by Will Crudge
“Yes, War Master!” I reply. As I say the words, a flood of hope rushes over me. She’s right. There are no coincidences. I’ve been isolated too long, I figure. The metaphysical aspects of my upbringing have dulled too much. Now I feel like my soul has been reignited. The flames of vengeance have been stoked!
“Good!” She says, and then she turns to Marbles. “Marbles, you are free to do as you will. However, you need to know that you’re not going to be very welcomed by most humans in UAHC controlled space at the moment. The Crimson Alliance attempted a bold attack on the inner stars a few months ago. It failed, but the civilian death toll was immense. You may not be a Crimson drone anymore, but nobody else will believe you. Help us, and I’ll make sure the Guild offers you sanctuary.”
“Hell yeah!” Marbles exclaims. “Fight our enemy, and then go somewhere where I won’t get killed? Shit! You had me at Marbles.”
“I like this guy.” Grinder says casually.
TIME FOR SOME GANGSTA’ SHIT
War Master Jimma Alba came up with a plan. It’s a typical War Master Guild concept. ‘Do something your enemy will view as absurdly stupid, then make them pay for their laughter.’
Jimma liked my idea about getting in close without our genetics causing our enemy to sense us. It became integrated into our current plan, so Marbles gets to do what he was built for. Scout... Report... Kill.
In the mean-time, I shadow him, but only stay close enough to keep in within my line of sight. He’s using his onboard sensors to passively scan the area for energy, biological, or weapons signatures. He’ll warn us of any threats before we make it to the frigate.
Jimma? She’ll do the completely-absurdly-stupid thing… She’s going to walk right up to the frigate and say hello. Out in the open. Fully exposed.
I would tell you the rest, but that would spoil it for you! Who am I kidding? I don’t really know much passed that, except that I go in for the kill if shit goes south. Marbles backs me up as needed, but stays out of sight otherwise.
The Zodiac, Grinder? He’s just going to kill. A lot. That’s kind of what they do in combat.
I follow Marbles through the shadows of the docking structure. We must be getting close to the frigate because he’s slowing his movements and seeking concealment more judiciously.
I follow along behind him. He bounds ahead to the next position, and then I take his previous spot once he’s set into his new one. The docking area has no shortage of junk to conceal our movements. The abandoned vehicles, piles of parts, and pallets of crap are everywhere. The dock is so poorly maintained, that only one in about five light fixtures still function. Of the ones that do, half of them are flickering.
The conditions are perfect for a sneaky approach. Granted, it doesn’t seem like we need to be sneaky when the plan calls for a War Master to just walk on up and ring the fucking doorbell, but that’s just it. Jimma and Grinder are our distraction. All eyes will be on them, as Marbles and I can respond to unknown threats, or provide back up.
I remember the image of War Masters in action from the day the temple was attacked. It was a sight to see. Many of the students, including me, fought along-side our teachers, but they were true masters. Most of them had centuries of experience beyond their own training, and to see a seasoned War Master fight is breathtaking… Even for someone with my background.
My thoughts drift to my father. War Master Condor McAlister. I’ve never seen him fight. I’ve barely seen him practice. He’s always just been a loving father and a mentor. I instantly regret not asking Jimma about him. If she even knew him, or if he was even still alive. I guess I’ve been so focused on surviving for the last thirty years, that I can’t seem to prioritize much else… Unless I get all perverted. I’m good at being horny. Not too proud of it, but it’s who I am.
Back to reality. I focus on Marbles. He’s stopped. I creep up to another stack of random crap to get a better view. Sure enough, there’s the frigate. It’s standing on its support struts and barely fits in the modest docking structure. The area it’s in has a raised ceiling to accommodate larger ships. There’s junk and poor lighting all around it, but the open area near the boarding ramp was cleared out. The ship’s exterior spotlights illuminated the immediate area for security purposes.
As if on cue, I watch Jimma and Grinder casually walk into the well-lit clearing. Neither of them appear to be remotely nervous. Me? Well, I would be shitting myself right now if it weren’t for my lust for revenge. My measured anger is my fuel. My focus. My drive.
