Hullo! It’s been a while since I posted here, I guess. Anyways, I’ve been working on a short science fiction story in my spare time, and I’ve finally streamlined a section of it. Here is part 1 of the excerpt. I also posted it on a Star Wars forum, albeit in a modified format to fit within a “fan fiction” context. To me, it feels like it fits within that world best, but the piece itself can be vague enough to fit inside any general science fiction setting, and it would need to be anyways if I want to publish it in its entirety someday, which is something I hope to do eventually. Please let me know what you think of it!
FOR BLOOD OR MONEY
As one day rolled uneventfully into the next, Captain Septimus Zyke was surprised to notice that the ship’s last operational engine was still running strong. For the first time in weeks, the radiation leaking from the antigrav coolant pipes was starting to clear up enough for the navigation computer to work again. Septimus typed in their destination’s coordinates and inquired as to when they could make planetfall. He smiled as he watched the answer flash across the screen. Kafiristar was only four days away. His frosty breath escaped from his lips as he laughed out loud at the good news. Finyan Mantillas, the First Mate of the vessel, came in from the lounge and glanced over his friend’s shoulder, slapping him hard on the back. “Looks like somebody else is going to have to kill you, Sep,” he said. Septimus laughed again, but this time more nervously. It was a familiar laugh that was equal parts relief and dread.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] The emergency klaxons blared from the intercom unit above Septimus’ bunk and snapped him into sudden consciousness. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Septimus looked up from his pillow at the rattling bulkheads around him. He powered up the lights and rolled out from the covers, the cold, hard deck feeling like ice beneath his bare feet. They’d steadily cranked the heat back up over the past four days, but the ship never felt quite as warm as he really wanted it to be. At least they didn’t have to wear those damned environmental suits anymore, Septimus thought. He pulled his black calf-length boots on and grabbed his orange vest on the way out. He didn’t have to worry about his pants, as he’d been sleeping in them for the past few weeks. “Fin? What the hell’s going on? Aren’t we there?” he shouted, stepping off the ladderwell and onto the bridge. But he already had his answer as he looked out at the main viewport. The unchanging blackness was now a brilliant blue, the tufts of clouds drifting along like lazy algae.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Yeah, Sep. We’re there,” he answered, pausing to flip a few switches on the console in front of him. Fin was strapped in the pilot’s seat, jaws clenched tight beneath his red beard as he fought to keep the control yoke steady. “The antigrav unit’s shot, though. We’re going to have to put her down someplace quick.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Septimus grabbed the back of the pilot’s chair for balance, transfixed by the dull, red blip on the scanner. He leaned forward and touched the screen, his eyes slowly widening as he studied the readout. “Fin, I want you to get us as close as you can to this, understand? Here,” he repeated, stabbing the screen repeatedly with his finger.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Ain’t going to happen. See that?” Fin shouted, pointing at the image of a narrow ravine that surrounded the flashing red indicator. “We put her down in that, the rocks on either side’ll shear the engines right off!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Get her as close as you can!” Sep barked, heading for the gun rack. He grabbed a charge disruptor rifle and checked to see if it was loaded. The clamor of the ship struggling to stay together was getting louder, but Septimus’ breathing slowed down to a ragged calm as his eyes wandered out toward the viewport. He could see that the sun was just beginning to spill out from behind the horizon, the morning light bleeding across the desert landscape. It was out there, somewhere amongst those rocks. Encased in a container made out of the same type of metal as the Blackwater Bay, was something that was going to make all their problems go away. Whatever it was, those bastards stole it; and he didn’t mind taking it. Septimus racked the bolt on the weapon and chambered a round. And take it he would.