Page 20 of Honor Bound (Project Gliese 581g #4)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

S ergi pressed his back against the cold metal wall of the corridor, his pulse steady, his breathing calm despite the tension thrumming around him. The corridor was dimly lit, with rows of recessed lights casting a pale blue glow across the floor. Smooth metallic walls reflected the light in patches, broken only by the occasional security console or service door. Ahead, the reinforced doors of the weapons room loomed—silent, but holding deadly potential.

Footsteps echoed in the distance, growing louder as two Legion soldiers approached. Sergi lifted an eyebrow at Josh, who gave him a wry smile and a slight nod. No words were needed.

The soldiers strode past, their boots clanging against the floor in a steady rhythm. Sergi waited until they were almost out of earshot before stepping out. With practiced ease, he leveled the Gallant staff at the nearest soldier, releasing a sharp pulse of energy. Josh mirrored his movements, and both men caught the collapsing soldiers before they hit the floor.

Grabbing the unconscious guards beneath the arms, they dragged them into a nearby supply room. The door slid shut with a soft hiss, enclosing them in a cramped space filled with storage crates and shelves stacked with maintenance equipment.

“You’re disturbingly good at this,” Josh said, crouching down to bind and gag the guards. His voice was low, edged with dry humor. “It almost seems as if you’ve done this a time or two.”

Sergi grimaced as he pulled off one guard’s uniform. “More like a few dozen.”

Josh’s brow lifted, and his lips twitched with curiosity. “A few dozen? Should I be surprised?”

“Depends.” Sergi shrugged, pulling the dark gray uniform over his head. “You’re not the only one with military training.”

Josh’s eyes narrowed, but his expression remained amused. “You don’t say.”

Sergi smirked. “Your instincts are sharp. You might have guessed.” He fastened the uniform and glanced at the unconscious guards. “Let’s just say my handlers would be very disappointed in me if they saw me now.”

Josh chuckled. “I seriously doubt that.” He tugged on the guard’s jacket and peered through the crack in the door. “Clear. Let’s move.”

The corridor outside was empty again, the faint hum of the ship’s environmental systems the only sound. Josh motioned for Sergi to follow, and they crossed the hallway in quick, purposeful strides. The heavy doors to the weapons room hissed open, revealing a large, sterile chamber illuminated by harsh overhead lights.

Three massive sonic cannons dominated the room, their sleek forms lined with blinking control panels. Half a dozen Legion soldiers moved around the space, monitoring the systems and checking readouts on holographic displays.

Sergi’s grip tightened on his staff as he and Josh exchanged a look. No need for words. They moved like shadows.

The first soldier didn’t even see Sergi coming before he dropped, a pulse of energy taking him out silently. Josh darted to the left, disabling another soldier before the man could sound the alarm. Sergi spotted one guard reaching for his blaster and acted on instinct, firing a sharp pulse that sent the man crashing into a console. Josh turned, nodding his thanks before stepping over the unconscious body.

In seconds, the room was lit up like a fireworks celebration as the rest of the soldiers realized they were under attack. The battle was over in under thirty seconds.

“We’re clear,” Sergi whispered, scanning the room.

The two men worked quickly, planting charges at the base of the first two sonic cannons. Each explosive was carefully positioned, designed to disable the weapons and render them useless without triggering the automated security protocols. Everything was going smoothly—until they reached the third cannon.

Sergi froze, his eyes narrowing as he examined the device. A faint blue glow pulsed from a cylindrical unit attached to the cannon’s side. Recognition hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Josh,” Sergi said, his voice tight. “We’ve got a problem.”

Josh glanced at him, then followed his line of sight to the glowing unit. His face darkened. “Is that…?”

“A containment unit.” Sergi stepped closer, his pulse quickening. “Even if we blow this place, there’s a chance the unit will survive and fall through the atmosphere.” He traced a finger along the smooth surface of the unit. “We need the neutralizing agent.”

Josh muttered a curse. “Any chance it’s in here?”

Sergi scanned the room, his mind racing. “Doubt it. It would be in the containment labs with the other units.”

Josh’s eyes met Sergi’s, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “We’ll have to improvise. We can’t leave this here.”

Sergi nodded, tension coiling in his chest. “I’ll handle the charges. You double check the room to see if there is a neutralizing agent here.”

The room fell into a tense silence as Sergi worked on wiring the explosives and Josh searched for the reagent, their movements swift and precise. Each second felt like a lifetime, the threat of discovery looming over them like a shadow. Outside, the hum of the ship’s systems continued—oblivious to the storm brewing within.

Sergi had just finished wiring the last of the explosives when Josh came back, shaking his head. His eyes narrowed, the flickering blue light filling him with a sense of foreboding.

