judicator

This is a story I've worked on for a while now. There are three more chapters, which I'll post if it gets a good response. Sorry if it seems a little rough, the format didn't carry over very well from MS Word, and I'm not a professional writer. Thanks for reading it, let me know what you think!


The Gate at Paldar

By Isaac Coverstone

Prologue

Even in an age of advanced weaponry and powerful armored war machines, there is still a place in war for up close and personal battle. Indeed, in such a time of detachment from the viciousness of combat, some commanders feel a need to put themselves on the front lines to test their own abilities and stamina.

The highest-ranking officer in this strife-torn outpost of the Core Coalition, Khan Ronald Sandoval, was one such man.

He stood with his traditional katana held ready, his other hand clutching a fistful of the hair of the woman kneeling in front of him. The chase and the fight was now over. His eyes burned with an inner fire. Her gaze met his with a hatred and vehemence that matched his own. All around them, smoke wafted from countless small fires burning in the city center.

“Look at what remains of your pitiful defenses, Talia. Tell me if it was worth it. Tell me the lives of your men were spent in a useful fashion.” His voice was a low growl, hoarse from hours of shouting orders.

She remained still, not wanting to provoke the warrior into any further violence, her body screaming in protest to the damage already done. Mentally, Talia ran through her options. None of them were especially appealing, but at least she still had some choices.

“It is always worthwhile to die in the name of freedom, Khan. Better to die on your feet, with a hot weapon in your hands, than on your knees in a prison execution.”

His laughter was a hard, cruel sound in her ears. “Then you should heed your own advice, rebel. For here you are before me, broken and helpless. None can resist the might of the Coalition.”

She steeled herself for what was to come, gathering her reserves of power for a last push. “I am far from defeated, Khan, and my victory is only delayed.” With that, her right foot slashed out in a sweeping motion that knocked his right leg out from under him. Caught by surprise, he released his hold and fell backwards, landing hard on the packed ground.

Instantly she was up and running, her mind driving her body to work harder than it seemed possible. The Khan’s soldiers that were watching the debacle now opened fire with stun beams. He had made it quite clear that she must be captured alive, and they did not dare harm her seriously.

A section of the city center was still standing, and she sprinted straight for it. A hundred meters away, now seventy, fifty,
Choom! A stun pulse slammed into the ground just inches from her feet, sending blue lightning skittering over the ground. She swiped dust from her eyes, trying not to fall as the ground became uneven with debris.

Twenty-five meters now. Still so far away. Other soldiers were taking notice of the chase, and were providing their share of firepower.
Choom! Choom! Choom! More heavy stun pulses hammered past, narrowly missing her. Ten meters. Five.

A shattered window presented itself to her, an inviting refuge from immediate danger, anyway. She went straight for it, pelting along the walkway that circled the building. Then, at the last second, she turned and dove to the left, tucking her body into a ball and tumbling painfully along the glass-covered ground.

The next instant, a wave of stun-pulse fire hit the window she almost jumped through, and electrical arcs played across the exposed metal in the wall. The stench of scorched paint hit her nostrils as she drew in a ragged breath, silently thanking her mentors for the lessons they taught her.

Now that the initial volley was spent, she coiled herself up again and dashed forward with all she was worth. Trying to avoid the smoking edges of the opening, she leaped through, and with a tuck and roll, landed more or less on her feet.

Glancing quickly about, she bolted for the nearest door. This led out into a short hallway with an emergency stairway to the right and another door leading to the left. She headed for the stairs, the plan already forming in her mind. The shouts of the men outside carried through the walls, spurring her to climb faster.

One flight of stairs, then another, and another. Just as she reached the landing on the very top, a crash sounded from below. They were entering the building to search for her. There was very little time left. A hard push, and the roof exit slammed open. Talia ran to the far corner and looked out over the ground below.

For blocks, nothing but smoke and rubble could be seen. Complete devastation and carnage were the only participants in this spectacle. She could here the crunch of steel footpads as Coalition armored suits marched up and down the streets, searching for survivors. No other way out, no choice left. She must drop the mask, and expose her true abilities.

