The Blood Service

by Allen Ivers

  “Not since we checked in to the Hotel Deplorable,” Nora sat on the floor, wincing as she extended her wounded leg for Eden to see, “But I know where Riley went.”

  Aaron’s eyes darkened, and Scar growled deep, a mutual and silent oath, “Where?”

  “Down,” she grunted, “Gas mask and all.”

  Aaron chewed on that. Riley was going into the fumes, where the unequipped heroes couldn’t follow.

  Sulfide poisoning was a nasty way to go, and Riley knew they wouldn’t throw away their own lives for an admittedly small chance of apprehending him.

  “No,” Eden snapped, “I know that look! It’s suicide in three different ways.”

  “You're assuming he's not going come quietly,” Aaron said, looking back at Scar, “He's a reasonable guy, right?”

  He could swear, the big guy actually smiled, pulling its mandibles back high and tight.

  "You don't have to do this anymore," Eden barked.

  "He's got Thor's Hammer trained on fifty thousand people," Aaron shot back, "And nothing to lose."

  "They won't shoot at civilians. They won't do it."

  Nora huffed, "You want to bet?"

  Aaron walked up to Scar, rubbing a hand across the rigid hide. He had never actually touched a Jergad before, not in a moment when he could think about it. It felt coarse, almost like sandstone, porous and rough. Might be why the bastards were so fast if it was both strong and light.

  The several wounds had already stopped bleeding, the deep red almost black, mixing with the concrete powder into a toxic mud that could not be healthy. It stained his fingers, smearing like oil.

  He remembered the blood on his hands from a murder so long ago, washing away in the rain. “Just one more,” Aaron said, marching across the top floor.

  Eden left Nora leaning on the wall, stalking after him, “His forces are scattered, he's just a single man now. He walks into the desert, you think the Jergard are going to let him be?!" Scar growled at that thought. "He has no power anymore. It's over, Aaron. We won!”

  It was a tempting notion, to walk away now, take the chips down and call it a day. Riley wasn't going to surrender; maybe just let the planet hunt him. The Queen could amuse herself with dogging his heels until she finally pinned him to a corner and etched all her pains onto his flesh.

  And how many people would Riley kill in the meantime? How many shots would Thor's Hammer take against the 'rebels' while Riley roamed free?

  Aaron had killed a lot of people to get here. No choice in the matter. This one time, he was going to choose to. Maybe that would make all the other times feel better?

  “The front door’s probably buried by now,” Aaron said, working out the problem, “He’ll want -- what, the third or fourth floor?”

  “Don’t do that to me, Aaron!” Eden bellowed at him, “Do not-! You’ve died. Twice. Left us all behind. Maybe you’re casual about it now, but we’re not!”

  Aaron looked back at her, the tears she steadfastly shoved back in her eyes, leaning into the rage, refusing to let grief take the stage. Every fiber of her was shaking, vibrating like a plucked string, but her footing was solid.

  She was a Doctor first and foremost, and she would absolutely prevent her patients from coming to harm; but she was also a Capital, trained and conditioned to die in place of another. There was a respect, a belief, and an admiration in her eyes that seemed to bake into a form of dread, a reverence surrounding the most common man poisoned by the unfortunate truth.

  She cared about him more than her Hippocratic oath would allow her to admit.

  Walk her back from that now. He had to let her go.

  "A young man has a gun, Eden. And he feels betrayed, angry – and now he's alone." Aaron said, "What do you think happens next?"

  "Don't go. Please." That's all she had left. He didn't blame her.

  “This world goes spinning on without little ol' me. What we’ve started, isn’t going to stop. But Riley… he can move whole mountains.”

  He bit his lip, feeling his own stomach churn at the truth he was contemplating. She was right. He wasn’t coming back from this. "Me for him? I'll take that deal."

  "If it was a clean swap,” she blurted too fast, as she tried to walk back her own overstep, “You for him? I’d say ‘sure.’ But this isn’t that! This is just a chance!”

  “And a terrible one at that,” Nora chimed in.

  Aaron shook his head, “We’re wasting time.”

