by M. J Kreyzer
The Chainlance roared. Laughing through clenched teeth, the Monolith bore down on her, his heavy strides shaking the ground she crawled on. The breeze from the spinning saw blades came off the saw in sharp spurts and blew onto her face.
The Monolith shouted, raising the Chainlance above his head, his eyes wide with pleasure and his teeth gritted in a smile. For a moment he hung it there, meeting eyes with Seraphine. His eyes were manic, but with her large, green eyes distorted with hopelessness and fear, Seraphine pleaded with him.
He brought the Chainlance down hard, the three inch teeth screaming towards Seraphine’s forehead.
Helpless, Seraphine held her hands up in defense. Through the water and sweat that blurred her eyes, she watched in terror as the Chainlance came down on top of her. In her mind her thoughts went to home, to her old life, and to the mother she’d never see again. She only hoped her mother didn’t hear of how Seraphine begged for her life. That wasn’t the memory she wanted her mother to have of her.
So for the last split second of her life, Seraphine faced the grinding saw, it’s teeth wet with Sable’s blood, and looked at it firmly, bravely. Just like the Ditrinity would.
The Monolith’s right hand fell off, still gripping the Chainlance. In only one hand, the massive saw swung freely down, the teeth coming within inches of Seraphine’s shin and digging effortlessly into the cement. The Monolith looked dumbfounded at his severed hand as the pain began to set in.
A woman darted between the Monolith and Seraphine, crouched and ready for another attack.
It was Sable.
There was a wide, jagged gap in the side of her armor where the Chainlance had sawed through. Blood still wetted the armor but the wound was gone. And through sweat dampened hair that stuck to her cheeks and forehead, Sable faced the Monolith and the Legionnaires, he sword held tightly behind her as she crouched defensively over Seraphine.
“You’re not taking this one you son of a bitch.” She said with weakened breaths. Her eyes darted across the other Legionnaires as they all formed up for attack. Slowly they began to surround her, fanning out with their weapons held high.
The Monolith fell to one knee, blood pouring from his severed wrist and pooling on the pavement.
“Go.” Sable muttered over her shoulder back to Seraphine. “The shipyard is just down the street. You can find it from there.”
From somewhere within her, another tear found its way to Seraphine’s eye. “But Sable, I…”
“If anybody’s going to survive, it’s you.” Sable said, getting more tense as the Legionnaires closed the circle. “Now get out of here.”
“But-“
“PLEASE!”
Seraphine got to her feet and turned to run. After a few steps she looked back, watching the squad of Legionnaires close in around Sable, outnumbering her twelve to one. Seraphine wanted to cry again. “I’ll never forget you.”
Shaking unstably on her feet, Sable nodded. Over her shoulder she watched Seraphine running as fast as she could down the street, obviously unsteady on her feet. But getting to Seraphine, the first step, was over now. Sable could only hope she’d survive long enough for Seraphine to get away.
She faced the Legionnaires again, the Nightwolves, the Skirmishers, Knights, the Berserker, and stood strong. She held herself like tearing through these soldiers would be a simple task. But she knew it was impossible. But there was a strength she felt as she looked across the soldiers knowing that she wouldn’t be walking away from that spot. She looked at them all, stared the Nightwolves in their dark scarlet eyes, and she felt no fear. She thought of her friends, of her life, of Hendrick, and she felt complete. It was time to go honorably. It was time to die like a Ditrinity.
“Die su Relia.” She whispered.
“DON’T LOSE HER!” The Monolith shouted, his shaking hand pointed down the street to Seraphine. The Legionnaires on Sable’s flanks broke ranks after Seraphine. Then Sable struck.
She slashed right, catching the Knight’s throat, and hacked left, clipping the shoulder of the Skirmisher.
The Legionnaires knew they couldn’t reach Seraphine unless they killed Sable first. They charged her hard.
Sable back peddled hard, slashing left and right as she held off the Legionnaires that came from both sides. They sprinted at her, the Skirmishers attacking with halberds and spiraling razor flails, the Knights with their swords, the Nightwolves with their bare teeth. Every half dozen strikes Sable would make contact with a Legionnaire’s body, hurting but not disabling them.