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] By the time they’d finally made planetfall, it was already midday. Kafiristar’s unrelenting heat raged across the vast rocky desert that meandered into the distance, lingering on patches of land that were blistered and cracked. Finyan wiped his forehead and looked down at his handheld scanner. Just a few more kilometers until they reached a local settlement, and he hoped they would have supplies. There were none left onboard the ship, and they would have to be prepared for the long trek through the ravine. Finyan stowed his scanner in a belt pouch next to the revolver holstered on his right hip, shifting the long-barreled charge disruptor rifle cradled in his hands. They’d landed as close as they could to the edge of the ravine, but Finyan knew it would have to be far enough away to avoid attracting the attention of the locals. They’d already spotted a few of them lurking along the tops of the chasm, the long barrels of their primitive matchlock rifles jutting out like needles strapped across their backs. Septimus had tried calling out to them in hopes of trade, but they gave no reply except for the unfriendly stare they leveled at himself and his friend. It was just as well, because he knew that savages like that could not be reasoned with, anyway. Not that the two ex-soldiers had a lot to trade with in the first place. The two of them stuffed anything and everything they’d thought would be seen as valuable into their backpacks. They ripped out burnt wiring and flecks of metal, fashioning them into crude necklaces in standard colors of red, blue, yellow, and green. Handfuls of self-starting emergency flares were thrown into their bags, along with several palm-sized holoprojectors and spools of reinforced cable. They were hoping it would be enough, but were not above taking what they needed by force if it wasn’t.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Just another kilometer or so. Beyond that ridge,” Finyan mentioned as he glanced over at his friend. Septimus didn’t answer. His hands were gripped tight on the Heavy Squad Automatic Lancer rifle he carried tucked under a shoulder, his Northstar 36 heat-beamer pistol slung low on his right leg. Finyan noticed that his friend was still wearing those same blue pants with the gray thigh pads that he’d been wearing forever, his orange vest and load-bearing gear looking especially uncomfortable. As for himself, Finyan had decided to change into a fresh yellow t-shirt before they left the ship, replacing his own worn cargo pants for a green pair with black thigh pads running down the front. It made him feel a little better, despite the fact that he hadn’t bathed in weeks. But his friend’s lack of concern for personal hygiene troubled him. As they marched on in silence, the possibilities of what they would find in the ravine crept into his thoughts again, and he wondered what Septimus would do when they cracked open that container and found nothing inside.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Opening his eyes for the first time that morning, Septimus found himself squinting at the unfamiliar natural light tickling his face. Lying naked under the swirling covers, he raised his head up from the pillow and smiled. It was a small room dominated by a medium-sized bed, and the cracked stucco walls were painted the same sickly shade of muddy brown as the tavern downstairs. But it was the first night he’d spent off the ship in weeks, and to Septimus the place was a five-star suite. He slipped out of bed and opened the shutters, looking out at the sprawling village below. Not that he’d gotten much sleep in the last 12 hours. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] It was late afternoon by the time they’d finally reached the village. A random collection of crumbling adobe buildings rose from the sun-baked ground like weather-beaten blemishes, rusting slabs of what used to be pieces of a crashed ship attached to them like ornaments. A cargo cult, most likely. Septimus remembered thinking that they were going to have an easier go at it than he originally thought. One scruffy-looking boy who was brave enough to approach them walked out into the street, rolling his eyes up at Septimus and touching his belt. He smiled and tried to tousle the boy’s hair, but he jerked his head away. Septimus thought for a moment and raised a finger in the air. He reached into a belt pouch and pulled out one of his homemade necklaces. This one was bright yellow, a ragged piece of metal coolant plating hanging at the bottom like a medallion. He looped it over the boy’s wrist and stuck his tongue out at him. The boy laughed, running back to the safety of his mother who stood in a doorway, and hid behind her dress. The little ambassador’s approval seemed to be enough for the rest of him, and the villagers started to trickle out into the street, gawking at the two strangers. The two of them found the locals to be simple but friendly, the smiles on their light green faces revealing teeth that were almost as white as the hair on their heads. They did have the annoying habit of jabbering incessantly however, and their primitive speech was barely comprehensible to the portable translators worn by the two offworlders. Somehow they got by, though. When the crowd had finally gotten big enough, the two ex-soldiers knew that it was time to put down their rifles and set up their wares. They knew right away that the holoprojectors would go fast. Always did, especially with people who’d never seen them before. But they were surprised to see the villagers snatch up the homemade necklaces and emergency flares, too. