Penny

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

The night is young indeed, was Junebug’s first thought when she regained consciousness. Her second thought was that she was going to kill Neil. Painfully and assuming she managed to get up. Trying to ignore her pounding head she pushed herself to her feet, somewhat relieved to find herself in her bunk on the Highlander clad her undershirt and ... were those Taya’s panties! How in the Void had she ended up wearing them? Vainly she tried to pull together memories of the previous evening but could only muster disconnected snap shots. A bar somewhere with Neil with pounding techno music. Throwing her cards down on the table in delight to the groans of unknown companions at some different establishment. Moving down a row of shot glasses that smoked like the barrel of a slug thrower. She even had a vague memory of dancing on a table and…. Ugggh.

With another groan she pushed herself up out of bed. Ger face was tacky with something and she tasted it experimentally of the tip of finger relieved to find that it was sweet and someone hadn’t hit her with a bottle or some other such mishap. Reaching down she pulled a medical hydration bag from her arm and tossed it into the trash. The flexible silicone bag bounced and flicked out of the can flopping sullenly onto the floor. Yes she was definitely going to kill Neil. Right after she got this furry taste out of her mouth.

With a low keening moan she mustered her will and propelled herself across the room and into the tiny shower. Without bothering to remove her clothing she turned the unit to full bore and let the warm water wash down over her like a cleansing waterfall. With the Highlander tied into Beckett’s Node’s water system for the duration of its stay, there was no reason, beyond a few extra credit in surcharge, to save water so she let the hot jet sluice away the worst of the damage. She opened her mouth and let the water clean the hoppy, ashy aftertaste of too many drinks and too many cigarettes from it before finally mustering the energy to remove her sodden garments. With some chagrin she checked herself over, relieved to find that no new tattoos had appeared as a result of last nights revelry. Such things had happened before. Once her skin was almost red from the hot water she gritted her teeth and switched it to full cold. As veteran of one of the most fearsome mercenary units in the galaxy, she was pleased when only a small squeal escaped her as the ice jet jolted her fully awake.

“Lonney,” she called from the shower, facing the icy torrent with the resolution of the condemned before a firing squad.

“Are Neil and Taya aboard?”

“AYE AYE CAPT’N!” Lonney chirruped in a voice far too loud and far too chipper for her throbbing head. Junebug made a sound somewhere between a squeal and a curse. Neil had switched the bloody voice back at some point. After she got some coffee she was definitely heading for the arms locker. At least she knew they had all gotten back safely and she wouldn’t have to spend the day coming brothels and bars for her crew. Staggering out of the shower she half heartedly dabbed herself with a towel and took a couple of analgesics from her medical kit, chewing the bitter pills rather than swallowing them both to increase their speed and to avoid the metaphor it implied.

Pulling on her gym shorts and a bra she wrapped the towel around her hair and stepped out into main hold. Taya lay across an empty crate dressed in a single unlaced combat boot, a sarai of unknown provenance and a leather jacket Junebug vaguely remembered rolling some sort of prismatic dice for. Stars above she hadn’t been this hammered since after they got pulled off the line following the holding action at… the remembered taste of burned flesh rose in her throat and her gorge rose. Stars. Maybe not think about that.

After some effort she managed go get down the ladder to the galley and produce a cup of hot black coffee. For a moment she considered the ration packs that lay stacked on the shelf without enthusiasm. What was she thinking? They were back in civilization now right? With a surge of benevolence that momentarily washed away her desire to murder her pilot, she bought up a meal ordering service and order the biggest greasiest breakfast she could find and charged it to the ship. The machine beeped irritably and a large ‘Credit Declined’ flashed up on the screen.

“What the fucking fuck?” she snarled. Even if they had blown all the cash they had been carrying last night, and that was a real possibility, they should still have plenty of credit with the station. Most of the funds had been put in escrow for the repairs anyway. She tried again. Credit declined.

