Lynda

Lynda is a Tyme setting story dealing with GLBT characters. This follows on from Ben, last week's post.

Artwork by Samuel Pray, created using Daz3D, Photoshop and Filterforge. 

This is where it went wrong.

Lynda turned to look back at the docking ramp. The Lair had been a home, her home, for a time, but that was over and done with. She’d tried, failed and now it was time to move on. But in leaving the ship, she’d returned to the very port where she’d joined the crew in the first place.

Havers Station.

“You can change your mind, they’d welcome you back among them and nothing would be said about it,” a warm voice, female, and very familiar.

“You know it won’t work for me… I just…” She sighed, pushed back her shoulders and turned to face the woman. Pressure built behind her eyes and, for a moment, her vision shifted, the color draining until she blinked and it returned to normal.

Mara Dacre stood on the ramp, her multi-colored hair caught back in a severe braid softened only by a handful of wisps that caressed the skin. Full lips twitched into a smile, light dancing in her eyes as she settled one hand on her hip. “You’re running but I understand why. I don’t agree with your choice, but I accept it.”

She doesn’t understand. Lynda rubbed the back of her neck unable to take her gaze away from the woman. “There’s a lot going on that I can’t explain. If I stayed this would be… I’d cause problems, even though I don’t want to.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Mara walked down the ramp, a soft, sensual sway to her hips. It wasn’t something she forced, but a natural part of the way the woman moved. “I understand. I can see the problem. Like Fenris with Ben, I can’t offer you any hope of something because I love Fenris, and he isn’t a man who shares. So, I’ll respect who he is, all of who he is. That’s part of what you do when you find one you love.”

Fenris didn’t share, but Mara would? Was that what was being said here? “I… you’re poly minded?” She had to know, even if it wasn’t something she would be able to act upon. Why not, I could persuade him, couldn’t I? She shuddered at the thought. No. She wasn’t into men and even if she had been he was strong willed, not the type who might bend to the persuasion of another.

“Yes, such things aren’t uncommon in System One. Mars, especially, has a history of poly marriages and relationships.” Mara gave a one shoulder shrug.

“Oh…” did this change things? Was there… no, Mara had admitted that there wasn’t a chance because she wouldn’t betray Fenris nor would she force him to accept a third into their bed. “I didn’t know.”

“Why would you?” She stopped in front of Lynda. “You didn’t ask, and you’re not from System One, so unless you’d… well, next time ask.” She offered a warm smile and stepped off the end of the ramp, gesturing for Lynda to follow.

Gods, how she wanted to stay, to see if there was a chance to kiss those lips just once, to taste the woman in front of her, but that wasn’t going to happen. Mara was loyal - one of her traits that right now Lynda didn’t like. “Thank you, for telling me I mean.” The information didn’t do her any good though, but it eased some of her self doubts. “I thought I was imagining things, when I looked at you I mean. That there was nothing there but my own desire to…” she looked away, struggling to put the words into some form of order. “This is pointless. I need to leave, find a place to settle, or a ship to sign on with. Somewhere that I can start over again.” For what now, the tenth time? Maybe eleventh if she counted leaving her family home fifteen years ago. Still, that wasn’t such a bad number when you thought about it.

Mara slipped a piece of card from a hip pocket and offered it to her. “Captain Alys Diam has an opening that might work for you. Her ship, Black Wing, will dock tomorrow. She’s a good captain, experienced, she looks after her crew and I’ve sent her a recommendation.”

Lynda took the card before Mara had finished speaking. Shock rolled through her and she took a step back, still holding the card. “Why - why would you do this for me? I mean… a recommendation? That’s…” Such things were valuable, more so than credits as they carried you further in the long term.

“You’re skilled, and Alys needs reliable people. Just give me your word. If you take a berth there, you stay. For a year. Don’t jump ship at the first sign of trouble. Alys won’t thank you for it if you skip out on her and you’ll do yourself harm by running out on that ship.”

The ship or the captain - or were they one in the same?

