12.) Fools of Fortune

The long abandoned oil refinery was isolated, made up of many small and larger buildings, sheds, and rusted out equipment, was almost the perfect place to law low, and the three platoon's of heavily armed soldiers moved carefully toward the middle warehouse, drawn by an almost constant tapping that none of them recognized as a warning in code. Other Furyan's would have known it for what it was. A trap.

The man in charge keyed his radio, voice low.

"Surround and prepare to move in. Five, windows." Six identically dressed soldiers rushed forward, staying low, and a minute later, backed up to their original positions, one of them keying his radio.

"Looks like twenty, sir. Still asleep. Can't see where the noise is coming from." The Colonel nodded, pulling his piece, tapping the vest under his better quality uniform.

"Move on three. Dart first, but kill if you have to. No escapes." The men positioned themselves and the Colonel stepped to just behind the first group that was getting set to go in, eager to claim his share of the victory.

"One...Two…"

"Wait!"

"Three!" The men rushed in.

"BBbbooommb! Kkaaabbbommmm!"

The entire building went up at once, triggers connected to the doors, and all the men were killed instantly, vaporized by a flame cloud that enveloped the whole oil yard. The blaze was visible for a hundred miles, and on a far ridge, blending in with the flickering shadows, Riddick and his small band of bitter refugee's got moving again, watching the firestorm with satisfied, alien eyes.

Too far away to see the actual fire, but not the smoke and light, or to hear the faint echoes of the explosions as they rang out thru this quiet world, three jeeps of specially trained men flying thru dawns last shadows.

"Should we go back?" Donre frowned.

"Go faster. You can't help the dead." The Lt. did as he was told and Donre watched the smoke billow up with tired, glad eyes. It had been a struggle to convince those in charge to give him a new squad of men and he was exhausted from keeping himself cool and calm instead of just killing them all like he wanted to. He would be in charge then, but his orders would never be followed and he'd forced himself to grovel, to plead for one last chance to take care of this threat for them. They had grudgingly agreed, almost half wanting him imprisoned after the reports of watch guards on another, smaller bunker being found dead, and now, the call had come.

The wave of energy had worried him a little at first, made him glad he'd already been on the road and out of contact when it came, the strength of it enough to give him a headache, but he was also elated. It was true. There was a Heir to the Furyan thrown. His time on this miserable rock had not been wasted, was almost over. By death or victory, his mission here, the job he'd been contracted for so long ago, would be done, and then he could collect his prize for finding and killing who he'd been sent here for. Another faint ripple of explosions came to his sensitive ears and he sneered.

"Fools. You have to get ahead and ambush. Surprise is the only real weapon against our kind." The Lt. wasn't sure if the green eyed General was talking to him but chose to take the opening, very curious about the hard-ass now giving him orders. The last two squads with Donre hadn't survived, not one of them, and the younger but still smart Lt. was determined that wouldn't happen to him or his men.

"Is that where we're going?"

"Of course. We'll get a location and get set up." Donre waved a hand. "Faster Lt. Scott, and maybe yours will indeed be the men to survive my command." The wind pushed a the jeep and the soldier manhandled the wheel, forcing it to do what he wanted.

"We'll be in the woods around South Bunker #12 in 18 hours. I'll see to it." The hooded Furyan nodded, frowning.

"The plane ban is useless now that the WorldEnders have been defeated and still, they send us out on wheels." He looked at the odd colored moon, it's purple and pink lights made even more eerie by the shapes of the smoke, lips almost smiling.

"They won't listen and they won't live to regret it." He shrugged. "Not my fight, anyway."