“Lonney pull up or accounts would you?” she asked taking a scalding hot mouthful of coffee.

“Aye aye!...” Sayeeda clutched at her still pounding head with her free hand.

“Gods and Demons turn it down a little will you!” she snarled. Was it her imagination or was Lonney getting back at her for threatening to voice him as an opera singer? The screen blanked and then a logo rotated on the screen for a moment. Eron Banking Corporation - Empowering Your Future. Junebug ground her teeth before a healthy balance appeared on the screen only to be covered by a yellow alert box. Account Temporarily Suspended, followed by a contact frequency.

“Lonney, without verbally responding, patch me through to this number,” Junebug tried. There was a loud ping of acknowledgement. Behind her she heard Taya groan and stumble toward the bathroom, one combat boot clanking noisily on the deck.

“Very fucking…” the connection went through and a blandly pleasant AI voice fielded the call.

“Eron Banking how may we help you?” Junebug leaned forward placing both hands on the countertop.

“You can unfreeze my account before I come down their and open fire,” she said in a pleasant fashion.

“Threats of violence do not increase customer service times,” the AI responded tartly.

“Your escrow account has been purchased by a third party, in compliance with our terms of service. You are required to sign the transfer documents in person before your account will be restored. Would you like directions to our location?” the AI concluded happily.

“Fuuuuck,” she groaned and stalked back to her room anger, or the pain killers, having taken the worst of the edge off her hangover. She rifled through the pockets of her discarded clothing, strewn randomly across the cabin at some point in the ethanol blurred evening and pulled out a handful of credit chips. With more groaning she pulled on a white t-shirt with ‘I’m a regular God Damn Princess’ scrawled across it in some swirly rainbow script and the background of a pink unicorn and then pulled on a pair of combat pants. Suitably armored, she stalked past the bathroom, in which a moaning Taya clutched the receptacle for dear life, and began pounding on Neils door with a balled fist.

“Neil! Wake up!” she yelled stuffing the credit chips into her hip pocket, “We need to get some breakfast. And then maybe shoot some people.”

@POOHEAD189

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

The Strip was familiar enough to Sayeeda that she felt at home immediately. Like every major port in human history Beckett's Node was served by a plethora of places for spacers to dispose of their recently gotten gains. The long street was lined with taverns, gambling houses and brothels and every combination of the three. The Hard Drive, The Nebula and the Hammered Cock were a few of the highlights screamed in neon of a dozen eye watering shade. The street was set into a long corridor at least fifty meters wide and twenty high. Enterprising artisans had splashed the roof with ultra violet receptive paint and turned black lights on it, giving the celing the impression of twinkling stars to the casual glance. Music of a dozen different styles melded into a thrumbing cacophny that didn't quite provide a base line. At least most of the whoring was going on behind closed doors or outdoor partitions, though a few enterprising freelancers were making a go of it in public. Men, women and aliens stumbled around in general good fellowship, curses shouted and as quickly forgotten.

Junebug drew a tabacco stick from the pack she had purchased and placed it between her lips. With practiced ease she tapped a rythmic pattern against the cigarettes silvery endcap and the small charge of phospor-laced zirconium blazed for a moment while she drew back, sparking to life and filling her mouth with smooth smoke with a slightly sour cherry aftertaste. She let the smoke rush from her nostrils in a pleased sigh before lifting a bottle of liquor to her lips and drinking deep. The concoction differed only slightly from a xalop brandy she had been fond of before she joined the armored, although the alcohol content, judging by the bottle and the tingle it left in her mouth, was significantly higher.

