by Brian Dorsey
Still pinned to the ground, the woman was dragged face-first across the camp. Along the way she struggled, kicking her feet in an attempt to find something to anchor her body against.
“Remember, don’t kill her. Her coding makes her worth twice as much,” added one of the slavers.
She struggled fiercely but it was useless. Every attempt at movement only tightened the garrote. Her grunts were barely audible over the slavers’ laughter.
“That’s it boys, right here,” shouted the large slaver as the attackers forced the woman to a large rock about waist high only a few steps away from Stone’s hiding place.
Stone instinctively removed the safety from his assault rifle but soon thought better of it. If he did act, better to make as little noise as possible. Slowly putting his rifle down, he unsheathed his sword.
“Get her head,” directed Lor to the large slaver. “Tal, hold her shoulders down,” he said to the other.
Stone was at a crossroads. He had placed himself and his men in a bad situation. He knew things like this happened in the Dark Zone, but never before had it occurred at arm’s reach. No honorable soldier should allow this to happen. On the other hand, if there was gunfire Terillian patrols might hear and endanger their extraction.
As he tried to come to terms with the conflict between his morals and his mission, the slaver pulled the woman’s trousers to the ground and began to unbutton his own. The woman turned her head against the force of the slaver holding her and looked directly toward Stone’s position, as if she knew he was there. Her face was bruised and caked in dirt and pine needles.
His eyes fell upon hers. Her fierce green eyes showed no fear, only that same determination.
“It’s time to tame this shrew,” boasted Lor as he wrapped his hands around her waist. “Don’t worry sweetheart. I’ll keep you intact for transport to Venato.”
Stone sprung from the darkness. His sword was swift and found its mark, cutting the would-be rapist from his collar bone to the opposite shoulder. Stone quickly spun around, plunging his sword into the largest slaver just below his neck. The startled third attacker reached for his sidearm but was too slow. As he raised his weapon, Stone’s sword swept downward.
The man let out a screech as his hand, still holding the pistol, fell to the ground. Another quick movement laid the man’s chest open as blood sprayed from his wound and covered the woman as she rolled off the rock.
Their senses deadened by alcohol and surprised by the suddenness of the attack, two men beside the fire had just begun to turn their weapons on Stone when automatic gunfire bursts from behind him knocked one slaver to the ground and sent the other one diving for cover.
Stone fell to one knee as the rounds flew past him but sensed movement and turned to his right.
The woman, still bound by her hands, had taken a rifle from the first of Stone’s victims. She held the weapon to her shoulder and was aiming the heavy rifle with one hand tied tightly to the other.
A flash of orange illuminated the darkness as she fired. Stone turned back to see the final slaver jerk violently and crumple over backwards as the rounds from her rifle impacted his torso.
Stone quickly jumped to his feet. Raising his sword, Stone looked toward the woman. He saw the barrel of her weapon now leveled in his direction. He froze for a second as he followed the barrel into her deep green eyes.
She lowered her head slightly and pulled the trigger.
Click.
The magazine was empty.
Before Stone could react, the woman dropped her weapon and vanished into the wilderness.
Kilgore and Lowstreet quickly covered the ground from their concealed position to the camp.
“Are you all right, Sir?” asked Lowstreet.
“What?” asked Stone, still mesmerized by the woman.
“Sir? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” replied Stone, shaking his head. “Go get that woman.”
With the order the two men raced into the darkness, leaving Stone alone with the captives and his thoughts.
As he looked over the traumatized captives, he tried to figure out what was different about that woman. He had willingly, however morally warranted it was, endangered his mission and his men for her and would now have to pick up the pieces. The disheveled group in the cage was no threat. They would be released to find their way back home. His main concern turned toward the threat of nearby patrols and his fear that the gunfire would draw them in.
Then there was that damn woman.
***
“Where did she go?” panted Lowstreet as he rushed through the underbrush.
“She couldn’t have gone too damn far,” replied Kilgore. “Over there,” he said as he saw movement.
