Egger spun in a wild attempt to throw the squib off, but it hung on. She slammed her shoulder into the wall and heard the creature squeal. Then she drove her knife into the thing’s gut and wrenched the blade sideways. Immediately, the squib let go and dropped to the floor, but not without leaving a trail of fluid across her chest. Her shoulder was starting to burn, and her torso wouldn’t be far behind if she didn’t get the acid off.
But self-preservation wasn’t her priority anymore.
She turned back to see the boy battling the squib that slipped past her boot. Somehow his helmet had been torn off, and the Simikon slashed his face with a sweep of its leg. Egger screamed, then thrust her knife into the squib’s ass. The creature convulsed, twisting away from the strike, but doing so only helped Egger draw the blade across the squib’s thorax.
A new beast leapt onto her back and chomped down on her suit’s armored power cell. Fortunately, the reinforced plating held, which only seemed to infuriate the demon. Egger flipped around and drove her back into the closest wall. At the same time, she backhanded her knife into where she guessed the head might be. The blade crunched through bone and metal as the mutated arachnid shrieked in her ear.
“Get off me, bitch,” Egger yelled, throwing the creature back toward the line of other squibs waiting for their turn. She glanced down and saw the kid back on his feet with his knife outstretched. Despite the blood streaming down his face, the child growled and thrust his knife at the next squib that came in low. Egger didn’t have time to protest his involvement as another hellion lunged at her free hand.
She raised her gauntlet, grabbed the squib by one leg, and beat it against the wall. When it didn’t seem to relent, she used it as a club against another squib that snapped at her knee. The sound of the two Simikon splitting against one another made her ears ring, but the concussion put the assailants out of commission.
Egger was surprised at the body count growing at their feet. In truth, she and the kid had outlasted her expectations. Maybe, if they could hold out a little longer, someone would rescue them. But how? If the gatehouse had been destroyed, all efforts would be on defending the palace, not looking for survivors underneath the wreckage.
Suddenly Egger was a child again, stuck in the underwater cave. She resurfaced one last time to take a breath and then plunged into the depths. Refusing to close her eyes, Egger hoped she might see a way out at the last minute—some unknown tunnel that led to the surface. But there was none. Her lungs burned, and she tried her best to resist the need to inhale. But she wasn’t strong enough. And she was so afraid—not just of dying, but of disappointing her father. Because she could have done better. Because she shouldn’t have been stupid enough to put herself in harm’s way in the first place.
Her lungs filled with water, and her body convulsed.
“Fight forward,” the boy yelled—probably his miss-worded attempt at encouraging her. But it had the desired effect. His words snapped Egger out of her death vision. Fight forward. The next squib that flew at her face sucked its own blood as she slashed from its head and past its mouth. The force was so strong that the beast nosedived into the floor where Egger heard a loud crack.
Beside her, the kid held his own, stabbing a demon three times in the eyes before it collapsed at his feet. He hadn’t even withdrawn his knife when the next squib lunged at him. He ducked, pulled out his knife, and spun on the creature while screaming at its face. The squib took a step back—it actually retreated—before redoubling its efforts to attack the child. But the act was half-hearted, and the child used two hands to drive his blade into the squib’s head, roaring as he did.
Together, the unlikely pair of Marine and Miblimbian child slashed and cut, parried and thrust, giving ground only to step away from the growing mound of squib bodies. Egger felt as though she was trapped in the seaside cave again, fighting against the blackness that threatened to snuff out her life. Every blow against the enemy held the darkness at bay, holding death back for another heartbeat.
The acid boiled against her armor in too many places to count. Her skin burned. And the cloth had been lost among the carnage. But there was no time to use it anyway. It was only a matter of time before the squibs overtook her—before the seawater drained the life from her body. But unlike that day long ago, when her brothers pulled her lifeless body from the surf and resuscitated her, there would be no one pulling her from the wreckage of this underground tomb.
