned its head and glared