Lowstreet led the way, leaping over logs and ducking under branches in his pursuit. Suddenly, a blow to his chest caused him to topple backwards. Struggling to regain his breath, he reached for his rifle but just as he gripped the stock, the pressure of a foot on his hand was followed instantly by the crashing pain of another boot to the side of his head. Recoiling from the blow, he rose to his knees and looked toward his attacker. As he glanced up he saw the woman coming at him again.
The woman swung her knee toward his head but this time he was able to block her attack. Grasping the woman’s leg he rose up, lifting her off the ground and driving her back into the forest undergrowth.
“Bitch!” exclaimed Lowstreet as he attempted to land a blow to her jaw, but was blocked.
A powerful combination of fist and elbow to his ribcage halted his attack. Recoiling from the blow to his ribs, Lowstreet felt the woman’s legs wrap around him and roll him onto his back. Now on the defensive, Lowstreet tried to pry his arms underneath the woman’s but she brought her forehead down hard against his nose. His head instantly grew heavy and his vision blurred. Before he could recover, Lowstreet felt the pressure on his body shift as she repositioned.
His neck tightened as she placed her knee over his throat and brought her full weight down on him. Lowstreet felt himself losing consciousness when suddenly the weight was removed from his throat and he felt the woman’s body go limp on top of his.
Looking up, he saw Kilgore standing over him, holding the rifle he had just used to knock the woman unconscious.
“Are you okay, LT?” asked Kilgore as he rolled the woman off Lowstreet’s bruised body.
“I think so,” answered Lowstreet as he spit blood from his mouth. “I think she broke my….” A wince of pain verified that his nose had been broken. “What the hell was that?”
“I don’t know, Sir, but I need to find out what they have been feeding this girl. She was kicking your ass.”
Still clearing the cobwebs from his head, Lowstreet wasn’t in the mood for Kilgore’s typical ribbing. “We need to get her back to the major.”
Kilgore smiled. “No problem, Sir. I’ll protect you from her on the way back.”
***
Stone had released the captives and was inspecting the hover wagon when he heard his men returning. Kilgore came first, pulling the woman by her upper arm, her wrists still bound by the slaver’s ropes. Lowstreet followed, his rifle held on the woman. As the light from the campfire illuminated his face, a large welt was visible on Lowstreet’s face and dried blood caked his deformed nose.
“Well, that wasn’t easy,” exclaimed Kilgore. “This little farmer girl is a bad-ass. She can fight.”
“She broke my damn nose,” mumbled Lowstreet.
“That’s because she’s not a farmer,” said Stone matter-of-factly. “Bring her over here.”
Stone stared into the woman’s eyes as Kilgore led her to him. The determination had been replaced with anger. Returning Stone’s gaze, her deep green eyes burned through him, distracting him from his thoughts. “You’re quite a handful,” said Stone. “A little too much of a handful to be a farmer or herder.” As he spoke, he placed his hand behind her neck and slowly moved her hair aside. She resisted but he placed more f
orce on the back of her head, driving it toward the ground. There it was on the back of her neck: the telltale tattoo of a circle with four arrows forming a cross in the center.
“What’s your rank, Terillian?” demanded Stone.
The woman coolly returned Stone’s glare but remained silent.
“You’re fucking kidding me!” blurted Kilgore. “She’s a damn Scout Ranger!”
“Guess I don’t feel as bad about having my ass kicked now,” declared Lowstreet.
“What are you doing here and how did you allow slavers to capture you?” inquired Stone.
“Captain Mori Skye, Scout Rangers. And my mission is classified.”
“An officer,” said Kilgore, even more surprised.
“Which battalion?” asked Stone.
“Classified.”
“I risked my life to save your…well, to save you,” stumbled Stone. “You should consider yourself lucky to be my prisoner.”
The woman’s eyes burned with green waves of anger. “Save me! You destroyed my mission. How can I—” She stopped speaking.