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] It looked like their luck had finally begun to change. The both of them had earned more than enough to cover what they originally needed, and after securing provisions and mounts, got a pair of rooms above the tavern. The local booze was strong but adequate, and they even tried a few of the greenie girls. Fin had two, but one was good enough for Septimus.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Closing the window shutters, he turned to face the bed. Septimus couldn’t believe it. These people, these green-skinned villagers actually traded in, of all things; plain old water. How ironic, he thought. There was a tank full of potable water back on the Bay, and they would’ve saved a lot of trouble if they’d just brought some of that instead. So primitive, he thought. But he had to remember that they were not human, and it was in their nature to be so simple. He turned away from the window and froze. It was faint at first, but the tapping outside his door was clearly getting louder. Septimus’ veins filled with ice, his eyes darting toward the holstered weapon buried under his pile of clothes. He glanced back at the door. His gun was at the opposite corner of the room. If he was fast, he thought maybe he could get to it in time, but Sep was already too slow. The door suddenly burst from its hinges and clattered to the floor, a pale and tattered human filling the frame where it used to be. The man’s face glistened with a mixture of fear and bloodlust, the worn black jumpsuit that hung limply off his body festooned with random pieces of mismatched armor. He was an offworlder for sure, and Septimus had the sinking feeling that he wasn’t the only one that knew that Big Nose Oro liked to talk in his sleep. “Don’t you move,” he growled, the heavy plasma pistol trembling visibly in his hand. An intoxicating sense of calm washed over Septimus as he fixed his gaze on the gun barrel pointed straight at his chest. The floorboards out in the hallway creaked ominously, and when Sep squeezed his eyes shut, he hoped that the hell he would soon be rotting in wouldn’t be so bad. The muffled blast of an explosion tore through the air a second later, and when he opened his eyes, the intruder’s head had been blown apart. Septimus dove for the pile of clothes and fished out his own gun, crouching behind the blood-spattered bed in a defensive posture. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Don’t shoot, Sep. It’s just me,” someone shouted. It was Fin. Septimus eased his finger off the trigger, but kept the gun trained on the doorway until his friend entered his field of view. Finyan stepped over the corpse of the man he’d just killed and aimed his revolver down the hallway. “Get dressed,” he whispered. “We’ve got company.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Septimus nodded and did what he was told, grabbing the Lancer rifle propped up against the wall on his way out. Fin took point as he had done many times before, Septimus and his rifle following closely behind as the two men inched their way down the hall. Finyan’s own room was just four doors down and he raised a closed fist when they got there, signaling for the two of them to stop. Pointing at the door to indicate that he was going in to retrieve his own rifle, Fin quickly dropped to one knee as he spotted another gunman wander into his sights. The man realized his mistake and raised his own pistol to fire on the two men, but Finyan was quicker. He fired two quick shots at the attacker, one round embedding itself into the wall and the other tunneling into the man’s torso. Septimus peppered the hall with covering fire as Fin ducked into his room, the green streaks of light spitting out of his Lancer rifle like molten rain. He ceased fire and stepped through the green-gray smoke that poured out of his weapon. There was another one, cowering just around the corner of the long hallway, the bastard’s weapon rattling in his hands. He watched as the man’s elbow wavered in and out of his field of view. Septimus knew he would make the mistake again, and triggered a well-aimed burst when he did. The energy rounds quickly found their target and severed the man’s forearm, instantly cauterizing the blackened stump that remained. A high-pitched scream rose from the bottom of his lungs as he dropped the weapon and backed up against the pockmarked wall. The man was out in the open now, and when Sep had a clear shot, he took it. His shoulders twitched as he felt Fin’s hand clamp onto his shoulder. Time to move. They continued forward past the bodies and down the stairs, reaching the tavern just as more of them started coming in. Finyan dropped two of them right away before jumping behind the bar; Sep’s Lancer rifle kicking hard against his shoulder as he sent the others diving for cover. He flipped over a table and crouched behind it, his breathing shallow, senses sharpened by fear. His eyes rolled in the general direction of the tavern’s curtains and noticed that they were starting to smolder. Septimus glanced over at Fin, his eyes wide, and nodded. Finyan nodded back, and when Sep leaned his rifle over the top of the overturned table, he slipped away from the bar. White hot bullets and energy rounds snapped past Sep’s ears, tearing chunks of wood out of the table and superheated stucco from