It had been a frustrating morning, at least she imagined it as morning - the station did not appear to keep a day night cycle, but a productive one. With the help of the stations directory they had managed to liquidate most of the artifact that a grateful Quetzalli had lavished upon them. Gold and jewels were not in and off themselves tremendously valuable, space faring civilizations could extract ore from asteroids fairly easily, but the craftsman ship and the strange provenance gave them value. By agreement Junebug and Neil had refused to reveal the origin of the pieces, lest other, less well intentioned 'Starmen' return and exploit the place, but even so the pieces were of significant value to collectors. The total value of the cargo looked like it would cover the repairs they needed and the docking fees and go a ways towards re stocking the ship with rations but those expenses would leave the coffers pretty bare.

"Stars! you would think it was their last night of life!" Taya exclaimed, simultaneously looking everywhere and no where. Junebug thought she was trying to avoid gawking at two rough looking men hiking up the dress of a slightly frumpy looking whore in the beer garden of one of the taverns. The girl laughed a jaded professional laugh before burying one of the mens faces between her doubtlessly augment bosoms.

"It might be," Junebug said, feeling warm and expansive as she strolled along. With the careful precision of the slightly drunk she made a gesture with her bottle, careful not to spill any of the precious spirit, indicating the surrounding men and women. Pausing to take another draw on her ciggareete before continuing:

"Most of these men are spacers, scrounging a living on the little asteroid hoppers they have here, nothing between them and the great beyond except a space suit that hasn't been repaired in the Goddess alone knows how long," she explained.

"These others," she gestured at a knot of tough looking men, scarred and with slightly sallow saggy skin engaged in a very loud card game of some sort, "Gather fungus on the moons. The primary here kick of a ton of rads and the suits they get arent really up to it. Thats before you get to the geyzers of red hot gas and the spores the damn things kick off." The morning had at least been instructive as to what life was like on Beckett's node, even if it hadn't exactly been profitable. Fungus and ore for refining seemed to be the wealth of the station. The alien vegetation grew prolifically on several of the moons and was edible once properly processed. Some of the rarer types were valuable as raw material for certain drugs as well she had heard.

"When your in that kind of danger you live while you can, believe me. Besides I thought all you aristos were supposed to be hyper decadent, no pleasure forbidden types," she said, her lips curling into a smile of gentle mockery. Her eyes tracked unbidden to a sign above a brothel that was advertising services so exotic that even Junebug was intrigued.

"Pretty sure those wen't extinct..." she started before Taya called out Neil's name. Looking up she saw the pilot coming down the artificial street towards them. Junebug lifted the bottle in salute and took a long pull, feeling the burn in the back of her throat as she swallowed down.

"How did you make out?" she called jovially.

@POOHEAD189

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Chapter

“Ext-ra-ra-ra-ra….”

The universe fractured like wafer thin glass. The syllable dragged out multiplying into endless infinities. Sayeeda had the crystalline impression of infinite variations of herself making the same vocalization. It swelled in her mind like a chorus, the disparate notes melding and merging together into something so profoundly beautiful and transportative that, had the frozen instant allowed it, she would have wept.

“...ction,” she choked as the Highlander crashed back into the real universe, the heavenly choir coming apart like stained glass tumbling from a bombed out cathedral. The effects of entering and exiting the RIP on the human mind were unpredictable and ranged from the bizarre to the agonizing. Gripping the arm of her flight couch, Junebug thought that she prefer the pain. Her head buzzed with migraine precursors as she fumbled for the controls for the sensors. Beside her at what would be the navigators console, Taya Cho'lan wretched noisily. Even experienced starfarers never got used to the psyche shattering effect of travelling between universes, but, with practice, they learned to work through it.

“Beckett’s Node, eight million kilometers sunward,” Neil commented, his voice sounded drained but he was clearly functional, more functional than her anyway. The run had been a rough one. Lacking proper astrogation data due to their blind jump away from Fornax and their extended vacation in cryosleep, working their way back to civilization had been a challenge. Lonney, the ships AI and Neil had come up with a plan that involved microsampling the star fields from three separate but calculated jumps. The strategy had allowed the computer to triangulate a rough position for them on the star charts and to estimate the RIP currents well enough to make a longer jump at least theoretically survivable. It was all fun and games for Lonney of course, his silicon brain didn’t suffer the same nerve destroying shock that the repeated insertions and extractions inflicted on the crew.