Suddenly, a thought struck Egger as she slashed her bloodied duradex blade at the next squib. That little girl had faced death. She had died once. And death hadn’t won.
Perhaps today, I will defy it again. The thought seemed irrational. Even irresponsible. But it was all she had left to hold onto. She wanted to protect the child, to do for him what her brothers had done for her. And it was a noble aim, even if a futile one.
Egger decided that she wouldn’t escape this drowning. Instead, she would embrace it, and she would make this hole the Simikon’s hell. As long as the enemy wanted to send their hordes into the ground, Egger would be here to slaughter them. She would not stop until they’d gotten their fill. She would become death itself.
“Fight forward,” she said to the boy, and then stepped into the advancing enemy line, blade thrashing.
Egger screamed in the face of every squib that came her way, mimicking what the boy had done moments earlier. Whether or not it made them afraid, she felt empowered. Plus, she swore that they paused before attacking. Whether or not each hesitation was real or imagined, Egger delivered the first strike against every squib from that second on.
Her hands were weakening. And she was sure that acid had burned its way into muscles or tendons, because her arms weren’t responding as swiftly, and her legs were shaking. She glanced down and found that the boy had retreated behind her legs. He was on his knees and holding his stomach. Had he been wounded? Was it fatal?
The very thought of losing him made Egger’s anger flare. She snarled at the next squib that charged her, driving her blade into its abdomen so deep that half her gauntlet sank in. Most of the finger guards had melted away, and she couldn’t feel her fingers anymore. But she’d be damned if the Simikon felt this hell hole was anything less than their worst nightmare.
She screamed and fell to one knee. But even as she came down, she drove her blade into a squib’s head and pinned it to the ground. She jerked the blade free as another beast flew at her head. She snagged one of its legs and brought it around to slam into her knife. The thing screeched, writhing atop her weapon, then twisted away—prying her weapon from her hand.
This was it. Her last kill. She was on her knees, staring the squib down half a meter away. It charged. Egger put her hands together and brought them down like a hammer on the beast’s head. The Simikon hissed, so Egger struck again. And again. And again, until she had nothing left to give.
Unable to stay upright any longer, Egger fell backward onto one elbow. She held up her other arm to keep the Simikon away from the boy.
But they never came.
At first Egger thought it was because death had come for her—that she’d drowned in the sea. But she clung to consciousness, still heard her heartbeat in her ears. She could also feel pain.
Egger raised her head to see the next squib charge. But none came. All she saw were bodies and dim light at the tunnel’s end.
She’d finished her job. She’d become death. And now it was her turn to slip into the darkness and rest.
* * * * *
Epilogue
When Egger awoke, she was inside a military transport shuttle staring up at a metal ceiling stenciled with the Marine Corps’ white insignia. Fortunately, she couldn’t feel anything—a sign of permanent nerve damage, or a testament to how many painkillers the medics had drugged her with. Pain or not, she was alive, and that was the most startling fact of all.
“We’re sorry to wake you up, Corporal,” a medic said. His face appeared on her left like a floating head. “But yo
u have company. We’re elevating your back now, but it shouldn’t cause you any discomfort.” The man nodded to someone else, and then Egger’s back began to rise as the sound of a motor whined somewhere beneath her bed.
A group of eight to ten people stood at the end of a cargo bay—it was hard to count them. The medic motioned the visitors forward, and Egger struggled to focus on their faces. The only one she recognized was Lieutenant Norse and someone else she’d seen in a portrait on Capriana somewhere. The rest were Miblimbian.
“LT,” Egger said, unsure of the voice that met her ears. It sounded raspy and faint. So she repeated herself.
“Good to see you, Corporal,” Norse replied.
“My unit? What happened to my unit?”
The lieutenant pushed his lips under his nose and then adjusted the helmet under his arm. “Most didn’t make it. You were one of the lucky ones, Egger.”
“Didn’t make it?”
“The Simikon wiped out the gatehouse tower.”
Egger swallowed. Her mind immediately went to Vance and how she’d left him in the tower to follow the kid. “The domes.”
