by Brian Dorsey
As she rushed forward, she turned back to her right just as another soldier burst from the cover of a doorway. She rolled forward as he fired and rose to her knees to send a burst into the soldier. Jumping to her feet, she shifted toward her left and fired again as two soldiers ran from the center room. Both fell.
Martin moved quickly to the entrance of the center room and took up a position at the doorway as another soldier rushed from the room. She fired point-blank into his temple and he crumpled to the floor.
Martin sensed movement behind her and dropped to one knee as she spun toward the threat. Rounds tore into the wall above her head as she took aim and knocked another soldier to the ground.
Turning back toward the entrance, she let her rifle hang from its harness as she pulled the torn body of a dead solider to her. With a grunt, she hefted the body off the floor and pushed it into the entrance.
Gunfire exploded and Martin leapt into the room behind the cover of the dead soldier.
She brought her rifle to her shoulder and swung the barrel across her field of fire. Her sights centered on a man with a riot gun and they both fired. The man’s body twisted and fell to the floor, Martin letting out a groan as small pieces of shot tore into her left leg. She swung back around the room just as another man rose from behind a large desk.
Her sights landed on his chest but just as she pulled the trigger she shifted her aim, sending a round into his shoulder. The man fell behind the table and Martin rushed forward, leaping on top of the table.
Ignoring the pain in her leg, Martin leveled her weapon on the man. He looked up toward her, his teeth clinched in pain.
“You,” he grumbled. “I should have figured Stone wouldn’t have the guts to do it himself.”
“You’re gonna be dead either way.”
“Is that Stone speaking? Or you?”
“That’s vengeance speaking.”
“Then do it, bitch,” grunted Maxa as he pulled himself into his chair. “Do what your master can’t.”
Martin lowered her rifle and sent Maxa toppling from his chair with her boot.
He hit the floor and turned toward her. “Do it!” he shouted.
Martin pulled a knife from her belt and jumped from the desk as Maxa rose to his knees.
“So you want to fight,” he added as he stood, reaching for a pistol shoved into his belt.
Martin stepped forward, grabbing Maxa’s arm. With a grunt, she drove her knife through his bicep, pivoted as she jerked the blade from his body, and sank it into his ribs.
Maxa staggered forward and Martin caught him, slamming him onto his desk on his back.
“Wait!” he pleaded. “Wai—”
Pinning him against the desk with one arm, she slowly pushed the blade into Maxa’s abdomen. He let out a heavy groan as she twisted the blade. “Think about the pain you’ve caused so many,” she said slowly, a calm rage boiling inside her. She pulled the blade from his body only to ease it into his torso again. “Every woman you penetrated…” She twisted the blade. “…think of how they felt.”
Maxa let out another moan, but could no longer speak. He stared up at her, helpless.
She pulled the blade from his stomach again. “Women like my cousin.” Martin shoved the blade into his lower stomach again. “Maybe it felt like this…” She ripped upward with the blade, slicing open Maxa’s torso.
He let out another weak grown as blood began to pool in his mouth.
Martin crawled onto the table, straddling Maxa’s eviscerated body. She leaned in until she felt the last, raspy breaths of Maxa’s life on her face. “Fuck you,” she growled, sliding her blade across his throat.
Movement at the door caused Martin to look up.
Two soldiers stood at the entrance, their weapons leveled at her. They froze, seeing the blood-soaked Martin straddling what was left of Maxa.
Martin rose to her feet, standing on the desk with Maxa’s blood dripping from her blade…and most of her body. “This is going to happen to all of you,” she said slowly, pointing toward Maxa.
A burst of gunfire erupted from the hallway and the two soldiers fell to the floor.
Martin stepped down from the table as Thay entered the room.
“So it’s done,” he said, unfazed by the scene in front of him.
“No,” replied Martin. “All of them die.”
“What happened to—”
“My cousin…Maxa took her…” Martin paused as the vision of Aria’s blood soaked face flashed in her mind. “…she’s dead,” she growled.
Thay nodded in acknowledgement. “Then they all die.”
Martin stepped past Thay and picked up the riot gun resting next to a dead soldier. She checked the rounds status: seven. “Follow me.”
Martin reached the door and dropped to her knees to peer outside. She heard Thay’s rifle explode as she pulled the trigger of her riot gun. Her shot sent a surprised soldier’s body crashing against the opposite wall.
Rising to her feet, she rushed toward the stairway to her right. She dropped to her knees at a run and slid past the wall at the doorway, firing again. A soldier fell to the floor as Martin’s shot disintegrated his left knee. She pivoted, sending a second shot into his chest. Jumping to her feet, she fired twice through the door and then rushed through.
Martin slammed the butt of the riot gun into the jaw of a wounded solider and brought it to her shoulder as she saw two more soldiers halfway down the first run of stairs. Martin’s shoulder absorbed the recoil of the riot gun as her last round tore through the chest of the first soldier.
Dropping the empty gun, Martin grabbed the top rail and leapt from the upper level of the vestibule.