“Don’t try and make sense of it now, not when you’d be better off focusing on Black Wing and your new berth.” Mara nodded toward the hustle and bustle of the landing zone. “Find yourself a room for the night, keep your head down and stay safe.”

Stay safe. Head down. Sure, she could do that. For a moment her throat tightened, tears blurring her vision before she blinked them away. “Thank you.” The temptation to reach out and touch Mara grew but she forced it back down and turned away. She didn’t have the right, wouldn’t push just because there would never be another chance, she’d leave with her dignity intact.

Keep walking, don’t look back. She won’t be there and even if she is, it won’t change things.

Her control threatened to slip but she kept her focus on the landing zone, on moving through the busy area with her head held high. A new berth, service with another captain, one she’d have to look up. Neither the ship nor the captain felt familiar to her. Not that she was an expert when it came to other ships. She remembered the ones she’d served on, and the ones they’d had conflicts with, but beyond that there were only a handful of other ships who’s names stood out.

Swan Song.

That was a name she would never forget, especially after the brief meeting several months ago. Not that she’d had a chance to meet anyone from that crew. Only the Captain, Mara and a handful of others had mingled with the crew of Swan Song. It hadn’t mattered at the time, now she couldn’t help but wonder if meeting that crew, or just the captain, would have changed things for her? Perhaps she’d have attempted to transfer over at that point, perhaps not, either way the chance had been and gone.

Voices, music, the clang of metal against metal, all combined with the hum of nearby ships. She flinched and looked around, after so long on board various ships, the noise of a port was, at first, a little overwhelming. This wasn’t a safe place to build any shields in order to cut down the background noise, but once she found a room to rent and locked the door, it was something she’d take care of. She didn’t lower her gaze, quicken her steps or slump her shoulders. If anything she added an arrogant strut to her walk, meeting the gaze of anyone who looked her way. One of the many things she’d learned during her last visit to Haver’s Station, she’d witnessed more than one person make the mistake of acting like a victim. You gave off those vibes, the hint of weakness, the inability to look people in the eye, or scurry around like a rabbit, and you placed a neon sign over your head screaming victim here.

Not a mistake she was willing to make.

The pressure that she’d felt around Mara, eased. The further she moved away from The Lair the easier it became. For a moment she was tempted to turn around, return to the ship and ask to come back, to become a part of the crew again, but it wouldn’t work. The need for Mara would return and with it the itch, the pressure, the push to say something, to act upon it and she’d lose control.

Sooner or later she always lost control.

Food and lodging were both easy to find, but locating both that felt safe enough to use, to enjoy, was another matter entirely. She dismissed the first ten or twelve places she found, noting small things that added to the unease she experienced when she investigated them. It took two hours before she finally walked in and paid for a room some distance away from the docking area. The hotel, and she used that term in the loosest possible way, was clean enough. Little more than a basic boarding house run by a husband and wife team. The vibe she picked up from the couple spoke of a partnership that had been together for years, and had experience that took them beyond the planet.

Former crew members?

No, there was something else about them. Hunters perhaps? Well, even bounty hunters had to retire at some point. You either retired when you had enough money, a nest egg to fall back on, or you died on the job.

Would she have enough sense to retire when the time came? After all, the same rule of thumb applied to spacers, crew members who moved from ship to ship without any real connection to a captain. The thought sat ill with her. Hadn’t her original plan, when she’d fled her home, been to find a crew, a ship, a captain she could serve under and with until the end of her days?

Romantic notions, best laid to rest before she made one mistake too many.

Except she knew of people who had done just that, or at least had friends who had told her stories about such people. Hadn’t there been something about some of the crew of the Swan Song? Not that it mattered, that ship wasn’t an independent, she knew that now, and when the crew wanted to retire they would find a place on one of the five worlds of System One.

Perhaps that was what she needed to do? Find a ship that was a part of a larger fleet, one tied to a world, or a system?