  He turned and slung himself onto Scar, a dark rider astride a demon’s back. It was probably fifty feet to the ground below, and he was betting on a crippled alien’s fortitude to get them there. This was going to be an interesting ride.

  “Aaron--”

  “We didn’t choose to be here,” he said, catching a look of her brown eyes and matted hair one last time.

  She shook her head and drew a shaky breath, “We just choose to do something about it.”

  He opened his mouth, as if he might say something more, a button on it all, but nothing came. In that moment, he failed her. He couldn’t say goodbye or promise to see her again. He had hurt them before but never so purposefully.

  He was on that mountainside, forcing them to watch as he deliberately ended his own life. This wasn’t a kindness; it was torture. His choice was not limited to him, but it would leave a wake of damage in its passing.

  There was no good option.

  He had to choose, which pain he wanted for his friends. A lifetime of servitude to pay, or a lifetime of freedom bought.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

  And with that, Scar charged at the wall. Aaron crouched low, hiding behind Scar’s crest. There was no time to make out the details of the wall, as he was suddenly bathed in sunlight.

  It took two seconds. He counted. Just two seconds from crashing through the wall till the ground punched him in the chest.

  Scar’s wounded legs took an impressive amount of the abuse, but they had just jumped out of a sixth story window, for all intents and purposes. They should be goo, and instead, Aaron just had to catch his wind.

  Aaron looked back at the structure. It wasn’t just collapsed, it was actively sinking, a bobbing cork. He had lived for years in that building, a casual unknown to guards and friends alike. The fifth floor he had felt so warm in was now the third and soon to be the second. Yellow gas eked out of the lower levels, and the raucous battles inside could still be heard bleeding from the walls.

  Scar propped itself up, standing tall on its battered and broken legs, no thought for its own suffering. Aaron might have thought it was out of some sense of loyalty or determination, but the Jergad had suffered far greater pains than this. This was an arm of a larger creature, and it could be motivated by a will far grander than any Aaron had concept of.

  A bullet to the leg was not going to kneecap an entire species.

  He dropped the empty magazine from his rifle, slapping his last one home. Secure the magwell, check the safety, wrap the trigger and press the shoulder.

  Both eyes open. Aim small, miss small.

  “Where is he?” Aaron found himself saying out loud. A flash across his vision, coupled with a blinding circle etched into his corneas, like a highlighter around anything he looked at. He felt the oncoming headache like a spike through his left eye, straight through to the back of his neck and crown of his head.

  And in that instant, the Queen looked back at him. That highlighting ring settled onto a particular window -- the new ‘ground’ floor, third from the left. And moving away. And just as quick, it was gone.

  Aaron pulled his shirt up over his nose, securing it over his mouth to give him the barest of protection against the fumes to come. It would help, maybe buy him seconds, but it was better than taking deep breaths of the noxious haze he was about to be swimming in.

  “Thank you,” Aaron murmured, spurring his heels into Scar’s flanks.

  Scar turned his big head around, glaring at Aaron with his good eye, as if i
t to scold Aaron. The nerve of some people. “What am I doing? You know where to go,” Aaron said, clinging to Scar’s hide.

  Scar huffed, his horrid breath kicking up a tiny cloud. Aaron felt the creature coil underneath him, muscles tightening underneath the mottled leather plates. And they took off, Scar’s heavy talons pounding the dirt with a terrifying percussion, more runaway train than concerted charge.

  Aaron was riding a living battering ram, a siege engine made flesh. Like some kind of lunatic. Maybe he ought to follow in behind, not ride the demon-steed on the highway to poor judgment?

  Too late. He hunkered down.

  The wall was six inches of reinforced concrete, rebar, and drywall. It might as well have been made of glass. Large chunks of building rocketing through the air. What a sight this must have been, to see two tons of angry sentient blades erupt from the wall.

  Instantly, Aaron clamped his eyes shut, regretting the entrance. The sulfide in the air stung his eyes, tiny needles rolling under his lids and piercing at the whimsy of a malevolent power. His lungs felt as though they were halved, and they felt hot in his chest, rattling with each breath.