“Damn it.” He tapped his commlink. “Roan, Julia, this is Josh. We’ve got a situation here. One of the sonic cannons is fitted with a containment unit. We’ve disabled the cannon, but we can’t neutralize the unit without the neutralizing agent.”

* * *

Roan and Julia worked in unison, systematically destroying the iROS parasites in each cylinder. When he reached unit number six, he frowned. His eyes studied the empty area where the containment unit should have been. His gut tightened as unease settled over him.

“Wait,” he said, touching Julia’s arm when she entered the lab. “One’s missing.”

Julia’s eyes followed his. “It’s been moved,” she murmured, her brow furrowing. “Where?—”

Josh’s voice crackled through the commlink, cutting her off. “Roan, we’ve got a containment unit down here attached to a sonic cannon. There’s no way to neutralize it from here.”

Roan exchanged a grim look with Julia. “We’ve got the neutralizing agent,” he replied. “It’s here with us.”

“Perfect,” Josh said. “We can make our way to you. We’re disguised as Legion soldiers, so we should be able to get there without too much trouble.”

Roan hesitated, thinking through the logistics. His eyes narrowed in thought. “Come to the containment lab and help Julia destroy the remaining units. I’ll take the neutralizing agent to the weapons room and deal with the containment unit there.”

“Got it. On our way,” Josh confirmed.

Julia’s eyes widened. “Roan, wait. You can’t go through the ship alone. It’s too dangerous.”

Roan shook his head and pointed to the two dead scientists slumped in the corner. “We’ve been lucky so far,” he said grimly. “Each lab is self-contained with dedicated scientists. But once the order is given to transfer the units to the weapon’s room, things will change. We’re running out of time.”

Julia swallowed hard, glancing at the bodies and then back at Roan. “Be careful,” she pleaded, her voice soft but steady. “Hurry back.”

Roan’s lips curved into a faint smile behind the clear shield of his white containment helmet. “I promise.”

She reached out, her gloved hand touching his arm. It was a fleeting gesture, separated by layers of protective gear, but it held weight—an unspoken connection neither of them could deny.

“I’ll be waiting,” she whispered.

Roan gave a curt nod, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer before he turned and moved toward the door. As it hissed open, his heart pounded, but not from fear of what lay ahead. His only fear was not making it back to her in time.

* * *

The corridors of the space lab stretched before Roan, sterile and dimly lit, their metallic walls vibrating faintly from the hum of the ship’s massive engine core. The weight of the vial in his hand was a stark reminder of how close they were to either success or catastrophic failure.

His breath came in steady, measured beats, every sense heightened as he moved silently through the labyrinthine passageways. His boots made no sound against the floor as he paused at an intersection, his eyes scanning both directions before turning down another corridor. Covered in the protective gear and still wearing the helmet, the soldiers and other scientists ignored him as they passed each other.

He was close now—just one level below the weapons room.

Roan’s thoughts flickered back to Julia. Focus. Get the job done. Then go back to her. The promise echoed through his mind, sharpening his determination. He adjusted his grip on the vial containing the neutralizing agent and pressed forward.

His tension built with every step, the air feeling heavier as he neared his destination. The weapons room was on the far side of the level, sealed behind a reinforced door. He pulled the security key out and swiped it against the scanner.

“Come on,” he muttered as the screen blinked red twice before turning green. The door hissed open, revealing the cavernous space beyond. Rows of sleek sonic cannons lined the walls, their barrels pointed menacingly toward the sealed turrets.

He automatically scanned the interior. Sergi and Josh must have hidden the bodies of the crew who were assigned to the unit. His eyes locked onto the active containment unit—its glowing blue liquid swirling ominously inside the transparent cylinder attached to the cannon. His pulse quickened as he crossed the room, each step deliberate and measured.

He reached the containment unit and crouched, carefully sliding the vial into the small injection port on the side. The blue liquid inside churned. Roan exhaled, his hand steady as he reached to push the vial in all the way to break the seal to activate the neutralizing agent.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end before he could, a sudden sixth sense prickling just as the soft hum of the doors opening reached his ears and warning him he was no longer alone. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Coleridge.

Roan straightened slowly, his hand still resting on the containment unit as he heard the slow, deliberate click of boots on the floor.

“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” Coleridge drawled, his voice cold and filled with dark amusement. “My prodigal son, back from the dead—playing the hero.”

Roan turned, keeping his body angled protectively in front of the containment unit. “Coleridge,” he said evenly, his eyes never leaving his father’s face as he pulled the helmet of his containment suit off and dropped it to the floor beside him. “Somehow, I knew you’d want to be on this ship. You always did like to have a front row seat to the destruction you unleashed.”

Coleridge’s pale gray eyes gleamed with cruel delight as he lifted his laser pistol, aiming it at Roan’s chest. “You’ve always had an inconvenient habit of surviving. Unfortunately for you, this is where it ends.”