She shook off that idea and flopped onto the bed, folding her arms behind her head as she looked up at the stained and worn ceiling. The place wasn’t dirty but it was rough, the walls flaking in places, chips and marks in the walls and ceiling, things that - if she had a little more time or money - would have put her off taking the room here. Except the couple who ran the place, the way they spoke to her, watched her, it spoke of people who didn’t allow trouble. She’d be safe here, for a time at least. Long enough to rest before she took her new place, if the captain of the Black Wing offered her a place.

#

Alys Diam wasn’t what Lynda had expected. Despite being confined to a hover chair, the middle-aged woman lacked nothing in the way a commanding presence or the ability to assess those around her. Dark eyes narrowed on Lynda as Alys looked up from the data pad to the woman standing in front of her. With an irritated flick of her fingers she indicated that Lynda should take a seat on the other side of the table even as a server moved over to take their orders.

“Caff,” Alys ordered. “Cream, sugar, the works.”

Lynda hesitated for a moment. “Same, please.” If it was real caff, she’d deal with the cost, if it was the standard fake fare, then the hit on her credits would be less but the drink wouldn’t be as enjoyable. Either way, she’d deal.

“Lynda Jarvis.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lynda sat on the edge of the chair, refusing to relax. She couldn’t, didn’t know if the captain would see that as a weakness or a form of insolence. Neither were things she could risk.

“Formally of The Lair under the command of Fenris MacTire.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Clean record with him, no problems and let you left the ship. Dacre sent me a file, with MacTire’s permission according to the notes here. You were a good crew member, no issues, did your job and they were sorry to see you go. Which makes me wonder,” Alys leaned back in her hover chair, her gaze fixed on Lynda, “why did you leave?”

“Personal reasons.” She didn’t look away.

“Uh huh. Let’s get something straight from the start. If I ask a question I expect an answer. A full answer. No bullshit. So, you can either accept that or stop wasting my time.”

Lynda swallowed hard and looked away. “I didn’t…”

“You can either explain or leave, those are your two choices. I’m not offering a third.”

Shit. She took a deep breath, rolled her shoulders to work out the tension and ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip before she finally met Alys’ gaze and forced herself to speak. “I fell in love.”

“With a fellow member of the crew?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She paused, hoping that would be enough but a narrowing of eyes made it clear she was to continue. “I’m gay.”

“And this matters why?”

“It’s… who I…” She paused and shook her head, shame burning across her cheeks. “I fell in love with Mara Dacre and she’s involved. The captain isn’t the type of man to share, so I didn’t make a move, but the longer I was there, the more I was around her, the more it hurt. Maybe running, leaving, was the wrong thing to do, but it was the only thing that made sense at the time.” She took a breath, struggling to put her thoughts into order as she continued, pausing again only long enough for the server to set down the two mugs of caff. “I know myself well enough to understand that, if I’d stayed and continued to see that, to feel the love between them, knowing that it was something I would never be a part of, I’d have said something that would have damaged my position on the ship.”

Alys looked down at her mug and pulled it to her, taking the time to inhale and then taste the caff. A full smile graced her face, adding a light to her otherwise dark eyes. She gestured to the mug in front of Lynda, giving them both a break from the conversation.

Uncertain at first Lynda took hold of her mug and sipped. She blinked and stared down at the mug. “This is…”

“Yes, and that’s why I chose this place to meet you.”

Real caff, fresh cream, and was that actual sugar in the mix? Lynda closed her eyes and sank into the rare bliss that was authentic caff. “Damn.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Alys set her mug down, the soft sound enough to draw Lynda’s attention. “You’re a passionate woman, that much is obvious, but you’re still young. Emotionally young and there’d be some who would say that I’d be a fool to sign you up.”

Lynda’s throat tightened.

“Yet you also knew enough to leave before the situation got out of hand. I don’t believe that running was the right thing to do do. Running seldom is, but I might have done the same thing in your position.”

That caught her off guard. “I thought you said I was young?”