She raised her arms straight up, and stared at the blackened sky. The air itself crackled as the Omni-energy gathered around her. Then, with a small leap, she flew from the rooftop and climbed rapidly into the war-torn skies. More shouts echoed from below as the soldiers on the ground spotted her fleeing form. Gunfire reached up after her, but she was already out of range. She caught a final glimpse of the Khan before the acrid clouds blocked out all sight.

His face was a mixture of shock, confusion, and white-hot rage.


* * *



Chapter One



In high orbit over the hotly contested world of Paldar, the Coalition command cruiser Redstorm waited patiently. Energy and particle shields hummed around her armored hull, while fighter squadrons flew in perimeter screens for kilometers all around. Thus secure, she merely awaited the next order that would take her into battle.

The Redstorm’s bridge was almost silent. The crew was mostly in a sleep and recharge pattern, now that the main battle for the world’s capital city was over. For the most part, all had gone according to plan. Now there followed a crucial phase to any military operation. Combat commanders must be debriefed and any mistakes carefully examined. Tactical successes needed to be commended, and the dead mourned.

But for now, one tired warrior needed some time alone. The Coalition Sector Khan, Ronald Sandoval, sat in his quarters. The room was dark, and soft music played in the background. The singer’s voice was perfect and sweet, and the instrument she played was of the best quality. But the Khan’s mind was on the events that transpired on the planet’s surface hundreds of miles below less than five hours ago.

She was a Judicator, no questioning that. He thought to himself. Why did she wait until it was too late before activating her Omni-core? She could have changed the outcome of the battle significantly. At the very least slowed our forces enough for reinforcements of her own to arrive. I cannot see a benefit to her strategem.
The worst part of the whole affair was that this rogue Judicator was nowhere to be found. Her stealth training must be exceptional to avoid the enormous hunt still taking place on the surface. Difficult enough just to conceal the Omni power stored in her bones. But to evade platoons of his best troops, lightning fast scouting bikes, and advanced fighter squadrons was a mark of great skill.

The communication console on his desk hummed impatiently. With a sigh, he turned towards it and acknowledged the request with a nod. The screen lit up with the image of the officer he had left in charge of the bridge.

“Khan, the status report you requested is ready. Uploading to your terminal now. I regret to inform you that the results are less than satisfactory.”

“Don’t worry, Captain. I understand that the odds are very much against us finding her. However, there are other ways to persuade stubborn opponents. Prepare to bring the Redstorm into low orbit, and ready all ventral batteries for sustained firing.”

“At once, Khan. There was something else that requires your attention. We received a burst transmission from the sector HQ. It was marked for your eyes only, sir.”

Khan Sandoval leaned back in the chair, knowing all too well what the message contained. Doubtless the transmission originated from the core worlds, from one in particular. Hil’hanna, the capital of the Coalition, and the seat of power for Khagan Jeremiah Samson, a ruthless and brilliant man who had carved out his handhold on the galaxy and intended to keep it.

“Very well. Upload it, and standby.” The image dissolved and was replaced by line after line of gibberish. The message was heavily encrypted, standard practice for communications directed at ships engaged in war.

The Khan typed his command key into the terminal, and the message resolved itself into a single page of text. The message was brief, but very clear. He clenched his fist and glared at the screen. It was just as he had feared, and there was nothing he could do.
Another touch on the screen restored communications to the bridge.

“Yes, Khan,” Captain Gravon said. “Your orders?”

“Recall all ground forces from the planet surface. Order our fighter squadrons back into their hangar bays. Alert the crew to prepare for FTL transit. Chart a course for the Core, and prepare to leave orbit.” His voice was as cold as the vacuum surrounding the Redstorm.

* * *

Dust clouds swirled about the massive Coalition landing barges as they came in for a landing on the outskirts of the city of Karaz. Ramps dropped from the main cargo bays, digging into the hot soil of the equatorial region of Paldar.

Within the city, squads of armored SEA suits and assault walkers battled city garrison forces block by block. Laser and particle beam fire dug into concrete and steel, while heavy autocannons responded with short, hammering bursts. The loyalist troops were hard pressed just to hold their ground and keep from being overrun.

Suddenly, there was a lull in the firing. The Coalition armored units turned as one in the direction of the arriving transports.

