Date point: 4y 11m 1w 1d AV
Left, jump back, forward, right, left, duck, back.
Reaction was his purpose in life.
Forward, try to get under the guard, forced back, duck, jump right.
Reaction and violence.
Years of refusing to allow the slightest mistake to pass had given him razor sharp muscle memory and reflexes.
The alien carried four fusion blades, along with the axe on a loop at his hip.
His opponent was no novice. The little Gaoian had been right. He must have been a pirate of some renown to wield those blades with such skill. A deep cut stretched across the human’s ribs and a gash in his left arm went far too deep for his comfort.
But, the pain was not important. The only thing that mattered was that the brute died.
The enemy had reach and weapons, but strength and speed were his allies.
Screaming with frustration, a flashing web of plasma edged steel cut at the air, but could not touch him.
But, neither could he touch the wielder.
Every thrust, swing and stabbing motion was protected by another movement of the opponent’s three other blades.
Weaving back and forth, avoiding death by millimeters, he knew that time would soon be his ally as well.
Thousands of generations of pursuit hunting had given him endurance no alien could match.
Even now, he could see that the blades were moving slower than they once had been.
Cheering from the on-lookers was crashing into his ears, deafening him.
Everything was so vibrant, so sharp. The whole of the world had more depth and detail than it had ever had. All of his senses were heightened to their sharpest.
Blood was thundering through his veins. Every shred of air passing in and out of his lungs felt like fire.
Sliding back from the web of steel, he switched fighting styles. The enemy had slowed enough to allow him to go on the offense. The brute had no idea how grave a mistake he had made in tiring himself out.
Instead of dodging the blades, and watching for the next attack to fall, he began to look for patterns that the enemy was using.
Stab, covered by blocking from the bottom. Slice, while protecting the stomach. Feint, while coming from the left.
And then he saw it. The Locayl had done it twice now, and showed the mistake in his form.
A short thrust with the lower left arm, followed by two slices from the top hands. But, the fourth hand was left unprotected, sticking out too far. It was vulnerable, and all he needed was one chance to strike.
Preparing for the blow that would signal the beginning of the end, he waited. Choosing to begin dodging the attacks and anticipating the next movement.
Hunters on Earth throughout all of evolution had been forced to either anticipate their opponent’s next move or die. Was the tiger going to go left, or pounce in the next two seconds? Did that movement mean the boar was going to run, or charge with sudden unstoppable violence? Only the ones who’d been right had survived.
As the Locayl finished making three slices through thin air, the lower left hand prepared to make a thrust.
Steel rose inside him as he saw the two upper hands prepare to swing as the left hand pulled back the failed thrust.
…NOW!
As the two hands sliced, he roared and struck with a speed that none present had ever witnessed.
His fist was lightning as it came crashing down on the wrist of his opponent.
The sound of shattering bone and tearing flesh split the air, and mangled and shredded skin was all that remained connecting the Locayl’s hand to his arm.
A great gasp went up in the crowd as the brute roared with pain, flailing his three remaining blades at the human.
But, the human no longer had any intentions of staying near his opponent.
Sprinting to the dropped blade, he watched the enemy from the corner of his eye. The fight would be over in seconds if he could lay hands on the sword.
Reaching out to grab it, it suddenly skittered away out of reach, as though it had been kicked.
Looking up into the crowd he saw, staring down from the balcony, a Chehnasho holding an engraved pulse pistol; aiming into the arena. The expression on the Chehnasho’s face was murderous.
Unable to reach the blade in time, he turned his attention back to the enemy, who had begun to regroup.
The brute was injured now, and exhaustion had begun to set in. Blade or no, the fight would be over soon.
They began to circle each other. Slowly walking sideways without breaking eye contact, they watched each other, waiting to see who would act first.
“WHAT ARE YOU, MONSTER?!” screamed the Locayl.
The brute had just ensured that he lost another hand.
There was a slight misstep as he’d spoken, closing his eyes right after the word ‘monster’.
Sprinting forward as the oddly slanted eyes began to close, he darted under the raised guard, grabbed the wrist of the left lower arm and twisted, until he heard a loud ‘SNAP’ and another roar of pain.
This time, there wasn’t even a chance to grab the blade. At least ten pulse rifles began to fire into the arena, sending the blade sliding across the floor. Once the blade was out of reach, the fire shifted to the human.
Trying to give the Locayl time to regroup again, they were pushing him back.
Still in possession of his two longer blades, and roaring in agony and rage, the Locayl made his final mistake.
Charging at the human, he slashed wildly at the air.
Side stepping the attack entirely, he darted right, and, with agility no Chehnasho or Locayl could have produced, pulled the axe that was hanging from one of the loops in his shorts.
An instant later, using his own momentum, he swung with all of his might at the back of the Locayl’s body, sinking the axe directly into the lower spine, and letting the Locayl’s forward momentum tear it out again.
The brute fell, face first onto the metal floor, blades skittering away; but, he wasn’t dead yet.
Rage was sustaining him in his last few seconds.