The shot came fast—too fast to dodge completely. Pain exploded in Roan’s shoulder as the laser bolt struck, spinning him sideways. His teeth clenched, but he didn’t fall.

Twisting with the momentum, he dropped into a crouch, his hand instinctively reaching for the Gallant Staff strapped to his back. His fingers closed around the familiar grip, the staff humming to life as he spun it forward, the tip glowing with raw energy.

Coleridge’s eyes narrowed in surprise, a fleeting expression of doubt crossing his face before it hardened into resolve. “Still full of tricks, I see. Let’s see how long you can keep that up.”

“Long enough,” Roan growled, the staff crackling with energy as he raised it, ready for the fight to come.

* * *

The hum of the Gallant Staff vibrated through Roan’s arm as he swung it in a defensive arc, the glow illuminating the tense standoff. Coleridge circled him, the laser pistol still aimed, a cruel smirk twisting his lips.

“You should have stayed hidden, Roan. You’ve always been a disappointment, but I never thought you’d stoop to outright treason,” Coleridge sneered, firing another shot.

Roan deflected the blast with the staff, the energy crackling as it absorbed the bolt and sent blue sparks dancing across the floor. “I learned from the best,” Roan shot back, his voice steady despite the throbbing pain in his shoulder.

Coleridge’s face darkened. “You were supposed to be a weapon, a force the galaxy would fear. Instead, you’ve become a liability. Just like your mother.”

The mention of his mother hit Roan like a punch to the gut, but he shoved the emotion down, focusing on the man in front of him. “You murdered her because she wouldn’t be what you wanted. Just like you’ve destroyed everything else in your path.”

“Not me. Andri. But, I would have done it if he hadn’t,” his father scoffed.

Roan surged forward, the staff striking out in a rapid series of blows. Coleridge dodged and parried with surprising agility for a man his age, but Roan pressed the advantage, forcing him back with relentless precision.

The air grew thick with the scent of ozone and sweat as the two clashed, their movements fast and brutal—no wasted gestures, no hesitation. Each strike of Roan’s staff was aimed with deadly intent, but Coleridge was no easy target. Years of battle had honed his father’s reflexes, and he countered with brutal efficiency.

“You always did fight like a Plateauan—wild, reckless, relying on instinct,” Coleridge said between attacks. “It makes you predictable.”

Roan smirked despite the pain coursing through his body. “And yet, you’re still bleeding.”

Coleridge’s gaze flickered to the gash on his forearm, blood soaking through the pristine fabric of his uniform. His lips curled into a snarl, and he launched himself at Roan with renewed ferocity.

The fight turned vicious—more brawl than duel. Roan blocked another strike, then drove his knee into his father’s ribs, the satisfying thud followed by a sharp exhale from Coleridge. But the older man recovered quickly, swinging his pistol like a club and slamming it into Roan’s wounded shoulder.

Roan stumbled, his breath hitching from the impact. His fingers tightened around the staff, and he spun low, sweeping Coleridge’s legs out from under him. Coleridge hit the ground hard, but before Roan could deliver another blow, his father rolled and fired again.

The bolt grazed Roan’s thigh, searing the fabric and scorching his skin. He gritted his teeth, refusing to give Coleridge the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

“You’re too late,” Coleridge growled, pushing to his feet. “Tesla Terra will burn, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

Roan’s eyes darkened. “We’ll see about that.”

He surged forward, slamming the staff against Coleridge’s wrist. The pistol clattered to the floor, skidding out of reach. Roan followed with a powerful strike to his father’s chest, sending him sprawling against the containment unit.

Coleridge coughed, blood flecking his lips, but his eyes gleamed with twisted pride. “You’re stronger than I gave you credit for. Too bad it won’t matter.”

Roan stalked toward him, the tip of the staff crackling with energy. “It matters to me.”

Coleridge’s hand shot out, grabbing a small device from his belt. Roan’s eyes widened as he recognized it—a remote detonator linked to the containment units.

“You can kill me, son, but you’ll go down with me,” Coleridge said, his thumb hovering over the trigger.

The room seemed to hold its breath.

Roan tightened his grip on the staff, his pulse pounding in his ears. “Or… I could just break your hand.”

He moved faster than Coleridge expected, the staff coming down with brutal precision. The crack of bone echoed through the room as the device tumbled from Coleridge’s grasp. Roan kicked it across the floor, sending it skidding into a far corner.

Coleridge cradled his broken hand, his face twisted with pain and rage. “You’ll regret this, Roan. The Legion will never stop hunting you.”

“Let them try,” Roan said coldly. “But you won’t live to see it.”

He raised the staff, but before he could strike the final blow, alarms blared throughout the space lab. Red emergency lights flooded the room, bathing everything in a sinister glow.