She crashed into the retreating soldier, knocking him to the ground. Martin rolled off the soldier and slammed against the wall of the mid-level landing. Absorbing the impact, she grabbed a knife from her belt and leapt toward her opponent as he rose to his knees.
He aimed a pistol toward Martin but she kicked the soldier’s left arm against the wall and swung her blade upward. As the knife sank into the man’s lower jaw, she heard Thay’s rifle sound off and turned to see another soldier tumbling down the stairs below her. Bringing her rifle to her shoulder, her sights landed on a man stepping through the door. The man’s head snapped backwards as the bullet impacted his forehead. Martin, sensing Thay beside her, rose to her feet and moved down the stairs to the first floor access. Pushing the door open, Martin saw a short pathway to her right. Above the passage was a medical symbol.
“The exit’s this way,” said Thay, pointing toward the long passageway in front of them.
“I’ll meet you outside,” replied Martin, “when I’m done here.”
As Thay loped down the passageway, Martin turned down the hall.
She stopped at the only door in passageway; a powerful kick sent it flying open.
Her sights came to rest on a man in medical garb.
“Stop!” he shouted, standing in the center of four rows of beds.
Martin scanned the room and noticing no other threats. “Who are you?”
“I’m the doctor,” stammered the man. “There are no combatants here.”
“And who are these men?” asked Martin, waving the barrel of the rifle toward the full beds.
“These men have been wounded…they are no threat.”
“Fighting for Maxa?”
“This is a medical bay for his officers that have—” The doctor froze as Martin drew her sword. “What are you doing?”
“Get out,” said Martin flatly as she stepped toward the first row of beds.
“You can’t do this,” pleaded the doctor. “These men are—”
“Guilty.”
“Please,” begged the doctor. “Don’t do—”
Martin stopped and turned toward the doctor. Her gaze locked on him as he attempted to muster a look of defiance.
“Get out,” she repeated with a calm that did little to hide the fury in her soul.
The doctor lowered his head and walked to the door. He stopped at the exit and turned toward Martin. “You’ll pay for your sins…in this life or the next.”
“And they’ll pay for theirs’ tonight,” replied Martin as she walked toward the first bed.
***
“Come in!” shouted Orion over the comms circuit as she raced the transport through the forest-covered valley, hugging the ground. She’d received the recall signal fifteen minutes earlier but hadn’t received any other communications from Martin or Thay. “Damn it,” she cursed, seeing smoke on the horizon. Orion activated the transport’s two guns as she called again. “Come in!”
The transport flashed over the last hill and the camp came into sight. Smoke billowed from a three-story building in the center of the camp; the left side of it had already collapsed. A water tower lay on its side and an inferno raged from what had been fuel tanks. “Fuck,” mouthed Orion as she brought the transport to a hover and scanned the area.
There were too many bodies scattered across the ground to count.
“Martin! Thay!” she yelled into the radio.
Banking the transport in a slow circle, Orion only saw more devastation. She activated the radio again. “Mart—” She steadied the transport as Martin and Thay came into view. “What the hell happened here?”
“Ready for pickup,” answered Thay.
Orion settled the transport onto the charred ground and opened the access door. Idling the engines, she released her harness and rushed toward the troop compartment. Orion stopped when she saw Martin and Thay.
Martin’s uniform was covered in dirt, soot, and blood. Her face was blackened from the same mixture. With only the white of her eyes standing out, Martin reminded Orion of the forest demons her grandfather had told her about as a child. “Are you okay?” asked Orion.
Martin returned a blank stare. “It’s done.”
She turned and sat.
“Martin?”
“She’s okay,” said Thay as he sat across from Martin. “She just found out who she truly is today.”
“And who’s that?”
Martin looked up toward Orion, the intense white anger of Martin’s eyes chilling the pilot’s bones.
“Death.”
Chapter 3
General Vispa sipped from his glass of fifty-year old whiskey as he sat at his private table at the Primus Two club.
“More whiskey, General,” asked the woman half his age sitting next to him.
“No thank you…uh…”
“Sari,” said the woman, reminding Vispa of her name.
“Of course, Sari,” he replied with a smile.
Tonight was Vispa’s weekly ‘staffing’ meeting, the night everyone, including his wife, knew was his night to sample the newest, most expensive recreation girls in the city. It was also his chance to unleash all of the rage he held for Astra Varus upon the women willing to take the extra pay…and punishment.
Two men approaching drew Vispa’s attention away from Sari’s chest.
“Senators,” he said. “How can I help you?”
Senators Varo Quextus and Marcus Zetia were both in their early forties and from families that only publically supported Astra’s move for power. They had to be up to something.
“General,” said Quextus. “It is good to see you.”
Vispa returned a vacant stare.
“May we buy you a drink?” asked Zetia.
“I do not think that would be good for any of us,” replied Vispa. Astra’s spies and informants were everywhere.
“Come now, General. Allow us to pay our honor for your service to the Republic…I mean Empire,” said Zetia.
“And most importantly to our leader, ProConsul Varus,” added Quextus.
Vispa let out a sigh. “Very well.” He turned toward Sari. “Leave us.”
“Yes, General,” she replied, rising from the table.