the floor. But Septimus kept firing. Fin caught another two of them from the side and ducked back down. Sep stood up and moved closer to the pair that remained, stitching a ragged line of charred holes across the one that turned to face him. He and Fin closed in on the last man from both sides and cornered him, blasting him apart when he when he tried to run for the door. Finyan grabbed a handful of charge cartridges and shoved them into the loading gate of his rifle. Septimus glanced over his shoulder at the ruined interior of the tavern and saw that the fire from the curtains had spread to the bar. The smoke was getting thicker, and it wouldn’t be long before the whole place went up in flames. He checked the power levels on his Lancer rifle and brought the weapon back up to his shoulder, aiming at the deserted street outside. Sep took a deep breath, letting it out slowly between his teeth. “Go!” he screamed.[/FONT]
[FONT='Times New Roman'] “Going!” Finyan screamed back, and ran across to the building on the other side. Someone peeked out from behind a doorway and fired a few potshots, but the gunman ducked back inside when Sep squeezed off a long burst in his direction. He heard Fin shout for him to go, Septimus called out that he was going, and moved away from the burning tavern to take cover behind one of the load-bearing columns out in front. Footsteps padding in the dirt approached him from behind and he swung the rifle toward the sound. Another offworlder, his braided hair swirling around his head like angry snakes, the twin pistols in his fists blazing away. Shards of the weather-beaten column kicked up around Sep’s face and the Lancer rifle’s shots went wild. Fin drew a bead on him and emptied his charge disruptor, blowing off the man’s right leg at the hip and vaporizing most of his torso. A bright blue beam flashed past Fin’s shoulders and he hugged his body closer against the wall, his trembling fingers stuffing fresh charge cartridges into his weapon. Sep leaned out from the column to give his friend some covering fire, but the energy rounds that chewed up the ground near his feet changed his mind. The bastards had him cornered from both sides. His back was pressed hard against the column, and the smoke that was billowing out from the tavern was getting thicker. Finyan was still kneeling when he saw the same gunman peer out from the side of the building for another shot at Sep. Fin waited until he could see the man’s stomach before pulling the trigger twice. The first shot missed him completely, but the second one cut the gunman in half. “Go! Go! Go!” Finyan screamed, swinging the rifle around and firing at the other side.[/FONT]
FOR BLOOD OR MONEY
As one day rolled uneventfully into the next, Captain Septimus Zyke was surprised to notice that the ship’s last operational engine was still running strong. For the first time in weeks, the radiation leaking from the antigrav coolant pipes was starting to clear up enough for the navigation computer to work again. Septimus typed in their destination’s coordinates and inquired as to when they could make planetfall. He smiled as he watched the answer flash across the screen. Kafiristar was only four days away. His frosty breath escaped from his lips as he laughed out loud at the good news. Finyan Mantillas, the First Mate of the vessel, came in from the lounge and glanced over his friend’s shoulder, slapping him hard on the back. “Looks like somebody else is going to have to kill you, Sep,” he said. Septimus laughed again, but this time more nervously. It was a familiar laugh that was equal parts relief and dread.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] The emergency klaxons blared from the intercom unit above Septimus’ bunk and snapped him into sudden consciousness. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Septimus looked up from his pillow at the rattling bulkheads around him. He powered up the lights and rolled out from the covers, the cold, hard deck feeling like ice beneath his bare feet. They’d steadily cranked the heat back up over the past four days, but the ship never felt quite as warm as he really wanted it to be. At least they didn’t have to wear those damned environmental suits anymore, Septimus thought. He pulled his black calf-length boots on and grabbed his orange vest on the way out. He didn’t have to worry about his pants, as he’d been sleeping in them for the past few weeks. “Fin? What the hell’s going on? Aren’t we there?” he shouted, stepping off the ladderwell and onto the bridge. But he already had his answer as he looked out at the main viewport. The unchanging blackness was now a brilliant blue, the tufts of clouds drifting along like lazy algae.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Yeah, Sep. We’re there,” he answered, pausing to flip a few switches on the console in front of him. Fin was strapped in the pilot’s seat, jaws clenched tight beneath his red beard as he fought to keep the control yoke steady. “The antigrav unit’s shot, though. We’re going to have to put her down someplace quick.” [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Septimus grabbed the back of the pilot’s chair for balance, transfixed by the dull, red blip on the scanner. He leaned forward and touched the screen, his eyes slowly widening as he studied the readout. “Fin, I want you to get us as close as you can to this, understand? Here,” he repeated, stabbing the screen repeatedly with his finger.