Containment breach detected. Security forces en route.

Coleridge slammed into Roan, his good hand wrapping around Roan’s hand holding the staff while he drove the heel of his broken hand into the wound in Roan’s shoulder. Roan gritted his teeth as his father applied pressure on both his wrist and his wound and leaned forward until they were face-to-face.

“Did you really think you could fight fate, son?” his father demanded in a low, taunting voice. “You were born to be Legion. No matter how much you play the hero, you’ll never be anything else.”

Roan hissed, tightening his grip on the Gallant Staff. “I’d rather die than be like you.”

Coleridge chuckled. “Oh, Roan. But you are like me. You’re ruthless. You strike to kill. You’re a killer—just as I raised you to be.”

Rage poured through Roan and he twisted, knocking his father off balance. He raised the staff, firing a bolt of energy into his father’s chest when his father swung around with the laser pistol in his hand.

Coleridge stumbled back, dropping the pistol in his hand and looking down at the scorch mark that blossomed through his uniform. He slowly raised his head, his eyes narrowing with a strange light as he swayed.

“You see? You don’t hesitate. I bet you didn’t hesitate when you killed my men. That’s the difference between you and the others—you were made for this.”

Roan stepped forward as his father’s leg gave out under him and he slid down the metal support to the floor. He walked over to the containment unit and twisted the vial he had placed in the injector, breaking the seal.

“If you were weak. Andri war-warned me,” Coleridge choked out, “I should have killed you a long time ago.”

Roan’s jaw tightened. He looked down at his father, beaten but still dangerous, then at the containment unit behind him.

Time was running out.

The dark blue liquid oozed through the system like veins of poison. The iROS neutralizing agent spread quickly, the parasites’ faint bioluminescent glow fading and dying, snuffed out one by one.

Roan’s breathing was slow and steady. He spared a glance at his father. Coleridge slumped against the support pillar, his face pale, lips trembling with a cruel, twisted smile despite the pain.

“Still too late,” Coleridge rasped, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. “You can’t stop what’s coming. Even in death I will win.”

Roan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t take the bait. He turned on his heel, his pulse drumming in his ears. His focus sharpened as the clatter of boots came down the corridor. The weapons room doors hissed open, and a squad of Legion soldiers stormed inside.

Roan twisted to the side, letting them flow past him, unheeding in their haste. He stepped out of the room, pausing just long enough for the doors to hiss shut behind him. With a movement of his arm, he brought the end of the staff against the control panel. Energy crackled, surging through the circuits and locking the soldiers inside.

“Enjoy the view,” he muttered, satisfaction cutting through the rising dread.

His legs were already moving, driving him toward the conduit access at the far end of the corridor. His steps grew faster, urgency coursing through him like a second pulse. The conduit was meters away.

He reached the access grate, slicing through the lock with a swift arc of the Gallant staff. The grate crashed to the floor, and Roan slipped inside. The narrow passage pressed close, the air heavy with smoke and ozone from distant explosions. The staff flickered, casting fleeting light across the confined space.

“Julia, Josh, Sergi, come in!” His voice echoed, tight and sharp. “Respond!”

Only silence answered him. His chest tightened, a painful knot forming in his sternum. He pressed his commlink, switching to Bantu’s frequency.

“Bantu, where are they?”

Static crackled before Bantu’s voice broke through, urgent and grim. “I’ve got a fix. They’re in the lift, heading for the top level. I’ve been trying to reach them, but there’s no response.”

Roan’s pulse spiked. “There’s no conduit access on the top level. How do they reach the shuttle?”

“They can’t,” Bantu replied grimly. “Not without crossing open corridors. I’m working on an alternate route, but?—”

Roan didn’t wait for the rest. He ran. His feet pounded against the conduit floor, each step a hammer blow to the tension clawing at his chest. His muscles burned, his shoulder and thigh protesting from his earlier wounds, but he didn’t slow.

He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.

The light at the end of the conduit grew brighter, the metallic hum of the collapsing space lab vibrating beneath him. The charges Packu had set were going off. He sprinted harder, his breath coming in ragged bursts.

Suddenly, the conduit walls around him shuddered violently. A deep, guttural boom echoed through the metal, followed by a high-pitched whine. The floor tilted beneath him, nearly throwing him off his feet. He caught himself against the wall, his eyes narrowing at the flicker of orange light ahead.

A ball of fire tore through the conduit, racing toward him with blistering heat and deafening roar.

“Shit!”

Roan pushed off the wall, sprinting with everything he had, his heart hammering in his chest. Flames licked at his heels, the heat searing the surrounding air. His only thought—reach the next junction. If he could just make it?—

The fireball surged closer, swallowing the tunnel in a blinding inferno as he swung the staff in his hand.