positions along the walls. There was silence for a moment. Then Wexel-15 heard a rustling toward the back of the room and turned to see what caused it.
The Il Ronnian leader, and given the deference shown him there was little doubt about his status, was smaller than most members of his race. He wore the long red cape of the Ilwik, or warrior-priest, and a uniform under that. He paused for a moment, allowed his eyes to roam the audience, and walked toward the front of the hall. His hooves made a clacking sound on the ancient pavement.
The Il Ronnian stopped next to a female heavy, pried the disk off her forehead, and held it up to the light. The device glittered with reflected light as he turned it this way and that. His voice boomed through the translator that rode perched on his left shoulder.
"And what have we here? A silly bauble, empty of all meaning, or something more significant?"
The Il Ronnian did something with his thumb and the disk flipped end over end to land in an alert noncom's hand.
"Check on it, Reeg. I will want a full report."
Reeg signaled assent with his tail and tucked the disk into his belt pouch.
The alien took three steps up onto the low stage, turned to face his audience, and clasped his hands behind his back.
"Always take the high ground" is an ancient military axiom familiar to soldiers of every race. But it had special meaning for Teex. Even as a youngster his playmates had called him "Shorty" and he never missed an opportunity to even things up.
"I am Quarter Sept Commander Teex." His eyes gleamed as he surveyed the crowd. "Which one of you will tell me what this is all about?"
Silence.
Teex rocked back and forth. His hooves ground against the pavement. "I see. Well, we have ways to handle situations like this. Trooper Leev!"
One of the troopers who lined the walls raised his weapon and aimed it at the audience. Wexel-15 saw a red circle appear on the male seated directly in front of him. It illuminated the entire right side of the construct's head.
Teex pointed at him. His finger quivered slightly. "Speak! Why are you here?"
Maybe a light would've known what to say, and thought fast enough to say it, but the heavy never stood a chance. He had just started to generate a response when the high-velocity slug hit the side of his head, passed through it, and killed the construct seated on his left as well.
Blood and brain tissue exploded in every direction. Some of it splattered onto Wexel-15's face.
He never did know why he did what he did, and could never remember a conscious decision to do it, but Wexel-15 stood, uttered a roar of outrage, and charged. Benches went down and constructs fell. Wexel-15 was determined to reach Trooper Leev and crush all life from his body. He never made it.
Other heavies rose around him, their roars of outrage echoing his, and took the bullets directed at him.
The Sand Sept troopers opened up with automatic weapons. Dozens of heavies stumbled and fell. But others rose to fill the gaps and the Il Ronnians staggered under a wall of solid flesh.
The aliens were skilled in a martial art called "Infala," or "personal death," but the heavies weighed three hundred pounds apiece and were unbelievably strong. Weapons fell silent as flesh thudded against flesh, bones cracked, and alien screams filled the air.
Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the battle was over. Teex and his personal bodyguard had withdrawn, bodies lay everywhere, and dazed constructs stood looking around. A full lak passed in silence. An elderly heavy named Lebar-6 was the first to speak.
"What shall we do now?"
A light named Issara-22 answered. She was tall, slender, and almost regal in the way that she held herself. "The aliens will be angry. Those who took part in the killing must surrender themselves for the greater good. The rest have nothing to fear."
There was a moment of silence while the heavies processed that. They were slow, but it didn't take very much intelligence to
The Il Ronnian leader, and given the deference shown him there was little doubt about his status, was smaller than most members of his race. He wore the long red cape of the Ilwik, or warrior-priest, and a uniform under that. He paused for a moment, allowed his eyes to roam the audience, and walked toward the front of the hall. His hooves made a clacking sound on the ancient pavement.
The Il Ronnian stopped next to a female heavy, pried the disk off her forehead, and held it up to the light. The device glittered with reflected light as he turned it this way and that. His voice boomed through the translator that rode perched on his left shoulder.
"And what have we here? A silly bauble, empty of all meaning, or something more significant?"
The Il Ronnian did something with his thumb and the disk flipped end over end to land in an alert noncom's hand.
"Check on it, Reeg. I will want a full report."
Reeg signaled assent with his tail and tucked the disk into his belt pouch.
The alien took three steps up onto the low stage, turned to face his audience, and clasped his hands behind his back.
"Always take the high ground" is an ancient military axiom familiar to soldiers of every race. But it had special meaning for Teex. Even as a youngster his playmates had called him "Shorty" and he never missed an opportunity to even things up.
"I am Quarter Sept Commander Teex." His eyes gleamed as he surveyed the crowd. "Which one of you will tell me what this is all about?"
Silence.
Teex rocked back and forth. His hooves ground against the pavement. "I see. Well, we have ways to handle situations like this. Trooper Leev!"
One of the troopers who lined the walls raised his weapon and aimed it at the audience. Wexel-15 saw a red circle appear on the male seated directly in front of him. It illuminated the entire right side of the construct's head.
Teex pointed at him. His finger quivered slightly. "Speak! Why are you here?"
Maybe a light would've known what to say, and thought fast enough to say it, but the heavy never stood a chance. He had just started to generate a response when the high-velocity slug hit the side of his head, passed through it, and killed the construct seated on his left as well.
Blood and brain tissue exploded in every direction. Some of it splattered onto Wexel-15's face.
He never did know why he did what he did, and could never remember a conscious decision to do it, but Wexel-15 stood, uttered a roar of outrage, and charged. Benches went down and constructs fell. Wexel-15 was determined to reach Trooper Leev and crush all life from his body. He never made it.
Other heavies rose around him, their roars of outrage echoing his, and took the bullets directed at him.
The Sand Sept troopers opened up with automatic weapons. Dozens of heavies stumbled and fell. But others rose to fill the gaps and the Il Ronnians staggered under a wall of solid flesh.
The aliens were skilled in a martial art called "Infala," or "personal death," but the heavies weighed three hundred pounds apiece and were unbelievably strong. Weapons fell silent as flesh thudded against flesh, bones cracked, and alien screams filled the air.
Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the battle was over. Teex and his personal bodyguard had withdrawn, bodies lay everywhere, and dazed constructs stood looking around. A full lak passed in silence. An elderly heavy named Lebar-6 was the first to speak.
"What shall we do now?"
A light named Issara-22 answered. She was tall, slender, and almost regal in the way that she held herself. "The aliens will be angry. Those who took part in the killing must surrender themselves for the greater good. The rest have nothing to fear."
There was a moment of silence while the heavies processed that. They were slow, but it didn't take very much intelligence to
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