“And you are, as was I at one point.” Alys’ smile turned into a warped, quirky thing that softened her features. “I don’t let people run from my ship. That’s the first thing you need to understand. Those who sign on with me, stay with me, for at least six months - unless I boot them off.”

“A year,” Lynda murmured and set her mug down. “I promised Mara I’d see a year through with you.”

“Good, that would give you a chance to settle. To get your thoughts and emotions in order and maybe learn a little something about yourself.” Alys took another sip from her mug, her eyes half closing as she watched Lynda. “It won’t be easy to keep your temper at first, or to remain calm as you learn to work with the rest of the crew. That’s to be expected and you’ll have help.”

Why is she willing to help me? Lynda kept the words to herself as she curled her hands around the mug. Warmth and temptation climbed up from the mug in curls of steam. The caff, like the position with Alys, were both offers she could walk away from, should walk away from as they were both too rich for her, fraught with problems and laden with traps, but where else would she go?

Staying here wasn’t a real option. She’d be faced with a rapidly decreasing source of funds, reduced to taking on work that she wanted nothing to do with, and remained trapped until she finally bit the bullet and took the first possible passage elsewhere that came up. That wasn’t a plan, it was a reaction. She took a deep breath and met Alys’ gaze. “Why are you offering me this chance? Is it Mara? Are you doing this for her?”

“No, she asked me to take a look at your file, but that’s all.”

“Then what?” What was she missing? What piece of the puzzle?

“I see a lot of myself in you, Lynda. The arrogance, uncertainty and fear. The self doubt and the need to push yourself combined with the desire to run rather than face problems head on. I was you, once… someone gave me a chance and I’m offering you the same thing. You’ll sign on with me, follow my rules and listen. You’ll learn, find out who you really are - because that’s your biggest problem. You’ve no idea who you are.”

Her chest tightened. She knew who she was, had always known, what had she done to make Alys think otherwise? She nibbled on the inside of her bottom lip as cold sweat left a line down the length of her spin. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Alys leaned forward. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that. Tell me you know who you are, what you’re capable of and that you have no doubts.”

She opened her mouth to speak only to close it again. This should be easy. The words were right there, on the tip of her tongue so why couldn’t she give them life? She looked away and then back again at the captain, forcing herself to meet the woman’s gaze.

Dark eyes held hers, locked them in place, a needle of knowledge piercing through to the core of Lynda’s thoughts. Doubt flickered into life, fear merging with it until she felt tears slipping down her cheeks. What was wrong with her? She never cried in public, rarely cried in private - tears were a weakness, a door another could use to dig into your soul and yet - yet she was crying.

Alys broke eye contact by leaning back in her hover chair and bringing the mug to her lips once more. “Denial can be a powerful and yet dangerous thing, Lynda.”

“I don’t understand,” her voice was weak, uncertain as she shook her head, trying to clear the fog of emotions away.

“Nor will you until you face who you are and learn to control yourself. There’s a power within you, a gift that’s been locked away, something that Mara felt and so did another member of your crew. One by the name of Ben.”

Ben?

“What do you mean by power?”

The smile that claimed Alys lit up the older woman’s face. “You’re a psi - level two or three if I’m any judge, but it’s locked away. That’s why you have so many problems with your emotions. The power in you - it’s wild, untapped and struggling to get out. I can show you how to release it, how to use it and above all how to control it so it doesn’t push you into making more mistakes, ones there will be no coming back from.”

A psi?

That wasn’t true, it couldn’t be true. No one in her family had the gift, any of the gifts and there was nothing of System One in her family background, so why would she have any of the abilities? Except she knew that psi gifts weren’t limited to System One, they were just more likely from those bloodlines. “Are you certain?”

“I can feel it, almost taste it around you. It flicker in and out, touching the edges of my own abilities but it’s there. I’d stake my life on it.”

A psi, gifted, the power locked away. Could that really be the reason why she had been so unsettled of late, why she had felt the connection to Ben and to Mara? No, not Mara. That had been something else. Love, lust, it didn’t matter right now, she’d felt something for Mara, something she hadn’t wanted to ignore. Mara had cared too, that was why she’d reached out, offering a connection, help in the form of Alys Diam.

