Scavengii in Orphan of Empire
In Orphan of Empire, Guy Erma still only a trainee is commanded to follow the Black attack squard as they board a Scavengii ship. Guy is only a stretcher bearer, but as the Dome Militant say: With the stretcher bearers at their backs, the Vanguard goes ever forward.
Stretcher Bearer Two
Follow Black… I must follow Black Team leader…
Sprinting hard with his head down, Guy Erma, Stretcher Bearer Two, skidded to a halt as Black Team paused at a metal junction deep inside the alien ship. Left or right? Which way to the command deck? Black Team leader must decide.
Guy had a moment to glance at Annabel, panting softly at his side. As their eyes met, he read a stern rebuke. She jerked her helmet in a nod forward.
“All eyes on Black Leader,” she said.
I know that. Right or left? Which way now? What was Black Leader doing?
“CHARGE!”
Battle borgs led the way, heroes who had died in combat reborn as the fearless vanguard. Human fighters chased after them, armed with long swords, crossbows, axes and throwing blades. Last, the stretcher bearers scrambled to follow. All sprinting as Black Team turned into the dark right-hand corridor and made contact.
Four…No, five pirate invaders in the narrow corridor ahead. Their first sight of the Scavengii aliens. They would have resembled vast black bears except for their long wolf-like snout and the long line of horns protruding through their fur the length of their spine and along their tail, with a trio of claws at the very tip. Fierce to some, perhaps, but the Borgs knew their weaknesses and cut them down, even as the aliens fled before them to a wider living module. Now the human fighters surged forward, fighting in pairs. These invaders would never set claws on Earth, never raid precious resources, or cannibalize her people. They would be dead, with cold steel forced deep into their hearts, their guts, their brains.
Guy watched, as with a spiralling corkscrew attack, Black Leader attacked and killed a large male single-handed. While a skinny Black Three, all bone and muscle, triple somersaulted fast to cut an enemy’s head from its shoulders. Next, a shining blade flew through the air and sliced open an alien neck. It threw back its wolf-like head and howled as its black claws tried to stem the fast-flowing blood.
They bleed like us. They die like us.
Guy glanced admiringly as Black Four let fly blade after blade. Eyes, necks, sometimes upraised claws he never missed. Only he was static, too static… Guy saw the shadow, even as Black Four span around, pulling his long sword as he did. A high fast blow to the head and the pirate was dead, but not before he had snapped and bit Black Four, removing the left forearm below the elbow.
Black Four was hurt.
“Scramble,” Annabel gave the order, and Guy leapt after her.
Within moments they crouched on either side of the fallen fighter, Guy worked hard to steady his breathing.
“I’ll bite down on the Dome,” Black Four said through sweat and pain.
“NO!” Annabel was shrill, her voice for once betraying her youth and gender.
“Annabel?” Guy cried in a tone that said You, okay? Their eyes met. “This is what we trained for.” She pressed her lips together, shook her fear aside.
“I have a tourniquet,” she told Black Four. “You will walk out of here, I promise you.”
Yes, that’s an option, his legs are good.
But Guy was mapping the long walk back to safety through the alien ship. Who knew how many more pirates hid in the shadows seeking to escape, murdering stragglers, feasting on the hot flesh of the fallen?
I would do it.
I would bite down on the Dome.
To bite into the crystal dodecahedral at the heart of his pentagonal ID medallion, and let the poison acid run through his veins, to kill his soul and dissolve his body.
That’s what true heroes do.
They DIE in battle.
“Help me,” Annabel’s words were a rebuke.
Enough daydreaming of glorious death!
Guy cut away the ragged shreds of the fighter’s flesh and uniform, as Annabel activated the globe tourniquet over the remaining stump of the lower arm.
“They will get you a cyborg hand in no time,” she told the fighter cheerily, as pins sunk into his flesh and veins. Intense momentary agony, followed by ease as painkillers flooded his veins. She held his good hand and squeezed it hard. “You’ll be better than new.”
Good bedside manner.
Overhead a microdrone was recording the scene and passing data back to command.
“BLACK STRETCHER BEARERS. FORWARD WITH YOUR SQUAD.
BLACK FOUR. WE’LL WALK YOU OUT. CHANNEL 18-7.”
God. Orders, Guy thought. One does not disobey central command. He patted the uninjured shoulder. For the first time Black Four turned towards him, and their eyes met. Scared, now the pain was receding. Guy returned his gaze with determination and saw the man nod in agreement. He would get out.
“You got that? Channel 18-7?” Annabel asked.
“Go forward,” he muttered, and shoved Annabel in that direction.
“Annabel. Orders!” Guy rebuked her.
They sprinted after Black Team leader. Out of the accommodation unit. Along a corridor. Black Team members were crouched on both sides. Dead pirates lay sprawled before a wide double door.
“Spare blades,” Black Team leader barked.
That was Guy. Swinging the leather holster down from his spine, Guy sprinted to each of the fighters in turn, never forgetting to briefly kneel as he passed them handle first, twenty-centimetre-long dual fighting blades. The shining weapons were both the hallmark and the power of United Earth Space Defence Force fighters.
No explosions, no bullets, projectile munitions caused collateral damage. The Dome Militant fought with hand blades and long swords to kill alien crew and take their ship. A change of flag to black and gold, another ship added to the United Earth Space Defence force’s fleet.