The Berserker drew a massive, double headed axe from his back, yelled, and ran to join the fight. Immediately Sable stopped, disorienting some of the soldiers. As they overshot her, Sable beheaded two of the passing soldiers.
Blades were coming from everywhere, and Sable dodged the best she could, avoiding excessive injury but taking hits regardless. Swords clipped her legs, razor flails shredded her arms, but Sable held her ground long enough for the lacerations to heal. But her blood wasn’t regenerating nearly as fast. Sable had lost a massive amount of blood. Her vision was starting to blur.
She took down another Knight, bringing her katana down and putting its bloodied edge clean through his collar bone. Immediately she ducked and a Skirmisher’s razor flail skimmed over her head and caught one of the Nightwolves. It howled as the razors dug into his face, eyes, and snout. The Skirmisher tried to yank it loose but the blades only dug deeper. Sable took her chance. Her sword severed the Skirmisher’s arm at the elbow, flipping the sword in her hand and skewering the wolf.
The Legionnaires kept charging. Her skin was starting to get pale and her legs were losing feeling.
Sable quickly checked behind her and saw that Seraphine was gone and her mood lightened; she might be able to make it after all. She checked back in front of her and counted the soldiers.
There were two left, a Skirmisher and a Berserker. Only that thought crossed her mind before the Skirmisher speared her around the waist. Her katana jerked from her grip as both of them tumbled to the ground throwing strikes at one another.
The Skirmisher was strong. He had her by at least sixty pounds without armor. Sable raised her knees into his chest and defended against his assault. With his armored fists battering at her guard, Sable calmly protected her face as she prepared to counter.
Sable kept an eye on the Berserker as he looked for a gap to attack Sable.
The Skirmisher’s punches were systematic, had a beat, and Sable was memorizing it.
Punch… punch… punch…
And Sable attacked.
Immediately she snatched his wrist, snapped it, pressed her knee against the man’s chest and yanked against his arm. There was a fleshy pop as it dislocated. Sable shoved him back with her knee, elevated her foot and kicked him brutally in the chin. Her leg extended fully and his head snapped back. He crumpled to the ground unconscious.
Behind the fallen soldier, the Berserker appeared with his axe in mid-swing. Though her body ached and her muscles burned, she didn’t have time to consider the pain. Taken off guard, Sable rolled. The axe impacted so close that it shaved bits of metal off of her back armor plate in a spray of sparks.
The Berserker effortlessly dislodged the axe and swung again. Sable rolled again.
The Berserker continued to swing manically. The axe head impacted all around Sable, getting closer with every impact.
There was no time to get to her feet. The frequency of each swing was so swift that taking time to switch positions would get her killed.
And the axe was getting closer with every swing. Her mind raced for a way out.
She had only one. The razor flail.
Sable rolled once more, away from the flail. As she kept an eye on it, it disappeared behind the axe, which nailed the ground just inches from her face.
The Berserker lugged the axe upright and the razor flail came back into view.
Sable watched the Berserker as he put momentum back behind the axe and swung it
downward. Her heart racing, she waited until the last possible second to dodge.
The axe was in midswing. It blurred as it raced towards her forehead.
It was a few feet away. Sable rolled.
The axe blade clipped her back and showered embers across the street. It took several rolls to reach the weapon and she snatched it up and whipped it back towards the axe. It coiled around the handle and Sable pulled it tight. Still in his blind rage, the Berserker hoisted the axe up with amazing force, ripping Sable from the ground and launching her into the air.
With her waist just above the level of the Berserker’s head, Sable adjusted herself in midair and put the armored toe of her boot into the side of his helmet.
The visor cracked and bits of it fell to the ground revealing portions of the Berserker’s face. Before he could grab her, Sable landed on his chest with one foot on his shoulder, shoving his face backwards and planting a solid punch in the giant’s trachea.
He coughed but the strike had no lasting effect. Before she could take another blow he grabbed her around the waist, his fingers wrapping completely around her and he hurled her straight at the ground.