Beckett’s Node was massive space station, the size of a small city, which orbited one of the moons of the gas giant creatively named GSC-26. The moon, if it had a name it wasn’t, mentioned in the star charts was apparently uninhabited. Judging but the string of small craft heading down to the surface though, uninhabited wasn’t the same thing as unvisited. Still more craft boosted too and from the nearby asteroid belt, servicing various small scale minion operations if Sayeeda was any judge. She felt tension that she hadn’t realised was carrying ease from her shoulder blades. Beckett’s Node was a nowhere station, far from any stars she had visited, but given the last few weeks, part of her had began to wonder if they would ever make it back to what she thought of as civilization.

“Unknown Freighter, This is Beckett Control, identify yourself,” a voice sounded from the communications board. A glowing green diode indicated that the freighter was being targeted with a laser communicator, probably from a relay station on one of the nearby asteroids which GSC-26 had gathered into a belt. It struck Sayeeda as unusually good security for such a minor world, but perhaps they had experienced trouble with pirates in the past.

“Control, this is independent Freighter Highlander, inbound from… Fornax,” she responded, stumbling over their point of origin. The uncharted world they had stumbled on had no name that she had been able to discover and so she had to default to the last world they had visited before that. Of course it was vanishingly unlikely that anyone at Beckett’s Node had ever heard of Fornax, given it was located half a galaxy away on the other side of human occupied space.

“Roger that Highlander, state your business,” the voice responded. In the corner of her eye Junebug could see that Taya had recovered from her fuge and was tapping buttons on her console. A moment later a holographic update sprang to life on her plot position indicator, tagging the source of the transmission as an asteroid a few hundred thousand kilometers distant with the notation ‘rebroadcast station 21-A’ in small green writing. The girl must have figured a reciprocal to the laser and plotted out the position of the station, Junebug shook her head, the girl was proving to be an asset despite her privileged upbringing.

“We need to make repairs and are hoping to take on cargo,” Junebug responded. Although they had managed to get the Highlander airborne it still bore serious damage from both the crash landing on Quetzalli’s World and whatever had savaged it in the RIP during the previous jump. Large section of the hull were open to space except where thermoplastic sheeting had been hastily welded into place and the majority of her thrusters were only functioning on the most improvised of jury rigs. Worse than that one of the two reactor cores had been damaged badly enough that it had to be shut down until they reached serious repair facilities. The later had forced Neil to rewire the ship almost completely in order to power the most vital systems and had occasioned much swearing and rendered a number of random subsystem inoperable.

“Roger Highlander, we are patching you into the system net, keep your weapons powered down and obey all local ordinances, control out,” the voice, bored now that whoever had the communications duty realised that the Highlander was nothing out of the ordinary, concluded. A text message reading ‘System Net Available’ scrolled beneath Sayeeda’s display. Glancing back at Taya she touched the text with a finger and a computer interface sprang to life, listing available docking bays and their facilities.

“Highlander Out,” Junebug replied closing out the connection in proper but probably unnecessary fashion. With a few quick key strokes she sorted the available docking bays and selected one which was operated by one of the larger repair facilities on the Node. Having none of the local currency, some sector or corporate credit she hadn’t heard of, she was forced to agree to pay nearly twice the regular rate within forty standard hours of docking. The computer assigned them a birth without further human interaction.

“Alright people,” she said, pressing back into her seat as Neil began the burn which would carry them in to the station, “Welcome back to civilization.”

@POOHEAD189

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

#twitterlockout

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

Getting upset about jingos is way more popular than it should be.