Walk away or accept the help…

“Where do I sign?”

Hades' Station Part Two

This weeks story follows on from last weeks post. Hades' Station is a story set in the Tyme Universe,

Artwork by Samuel and Terri Pray. Created by Samuel using purchased stock, Filter Forge. Additional painting done by Terri in Photoshop.

"Bloody bastards, this was supposed to be my sack time." Phil grunted under her breath, the beam rifle held tight crosswise against her chest as she ran. Not an ideal hold if she needed to use it quickly, but at least this way she was less likely to lose it if she stumbled, or was knocked over. Always a possibility in a fight. Stuck with Jannerson - of all the people I had to go into this with, it had to be Jannerson. He wasn't a bad kid, or even a kid by normal standards, but he was still green. Too damned new for a situation like this.

Heat flared up from the fires caused by the attack and she paused, taking cover behind the burning remains of a small shuttle. Light flickered off tangled pieces of metal, casting fresh shadows to add to the chaos of the situation, but even with the fires, the wreckage and the smoke, she could see figures moving through the disaster. Men and - no, at first glance she'd stick with men - who moved with purpose, carrying weapons and picking off anyone that might get in their way.

Trained, well-armed and determined.

Raiders.

The apparent lack of women in the attack, the way they were armed and how they moved, all added up to the same thing. She wouldn't know for certain until she had one or two of the men - or their bodies - in front of her, but the odds were certainly leaning that way.

"Stay down, keep calm, then pick them off one at a time," she murmured and looked back for signs of Jannerson. "Where the fuck is he?" A movement caught her eye and for a moment she tensed only to relax a little when she recognized the man. Good. At least she hadn't lost him - not yet at least.

The blast knocked her back onto her ass, debris raining down around her even as she curled into a protective ball, hands over her head to limit the potential damage to her skull. She hissed through clenched teeth, forcing herself to stay still until the debris fall eased off enough to risk moving once more. "Fuck," she swore under her breath. "Damnit, Jannerson, where the fuck are you?" she turned, searching through the flames for her backup.

Her eyes narrowed on a downed figure. One that wasn't moving. She inhaled between clenched teeth, her muscles tightening with the need to rush at the downed figure, to check for signs of life or confirmation of death. No, hold position. Movement right now might give away my location and there are too many enemies on the ground.

The figured moved.

Relief washed over her. Alive, maybe hurt, but alive.

Brian rolled, moving onto his belly before he edged forward, finding cover before he looked around. Only when she was certain he was looking her way, did she move, raising her left hand slightly, just enough that he might be able to see it from his position on the ground. She didn't turn, didn't move to look to see what was going on, not until she was certain he'd seen her.

Footsteps. Rapid through the rain soaked ground. Splashes that carried through the air. She tensed and then turned slowly toward the sound. Mentally she cataloged the noise, breaking it down into the separate sources. Six, maybe seven men, working as a unit as they made their way through the landing zone. They moved together, well trained, barely making a sound except for the footsteps. Something they, no doubt, believed would be over looked, lost within the destruction of the area.

In most cases they'd be right.

Not with her. Not with the training she'd been through long before joining the Peace Keepers.

Valhalla.

When your father was from Valhalla and your mother from Thanatos, you had choices denied to most people. For Philomena the option to train with the warrior cadets of Valhalla wasn't something she could turn her back on. Those years spent in the academy and then the advanced training programs had paid off, but also meant that soft billets, postings where she'd spend most of her time in dress uniform, weren't for her. She needed this. The adrenalin rushing through her system, every muscle tight, her skin tingling as she tasted the mixture of aromas that filled the air. In this moment she could hear everything, taste it, and feel it. Her senses screamed information at her even as her mind filtered through the dross to find the scraps of useful information that might serve her in this moment.