Norse nodded and repeated her statement as if to validate it. “Sergeant Loo is in critical condition. A few more from Second Platoon also made it. But that is all.” Suddenly, Norse pulled a combat knife from his chest plate and stepped forward, offering her the weapon. “The buckets who pulled you out took this from your hand. I thought you might want it back.”
Egger willed her hand up to take the blade and felt the cold duradex in her fingers. So at least some of my nerves are still working, she thought.
“That’s a fine piece there,” Norse said, inclining his head toward the knife.
“A corporal from Second Platoon gave it to me.” Egger studied the knife and thought of Longo. Little did he know that his weapon had saved her life. She noticed a name etched on the blade, just above the crossguard. It read S.G. Magnus—probably the Recon bucket Longo had bought it from.
“Might want to look that Marine up when you’re outta here,” Norse said.
Egger looked up from the blade and smiled. “Maybe I will.” She handed the knife to the medic. “LT, there was a kid I was with. Does anyone…”
Before she could finish her sentence, the senior Marine whom she didn’t recognize stepped forward. “Corporal Egger, I’m Colonel Divitz.”
Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Egger looked down at her armor, only to find she’d been stripped and was under several medical blankets. “Forgive my appearance, Colonel. I wasn’t aware that—”
The colonel cut her off with a raised hand. “There are some people who’d like to meet you.” He gestured to the Miblimbians.
The black-skinned giants stepped forward, making a strange hand motion in the air as they approached. “Greetings, Marine Egger,” said the foremost male among them in heavily-accented common. He wore the colorful yellow, red, and green tribal dress of the Miblimbians. “I am King Baako of Limbia Centrella.”
“And I am Queen Neema of Limbia Centrella,” said the woman beside him. “We wish to thank you for saving our son.”
“Your son?” Egger looked at the colonel, and then to her LT. “You’ll have to forgive me, but the cocktail these tube junkies have slipped me is making my head a little fuzzy.” Egger froze when a boy stepped into view.
It was the kid from the tunnel. No wonder the Simikon wanted him dead, she thought. That was, of course, if the squibs had any ability for strategic thinking beyond kill anything that moves. Instead of a bucket, bowie knife, and street clothes, the kid was wrapped in his parents’ colors. The right side of his face was bandaged, as was a sling-bound arm.
The king touched the boy’s shoulder. “Thank Elza,” said the child. “Elza save Abimbola.”
“Your name’s Abimbola?” Egger tried pushing herself up on her elbows, but it was difficult.
Abimbola looked to his mother, and she pushed him forward. He approached with a smile on his face. “My name is Abimbola.”
“It’s nice to finally know your name, Abimbola.”
“Name means ‘born to be rich.’”
Egger smiled. “I guess you were born into the right family, then.”
“But owe you.” The child bowed his head. “I bind in honor.”
Egger looked up at the kid’s parents and the rest of the Miblimbians. “I’m—I’m really not sure what to do here.”
“You have preserved the line of our family,” King Baako said. “Therefore, we owe you a debt.”
“I was just doing my job,” Egger replied, and she meant every word of it. “I’m a Marine. I get paid to fight.”
“For the Republic, yes,” said Queen Neema. “But not for us.”
“Yeah, but this system is part of the Republic, so that—”
“We are Republic politically,” Baako replied, never once looking at the colonel. “But we do not owe our lineage to it.”
“Not like we do to you,” Neema added. “It is a debt that we will never be free of, and it is a joy for us to fulfill it whenever the need arises.” As if the words weren’t strong enough, she added, “Forever.”
“Okay?” As strange as it sounded, Egger felt more uncomfortable in this situation than being pinned down by a bunch of squibs. “Somebody help me out here.”
“The corporal is most grateful for your gesture,” the colonel said, rescuing Egger.
“No,” Baako said. “It is not enough.”
Splick, Egger thought. Now I’ve gone and offended them. She’d taken classes on cultural sensitivity—she just never thought she’d have to use the knowledge.