“You’re telling me you planned to be captured and raped by filthy slavers?” asked Stone. He was almost as shocked that she had given up any information as that she had intentionally allowed herself to become a prisoner of the slavers.
The Terillian’s glare moved away from Stone and she slowly lowered her head, hiding her face from his view.
“Not all missions are desirable,” she replied. “But they must be done nonetheless.” The woman looked back up into Stone’s eyes and continued. “I’m sure you have done things in the line of duty that have been unpleasant even to you—although Xen puppets such as you Hanmani have no conscience or morals.”
Hanmani seemed to be some sort of slang for Alpha Humana in the Terillian language. Stone had heard the term before from other Terillian prisoners, but when she said it he felt his body tense with anger and his skin grow hot.
“We are not puppets,” shot back Stone, his jaw clinching tight and his fists subconsciously tightening. “We’re a well ordered and peaceful people who must again defend ourselves against Terillian aggression.”
“Aggression!” barked Mori.
She lunged toward Stone, but Kilgore’s grip was firm. Pulling against Kilgore’s grasp, she continued. “Your fleets are concentrating at your Gateway Station. Slavers, no doubt backed by Xen funding, are raiding our space and your operations around the Navato Asteroid Belt are clearly in violation of the Peace Accords…and you have the audacity to call us aggressors?”
Stone knew this was an obvious lie. Although he had no doubt there was some funding of the slavers by wealthy families, it was not systematic and the Navato Asteroid Belt was a wasteland. He’d never been there nor heard of any operations by the Guard in the area. Either way, it was the virus at the Gateway that had ignited the new hostilities. “We’re concentrating because your spies have attacked our Gateway!” he replied, still angered at her more than he should be.
“The Gateway is damaged?” asked Mori, seemingly surprised by the news.
“You know it was,” Stone snapped back at her. “If you—” Now it was Stone who had to stop himself from giving too much information. This woman had him on edge and he wasn’t thinking clearly. He had to control his emotions. “There are no operations in progress in the Navato area,” Stone continued. “That is just more Terillian propaganda to support your invasion of the Dark Zone.”
“Invasion? You have got to be kidding me,” she huffed. “Just another lie. We know you have been operating there for years. Or maybe your Xennite masters haven’t told you everything.”
“Major, its 0745, 15 minutes until extraction,” interrupted Lowstreet. “We should move now.”
The woman had completely thrown Stone off his game. He had allowed his emotions to boil to the surface and had almost lost track of time. At least Lowstreet still had his head on straight.
“Enough questions,” said Stone. “We’ll let the intelligence specialists deal with you. Besides, we need to go and you’re coming with us. Kilgore, take her with you—”
The unmistakable whiz of gunfire flew past Stone’s head, impacting with a thud in the tree behind him.
“Contact left!” shouted Kilgore as he grabbed the woman’s arm and dove to the ground.
Stone and Lowstreet took defensive positions as the gunfire grew more intense and rounds began to impact all around them.
“On the ridge!” yelled Kilgore.
Stone leveled his rifle and fired a burst.
About fifty meters away a Terillian infantryman fell dead. “They’re regulars,” exclaimed Stone as he returned fire. “A lot of them.”
“We need to get the hell out of here!” shouted Kilgore. “Let’s get that Scout and get…Where the hell did she go?”
Stone turned to the see his captive disappear into the woods. So much for his prisoner—now it was a matter of survival. “Set up defensive fire and withdraw by increments!” Stone ordered over the gunfire.
With precision only elite forces were capable of, the three men began their running gun battle. One man would retreat a few meters and then stop to provide fire for the others, who in turn stopped to cover the latter. If they had been facing Scout Rangers they would have been in trouble, but the regular troops were slowed by the accurate and rapid fire of the trio.
The deadly race continued for three kilometers, until the group reached the extraction point. Racing across the open ground when they exited the forest, Stone and his team dove into a dry creek bed.