A muttered curse, low pitched, barely audible above the rain and crackling fire, but close enough that she caught the sound. She raised one hand in a stop sign, curled a finger and then pointed back to the ground, hoping that Jannerson would realize what the instruction meant. Damn it, haven't spent enough time with the newer members of the team. Not enough to drum into them the signals used. They were universal, or close enough to being such. Yet that didn't mean that the young man would understand her instructions.

Brian froze and then nodded, deliberately, once before sinking back down against the rain soaked ground. Phil let out a long, slow breath before she turned her attention to the attackers and the risk they posed.

Two - no, three members of the group lingered, hanging back from the main party. Which means there are more of them out there, more than seven. Or the group wouldn't have split like that - would it? Her jaw clenched as she watched the three, she didn't know enough about the Raiders and how they operated in teams like this. Not enough to make an informed decision - but that wasn't going to stop her from acting. Not this time at least.

She focused on her breathing, keeping it low and steady to prevent being heard. She shifted her beam rifle, adjusting her grip until she was able to, safely, bring it up into position, settling her trigger finger on the guard. You didn't place your finger on the trigger until you were ready to take the shot, no matter how confident you might be. She flexed her fingers before resting her finger once more on the guard and looked through the sight, tracking the movement of the three who had held back from the main group.

Grouped close enough to make this work, but far enough apart that the rest of the team might be able to use the sounds to pin point my location.

Did she have time to dart to another location after the first shot? She frowned, glancing around. No, but after the third it was a possibility. She could do this. It wouldn't be the first time she'd used her sharp shooter skills. Not a sniper. She'd never officially taken on the role of a sniper - but this would be the closest she'd ever come to it.

With Brian behind her, hopefully watching her back, she was free to focus on her targets.

A younger, less experienced version of herself would have had an issue with shooting the men in the back. Not this version of Philomena. She aligned the sights, keeping both eyes open as she aimed, mentally working out the movement that would allow her to track from target one to three in a smooth, fluid movement. Only when she was ready to take the shot did she take a breath, exhale half of it, slip her finger from the guard to rest it on the trigger between her first knuckle and fingertip.

She inhaled, let out half the breath in a slow, steady exhale, paused and squeezed the trigger.

The beam of energy struck the first target between the shoulders, but she'd already moved onto the second man before the beam hit, squeezing the trigger and shifting her aim to the final man. A man who now turned, weapon in hand, in her direction. She didn't hesitate. This time the beam took him in the chest, directly over the sternum. With the final shot taken she let out the remainder of the held breath. Under better circumstances she'd have followed the double tap rule. One to the center mass, one to the head, but the beam rifle left a large burn mark in the torso. It was a weapon that only someone wearing heavy duty field armor - not something her targets wore - would have a chance of surviving if it struck the center mass.

Philomena pulled the beam rifle in close, rising from her firing position into a half crouch and sprinted away from her scant shelter. She waved, using a follow me sign, to Jannerson and didn't look back. Either he'd follow or he wouldn't, wasting time by looking back at her companion wouldn't help. Not this time at least.

Hot rain lashed against her cheek, washing the grit and dirt from her features. Cooler than before, which meant the storm was moving away, leaving only a normal rain fall in its wake. That, at least, was a small blessing. With a low grunt she slid into place behind a half destroyed wall.

"Captain?" Jannerson's voice, close behind now, and a moment later he slipped into place beside her. "You - damn, you killed three of them."

"Yes," she spared him a glance but little more than that. "Maybe you expected me to make them a cup of something nice and hit to drink and welcome them with a smile and open arms?"

"No - it's just..." He shook his head. "Sorry Captain."

Young, too damned young for this. Except he wasn't. Neither of them were. What would Jannerson say if he was to ever find out how close they were in age? Barely eight years separated them but more klicks beneath her belt than he would ever understand. There would be too many questions, ones she would never be able to answer without increasing the questions that would follow her answers. Her life, her choices before this time, this place, were none of his concern.

"What now?"

"We track the rest of the bastards down and we kill them." There was no other choice.

"Yes but..."