  Aaron doubted anybody actually saw him past the much more interesting attraction. He didn’t really see them either.

  But he could feel Scar underneath him, wasting no time shredding… someone. The soft crunching and awful mulching was probably best left unseen anyway.

  With that task done, Scar whirled about, eager for its next amusement. He had to help. Aaron forced his eyes open, letting that fire pour in.

  There he was.

  Riley stood tall, squared up against the Jergad. Steel crates scattered at his feet where they had been dropped. A spattering of blood across his face, splashed up from the bodyguard Scar had just pulverized. A gas mask clung to his face, a simple filter and respirator that held flush against his jaw and goggles that clung to his cheeks, pressing in for a good seal.

  Through the transparent shell, Aaron could see Riley’s eyes flash with a yellow light.

  Scar hissed and hacked at Riley’s midsection. As if that would work.

  Riley slid underneath the strike fast enough to kick the claw as it went by, throwing the big creature off its already unsteady footing. Scar moaned in pain, a soft but dulcet tone, pulling at the heartstrings. The beast pushed through with the momentum, spinning in place to bring both scythes around to Riley anew, but Riley was so fast he may as well have been part of that dreaded toxic mist.

  It was as though the strike simply passed through him. Riley seized the opportunity and drove his quick knife into Scar’s exposed belly, sliding past the banded plates to the vulnerable flesh beneath. Scar let loose an agonizing roar, croaking and cut short with a gurgle.

  It lashed out at the man underneath it, but Riley had vanished again, sliding under Scar’s legs. The knife bit into Scar’s ankles, slashing under the leather plates at the precious muscles underneath.

  No amount of willpower could keep Scar standing now. The creature crumpled to the ground with a wheezing whimper. Riley stood tall, cracking his neck and bringing the knife to Scar’s spine —

  To find Aaron staring him down, rifle tucked tight into his shoulder. Mucus, blood, and sweat streamed down Aaron’s face as he cut loose with the rifle.

  The bullet was traveling at 800 feet per second. They were mere feet from each other. In theory, the bullet would hit Riley before he’d even be aware it was fired, let alone have time to dodge it.

  And yet.

  Riley wove his way around every shot, side-stepping and leaning away from each burst. Riley was working so hard, his skin was starting to steam, the white moisture distinct from the hostile yellow haze that hung in the air.

  Between Scar’s assault and Aaron’s surprise, they were wearing him down. Which is what made the click of an empty chamber that much more disheartening.

  Riley sneered, lunging, and it was all Aaron could do to stick the barrel of his rifle out to greet him, like a single pike holding the barbarian at bay. Riley pressed himself flush against the hot muzzle, the knife held inches from Aaron’s throat.

  If Aaron could smell through the blood and pain, he might have a wretch-inducing sample to couple with Riley’s obviously singing flesh. Between overwhelmed cybernetics and the branding heat of the barrel, Riley was cooking to a crisp.

  Riley’s voice was stifled by the mask, muted and muffled, “I’m not sure how you thought this would work out, Capital.” Riley leaned to one side, teasing. He could easily roll off the barrel and drive his blow home. Aaron was at his mercy. “You’re real quick to throw your life away."

  Aaron coughed through the blood pooling in his mouth, “Not my life to lose.”

  “Do you have any idea how many people died down here?” Riley asked, “Their blood is on your hands!”

  The knife slipped low, its fine tip grazing Aaron’s neck. Aaron couldn’t keep his eyes open a moment longer, clenching them away from both the stinging air and the inevitable. Riley sneered, "When I take my first shot, I really hope it kills that little bitch. Because if it doesn't, I'm gonna plow that whole city into dust."

  And a battle-cry caught Riley’s attention.

  In a flash, Riley turned to meet the oncoming foe, knife at the ready. Jensen threw himself onto the knife’s tip, going too fast to do anything else. Riley and Jensen tumbled to the ground, releasing Aaron from his chopping block.

  Aaron gasped, every breath hurting more than the last. He could feel Scar wrestling to breathe underneath him, the big guy rattling with each rise and fall.