“Where’s our pickup?” panted Lowstreet, still winded from the running fight. “I’m out of ammunition.”
“Me too,” replied Kilgore.
Stone checked his rifle. 8 rounds remaining read across his weapon’s status menu. Once the Terillians realized they were out of ammunition, they would overwhelm them. Stone peaked over the top of the embankment; the ground in front of him was littered with Terillian dead but the numbers were still in the enemy’s favor. By Stone’s guess there were probably a hundred or more regulars still in pursuit. “If we can draw them in closer,” shouted Stone over the incoming gunfire, “we can at least take a lot more of them with us.”
“They’re charging!” reported Kilgore.
Just as Stone had expected, the Terillians began to emerge from the woods and rush toward Stone and his men. “It’s been an honor to serve with you men,” said Stone, feeling the weight of his decision to engage the slavers—especially to save an enemy.
“The honor is ours,” replied Kilgore. “A good soldier does not let the helpless suffer. You did what you had to do with the slavers. You had no way of knowing she was Terillian, let alone a Scout Ranger. At least I can go to oblivion with the look on Lieutenant’s face when she dropped him to the ground ingrained in my mind.”
“Glad I could make your passage into nothingness a pleasant one,” replied Lowstreet as he placed his hand on Kilgore’s shoulder.
Stone dropped his empty assault rifle to the dusty creek bed and drew his sword. He gripped the handle with the determination of someone both resigned to and willing to accept the hand fate had dealt.
He looked toward his men.
Lowstreet stood with his sword at his side, staring toward the enemy. Kilgore held his sidearm in one hand and his rapier in the other.
At least he would die among brave men.
“It sounds like they are close now, gentlemen,” said Stone. “Shall we greet them?”
Stone felt the dry, coarse dirt in his hand as he pulled himself out of the creek bed to face the enemy. As he looked onward, scores of Terillian infantry were only a hundred meters away, ready to sweep the three away in one huge wave. The men readied their weapons as the Terillians came closer.
Stone’s mouth felt dry. He had faced death many times, but this felt different. Although he had learned to control fear, he didn’t need to this time; it was a natural calm, accepting of the inevitable.
Fifty
meters…
“I’ll take the twenty in the middle,” joked an uneasy Kilgore.
Stone looked toward Lowstreet, who gave a quick chuckle at Kilgore’s joke, but was obviously preparing himself mentally for his death.
Forty meters…
Stone, digging his back heel into the ground, picked his first targets and braced for the force of the onslaught. Almost unconsciously, he started to recite the Guard Oath out loud.
“I will stand strong in the face of danger, for my comrades will do the same. I will be unafraid of death for death comes but once and cowardice is forever”
Lowstreet joined in.
“I will go close against the enemy, for my will is stronger than his. I will show courage, for it is the one possession that cannot be taken.”
Thirty meters….
Kilgore’s deep voice added to the chorus, almost drowning out the growing noise of the oncoming horde.
“I will die with pride, for I am fighting for my lineage and my people. I will face death with joy, for I will become immortal—my shining glory never forgotten.”
Suddenly the ground in front of them opened up and the air exploded with the thunderous sound of gunfire. Instinctively, the three fell prone as the Terillian assault collapsed under a solid wall of destruction. For what seemed like an eternity the air was filled with the constant roar of gunfire, punctuated by loud thuds from grenades.
As quickly as it had begun, it ended.
Stone rose from his prone position, his ears still recovering from the unexpected explosion of sound. As the dust began to clear in front of him, he could hear dull, muffled voices shouting as the ringing slowly dissipated.
“What the hell was that?” asked Kilgore, himself yelling as result of temporary shock to his hearing.
Stone looked over the devastation. Dead Terillians covered the ground in front of them as if a giant blade had cut them down. In the foreground, Stone saw scattered breaks in the ground from which he could see the heads and upper torsos jutting out. As he regained his focus, he saw a figure emerge out of the ground not ten meters in front of him.
Then another. And another.