"There is no but. This is what we do. This is what is expected of us." It's what the people of Hades' Station would demand. Those who attacked their home deserved no mercy, no moment to find a foothold on this world and she would give them that. Her duty was to protect the men, women and children who called this place their home. "We kill every last man of them, and drag their bodies into the main square to show the people of Hades' Station that those who are assigned to protect them cannot, will not fail them. No matter the cost."

Brian Jannerson paled. "Understood, Captain."

No, you don't, but that's the nature of the beast. Death, life, duty, they all take the place of family in the service. Especially if you're posted to a hot zone. Like Hades' Station. "There are at least four more of them here."

"Stores," Jannerson mumbled.

"What?" She turned, shifting her weight.

"The weapons stores, the reserves – they're out here."

Shit, how did I forget that? "Where?" She closed her eyes and tried to bring up the mental map of the landing zone. Storage buildings, the tower, hangers and...

"Five hundred feet north east from the tower, low storage building with the weapons locker access through the floor, down two flights of steps - coded access." Jannerson recited, his tone monosyllabic. "Access code required is keyed to senior personal only."

A small blessing but one she could work with. "They'll have a code breaker with them." A dedicated data pad with a program that would work its way through all of the possible codes until it found the right one and opened the lock. "They'll get in, but it won't be quick, or easy." Which is why the trio had been left behind, and why the destruction of that part of the team hadn't sent the rest of the attackers gunning for them.

"They need time - those three, they were a distraction."

"Yes," she shot him a quick look. "But they'll be watching for someone coming in after them." Close confines, dark, skilled fighters - they had to be or they wouldn't have been picked for this mission. "The rest of the attacks, they're a cover for this. They get those weapons, take the tower and we've lost vital ground. They'll be able to bring in extra men, weapons, attack craft and we won't be able to fight them off without an unacceptable loss of life." People she was sworn to protect would die if they - no, if she failed. "I'll do this alone if I have to."

"You don't have to, Captain."

That was it. No bold statements, brave words, or declarations to fight unto the death.

She rose, checking their surroundings before nodding in the direction of the building. Smoke curled up into the air, adding to the haze that reduced visibility. The distant sounds of the chaos in the city were nothing more than background noise. With a single nod she was ready to move, her rifle pulled in diagonally across her chest. She didn't have to check to see if Jannerson was following her, he would either do it, or not, either way her choice was made.

She darted, not making the mistake of running straight. Even if she'd only counted seven she couldn't be certain that there weren't others out there, watching - waiting for someone stupid enough to strike back. She moved, slightly bent over, head moving, eyes scanning from side to side as they moved. And it was they, she could hear Jannerson following close behind, but didn't have time to turn and check. Instead she relied on her senses and instincts, knowing that either they would pull this off, or they would die.

The dying part - that was something she didn't have time for.

Something sliced through the air, scorching her left shoulder, enough to sting but not enough to cause her to stumble. She hissed through clenched teeth and skidded into cover behind the remains of a smoldering skimmer, turning on her hip before she'd come to a stop, searching for the one responsible for the shot. Jannerson slid in behind her, flattening himself against the ground, his shoulders shaking as he gulped in air.

"West, broken wall, metal pole in front of it, two fingers left of the pole."

She inhaled, took a quick scan at the wall and ducked back down, letting her brain process what she'd seen in that split second. She blinked once, twice, three times until she was certain she had everything in place. One man. A beam rifle? No, something less powerful but still a rifle. Smart enough to seek cover, not skilled enough to kill her on the first try. "Got it. Good eyes." Eidetic memory? Maybe, maybe not. "Well done."

"Thanks, Captain."

His ability to take in that amount of detail on the run was a skill she could use, as long as they survived this moment. Right, focus on the moment, not on what I'm going to do when I've put these bastards six feet under.

"Keep your head down," she kept her voice pitched low as she searched the ground. "There. That rock, get it, count to three and then throw it. I need you to hit the drum we passed on the run here. Can you do it?"