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Cynical by nature and experience, Junebug could only watch in shocked amazement as Quetzalli came to her feet. She looked a mess, blood soaking her trousers and breasts naked and gory where Junebug had hastily cut away her clothing. Reaching down with a curious expression she peeled away the spray seal that a moment ago had been holding in blood and intestines. The wound, or rather the lack of a wound as the flesh was now smooth, was incongrously clean compared with the rest of her. The adhesive had peeled away most of the clotted blood in an irregular oval shape.

"Inusha Rakeeri!" a hoarse voice shouted. Junebug turned to see the shaman and a dozen or so of the villagers. It was the Shaman that had shouted, finger outstretched towards Quetzalli. Instinctively Junebug, still kneeling and sitting back on her calves, pulled her rifle into her lap. But the action was unecessary in any case, it wasn't the prelude to an attachk.

"Inusha Rakeeri!" other citizens were taking up the chant, and still more were spilling from the huts and buildings where they had taken shelter from the tumult of a few minutes earlier. Quetzalli herself looked shocked as she stood quavering but within a few minutes the entire population was enthusiastically shouting the words.

"What does Inusha mean?" Taya asked quietly. Junebug looked up at her before absent mindedly rubbing her blood tacky hands on her combat pants and pushing herself to her feet.

"I have no idea." She felt burned out, all the tension and energy of the night had purged her of any emotion other than a bone deep weariness. As Junebug watched Quetzalli raised her arms in the air in the same ritual invocation that Wetumpkah had used. As one the crowd shouted out a strange phrase and fell to the ground in obeisance.

_________________________

Things moved quickly after that. It turned out that Inusha meant something close to beloved child. Quetzalli explained in her increasingly proficient Imperial that their was an ancient prophecy claiming that Rakeeri would raise his chosen child from the Land of Shadows as a mark of his favor. Whatever the case it seemed like, given the cataclysmic events and the death of Wetumpkah, humble good natured Quetzalli was now something close to a queen. Her first decree was that the villagers would help the Starmen build a shrine for their chariot, and so, at dawn the next day, a score of strong young men appeared before the metallic bulk of the Highlander. Junebug set them to work and by noon large timbers, shorn of their branches with the diamond tipped cutting saws the Highlander carried for cutting hull plate, began to float down river.

In the evenings elaborate feasts were provided by the village women and Quetzalli kept court there, entertaining the high ranking member of not only her tribe but other tribes as men arrived to witness the purported miracle. When she wasn't attending to the affairs of state, if such a grand term could be applied, she spent time with Neil. There was little that Junebug needed from the pilot while the dam was being built and she didn't press for details.

In spite of her initially optimistic outlook, it took a week to build a damn tight enough that Junebug felt comfortable turning on the pumps. The walls of timber faced with plastic sheeting did the job well and six hours later the Highlander sat, slightly canted in a meter or so of water, its hull resting on the sandy bottom of the eastuary. It seemed that the more time wen't past the more somber the normally ebulliant Quetzalli became and it wasn't exactly a surprise when, on the evening the last engine was put into what Neil somewhat hopefully termed 'working order', the girl appeared before her.

"What can I do for you?" she asked as she pulled her head from one of the engine ducts, wiping grease on her coveralls and pulling away the welders mask she had been wearing.

"Everything ok?" The girl nodded. She was attired in a much grander style now in a cloak similar to the feathery one Junebug had been given but in red and gold rather than blue.

"I can can not come with you when you return to heaven," Quetzalli said, her large eyes filling with tears as she spoke. Her Imperial was improving by leaps and bounds though her accent remained extremely thick to Junebugs ears. The merceneary paused in shock.

"What? Why?" she asked in genuine chagrin.

"Rakeeri choose me, my people, without me big war for Chinapochzli," she explained, shuddering slightly at what the words cost her. It made a certain amount of sense. The death of so many of the nobles at the Games had doubtlessly thrown the political situation in Chaos, if not for Wetumpkah rallying the tribes against the Highlander's crew, they would almost certainly have fallen to immediate civil war. Suddenly Quetzalli's decaying mood made sense, she must have known days ago that she faced this decision. Sayeeda was not a person to whom physical contact was easy but she reached out and took the girl's hands in her own.