There were several pops as her armor distorted and several ribs broke. She blacked out for a second and came to just in time to see the bottom of the Berserker’s foot falling towards her face.
She rolled just as the soldier’s cleats slammed into the ground. Sable tried to get to her feet but stumbled and screamed in pain; her leg had popped out of place.
The Berserker was already charging her. She had no way of attacking. Her fists weren’t powerful enough, her legs were useless.
But there was a fully loaded Obliterator resting on the ground next to a downed Knight.
The Berserker swung hard. Sable ducked it as the blade whistled through her hair and she dove towards the rifle, her hand held out and falling on the handle.
Then she stopped.
A blow to the back flattened her against the ground. Her back arched beneath the sharp, shredding pain that blazed down her spine. She felt one lung pop like a balloon while the other lost every bit of air it contained. She tried to get to her knees.
Her legs no longer worked.
With one hand, its strength diminishing with each passing second, Sable reached back towards the area of the impact to feel what had happened.
Feebly her hand rubbed against the steely surface of the axe blade buried vertically in her back where her spine was. The sharpened edge of the blade had disappeared in her back from what little she could feel. It was several inches, enough to put the blade through her armor and into her back, splitting the vertebrates like small stumps of wood.
Slowly her hands lost feeling , a coldness running along her arm. She could no longer hold them up and she felt nothing. They fell to the ground, useless and immobile. In her mind she panicked. But slowly, gently, the panic diminished and Sable reached a dark, conclusive, hopeless calm. She heard footsteps coming towards her. She couldn’t roll over to defend herself. She couldn’t even look back.
A boot was placed across her shoulders to hold her down and her body jerked. With a woody, wet squeak, the axe was removed from her back like a hatchet from a tree stump. She heard the Berserker inhale sharply as he prepared for one last finishing swing.
It was several seconds of dreaded silence.
There was a yell. Pained, enraged, it rang through the streets in a broken cry.
The axe’s trajectory changed by several inches. It embedded into the street just inches from Sable’s face. Her face was blank.
The Berserker flailed his hands behind his back to rip off the new assailant.
It was Hendrick. His face distorted in blind fury and sorrow, he dodged each of the Berserker’s reaching hands. He had torn off the Berserker’s helmet and pounded at the man’s temple with his Blazers.
The Berserker thrashed violently. Hendrick held his grip.
One last punch knocked the Berserker’s head to one side. Before he could recover, Hendrick pulled his chin up, drew his knife and jammed it into the man’s neck, burying the blade to its handle. The Berserker’s hands quivered with pain as his attempts at removing Hendrick became more frantic.
Like a hacksaw through raw meat, Hendrick cut through the Berserker’s neck in a crude, sawing motion, going from one side of his neck to the other. Hendrick gritted his teeth, enjoying every last second of the soldier’s agonizing death.
Sable was motionless on the ground. The image constricted his gut and he jammed the knife deeper.
The Berserker’s back arched and his body tensed as the knife tore loose, tearing through the rest of the Berserker’s neck while only a few inches of muscle and his spine kept his head attached. Hendrick tossed the knife, put his hands around the Berserker’s head, jerked it to the left and twisted it violently back to the right.
There was a grotesque snap as the Berserker’s head came loose. His massive body collapsed to the ground while the head, hanging by only a bit of skin, flopped freely back and forth. Hendrick had hurled himself from the Berserker’s back, tearing the wolf skull mask from his face and sprinting to Sable’s side.
He fell to his knees and saw the wound on her back; it wasn’t healing itself. His face hopeless, frightened, he grabbed her shoulder pads and rolled her to her back, sliding one arm beneath her neck and supporting her head.
She took a gasping breath as she came to rest in Hendrick’s arms. Her breaths were shallow, rigid. From her shoulders up she quivered. Everything else, her arms, her legs, laid still. Hendrick looked her from head to toe, unable to believe what he was seeing; Not willing to believe it. He stuttered as he tried to find words to say. Nothing came to mind.
