Chapter 33: Army of One

There was a long pause unbroken by sound or action, followed by a mad clamor of weapons being drawn as every slaver left alive armed himself. All eyes were on the door and the darkness beyond save for the two newest additions to the caged menagerie. Alarmed, Little Cato turned to Gary and whispered tightly,

"Gary, it's -"

"Your dad. Yeah, I know."

In a voice just above a breath, Little Cato demanded through gritted teeth, "Can. You. Get. Us. Out?"

Gary fixed eyes with his son and nodded the tiniest bit, giving nothing more away. Little Cato blinked in surprise, then just went with it, his faith in Gary an absolute. Feeling suddenly sly and elated, Little Cato gave him a small smirk.

"He can use that. I'll let him know."

Another tiny nod, and a faint echo of his smirk of approval were answers enough for Little Cato. With a few more deft twists, he unlocked the fourth lock on the cage just as Korg bellowed at the open door,

"Come out, you, or we're going in!"

Not a one of the slavers wanted to be first to follow through on that particular threat, especially since it was obvious to all that their leader had no intention of leading the charge.

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Had his family not been involved and if there was nothing better to do, Avocato would have almost been amused at the slavers' delayed reaction to his presence. Four of their number had rushed blindly at him from the adjoining room, coming straight for him one after another, and met their deaths in order of appearance. If Clarence's reckoning was correct - and he didn't think for a moment that it was - there were a dozen slavers left to deal with after the five he'd eliminated. That didn't seem like quite enough to handle a ship full of slaves, but aside from being a slave himself, Avocato knew nothing about this trade, and Clarence's information had been surprisingly exact. Either way, their arrogance would be their undoing. After all, a weapon was only as good as the person using it, and so far he had seen untrained lackeys, a scant handful of outcast ex-military and convicts playing at soldiers, and brutes whose only method was force. In Avocato's estimate, there wasn't a real threat among them.

Until now.

They were rattled. Good. The last thing they had anticipated was being attacked in their own hideout. the only way they knew how to respond was through brute force. He knew what he would find as he walked through the door: poor lighting, cages of frightened victims in long rows, and trigger-happy captors. Darkness, terror, and cruelty, in other words.

Amateurs.

In the recesses of his memories he could hear his classmates in the Royal Military Academy of Ventrex. Time and again they had called him arrogant because almost every aspect of his learning had come so easily to him, but that was their burning envy speaking. Even Avocato could see after just a few months of training that he had been born to fight. He reveled in the intricacies of any scale of battle, and combat came to him as naturally as breathing. Duels, brawls, skirmishes, or fleet actions - to Avocato, they were all the same.

Still, he had been invited to join this party. His son and husband were already there, waiting for him. As an officer and the son of a noble house, it would be impolite to refuse at this point.

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Trying to be discreet as he worked the combinations on the locks, Gary didn't even attempt to resist the urge to watch the door as General Avocato made his entrance.

And oh, what an entrance.

There was something fierce and satisfying in the knowledge that he, Gary Goodspeed, was married to the baddest badass who was ever bad or had an ass - and he'd seen it and could attest to the fact that cat's ass was mighty fine. Tall, slim, his uniform immaculate, his presence imperious, General Avocato stepped out of the shadows and into the warehouse as if he commanded more firepower than any ten planets combined - which, in fact, he did. Unchallenged, unintimidated, Avocato strode down the central aisle of cages with the same confidence as when he strode across the bridge of his flagship, every eye and gun zeroed in on him.

Dead silence reigned. Slaves and slavers alike stared in gaping astonishment as the situation hit home. Every person in the room - and there was well over a hundred of them - recognized the second-in-command of the Tera Con Empire. That same second-in-command who had been reported killed when the Kalibar was destroyed in the Ziga Turi system. The second-in-command who was one of the most renowned and fiercest warriors in the universe. There was no mistaking that coloring, that uniform, that overwhelming authority.