Managing to turn himself over with his remaining arms, he stared with seething hatred and agony at the tiny human.
“HOW?!” he screamed.
The enemy’s momentum had carried his body maybe twenty feet away.
It wasn’t over; not yet. The enemy was still breathing.
Hefting the axe, he began to run at the fallen foe, but, another roar split the noise of the arena.
“SHOOT HIM!”
Suddenly fire was raining down upon him from all sides, pelting him from every angle.
It didn’t matter. There was nothing so important as finishing what he’d started.
Sprinting forward, the shooting increased, pummeling his body and face.
Adrenaline spiked in his body, making the blows feel like nothing more than rain drops as it bruised his skin.
As he approached within five feet of his opponent, he leapt, aided by the low gravity, higher than any Chehnasho could have anticipated. Raising the axe above his head and, wearing a twisted expression of hatred, he brought it straight down at the face of the dying brute.
As the human slammed both feet on the chest of the Locayl, the blade of the axe split Ryxus’s head down the middle, and continued down to the floor, where the blade shattered and sent metal shards flying from between the gaping hole that was once his enemy.
“NO!”
A great raw throated roar of rage and violence rumbled from deep inside the human’s chest. It increased in pitch and volume until it felt like the ground itself trembled with fear at his victory.
The shooting was still continuing, and, looking up at the Chehnasho Captain, Robert Frost, covered in purple bruises and blood, smiled at his Master.
“BRING HIM DOWN!”
The human was no longer standing over his victim. Taking up one of Ryxus’s fusion blades, he took a running leap at the arena wall, and caught the lip of it.
Panic was spreading like wild fire now. No amount of pulse fire was stopping the advance.
The human was over the wall now. Setting about with his blade, he carved a bloody path up the length of the bleachers, trying to get to the balcony. The fusion blade cleaved through flesh and bone as if being moved through thin air.
Dozens fell before the enraged human as he ran to the top of the stairs, still firing their weaponry at point blank range. The blows seemed to be as nothing to the animal; less than an annoyance.
When none remained before him, and the rest of the men were running from his rage, Robert turned to look his captor in the eyes and their gazes locked together.
A face flashed through Robert’s mind. A small, furry face, with a slashed nose and a missing ear.
Fear gripped Kingruta as the human began to roar again and take a running start, preparing to leap the distance between him and the balcony.
“Sir! Run!” screamed Bilgrath.
Stunned into complete non-action at the horrific violence the human wrought, Kingruta froze as the human soared towards him.
A heavy pulse cannon had been manned and was lining up as the human jumped.
Robert just had time to look at it, still airborne, before it hit him full in the face, and the world went black.
“This has got to be the stupidest thing I have ever done, Jason. And I went to Vegas for my bachelor party.”
“Frank, I don’t wanna hear it. Just get the ship settled and locked down. Then get back here.” replied Jason, over the intercom in the cargo bay.
The ship was drifting slowly closer and closer to the underbelly of the pirate cruiser. Frank had just flipped the ship over and begun to extend magnetic feet from the underside of the Reclamation.
Watching a screen to the left of his chair, he watched the video feeds on the underside of the ship as they inched closer to the vessel.
It was a lot harder than Jason had made it sound.
The slave ship was moving, drifting slowly and apparently waiting for some hapless ship to cross in front of it, and Frank had to ease his own ship to just the right speed to match it.
The magnetic feet were only a few inches away from the ship now, and, getting ready to turn on the electro-magnets, Frank moved the controls millimeters at a time.
“Frank, what’s taking so long?”
“Captain? Shut the fuck up, please.”
At last, after an excruciating amount of time, when even a slight change in speed or direction would have meant discovery, the feet touched the other ship. Flipping the magnets on, a quiet ‘thump’ was all that was heard.
Sitting in his chair for a moment, and wanting to bask in the moment of triumph, Frank said, “God damn. Kendra will have me put into a home if she ever finds out what I’ve been doing.”
Jason’s voice came over the intercom again, “Frank, hurry up. We’ve gotta be quick about this. More time stuck to this ship is more time for things to go wrong.”
Grunting as he stood, Frank walked out the door and moved towards the cargo bay.
As he passed several rooms, he was contemplating telling Jason about his little weapons cache, stashed in his room. This wasn’t even close to the reason he had it, but it would probably come in handy.
But, then again, revealing the weapons would bring awkward questions that weren’t supposed to be answered.
No, thought Frank, I can’t risk jeopardizing the larger mission at hand. Too much is at stake for something to go wrong. All of their lives and the lives of thirty six others counted on his intentions remaining unknown.
He didn’t like all the lies and omissions. It wasn’t him; not how he did things. People should be able to trust each other, and that they’d all been completely honest with everyone. Keeping these things a secret felt wrong.
However, he ran it through his mind again that someone else on the ship wasn’t being entirely honest either. Someone else knew, at a minimum, that something else was going on.
Thoughts being brought to an end by entering the cargo hold, he saw Jason and Ted suited up in their EVA suits. His was lying on a crate next to his exo-suit.