The orders being broadcast over the command channel were very clear. They all disengaged from the attack and began marching back toward the waiting friendly dropships. Loading orders transmitted from the barges and assault transports dictated which units were assigned to each ship.

The city’s garrison forces watched in relief and growing unease as the brutal attack evaporated in the face of the mass retreat. Why did this happen? Would something worse be on the way shortly? All eyes watched the gleaming armored backs of the walkers as they trooped back to the small fleet of transports.

Except one pair of eyes that were fixed on the transports themselves. Cold, calculating eyes that projected a deadly determination. They measured the distance between the cities initial line of laser turrets and the closest SEA armored trooper. Then measured again between the waiting landing barges and the farthest of the assault walkers.

* * *
The gymnasium aboard the Redstorm was spacious, offering the crew an excellent space for improving their physical strength and melee combat skills. Currently, it was nearly empty, except for a single powerful figure and a couple of training droids dueling with him. A second man stood to one side, watching the spectacle.

In the center of the sparring circle was Khan Sandoval, wielding a vicious curved short sword in his left hand, and a compact, but deadly tomahawk in his right. He circled the two droids, waiting for an opening. Each of the combat trainers were armed with traditional katanas, and their combat settings were on maximum.

The three of them began trading blows in earnest, the sounds of metal on metal ringing through the air. The Khan was hard pressed to defend against their strikes, as each of his weapons were shorter than his opponent’s. His tremendous power, speed, and skill were being pushed to their outer limits.

Each of the two droids were well-designed and solidly constructed. There were precious few weak points to take advantage of. Their servos were almost frictionless, and lightning quick. Their visual and auditory sensors missed nothing, and combat computers tracked every variable for maximum effectiveness in each strike.

The man standing to one side was tall and thin, his muscles honed into rawhide and whipcord. Age hadn’t slowed him down at all, and any opponent who mistook his silver hair for weakness was soon corrected. The eyes were an icy blue, with a gaze that seemed to penetrate your soul. They stared impassively as the fight continued. His name was Samuel Krey.

One of the droids stepped forward and lashed out, it’s blade curved out and then across in a vicious horizontal slash. The Khan stepped back, trying to bait the droid to move closer. The second droid followed close to one side, holding it’s katana in the ready position.

“Don’t let them box you in,” Krey said. “You’ve only got a few more feet and your back will be against the wall.”

The Khan dodged another slash. “So noted, Samuel.”

The second droid took another step to the left and forward, then stabbed straight forward, the blade coming level with the Khan’s gut. He saw the opportunity he had been waiting for. Twisting quickly to the right, he swung the short sword down and back, deftly deflecting the stab.

Before the droid could react, he twisted back the other direction, bringing all his weight into a powerful swing of the tomahawk. He brought it down straight into the droid’s over-extended left arm, smashing the elbow joint and sending sparks flying.

He rolled forward, coming up behind and to the left of the damaged droid. It turned towards him, it’s motions clumsy with the dead weight of the crippeled left arm. The Khan dropped down as it swung at him again, going to one knee and lashing out with the tomahawk once more.

He twisted the handle, using the spike this time, and drove it full-power into the left knee of his opponent. It lodged in the joint, and he let go of it, rolling backwards and out of reach.

“Not bad, but now you’re down a weapon,” Krey admonished, “Never good to weaken yourself like that.”

The Khan ignored him, concentrating fully on his targets. He had to press his advantage, now that it had tipped in his favor. A sensor in the droid’s chest would shut them down if it was struck. That was his best hope of winning this fight. He kept the damaged droid between him and the first droid, which was still trying to circle around for a swing at him.

He switched the short sword to his right hand, holding it in the ready position. Gears whined in protest as the crippled training droid tried to close in on him. It managed to raise it’s katana high for a slash aimed across his left shoulder, and he darted forward, crouching under the blade as it came down. With a quick, practiced movement, the Khan stabbed the droid in the chest, squarely in the kill sensor.

Krey grunted, a wry smile on his face. He knew what his superior was capable of, in the right circumstances. But this was a practice run, designed to hone technique, not raw power. So far, so good, he thought.