"Yes, Captain." No doubt, no hesitation. "On three."

"One," she shifted her hold on the rifle.

"Two," Jannerson murmured, edging out a little toward the end of their cover.

"Three," Eyal moved, raising her rifle the moment she half felt, half saw Jannerson throw the rock. She was in position even as the sniper moved to target the rock. Her finger moved from the guard to trigger even as she exhaled half of her breath, took aim and fired.

A low grunt, a stumble and the man went down, his weapon dropping from his hands, falling even as he fell back.

"Don't move. Not yet."

"Captain?" He turned, frowning.

"We don't know if he was alone." Which meant moving, something her instincts screamed at her to do, would have to wait. If he had backup they'd be watching, waiting for the right moment when they could strike. Not a mistake she was going to make.

"Thanks."

Eyal did another quick glance, checking for signs that the sniper hadn't been alone.

Nothing.

"We have to move. The longer we give them uninterrupted access to that door, the harder it's going to be when we confront them." The weapons in that storage would give the attackers the upper hand. "On three."

They moved together, keeping close to the ground as they covered the distance between their current hiding place and the entrance to the weapons storage. She dropped to the ground at the side of the low entrance and signaled Jannerson to copy her. She shifted her weight, leaned against the outside wall of the entrance and did a quick glance before she pulled back and went over what she'd seen. Nothing on the steps, though the door had been left open. A distant light, which spilled shadows into the stair well. No sounds, nothing that hinted at someone being down there, except for a single smudged footstep on the fifth step down.

Why only there? There would have to be other marks. It wasn't smudged enough to come from a jump and it was a single footprint...

Pieces clicked into place.

"Shit!" She turned, grabbed Jannerson by the shoulder and ran. "Move. Now!"

Twenty paces. They made it twenty paces before the explosion knocked them off their feet, sending them flying, buffeted by the impact. Eyal lifted her hands, one still wrapped tightly around the rifle, to ease the blow before she hit the ground. With the rifle held tight against her abdomen, she curled in on herself, trying to take the majority of the landing on her shoulders and side. It didn't work. Not fully. Pain erupted in her left shoulder, vibrating down her upper arm even as she rolled back up to her feet, shifting the beam rifle in her grasp.

Where the fuck are they coming from?

"Captain?" Jannerson called out. "Behind you!"

She turned, dropping to one knee even as she lifted the rifle into position. Three men, outlined by flames, ran at her, weapons in hand. Blades, not side arms. Odd. She didn't question, didn't pause, she simply fired.

One man dropped even as she turned her focus to the second, taking him out, but the third - he'd be on her before she had a chance.

The third shot came from behind her. A side arm. The pitch of the shot, the color, the way the man dropped instead of stumbling back, all told her it was likely a standard issue side arm. Jannerson. She turned, her rifle still firmly held in her good hand, ready to shoot if the need arose.

Brian Jannerson smiled, his side arm in hand, beads of water glistening across his features.

"Nice work," she turned, checking the area for signs of anyone else even as she reached for her com. "We need to clear the rest of the area, make sure there isn't anyone else. Raiders like to leave traps. Even if we've got them all, then we'll have to be on the look out for booby traps. Until the area has been completely checked, then nothing will be cleared to land."

"Yes Captain, understood."

They were gone. Her instincts screamed at her that they'd got the last of them, at least in this location but nothing was ever certain when it came to the Raiders. Philomena Eyal rolled out her shoulders and turned, slowly, taking in the scene. The destruction, death, smoke, fire and tainted air. Torn metal, twisted forms, destroyed vessels and buildings but the fundamentals to operate the landing zone were still there. Untouched despite the attack. Communications, the vital structures that held fuel, parts and tools were all intact.

Not something that should, or would, happen if this had been a general attack.

Strategic.

Whatever this was, however many of them had landed, this was only the beginning. The Raiders wouldn't give up, wouldn't turn their backs on Hades' Station, they wouldn't stop until they'd claimed it as one of their colonies...