"Are you sure. We will take you..." the girl shook her head in violent denial before Junebug could complete the sentence.

"Be duty so many people, very heavy," she explained, her Imperial breaking down slightly at such a complex concept but the meaning was clear enough. Quetzalli looked up at her with her big eyes filled with tears. Damn it the girl looked attractive even when she was crying. There was no justice.

"Do you think Neil stay with me?" she asked fearfully. A heavy weight settled across Junebug along with an icy clarity that she had often felt in the field. Neil might well be fond of the girl, perhaps even love her, but it seemed vanishingly unlikely that he would give up the chance to ever fly again. Quetzalli clearly read the answer in her eyes before Sayeeda could speak it and her gaze fell. Junebug squeezed her shoulder.

"You can ask him," she said simply and the girl nodded and enfolded her in a hug that she wasn't quite prepared for and then hurried away. What if Neil did prefer exile in tropical paradise to likey death in a blind RIP jump? Well that would be a problem to deal with when it arose.

"Stars what a mess," Junebug said to herself before turning and closing the access plate. The telltales lit up green. The Highlander was ready to fly.

@POOHEAD189

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Junebug was already running when Neil's comm reached her. She raced through the night towards the village, leaping rocks and boulders, weaving between trees. Eight hundred meters didn't seem like a long distance with a stabalized rifle, but covering the same distance at night in thick jungle was another matter. Soldiers died in battle and Junebug could accept that, had given orders that got her people killed in many times in fact, but Quetzalli was different. The girl hadn't voulnteered for combat, hadn't trained to kill, all she had done was to try and help strangers in need.

"No no no no," Taya whimpered over the comms. Another untrained civilian and that alone prevented Junebug from tearing a strip of her hide, even so her voice was not gentle when she replied, her high rank allowing her transmission to step on the girls.

"Taya get the jeep airborne and bring it into the village ASAP!" Junebug snapped as she leaped a small stream, rifle across her armored chest at high porte. For a moment she had a curious flashback to an assault course back in her officer orientation.

"I... Captain I don't think I can fly..." Junebug cut her off with a snarl.

"Lonney, take control of the Jeep and bring it in to Neil's coordinates," she snapped. Something caught her leg and she went down, instinctively she turned her momentum into a roll and regained her feet in a moment. Still six hundred meters to cover. Neil was saying something over the channel but it didn't seem to be directed at her.

"Capt'm It be miles outsidea ma normal..."

"Lonney I swear by the stars if you don't get that Jeep moving in the next three seconds, I'll have you locked into a Trakalian Opera voice for the rest of your operational life!" The AI didn't respond but Taya screamed over the comm and she heard the sound of the fans in the jeep spinning up.

Thirty second later the sound of the jeep coming up behind her was audible and she vectored it too her, running for the clearest approach. Lonney was eveidently taking her at the spirit of her command and crashing through the underbrush with little regard for the jeep beyond survival. When it reached her it was covered with broken limbs and trailing vines like a brides wedding gown. It slowed as it approached her and Junebug dived across the hood before pulling herself up over the splinter-shield and into the drivers seat. Taya clung on for dear life in the rear compartment both arms wrapped around the gun pintle and shaking violently. There was no time now to worry about the young woman and Lonney was already accelerating in the second it took Sayeeda to grasp the controls. With a flick of her wrist she shoved the throttle through the gates, cranking the fans well beyond anything remotely like safe operating speed. At full power the jeep had enough lift for a few meters of true flight and it lurched out of the trees like a stumbling horse. Junebug expertly feathered the fans to prevent an out and out smash when gravity caught up to them and then they were on a straight approach through what must have been a water course in the wet season. Dirt and gravel kicked up in a wide tail as she raced for the village.

