Drifter

The cell door opened. A guard took a step inside, “It’s time.”

“Yes, it is,” Eli said, before standing up. He clutched the pill case between the thumb and index finger of his artificial hand, the open end facing outward. He stuck this in the face of the guard and squeezed, crushing the case.

The substance he had mixed together in the tube reacted to the sudden impact, detonating. There was a bright flash and a blast that sounded deafening in the confines of the cell block. The hard spheres rocketed out of the end of the cylinder and ripped through the head of the guard.

The tips of his fingers smoking, Eli reached out and grabbed hold of the dead guard’s spear and turned the setting to kill. The body hit the floor. The other guards began to recover from the shock, bringing their weapons to bare. But it was too late; Eli was already firing.

Golden energy rippled and cracked down the wires, forming waves that ran across the surface of the blade, culminating at the tip. It was released in a pulse of pure death. The pulse of golden light struck one of the guards square in the chest. Blackened ribs splayed out, flames leaping from his back, he toppled over.

Grinning from ear to ear, Eli let more blasts fly. Guards fell in flaming heaps.

One of them returned fire, the shot only just missing Eli’s head. It struck the wall behind him, exploding in a shower of sparks and molten metal. The prisoner dove forward as more pulses of light raced toward him. He jumped up, swung the shaft in a wide arch, bashing in the crown of one of the guards.

Using the stunned and blinded trooper as a living shield, Eli blasted guard after guard. The return fire tore the blinded guard to pieces.

The final trooper wore an energy shield. Eli sank the blade deep into his foe’s chest. It came back out in a burst of blood.

Eli spotted a Tigue cowering in the corner. It was the commander. The escaped prisoner leapt onto the commander’s back, put the tip of the spear to the back of his head, “Take me to the control room.”

“I can’t!” the hostage begged. Judging by the desperation in his voice, the seat of his people’s consciousness must have been located in the head.

Eli pressed the control that wet the blade with a little dose of non-lethal energy. He touched it to the nape of the commander’s neck. He let out an undignified yelp at the sudden burst of pain. Eli moved the spear upward, resting it against the alien’s eye cluster, “Take me to the control room,” he repeated.

“They’ll have me executed,” the commander pleaded.

A trooper entered the room. Eli braced the spear on his captive’s shoulder and fired, dropping the intruder. He screeched in fear and pain as the stray arcs kissed him on the cheek.

Eli stuck the tip of the spear into the back of the hostage’s head, drawing blood, “Last chance.”

The Tigue started heading for the exit to the cell block, “Okay, okay. I don’t know what you think you are going to accomplish, but I’ll take you there.”

They marched down wide corridors. More guards appeared, leveling their spears at Eli, but not firing. Their expressions were apprehensive.

“Tell your goons to fuck off,” Eli ordered.

The hostage complied, instructing them to stand down. They reluctantly placed their spears at shoulder arms and slowly backed away, watching the pair as they took a corner.

At last, they reached their destination. The commander went for the door’s keypad. Eli gave him a fresh jolt, told him that if he sounded any alarms or pressed a duress button, he’d be dead before he hit the floor.

The door slid open and they entered the room. The crew that manned the many control systems looked on in horror. Eli ordered them to face the wall and get on their knees. The hostage ordered them to comply. As they obeyed the command, Eli jumped from his perch and locked the door. Then he searched for and quickly found the computer that controlled the civilization’s lottery system.

“Just as I thought,” Eli said to himself, before keying the mic to the station’s PA system, “Attention, citizens of Megau. Your leaders have betrayed you. Here is the evidence.”

He put the data on display, plain for all to see, as it always should be. There it was, the relentless numbers, projected on every screen. The ruling class and their sycophants were far less likely to receive extra penalties. The chance of a death sentence was null. The leadership had cheated the people, just as it always does.

Eli surfed the camera feeds. He silently watched as the people reacted. Shock morphed into anger. A lone guard was ambushed, his weapon taken. Then another was attacked and relieved of their spear. Ad hoc groups began to form. Before long, there was general fighting in half of the concourses.

A riot broke out in the shopping district. No store was safe from the looters. Tigue trotted through the smoky haze. A rapid response team was driven back by a barrage of Molotovs. A platoon of guards painted over the insignia of the government that was emblazoned on their uniforms, before joining the rapidly growing rebellion.

“What have you done?” the commander whined.

“The right thing,” Eli said, shouldering the spear and heading for the hangar bay.

***

Chaos surrounded the human as he made his way to his ship. He briefly stopped to lay down covering fire for a group of citizens that were engaging a squad of soldiers. When that engagement ended in victory, he made a beeline for Cavalier.

As he flew out of the hangar bay, he wondered how he would break the news to Kirjen and Jussco. He supposed that they had no right to be upset. Afterall, they’d sent him there in the first place. If anything, he should give them a talking-to.