Then I hear muffled voices. The first is male, and then I can hear Jimma respond with something. The light humming of the thruster array on standby is drowning out the specifics. I try sneaking in closer to get a better look.
I see another pallet of random boxes to my left. I dash for it as quietly as I can. I plant myself down on one knee before taking a peak. The sounds of voices are louder, but I can’t quite pick anything out still. No matter. I just need to see the show, not take down notes.
I focus in on her surroundings, but I don’t see the attacker until it’s too late. A Crimson Commando came out from the shadows and swings a gravity hammer downward towards her head. She blocks it with her wrist-mounted energy shield, but the impact drives her down to one knee. Gravity hammers use a basic form of anti-gravity tech in a crudely weaponized form. Basically, it’s an inertial dampening emitter that’s set for reverse polarity. When it’s swung, the inertia is multiplied rather than nullified. A gravity hammer can kill a fully armored soldier with a glancing blow.
I have to stop myself from running out there to save her. By the time I debate my options in my head, Grinder comes to her rescue and tackles the enemy. The impact knocks the man onto his back and they both skid across the deck plating for several meters with sparks flying.
By the time I knew any better, Jimma was on the attack in a different direction. She lunged for a man in black armor, but he didn’t have a helmet donned. I’m guessing this is who she spoke to earlier. I don’t get the chance to see if it’s my sworn enemy or not. They moved too fast.
He tries drawing down on her with a pistol, but she cuts the barrel in half with a single slash of her sword. Badass. She knows her shit. But as she plants her legs to regain firm footing, the man punches her in the ribs. Ouch. War Master Armor is ceremonial, at best. It can certainly protect you from low-velocity ballistic rounds, or pulse blasts, but a slug to the ribs by powered armor is in an entirely different league of suck!
I hear Grinder cry out as the man’s fist impacts Jimma. I nearly forgot that when a War Master and Zodiac are paired that they can feel each other’s pain. I look over at the Zodiac, and the pain seems to stun him long enough for another soldier to tackle his massive body. Two more baddies come out from the shadows and pile on top of him while the first enemy labored to pin him down to the deck. Fuck!
The soldiers begin pounding their fists into Grinder, and the pain is crippling Jimma. She cries out, and the man in black armor uses the opportunity to apply wrist restraints. He jerks her arms behind her back and then applies another set of restraints to her legs. The two set of restraints have a connecting cable that the man is beginning to tighten.
The man in black begins to laugh. Then it hits me… The presence... The very same presence that I would sense if it were one of my kind, but in a much more raw state. He comes around behind her, and his face comes into focus. It’s not Peterson. It’s someone that feels completely identical to him, but this man looks different. However, the urge to enact my vengeance on him is too strong to ignore. I begin to move.
I hate it when he’s right! My emotions are clouding my mind, and I have to wait for his attention to be focused solely on Jimma. If his genetics are in their raw form, then he won’t be able to tell Jimma and me apart. He
won’t feel me coming, I reckon. I fight the urge to take action, and I decide to watch instead.
Then the man circles back to Jimma’s field of vision. She looks like she is struggling to free herself but can’t. He must know how strong she is. He must have also known to take out the Zodiac before attempting to restrain her. Grinder’s lying there unconsciously, so she can’t easily draw from his strength. She’s vulnerable… This fucker’s evil.
I still can’t hear the words they’re exchanging, but the man appears to be enjoying himself. I see him dangle something in front of her face. Once it settles into a slow swing, I recognize it. It’s a Zodiac’s speech module.
Jimma shouts something at him, but he just smiles, as I see his lips saying something in response. That bastard is fucking enjoying himself!
The man walks behind her as he reaches down to his groin region. My entire body cringes. I know what’s about to happen. I’m horrified.
He unlatches armored sections from his pelvic armor assembly, and proceeds to pull out his ‘man-plumbing.’ The restraints are forcing her body position to remain on all fours with her ass in the air. There’s nothing she can do about it either. He rips her trousers to expose her ass and lady bits. This is my opening. Just a few more seconds… one more second…
As he begins to press ‘himself’ into her, I charge. He doesn’t see it coming. Good!