“Keep those for yourself,” Black Leader said, as he saw Guy had one last set of spare blades, those belonging to Black Four. Guy nodded and slipped the spare blades into his belt alongside his holstered main blades.
Guilt pinched him.
Why were his sharp edges not yet bloodied?
Black Leader had the same thought.
“You know how to throw?”
Guy nodded. Fast, accurate shots were second nature to him. They represented thousands of hours of training in the gym, but Guy knew he only had to look at a target to hit it.
But before he could speak, a voice crackled through the command channel.
“BLUE TEAM TWO MINUTES BEHIND. BLACK LEADER, THAT’S DEFINITELY THE COMMAND DECK. WAIT OR PROCEED. YOUR CALL.”
Guy knew the answer. The longer they waited, the greater the chance the pirates would trigger the self-destruct. Every fighter knew it. Black Leader knew it too. Before them, the doors to the command deck remained shut. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved.
“I don’t care what’s on the other side.” He raised a magnetic viral attack grenade. “We attack.”
The grenade struck the control panel. Immediately it began forcing its way through the ship’s systems. The doors shuddered. Started opening. The lead battle borg stepped forward. Huge metal hands gripped both sides. Then the explosion came. The blast threw the battle borg backwards like a toy.
Guy hit the deck hard. For several seconds he heard nothing. Then the world returned all at once. Shouting. Weapons fire. Alarms. Smoke. The battle borg lay motionless. Annabel was already moving. Guy followed her. Together they reached the fallen borg. She connected diagnostic leads and checked the readings. They waited, then Annabel shook her head.
“He shut himself down.”
Not dead. Not exactly. But out of the fight.
A command drone immediately authorized evacuation.
Annabel packed away her equipment.
“Now what?” Guy thought. Beyond the blasted door, the fight continued, veiled in a fog of mist and destruction.
Then they heard him.
Black leader, first coughing, “Stretcher bearers – blades out.” then clearer. “STRETCHER BEARERS – BLADES OUT.”
An unmistakable order, but also a desperate plea.
Words only ever spoken at a moment of direst need.
Annabel rose.
She took Guy’s hand and held his gaze.
Unafraid.
Guy nodded.
Then as one.
“Follow Black Leader.”
Follow Black Leader
Guy did not need telling twice. Together they sprinted through the shattered entrance and onto the command deck. The command deck was chaos. Black Team had expected resistance. Nobody had expected this much resistance. The pirates had fallen back. Elders, officers, technicians, high-born females, and their bodyguards crowded the vast circular chamber. Arguments had been raging moments earlier. Some would have demanded the self-destruct. Others would have argued for retreat. Others still would have hoped their fighters could throw the human boarders back into space.
Whatever they had decided, it was now too late.
The remaining battle borg smashed into the defenders. One pirate disappeared beneath a metal fist. Another was thrown bodily across the chamber. Black Leader speared a golden-cloaked elder through the chest before wrenching the blade free and turning immediately towards a second opponent. Nearby Black Two and Black Three fought side by side against a pair of heavily armed pirate nobles whose matching armour marked them as brothers. One raised a pistol.
Guy threw. The blade left his hand faster than conscious thought. It crossed the command deck in a blur and buried itself in the pirate’s eye. A blade score. A real one. Not a training point. Not a practice hit. An enemy dead. He had done that. His stomach churned. No, he would not be sick. Earth was under attack. These creatures had come to kill. Guy reached for another blade.
Throw. A perfect hit. The blade struck between flaring nostrils and disappeared into the creature’s skull. It collapsed before taking another step. Beside him Annabel threw as well. One blade struck a fighting arm. The second should have hit a throat, only a heavy metal necklace turned the shot aside.
“Bad luck,” Guy muttered.
“I hit him.”
“You nearly hit him.”
She glared. Even now she found time to glare. The familiarity of it steadied him. The battle shifted. Human fighters gained ground. Pirates fell. Bodies littered the command deck. Then Guy saw something nobody else had noticed. A light, agile male pirate emerging from behind a command console. The creature launched itself directly at Black Leader.
Guy threw his third blade. The weapon entered through the ear and disappeared into the skull. The pirate collapsed. Black Leader never even saw the attack. A moment later, Blue Team arrived. Fresh fighters surged onto the command deck. New battle borgs followed. The balance of the fight changed. At last, Guy thought. Now we’ll win.
“Stand down, Stretcher Bearers,” Black Leader ordered. He had seen Guy’s blade, but he also knew that both were out of blades. Their orders now were to find somewhere to be safe and wait.
Annabel tugged on Guy’s sleeve and drew him back to where they could crouch under the overhang of the command desk itself. It was dark and hot underneath, with shimmering cables but also…
A pair of hot red eyes.
Out of the shadows, an alien, a youngster launched itself at Annabel. Jaws ajar, it bit down hard on her shoulder and chest.
On instinct, Guy fell aside. Now he saw his blade still sticking out of a nearby alien’s head. As Annabel screamed, Guy dived to wrench it free, and launched himself over Annabel in the narrow dark space, stabbed and stabbed at its thick neck.
“Let HER go. Let HER go.”
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