  Riley sat atop Jensen, a knee to the throat. Somewhere in the fall, his respirator had been ripped free, exposing Riley’s sweaty visage. Every inch of his skin was flushed red. Bits and pieces of his augments glowed in the fog, sparklers just under the skin, the light catching off every little particle.

  He threw blow after blow at Jensen, a thousand pounds of fury, “I offered you bastards everything! What did you give me?!”

  Aaron had to stop this now.

  He rolled off of Scar and found himself in slime and muck. The sulfide tailings? No, that was the remains of a person, the unfortunate recipient of Scar’s entrance.

  In the man’s holster. Pistol. Locked and ready.

  Bleary eyes. Bones hurt. His chest creaked with every breath. Fingers shaking.

  He pulled the pistol free.

  Riley slowed his abuse, heaving labored breath. He elected instead to twist his knife in Jensen’s gut, “You know, sometimes killing is hard. Just a reality of command. And other times, it’s a real pleasure.”

  “You’re fast…” Jensen croaked out, with a blood-stained smile, “But you faster than light?”

  Riley’s eyes slid back to Aaron. Propped against a wall, pistol in hand. Aaron cranked the capacitor, and it whirred to life.

  In an instant, Riley was in his face and reaching for the pistol. Too late.

  Aaron pressed the pistol into Riley’s chest and fired. Aaron was intimately familiar with the damage.

  The laser heated Riley’s torso to a blistering eight hundred degrees in less than a second. Liquids in the skin and muscle snap boiled, bursting the chest cavity, creating the signature crater common to laser weaponry. The temperatures reduced anything in direct contact to a black carbon crust, almost fragile. But blood still burst from the popping ‘bubble’ that used to be Riley’s stomach.

  Aaron’s hands were coated with its warmth.

  Riley’s eyes froze, staring at Aaron’s face, a potent mixture of shock and confusion, a confrontation with what he long believed impossible. His expression didn’t change as the lights of his eyes dimmed into nothing.

  Riley slumped against Aaron, and the two fell to the ground together.

  Maybe just lie here, let the fumes take them away. No. Something nuzzled his hand, pushing him up. As battered as Scar was, it still urged him on. It stared at him with its one good eye, a single commandment.

  Get up.

  It to
ok everything he had, but Aaron was able to drag Jensen out of the sinking apartments to the safety of the mining grounds, Scar staggering behind them the whole way. Aaron collapsed beside his friend, drinking the fresh air in.

  He could hear the whistle to Jensen’s breathing, as it came lighter and lighter each time.

  “What were you doing?” Aaron asked him, shaking his head, “That was so stupid, man. You tryin’ to kill yourself or somethin’?”

  “Looks who's talkin', boss,” Jensen’s murmured, his voice hollowing by the second, “Jus'… found somebody worth it, is all.”

  Aaron let out the shallow breath he didn’t know he was holding, all concern and finery melting away, as he lost themselves in the soothing blue of that endless sky.

  Jensen whispered, soft and distant, like the last wisps of a refreshing breeze, “Like tamin' a dragon…”

  Aaron let his head roll over to look at his friend. His big smile was as potent as ever, a charisma that wasn’t stopped by the blood drenching his abdomen.

  Jensen's eyes panned over the sky, hunting for some unspoken dream left unfulfilled. Or perhaps, he was self-satisfied, sated with his time and was simply looking for the call of the horn that would call him to rest.

  The quick knife stood tall in his gut, quivering against the failing heartbeat, each stroke of the drums causing the faintest tremor. Jensen smiled, his eyes focusing on nothing at all, “Let’s go, shortstack. Let’s…”

  Jensen let out the breath and did not draw a new one in.

  Aaron chuckled, letting that painful catharsis of broken ribs and bleeding lungs grow into an uncontrollable wave of tears. It was a long moment before Aaron realized he was laying in that dirt, weeping alone.

  Edicts From the Ministry

  EARTH DIRECTIVE

  RE: VANGUARD INSURRECTION

  BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF CIVIL DEFENSE

  HOSTILE OCCUPATION OF REPUBLIC MINING COLONY HR-2056 IS DEEMED AN ACT OF REBELLION