I lower my shoulder and crash into his body armor’s shoulder plating. He goes down, rolls onto his back, and tries to lift himself up. I slam my boot down on his chest plate, and my adrenaline infused stomp made a foot-shaped dent in it. He’s pinned to the deck. His face is full of horror.
I raise my sword for a downward slash to his skull. “And now you die!” I declared menacingly. But I would never get to deliver my deathblow…
A pulse blast knocks the living-shit out of me. I’m out cold. Nighty-night motherfuckers!
Well, for a few seconds. Thankfully, the pulse blast must have been at full power. At max, a pulse blaster is certainly lethal. My sub armor would only be able to absorb so much, and if I were a normal chick… I’d be fucked. Good thing for me, though. I’m considered ‘superhuman,’ per say. The high-powered blast overwhelms my nerve endings, so I don’t feel any pain. Lower power levels would sting like hell, but only because my nerves would have still been able to function to some extent.
But things are hazy for me. I’m pretty sure that bad guys are coming out of the woodwork and trying to finish me off, but that’s just a guess. My senses are dulled, and I can’t even identify my current state of emotions. The human nervous system wasn’t designed for this level of input, and would probably place a normal human into shock as a result.
I’m pretty sure Marbles is going on a rampage right now. He’s got all of the core combat skills of an infantry drone, but with the superior hardware and processing power to wreak havoc. He’s about to fuck some shit up. I think… I hope.
I can hear concussive blasts. I assume they’re grenades of some sort. Marbles is a ‘grenade-o-phile,’ after all.
I could swear I heard him shout “Not today, ass-hats,” but I may be dreaming about it. It’s hard to say when your brain is trying to defragment after a lethal dose of pulse energy.
Soon I regain some kind of sense of my surroundings. I decide I’m too vulnerable, and I have to make myself get un-paralyzed. I reach down deep inside myself and focus on my root chakra. I only wish I still had the Rage… Or maybe if Jimma could call upon it, and somehow share it by melding… I’m not sure that’s possible, but it would be helpful.
Now I’m wondering why Jimma hasn’t called upon her Primal Rage yet. She could have turned the tide in a flash. Why did she hesitate? I shake the thought off and set myself to the task.
Through sheer power of will, I snap out of my brain fog and hop onto my feet. Sword in hand, I look to see Marbles is hunched over Jimma. She is in a different spot than before, so I figure he had moved her out of the open area. He’s using his built-in cutter to remove Jimma’s restraints. I could sense the enemy closing in on them, but they didn’t seem to notice that I am back in the fight.
Big mistake, Fuck-heads! I think to myself, as I run at full sprint towards her friends. Just then a commando fires an energized tether cable at Marbles. It hits him, and he’s slumped on the deck. I change the direction of my sprint and casually cut Marbles’ attacker in half. My blade comes down on the crown of his head and, with any luck, sliced his penis in half… Unless it was a chic… In that case, it would be a gruesome open-faced vaginal sandwich.
Then a surge of something intense erupted within me. The base of my spine surged to life. I have my doubts if it’s Primal Rage, but it’s certainly some form of extradimensional energy source. It’s responding to my adrenal glands. It surges through me. My strength is building. Skin toughening. I am a living weapon once again!
Now the other enemies notice me, but it’s too late for them to respond before I sever a commando’s head with a single slash. I side-step knowing that they’ve had enough time to draw a bead on me with their weapons.
I feel the heat of two plasma bolts that impacted my previous position. In the split second that it would have taken them to re-engage, I take the initiative. I dodge and zig-zag as I close the distance to them. They can’t line up a good shot, and their follow-on bursts blaze harmlessly into the darkness.
There are two commandos trying to reapply Jimma’s restraints by force, but she’s giving them all they can handle. Confident she’ll be alright for now, I close the gap on the last two soldiers that were on their feet. The closer of the two enemies tries to get off a quick shot of plasma on me, but my adrenal glands are slowing my sense of time, and I can see his hand flexing as he squeezes the trigger. I rock to evade the shot, plant my feet, and rotate my hips into a roundhouse kick to the man’s head. His helmet visor cracks on impact. He was dead before his body hit the floor.