As the droid froze up, the Khan swatted the katana from it’s grasp. It slowly sank down to it’s one good knee, then toppled over onto the floor. Keeping one eye on his one remaining opponent, Khan Sandoval once more switched the short wakizashi blade to his left hand, and then snatched the droid’s katana from the floor with his right hand.

He assumed an aggressive stance, the katana raised, the short sword in the guard position. The droid slowly edged forward, impassively staring the Khan down as it raised it’s own sword.

He charged straight at it, determined to end the fight quickly. He lashed out with the extra reach of the captured katana, the droid easily blocked the swing and struck back, his wakizashi deflecting the cut. He kept up the attack, driving the droid towards the edge of the dueling circle.

Finally, in desperation, the training droid lifted it’s katana and brought it straight down, full power towards the top of his head. He crossed his two blades, catching the blow between them. Quickly, he pushed forward, keeping the droid’s sword captive in the blade-lock.

Then, with a twist, he threw a powerful side kick into the droid’s torso, knocking it backwards out of the ring’s boundaries. A buzzer sounded, the match was over.

Sandoval turned towards Krey, who just stood there and clapped his hands, a sardonic smile on his face. “Well done, Khan Sandoval. Only three minutes and twenty-eight seconds. Not anywhere near your best, however. Your mind isn’t in this.”

“Perceptive as always, Mr. Krey,” Sandoval said. “It’s true, I can’t seem to focus. The only thing I can think of is that rogue Judicator on the surface. The worst part of this whole thing is the withdrawal. We’ll never catch her now, and next time she’ll be ready for us.”

“I assume it was the Khagan that ordered our disengagement?”

Sandoval walked away from the dueling circle, slashing the air with practice swings of his weapons. “Yes. He made it very clear that we are to leave this system inside of thirty-six hours. It will take us about that long to bring the rest of the troops up from the surface. Then we will return to the Core worlds, without anything to show for our efforts in this campaign.”

“What is the purpose of the sudden pull out? It flys in the face of all conventional wisdom regarding pacification.”

Sandoval stopped at the weapon rack and replaced the wakizashi and katana. He stared at the array of blunt and edged melee weapons for awhile, trying to focus his thoughts. Trying to decide what to do.

“There’s only one reason. As much as I don’t want to think about it, it’s the only possible course of action for him. I just can’t decide if I can or should stop him from carrying it out. It’s a fool’s errand for either of us. He wants to bring a loyalist sector fleet here to capture the Judicator alive and bring her back to Hil’hanna.”



* * *

nomadicrhymer

This was extremely entertaining, although I am not exactly a sci-fi fan! It kept my attention, was well plotted, well written and actually flowed very nicely, with just the right amount of details to keep one informed and aid character development and interest.

only one thing I found, She could here the crunch of steel and this needs to read "hear"

Excellent storyline!

Nomad

judicator

Thank you for your kind words. You can be sure I've heard more critical reviews of this story. I'll post the next chapter or two hopefully tomorrow.

butchiesmom

I like the storyline though I can see you have a lot of revision ahead of you. I decided, when I started reading the third chapter, I needed background for it so I went back to this one.

I'd started pointing out different places which could be fixed and words which could be eliminated but decided since you did say it's a rough draft, that everything I'd found, to that point, would be fixed during further revisions so I erased them.

A judicator? Should be interesting to understand exactly what she is, why she used a facade until absolutely necessary and why they want her so bad.

Showing Ronald in his room, listening to music, trying to relax shows a bit of the man he is besides the soldier side of him. It gives him more depth.

There are many places which need work such as when Talia strikes out with her right foot and hits the right leg of the person facing her. Unless he has two right legs, she hit his left leg instead.

I've seen some spelling errors but one which is a common error is: it's. It is = it's that's the only time you spell it that way. I noticed it more than a few times.

Other than the above, I found it entertaining, intriquing and something which I want to follow up on. Like I said, coming here was a way to get background on chapter 3, so I'm going on, probably tomorrow, to chapter 2 then to chapter three.

I am a scifi fan from way back and know there are more of us here, so hopefully more will give some feedback on this. You have a great imagination and are putting it to good use, lol.

hugs,
Gail