“Alright, old man, get ready. You’re gonna be opening the door, bringing the exo-suit back to the ship, then joining us in the enemy ship after that. Clear?” explained Jason.
As Frank began awkwardly climbing into his suit, he looked over at the two other men.
“Got it. What’s Ted gonna be doing?”
“I’m going to be looking for anybody who doesn’t belong on this ship. It’s possible that they’ve already picked up some slaves and are holding them here. I’m to kill any pirates I meet, then either get them back to our ship or onto life pods back to that violent world not far from here.” said Ted, looking a little nervous as he explained it.
I hope he’s up to it, thought Frank, feeling nervous for the man as well.
“Right, sounds like a plan. Jason, what are you and I doing?” asked Frank.
“We’re going to be headed to the bridge and we’re gonna take control of the ship. Once any slaves are clear, we blow the airlocks of every area that we aren’t in.”
“Alright, I’m ready.” Frank said, as he finished twisting his helmet on.
Walking over to his exo-suit, he leaned back into it and said, “Suit: Fit to person and activate.”
The suit closed with an assortment of tightening straps and clunking noises, and Frank picked up his massive crow-bar.
“Let’s do it.
All of them walking into the cramped airlock, Ted and Jason gripping their holstered T.A.S.E.R.s nervously, Jason closed the door and initiated the negative pressurization.
As every bit of air was sucked out, their EVA suits expanded slightly in the vacuum.
Once the light flared, Jason hit the button to open the outer doors, and the cold vacuum of space opened to greet them.
“Holy fuck. We’re actually doing this. A real spacewalk, to go kill some fucking pirates. I was binge watching House of Cards, like, three weeks ago.” wondered Ted, speaking over his helmet radio.
“Stow it, this is serious shit. Frank, you’ve only got a few minutes with the suit unplugged. Let’s go.”
Moving quickly, while trailing a line back to the ship, and using magnetic plates in their shoes, they saw an airlock, maybe twenty feet from them. Frank had to hold lightly onto Ted’s shoulder as they moved, as there were no magnets on the exo-suit.
“There, Frank. There’s a ladder where you can wedge your foot under. Pop the cork on this thing.”
Being dragged into position, Frank oriented himself to use the crow-bar. There was maybe a quarter inch wide gap between the door and the hull, and he drove the wedge into it as hard as he could and began to pull back on the bar, prying it open.
There should have been a terrible screeching sound, but space swallowed all noise.
As the door was forced open, a great rush of gasses escaped the small room beyond the door, nearly knocking Frank from his precarious perch.
“Shit, be careful! If you go flying off, we’ll have to call all this shit off to come get you!” hissed Jason.
“I’m fine, kid. Let me work.”
As he wedged the door open further, he made just enough room for Jason and Ted to squeeze through.
“Go!”
Without waiting for a second invitation, both men scrambled inside.
“Go put the suit back! We can open the door from in here!”
Complying, and dragging himself back with the line they’d trailed, Frank quickly re-pressurized the airlock, ran through the doors, took off the suit and it crashed down unceremoniously onto the floor. As he began to empty the airlock again he stood panting slightly.
“Anything happening in there yet?” asked Frank nervously.
“Nothing so far. But, we can’t hear if there’s anything going on inside. There’s no air in here.” Ted replied.
As the door to hard vacuum opened once again, Frank walked as quickly as his shoes would allow. Coming up to the door, he said, “Alright, I’m back. Open the fucking door, it’s terrifying being out here alone.”
A light blazed over the door as it opened and Frank climbed inside. Mercifully, there was gravity inside.
“Alright, I’m re-pressurizing the room.” said Jason, hitting a button that his HUD told him was the correct one.
All three men heard a ‘pop’ and a hissing sound filled the room.
Once the room was full of air, a light began blinking on the console.
“Leave the helmets on. We might not have time to put them on before blowing the airlocks.” said Frank.
Jason looked at the two other men.
“Alright guys, this is it. Be careful, don’t do anything stupid and we’ll all survive.”
He hit the button to open the door, and they all moved to exit.
They froze at the sight before them.
Thirty Chehnasho were standing in front of them; and every one of them was pointing pulse rifles at the three men.
In the center of the Chehnasho was a gun that none of them recognized, being manned by one of the pirates. It was much too large to be carried by one of the aliens. It hummed and the barrel was showing a blue light inside of it.
“Oh, fuck.” said Frank.
The plasma cannon fired directly where the three men were standing.
As all three of them experienced fight-or-flight reactions and jumped out of the way with reflexes neither they nor the Chehnasho knew they had, the crackling and spitting ball of blue fire slammed into the door separating the room they were standing in, and the sucking vacuum of space.
Thirty three pairs of eyes stared at the plasma as it began to burn through the metal like a fire eating through rice paper.
“Fucking grab something!” screamed Ted.
Frank jumped at the railing of a stairway just as the plasma ate through the last inch of metal, and exposed the room to the hungry vacuum of space.