Baako strode toward her, and Egger felt her abs tighten. She even saw the colonel and her LT tense up. Suddenly the giant knelt beside her bed and offered his hand. Unsure of what to do, Egger placed her hand in his. When Baako closed his fingers, they wrapped halfway up her forearm.
The king stared at her with his deep blue eyes. “As a father, you must know of my pride.”
“You have a lot to be proud of,” Egger replied, nodding toward Abimbola. “You have an amazing son.”
“I am proud of you, daughter of Capriana—of who you are and what you have done.”
Baako’s words startled Egger enough that she found a lump growing in her throat. Those words—I’m proud of you—were words she’d wanted to hear her whole life. From her own father. But they’d never come. With every blaster bolt she’d fired, every meter of ground she’d taken, Egger hoped they’d carry her one step closer to hearing them. And surprisingly, all the work had brought her to the words—but from a different father.
Suddenly Neema appeared on the other side of Egger’s bed. “Today and forever, you are also a daughter of Limbia,” the queen added. Then both Baako and Neema leaned down and kissed the top of her hand.
Egger knew she was crying. But she didn’t care. “Thank you, King. Queen. I—I’m so grateful for your words. You have no idea.”
“And I grateful in Elza,” Abimbola said as he snuck behind his father and threw an arm around her neck. Then he pulled her head over and kissed her cheek. Egger thought she heard noises from the onlookers but couldn’t get her head free of the boy’s arm. “Thank Elza,” he said in her ear with a whisper. “For not drowning in sea.”
She turned to face him. “What did you say?”
“When you sleep, you spoke like this. But I see you now. You no drown. Not today. You free.” He placed his hand lightly on her chest. “You have pride of brother. Of father and mother. And now, I think of self. Nothing more important.”
Egger nodded as more tears streaked down her face. “You’re right,” she said. “Fight forward.”
“Yes,” Abimbola replied. “Always fight forward. Also, may I have favor?”
“You want to ask me for a favor?” Egger smiled as Abimbola shrugged off a warning touch from his mother. “No, it’s okay. Really.”
“I like have your helmet.”
Egger glanced up at Lieutenant Norse w
hile speaking to the boy. “You…want my helmet?”
“No, Abimbola,” said Baako, placing a hand on the child’s shoulder. “One does not ask for a warrior’s cover.”
Norse nodded at Egger as if allowing her silent request. Then she looked around the transport shuttle, realizing she’d lost track of her kit. “I just need to—”
“Here it is,” a medic said, pulling the broken helmet from a container and then handing it to Egger.
“He doesn’t need to ask me, King Baako.” She took it and then handed it to Abimbola. “I offer it freely.”
Abimbola looked at his father. Finally the king relented and nodded once at his son. The child reached out and accepted the Repub bucket with both hands. With wide eyes, he pulled the helmet close to his chest and wrapped both arms around it. “Thank Elza. I cherish now to always.”
* * *
In loving memory
Elza Egger Longo
1916 - 2020
* * * * *
Christopher Hopper Bio
Christopher Hopper is an American novelist, creator and co-author of the best-selling mil-scifi series Ruins of the Galaxy with J.N. Chaney. His other series include Resonant Sun, The Sky Riders, The White Lion Chronicles, and The Berinfell Prophecies.
Christopher lives with his wife and four children in the 1000 Islands of northern New York. He loves flying FPV race wings and RC planes, performing music with his wife, and traveling to distant lands—physical and fictional.
He’s had breakfast with Winnie Mandella, canoed with dolphins in Southern California, kite-surfed in Hawaii, scuba-dived on 19th-century shipwrecks in the 1000 Islands, sailed a yacht in St. Martin, posed with white rhinos in the wilds of South Africa, spoken on national television in Mexico City, performed a concert on a Dutch beach, and climbed the Great Wall of China.
For more on Christopher, visit his blog at http://christopherhopper.com.
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