The locals, those that hadn't already fled broke and ran in pewling terror as the Jeep howled out of the darkness like some primordial demon. Junebug set it down hard at the edge of the sports field, dust billowing up in a vast donought as the little vehicle bounced twice, scrubbing off momentum as the skirts gouged an inch deep trench in the hard packed earth. Without hesitating Sayeeda leaped from the still moving vehicle and sprinted the last few meters towards Neil and the stricken Quetzalli. Another figure, the Shaman who had been with Wetumpkah was running into one of the older huts at the base of the destroyed pyramid but there was no time to worry now.

Quetzalli was very pale and her breathing was shallow and ragged. Neil had her hands pressed around the axe buried in her stomach and blood slicked both of them. The girl's eyes fluttered open as Junebug slid to a stop on her knees tearing of one of her web pouches and upending it in the dirt. The small first aid kit was hopelessly inadequate to the task.

"Bug," the girl said, lifting a trembling finger to point at a nearby phosphoresent insect, not unlike a terran firefly although several times larger.

"Bug," she said again somehow managing to sound proud of herself despite the pain in her voice.

"Yeah yeah, now you are a fucking linguist," Junebug retorted as she pulled her knife from her belt and powered it on. With a few quick strokes she cut away the girls shirt, the fibre weave was good against blunt trauma but provided little protection against a truely modern cutting implement. It was immediately clear that though the weave had saved her life the situation was still pretty bad. Blood welled up around the axe blade and the pressing hands in rythimic pulses and had already stained her the top of her pants completely. Worse was the slight stink that Junebug new came from perforated intestines.

"Goddess damn it," she muttered more to herself as she grabbed an air powered infuser from the pile and shoved a plastic vial into the loading port.

"The Shaman went to get a blessing," Neil said. He sounded disconnected, like he was going into shock. Stars that was all she needed.

"Neil stay with me, move your hands, move your hands curse you," she said. With infinite reluctance Neil lifted his hands from Zalli's torn stomach. Sayeeda jabbed the infuser against her skin and pulled the trigger with a soft hiss of compressed air. Zalli screamed and twisted as Junebug fired the infuser again.

"Hold her!" Junebug snapped triggering the infuser again and again in a clock wise circuit around the gaping wound. Zalli began to calm as a combination of vasoconstrictive drugs and powerful local analgesics kicked in. The blood flow slowed noticeable though the grayish loops of intestines pressed against the axe blade. Zalli moaned something in her native tongue that Junebug couldn't translate and her eyes began to flutter.

"No, no, no!" Sayeeda cursed pulling a long adrenaline needle from her kit and measuring the appropriate number of fingers with one hand as her other hand gently shook Zalli by the chin, trying to keep her awake.

"Stay with us here," Junebug instructed and then with casual violence drove the needle down into the girls heart. Zalli bucked as though hit with an electrical shock crying out in pain. She wailed and tried to grab her stomach but Neil dutifully kept her hands pinned. They were going to have to take the axe out. There was no way she was going to make it to the auto-doc over rough terrain with that thing jouncing around and tearing her guts to ribbons.

"Neil I need you to pull the axe free and ill hit it with a sealant," she explained, loading another vial into the infuser and pulling the trigger once to clear the residue of the old charge.

"But... she will die," Neil said sounding perplexed. Junebug grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him violently.

"She's dead for sure if you don't!" she yelled. Neil nodded mechanically and gripped the axe handle just behind the head. His movements were languid and distant, like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

"Pull!" he heaved the axe free with a horrible sucking sound that released a gush of blood and a few more slithering centimeters of intestines. The infuser fired like a spray can coating the area in a seal of pale liquid that hardened in moments into a sterile bioplastic film that sealed the blood and organs where they were.

"We need a stretcher or something to move her, find some poles," she commanded.