Sable coughed sharply. Blood ran out from the corner of her mouth and ran down her cheek. “At least… at least you made it.” She wheezed, her words barely audible. Her glowing eyes were dimming.
Hendrick looked to her with surprise, shocked that she could still speak. Then, in an instant, he recomposed himself and nodded down the street. “You did too. Come on, the shipyards just down there and we’re gonna-“
Sable shook her head. It silenced Hendrick.
“Not this time…” She said smiling, her optimism surprisingly strong even now. “We’ve made it through a lot of fights but not… not today.”
Hendrick shook his head angrily, frustrated. He wanted to save her. He had to. Nothing was ever outside his control. “Shut up. Just shut up, okay? I’ll carry you if I have to but I’m not-“
“Seraphine made it.” Sable interrupted with a whisper, closing her eyes as a bolt of pain shot through her. She coughed again. More blood ran from her mouth.
“Come on, get up!” Hendrick demanded, yanking her to a sitting position. “Get up and run! There’s nothing that-“
“I can’t feel them.” Sable said. Her eyes distant and face sullen, her lower lip began to quiver. She shook her head hopelessly. “I can’t feel anything.”
Her shoulder’s began to shake as Sable’s emotions became stronger and stronger. Tears pooled up at the corners of her eyes. As her lower lip stuck out she looked away, bursting into sobs.
Pain tore at Hendrick’s chest as he watched her suffering, dying. He had always thought he could do anything, yet here he stood with Sable in his arms, paralyzed and dying, and he could do nothing. He wanted to say something, but as he had often been in Sable’s presence, Hendrick found himself without words.
“All I wanted was to live how I wanted!” Sable cried opening her eyes and looking towards the clear night sky, past the battle cruisers and into the starlit blackness. “I wanted to walk around without being afraid of being arrested and I just wanted to live how everybody had in the movies, Nate… I know they aren’t real but they’re more real than the life I’ve never lived! I wanted to be free!” Sable paused as a wave of thick, heavy sobs overwhelmed her. Hendrick tried vainly to give some kind of comfort.
“I’d forgotten why I fought against the Commune an
d I even thought of running out on everybody back in the Popus caves and being what I always wanted to and I was regretting that almost the entire way here but… But then you did what you did for me and…” Sable stopped, a new hopelessness and stifling regret climbing into her chest. “You reminded me why I fought and lived like I had for so long. I want a life! I want a family! I’ve always wanted to be a mother, Nate, I always have but I’ve… I’ve never had the chance!” Sable continued to sob, shaking in Hendrick’s arms, vocalizing all her hopes and dreams so that at least one person in the world would know her the way she wanted. He squeezed her tightly against his chest as he felt her life slipping away with every breath. “I want to love somebody and…” She stopped herself, looking to Hendrick. Their eyes connected like they had in the restaurant and the feelings returned, potent as they ever had been, a fact that made her death even more difficult to face.
“Tell me you love me…” Sable asked Hendrick.
It hurt him to hear her say that. It just drove a spike further into his chest. He shook his head. “…But your aren’t going to-“
“Nobody’s ever told me they loved me in my entire life, Nate, please!”
Hendrick shook his head stubbornly, refusing to confirm the factuality of her death. “Sable you’re not going to-“
“Nate…” Sable whispered softly, putting her head into his chest. “I am… just please… “ She paused, resting her head against him, her breath ragged and shallow. “Do you love me?”
There wasn’t anything else he could do. With hopeful eyes she looked up at him. Their glow had all but vanished. But knowing that this might be the last time he ever saw them, Hendrick realized they had never looked so beautiful.
Hendrick pressed her head against his chest and nodded, squeezing her tight and breathing slowly.
Sable released a long ragged breath as though a weight had been lifted from her. She smiled and coughed again. Then, she went still, almost motionless. Hendrick saw her head lulling away from him. He forced it upright.
“That’s doesn’t mean it’s okay for you to give up.” Hendrick demanded, but seeing her fading away made him more desperate, more demanding. “We’ve got life to live, Sable. We can do anything you want and once we take down the Commune we…”