Before I can retract my kicking leg, the second soldier hits me in the jaw with his fist. My senses overload from the impact of the powered assisted strike. I’m sent tumbling to the floor, but I roll back to my feet. By the time I re-acquire my attacker’s location, I see Jimma standing over his lifeless body. Even with her trousers ripped away, she looks dangerous. Funny, but dangerous.
“Marbles!” I shout. I see him motionless on the deck. I rush over to him and heave his heavy body into my arms.
“Will he be alright?” Jimma asks, but her voice is further away now. I look over to notice that she’s talking to me as she makes her way toward Grinder.
“He’s fine. His core processors and critical components are EMP shielded. The pulse just shut down his motor functions and sensors. He’ll come around after a maintenance cycle and reboot.” I reply. “How’s Grinder?”
“I’ll be fine, too.” I hear Grinder answer on his own behalf. Is he just being brave? I know Zodiacs are tough, but that was one hell of a beating!
“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” I hear an eerily familiar voice called out. We all turn to see a man standing at the base of the frigate’s loading ramp.
Peterson.
There you are, you bastard! Jimma and I raise our swords in unison. Grinder sends out a blood-curdling howl, and the fur is standing straight up on his back…. As if the half-ton wolf-dog needs to look any scarier. “You took her! You took her, and you left me to die!” I shout.
“Who me? Nah!” Peterson says. He’s wearing nothing but a set of sub-armor, as he’s standing next to a large mass of something that’s covered by a standard UAHC issued blanket. I see Jimma and Grinder out of the corner of my eye. They’re staring at the covered object. They both looked like they knew what it is. That must be their Zodiac friend… And it doesn’t appear to be alive. I take a moment to refocus myself. I can’t allow myself to be distracted, after all.
“You took Trixie!” I snarl, all teary eyed. I bring up my sword and take a step forward.
“Stop, Katherine!” Jimm
a shouts. I comply out of reflex, but I remain in an attack stance. “Look.” Jimma points at Peterson’s left hand. He’s holding a heavy duty ballistic pistol. It’s aimed downward at the heap under that blanket. I realize that any sudden movement on my part may jeopardize a Zodiac’s life… If there was still any life left to be saved.
“You hear that, Trixie?” Peterson laughs sarcastically. “Did I take you?”
“No!” Trixie’s voice booms out of the external ship speakers. “What are you talking about?”
Trixie! It’s Trixie! I recognize my long-lost friend’s voice as if I’d heard it yesterday. I feel a rush of glee flood my entire being. I’m so ecstatic that I collapse to one knee. I release the grip of my sword, and it falls to the deck below. Right now I’m paralyzed with joy… and terror.
“This girl out here, says I took you from her!” He says to her, but with no shortage of assholery in his voice.
“Who? Wha- Katherine?” Trixie’s voice sounds surprised and confused, but with a vague tinge of excitement. I just begin to sob with joy. I wish Marbles had recovered already. He would be so happy to hear her voice!
“Ha!” A new voice spouted, but it sounded nearly identical to Peterson’s. Then I go from crying to feeling a sense of shock. I watch a pair of boots march down the ramp of the frigate, and then out into the open. The man is wearing spec ops armor, but it looks like a freshly coated matte black finish. The helmet retracted, and there before my eyes, were two Petersons. “That, young lady, was all me!”
“Kat! You’re alive!” Trixie shouts with a joyous tone. “This dickhead told me you were dead!”
“Sorry, Trix… I thought she was!” The new Peterson shrugs his shoulders, but his apology seems disingenuous.
“I came for you! I came to rescue you!” I say excitedly.
“But – No!” Trixie replies in a mix of grief and frustration. “No, I am someone else now! Save yourself, and go!”
“Here that, sword girl?” The first Peterson, who is standing by the blanket covered heap, said. “Go on! You’ve got one chance to leave alive!”