“But,” continued Vispa, grasping her hand. “Return in five minutes.” He glanced back toward the Senators. “That will be all the time we need.”
“Of course, General,” she said with a smile before walking away.
“What is it that you two want? You know that I will not give you any information regarding the ProConsul.” He lowered his glass. “And to ask would raise suspicion as to your loyalty.”
“We only want to salute your service as we said,” said Quextus.
“And to give you some information,” added Zetia.
“And what would that be?” asked Vispa, leaning forward.
“Do you know that the ProConsul gets a report through Senator Marcus Sarius from each of the girls you spend time with?”
Vispa leaned back against the couch at his table and laughed.
“First, I wonder why you have been looking into who reports what to the ProConsul.”
He watched, noticing a wave of concern pass over Zetia’s face.
“And secondly, of course I know this…do you take me for a fool?”
“Of course not, General,” replied Quextus. “You would not have been able to retain so much support from the military commanders, nor stay in the ProConsul’s good graces if you were.”
“What do you want?” demanded Vispa.
“But did you know that the woman with you tonight will only tell Sarius what we want her to tell him?”
“What are you talking about?” Vispa knew Sarius was one of the ProConsul’s puppets and that fear of angering Astra Varus kept everyone in line. He leaned forward again. “You know that is not possible.”
“It is, General,” said Zetia. “We just had to find something she wanted enough to overcome her fear of the ProConsul’s wrath.”
Vispa laughed. “And what is that?”
“That is our business, General,” replied Zetia. “But it is true.”
Vispa looked up as Sari returned to the table.
“May I join you?” asked the tall, voluptuous raven-haired woman.
Vispa motioned for her to sit.
As she sat, he felt her hand run along his inner thigh. “Have they told you that you can trust me?”
Sweat began to form on Vispa’s forehead. He leaned closer to the Senators.
“What is this about? Tell me before I have you both—”
“Listen, General,” said Zetia. “We know Astra Varus is too powerful to challenge now.”
“But someday…in the future,” added Quextus. “She will become distracted, or a weakness will show itself.”
“And you will be one of the first to see it,” said Zetia.
“I will not betray the ProConsul,” he said slowly, staring into Zetia’s eyes. “I have sworn my oath to her.”
“Was not the ProConsul supposed to represent the will of the Senate?” asked Quextus.
“Not this ProConsul,” snapped Vispa. “And now you will tell me the true power is the people?”
“Ha,” chuckled Zetia. “The people are sheep and sheep need shepherds.”
“And they have one in the ProConsul,” replied Vispa.
“They have a wolf pretending to be a shepherd,” said Quextus.
Vispa glanced around the club.
“Don’t worry, General,” said Zetia. “When Sari speaks with Sarius, she will tell him…”
“I will tell him,” said Sari, “that the Senators bought you a drink to honor your service and that, while they may have attempted to test your loyalty to the ProConsul, you rebuffed them and sent them away with a stern warning that you would be watching them.”
“See, General,” said Quextus, turning toward Sari. “You should head up to the general’s room and prepare yourself for him.”
Sari turned toward Vispa and smiled before again leaving the table.
“This is a very dangerous game you are playing,” warned Vispa. “If the ProConsul—”
“She will not,” interrupted Zetia. “So once a month or so, you will spend time with Sari. She will tell you any information we have for you.”
“And
you can pass information to us from her,” added Quextus.
“I don’t know about this.”
“Just head up to your room and enjoy the girl, General,” said Zetia. “Then decide.”
The senators rose from the table.
“You may find that having someone to share all of your frustrations with…or on…to be very satisfying,” said Quextus before the two walked away.
As the men disappeared into the crowd, Vispa swallowed the last of his drink and looked toward the stairs at the back of the club leading to the rooms reserved for men like him.
Rising from his chair, Vispa made his way up the stairway and to his room.
He opened the door.
Standing in front of him was Sari, but her raven hair was now blonde and she wore a replica of the gown Astra had worn for her last public speech.
“General Vispa,” said Sari, “for the rest of the night, you will call me ProConsul.”
Vispa stood silent, a mixture of anger and arousal washing over him.
Sari stepped toward Vispa, letting the gown fall to the floor.
“So, general,” she said. “Give you ProConsul what you have wanted to give her all this time.”
Sari let out a groan and fell onto the bed as Vispa landed an open hand across her face.
Vispa moved to the bed, looking down on her as she slowly turned her face toward him.
Her cheek was bright red from his blow but a bloody smile was painted across her face. “Yes, General,” she said as she looked up at him. “Make me pay for the way I have talked to you…how I have humiliated you. Show me the man that you are.”
A smile came to Vispa’s face as he raised his fist.
***
“Did the electron spin message get out?” asked Akota Major Tama Sand as she coated her wounded leg with coagulant.
“No, Major,” huffed Lieutenant Whisper, checking the base’s electrical grid. “We lost power to our priority message center when the attack started. We’re on emergency power only.”
Major Sand looked around the dimly lit control station before letting out a long, frustrated breath. She turned to her left. “Sergeant Valley, any word from the defense forces?”