A little more than halfway to Korg's spot in the middle of the floor, one of the slavers thought to make a name for himself. The same Foog that had helped to capture Little Cato and whom Gary had been following when he'd been nabbed, let out a sharp breath and charged, running at the general from one of the breaks between rows of cages. Avocato barely glanced to the side, and when he moved, his actions were as fluid as they were deadly. At the last moment he shifted back slightly, and in one swift move his left hand swept up, deflecting the barrel of the rifle and sending the shot towards the ceiling. In the same motion, Avocato snatched the gun from the young Foog's grip as the slaver's momentum brought him beyond his target. With his right hand, Avocato landed a swift and heavy swat to the back of the Foog's pointed head, sending up a spray of gray blood and propelling him face-first into the bars of one of the cages. The slave in that cage yelped in alarm, and a moment later the little gray Foog let out a shriek of pain as he realized Avocato had snatched the heavy – and very necessary – goggles off his head, blinding him.

Without sparing his latest victim another look, Avocato, who had barely broken his stride, casually crushed the lenses and tossed the goggles well away over the cages before dropping the rifle. One less to fight.

A little keen of overwhelming excitement and want escaped Gary's throat, and he was biting his lower lip and curling his fists so hard he was a danger to himself. In the pen beside him, Little Cato sighed and shook his head. There were practically stars in Gary's eyes and Little Cato could all but see pink hearts popping in the air around his adopted father. It was downright embarrassing and sure to blow up in their faces if he didn't put a stop to it. Taking command, Little Cato hissed,

"Focus!"

Gary blinked, yanking himself out of a happy little daze and tearing his eyes away, muttering, "Right, Right. Focus. I'm focused. Focusing here. On this. Not on the muy sexy Ventrexian action hero." He gave his head a hard shake. "Gaa, that coat is not fair, Spider Cat."

"Hyperventilate over my dad's wardrobe after we escape, okay?"

"No promises."

Gary finished unscrambling the fourth lock on his cage as Avocato drew abreast of him and Little Cato. The general didn't turn his head, but his eyes shifted slightly as Little Cato used both hands in some Ventrexian military sign language. With one hand still close to his side, Avocato made a few quick, sharp gestures in return.

"Well?" pressed Gary in a whisper.

"I told him we can escape. He said move with me. Be ready, Dad."

Move with me? Now that was a promise Gary could get behind. Slowly he slid his hands into the pockets of his coat and closed his fingers around the key he had snatched from the slaver's belt the moment he had been thrown into this cage.

"Ready, kiddo."

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Not a word was said until Avocato strode straight up to the Kormidorn in charge of what was left of this crew. Taller and broader than Avocato, the general was forcibly reminded of how aesthetically unappealing this race was even at the best of times, which this was not. They spent a moment sizing one another up, and it was the Kormidorn who broke away from Avocato's stern scrutiny, hiding his discomfiture by hastily pointing at the nervous slavers. Around Korg, his cronies spread out, all guns teamed on Avocato as they completely encircled him. The closest slaves crouched low in their cages, terrified.

Avocato let the moment stretch, let these dregs appreciate the fact that he was not dead as rumored and that he had easily taken out a third of their number without effort. He wanted them to know that they were not going to get away with kidnapping his son or seizing Gary. Let them realize what they were up against, and let them be afraid.

"You have something of mine," Avocato said firmly, in his best command voice. "I'm here to get it back."

A low, grumbling growl escaped Korg, and he demanded, "What's that, then?"

"My family."

Korg snorted. "You and what army?"

Avocato smirked. "I am the army."

Korg let out a laugh, but it was a forced and empty attempt to hide the fear he was experiencing. None of his crew joined in, and the sound died alone.

"What you are," said Korg, hefting his gun, "is dead."

Avocato's expression never changed. His little smile was a deliberate tactic to keep the Kormidorn's attention as he moved his right hand to his side. "Tryvuul couldn't kill me. The Battle of Ziga Turi couldn't kill me. The Scoti and a Death Knell couldn't kill me. What makes you think you can do better than them?"

Korg shrugged. "Point-blank range. Fire! Fire!"

It was total chaos as the lackeys obeyed the order without hesitation. Avocato dropped straight down to the floor in a low crouch as laser fire erupted over his head. Screams rang out as slaves and slavers alike were hit by the crossfire. Shots ricocheted off the metal cages or stirred up ages-old dust and the smell of ozone overcame the stink of unwashed bodies. Three more slave traders fell over dead, wounded, stunned, or faking it to get out of the fight.

"Get the rest of the crew here now!" bellowed Korg, dodging laser fire.