"Junebug." It took a moment for her to recognize Taya's voice but she relegated it to the background, a problem for another time.

"Junebug." This time more insistent. With a snarl on her lips she whipped her head around to see Taya standing a few feet away staring down at Zalli. Reluctantly she followed the young woman's eyes. Quetzalli was still, her eyes glassy and empty.

"She's gone," Taya stated numbly. Junebug laid a blood stained hand on Quetzalli's throat, smearing crimson across her dark skin as she searched for a pulse. Nothing. God Damn it. Her heart sank inside of her. God damn it.

@POOHEAD189

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Even at three hundred meters the explosion was impressive. A great cloud of dust flew skyward as the charges, placed according to Loney celtic advice, crumbled the ancient monolith. Junebug wondered what her mother would think of destroying an ancient and possibly unique structure. A tight grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. Whatever Ria Cassani Cykali thought of the destruction of architecture, she would doubtlessly be more upset at the though of the wholesale slaughter of the villagers, which was Junebug's next option.

"Well you don't see that everyday," Taya said over the net. Junebug frowned for a moment, there was no way that Taya could see the destruction from... ah, a red telltale on her HUD indicated that the girl was importing the view from Junebug's scope to the monitor in the Jeep. Sayeeda hadn't told her how to do that but evidently the former aristocrat was putting her time to good use.

"Keep the net clear Taya," Junebug said in gentle reproach. Reaching up she touched a toggle on her helmet changing the display from thermal to millimeter radar. Both views could cut through the pall of dust but the radar return, properly interpreted but her helmet AI, gave better fine detail than the blurs of pastel heat did. Peering through the scope she waited for the right moment.

___________________________________

The crowd of natives screamed in fear, others tore at their hair and still others fled. Several took uneasy steps towards Wetumpkah their faces an agony of indecision. Those closet to the pair of Shaman's were clearly harder and more loyal than their cohorts, the raised their weapons in bar of their fellows and Wetumpkah began to recover his confidence.

"They desecrate our shrines, destroy our homes and defile our women!" he roared, raising his arms to harangue the crowd once more.

"They are false Starmen! Cursed by Rakeeri!" The Holy man screamed spittle flying from his mouth so great was his rage.

"Kill them and avenge the fallen they stole from us!" The Shaman raised his stone axe and pointed it at Neil. Quetzalli stepped before the pilot her own arms raised.

"He is the chosen of Rakeeri!" The girl shouted, her voice surprisingly clear and carrying in the commotion. She seized Neil's hand and lifted it high for all to see, showing the strange tattoo to the crowd. The distant mountain top light with sudden scarlet fire as Junebug, listening to the conversation through the commo net, detonated the bundled flares they had placed there. The top of the mountain flickered with pale red flame.

"Rakeeri!" the girl shouted, dark eyes pale and triumphant! A second flicker of fire rolled from the mountain top and then a third as she raised both arms to the heavens. One of the villagers sank to her knees in the dirt, eyes fearful. Then a second and a third.

"No! NO! NO!" screetched Wetumpkah in desperation but it did no good. Within a few seconds only the two Shaman remained standing. The volcano exploded in light as Junebug detonated the remaining store of explosives simultaneously. Crying out the larger shaman threw himself into the dirt.

"You will not take her from me!" Wetumpkah screamed and before anyone could react hurled his axe at Neil. Without thinking Quetzalli through herself in font of Neil, the heavy stone axe sinking into her body with a sickening crunch and a scream of pain. Wetumpkah's chest exploded in a cyan flash as Junebug's plasma bolt caught him at the base of the breastbone. The Shaman was pitched several feet backwards by the blast that filled the night with a mist of blood and cooking meat.

@POOHEAD189

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

@POOHEAD189 Its awful convenient how you drag out the CC when it fits your position!

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

And by insurgents I'm sure you mean to say freedom fighters, what is so wrong about wanting a free and prosperous Tau Ceti?!