The ELI Event B007R5LTNS

Governor, Lokus. Shiny black helmets and dark-tinted visors hid the faces of the attackers.
    Val-Nar was killed instantly, pinned by the collapsing wall and crushed by great pieces of the ceiling as it crashed down around them. Next to her, injured by flying rubble, Argus tried to throw some of the debris off her, but could not. He fell upon her broken body and screamed ineffectually at the troopers. They opened fire on him simultaneously, scattering viscera about the ravaged room as his body burst from the internal pressure created by their pulse rifles.
    The scientists now scrambled over the ruins of Borok’s house like insects startled by a sudden light, desperately searching for escape routes. Only Kyr, the youngest, took offensive action. He jumped onto the nearest trooper’s back and held on. The trooper spun around, trying to throw him off, shouting and swearing.
    But Kyr would not be shaken off. He seemed glued on, impotently beating his fists on the trooper’s helmet as they rotated among the dust and debris in a frenetic, macabre dance.
    The other invaders barked short, hateful laughs, momentarily amused by the harmless spectacle. They stopped laughing when Kyr’s hand found the trooper’s service blade in its belt scabbard. Suddenly realizing what he had, he withdrew the knife and plunged it to the hilt into the trooper’s neck, the two screaming in unison now as they continued to twist and turn amid the rubble.
    Seeing that his comrade was mortally wounded—and therefore of no further value to the unit—the second trooper got a concurring nod from the third, then drew his laser pistol, swept it quickly from right to left, and cut both combatants neatly in half at the waist with its beam. The two stopped spinning; their torsos rested unsteadily atop their hips for a moment, separated but still standing, before splashing to the floor in a bloody tangle of limbs and organs.
    The screaming stopped.
    The troopers turned their attention to the remainder of the group. Kyr’s life had bought the others a few precious seconds. As the remaining five bolted through the back door, Borok called, “Head for my skimmer!”
    The door of the parking shelter opened automatically at their approach, and they tumbled toward it in panic. Borok stood at the door and roughly shoved Denes and Lucinda through, followed by Pan-Li. As Aurora approached, she vainly tried to push Borok ahead of her.
    “Go! Go!” he shouted, but she hesitated, not wanting to leave him for last.
    The troopers appeared at the back door, pulse rifles at the ready. Borok noted with curious detachment the silver “L” reflected in Aurora’s beautiful dark eyes, wide with fear.
    There was no time left. Borok drew a breath to say “Goodbye,” but was dead, his body burst and scattered, before the word escaped his lips.
    Aurora went into shock, her senses overwhelmed. Her knees buckled under her as the next round of rifle pulses ripped open the wall just above her head. Before she could strike the ground, Pan-Li’s lean, strong arms grasped her and easily lifted her into Borok’s skimmer.
    The small vehicle lifted from its pad and screamed at top speed from the shelter. In seconds it had cleared and passed the troopers. One whirled and raised his weapon, but the other placed a gloved hand on the barrel and gently pushed it down with a brief shake of his helmeted head.
    Inside the skimmer, the occupants sobbed in horror and disbelief. Denes punched in the course for their laboratory, still secret—at least for now—from the Federals. Lucinda fought through her tears to engage the autodrive. Pan-Li reached across to hold Aurora’s hand as Denes numbly spun his chair around to face the pitiful remains of the group, now reduced to half their number.
    They lowered their heads and bore their anguish privately for a while as the skimmer silently sped them away from the tragedy. There were no words, nor need for them. The only sounds were the rushing of air past the skimmer’s windows and the hushed sobbing of Aurora, alone now for the first time in nearly a century.
    Then, almost as if at a signal, they straightened simultaneously. Their decision had been made for them: they had to act, and act now. The old friends, now comrades in rebellion, looked at each other, acknowledged and assimilated their collective pain and rage. Slowly, slowly, the grief in their eyes was replaced by grim resolve.

Two
    Nearly three hundred years earlier, General