In one powerful leap, Avocato sprang up from his crouch and right at Korg, bowling the Kormidorn over as he yanked the stolen knife out of his boot. A savage cry escaped him as he faced the one who would have enslaved his son. Avocato would have killed Korg on the spot save that his Delgan first mate, armed with a blaster and an elaborate Regru long sword, kept a level enough head to rush in and save his captain. While the gun was not a problem for Avocato, the sword was, and so he shifted his attack. Using the Kormidorn's bulk as a springboard, Avocato pounced, getting in too close for the Delgan to use the sword. He fired at the Ventrexian and the shot hit home, but Avocato never even slowed as he buried the knife to the hilt in the man's chest.

For a heartbeat, the Delgan looked at him in shock, his mouth hanging open as he dropped to his knees. Ignoring the spurt of blue blood, Avocato snatched the knife free, turning to face the Kssess trying to edge up from behind. Avocato twirled, making up the distance and jumping high to land a spinning kick square on the insectoid's chest, his flaring coat covering his intended moves. There was a crack and the Kssess staggered away, the rigid exoskeleton over its hearts crushed inwards. Then a hideous screeching sound echoed through the room as a large and sickly green worm erupted from the Delgan's mouth in a fountain of blood and brains. It spewed forth from its host, hideously long and frighteningly intelligent. It cast about for a new carrier, knowing it was in a room of people who were incapable of fleeing from it, but Avocato was not about to allow the parasite to live.

"Avocato!"

Gary. The tone was unmistakable. He was screaming for help. Avocato whipped the knife hard at the worm, piercing through the soft body and pinning it to the floor. He scooped up the fallen sword and blaster and jumped over the Delgan, noting that in the few moments it had taken to kill the first officer, Korg had scrambled away.

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Even Gary, no strategist like the general, could see the world-class mistake the frightened and over-excited slavers made by completely encircling Avocato. Friendly fire and collateral damage were clearly acceptable phrases in Korg's lexicon, and oh, boy, did he ever get both.

"Fire! Fire!"

"Get down!" yelped Gary, hitting the deck. Little Cato flattened himself to the floor as shots rang out, passing dangerously close overhead. In the confusion and noise that followed the shootout, Gary yanked the key out of his pocket and one after another, unlocked the remaining locks. He gripped the door and looking up, he found himself faced by one of the slavers, a striped furry biped with no visible ears and beady eyes. He recognized one of the crew that had given him a beat down in the alley. Instinct and adrenaline served him well because he shoved the heavy door as hard as he could, smashing it open and catching the slaver in the face. It dropped its gun as it reeled back a step. Gary laid hold with his bionic arm and threw the alien into the cage, slamming the door after it. He couldn't hear the mechanisms through the tumult, but he saw the lights turn green as the cell locked and he let out a happy bark.

"Ha! Take that!" he crowed, grabbing the fallen gun.

There was an impatient rattle of a cage door. "Gary!"

"On it, Spider Cat!"

He crouched by Little Cato's cage and moments later his son bounded out, free. "Close the door. We don't want them catching us in one again. Hey!" Gary called to the bland and morose alien pouting in the next cage. "Get out, pass the key on. I want everyone out of here!"

He tossed the key to the shocked alien, who gaped a moment before jumping into gear.

"We need to help Dad," insisted Little Cato, looking to where his father was squared off against the Delgan. "We need weapons."

"You take this." Gary handed over the laser he had taken from the fuzz ball. It wasn't much of a gun, but it was definitely better than nothing."Cato dropped that rifle-"

"No good. Didn't you see? He snapped the power cell."

"Didn't see, but okay. Plan B. Let's go pick on somebody smaller than us."

"I think you just got the last small one."

"Damn. Okay. Someone our size. And by our size, I mean your size."

"Sounds - Gary, look!"

Little Cato pointed at the far wall. A loading bay door was opening, and beyond it stood another half-dozen members of the Degune's crew. They were big, ugly, mean, armed, ready to rumble, and running right at them.

"Oh my crap," breathed Gary, knowing Avocato hadn't seen them yet. "Come on!"

Weaving through the slavers and freed slaves rushing around, Gary kept one hand around Little Cato's cross belt, terrified of being separated. Above the din of screams and shots that filled the place, Gary let out a wild shout. "Avocato! Behind you!"

Twenty paces away, Avocato slid to a stop, did a swift inventory of his family, then glanced behind him. "Catch!" he yelled back before reversing direction and running straight at the new threat.

Gary caught the gun Avocato tossed him against his chest. "Now we're talking! C'mon, Spider Cat! Time to take out the trash!"