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Ain’t going to happen. See that?” Fin shouted, pointing at the image of a narrow ravine that surrounded the flashing red indicator. “We put her down in that, the rocks on either side’ll shear the engines right off!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Get her as close as you can!” Sep barked, heading for the gun rack. He grabbed a charge disruptor rifle and checked to see if it was loaded. The clamor of the ship struggling to stay together was getting louder, but Septimus’ breathing slowed down to a ragged calm as his eyes wandered out toward the viewport. He could see that the sun was just beginning to spill out from behind the horizon, the morning light bleeding across the desert landscape. It was out there, somewhere amongst those rocks. Encased in a container made out of the same type of metal as the Blackwater Bay, was something that was going to make all their problems go away. Whatever it was, those bastards stole it; and he didn’t mind taking it. Septimus racked the bolt on the weapon and chambered a round. And take it he would.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] By the time they’d finally made planetfall, it was already midday. Kafiristar’s unrelenting heat raged across the vast rocky desert that meandered into the distance, lingering on patches of land that were blistered and cracked. Finyan wiped his forehead and looked down at his handheld scanner. Just a few more kilometers until they reached a local settlement, and he hoped they would have supplies. There were none left onboard the ship, and they would have to be prepared for the long trek through the ravine. Finyan stowed his scanner in a belt pouch next to the revolver holstered on his right hip, shifting the long-barreled charge disruptor rifle cradled in his hands. They’d landed as close as they could to the edge of the ravine, but Finyan knew it would have to be far enough away to avoid attracting the attention of the locals. They’d already spotted a few of them lurking along the tops of the chasm, the long barrels of their primitive matchlock rifles jutting out like needles strapped across their backs. Septimus had tried calling out to them in hopes of trade, but they gave no reply except for the unfriendly stare they leveled at himself and his friend. It was just as well, because he knew that savages like that could not be reasoned with, anyway. Not that the two ex-soldiers had a lot to trade with in the first place. The two of them stuffed anything and everything they’d thought would be seen as valuable into their backpacks. They ripped out burnt wiring and flecks of metal, fashioning them into crude necklaces in standard colors of red, blue, yellow, and green. Handfuls of self-starting emergency flares were thrown into their bags, along with several palm-sized holoprojectors and spools of reinforced cable. They were hoping it would be enough, but were not above taking what they needed by force if it wasn’t.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Just another kilometer or so. Beyond that ridge,” Finyan mentioned as he glanced over at his friend. Septimus didn’t answer. His hands were gripped tight on the Heavy Squad Automatic Lancer rifle he carried tucked under a shoulder, his Northstar 36 heat-beamer pistol slung low on his right leg. Finyan noticed that his friend was still wearing those same blue pants with the gray thigh pads that he’d been wearing forever, his orange vest and load-bearing gear looking especially uncomfortable. As for himself, Finyan had decided to change into a fresh yellow t-shirt before they left the ship, replacing his own worn cargo pants for a green pair with black thigh pads running down the front. It made him feel a little better, despite the fact that he hadn’t bathed in weeks. But his friend’s lack of concern for personal hygiene troubled him. As they marched on in silence, the possibilities of what they would find in the ravine crept into his thoughts again, and he wondered what Septimus would do when they cracked open that container and found nothing inside.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Opening his eyes for the first time that morning, Septimus found himself squinting at the unfamiliar natural light tickling his face. Lying naked under the swirling covers, he raised his head up from the pillow and smiled. It was a small room dominated by a medium-sized bed, and the cracked stucco walls were painted the same sickly shade of muddy brown as the tavern downstairs. But it was the first night he’d spent off the ship in weeks, and to Septimus the place was a five-star suite. He slipped out of bed and opened the shutters, looking out at the sprawling village below. Not that he’d gotten much sleep in the last 12 hours. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] It was late afternoon by the time they’d finally reached the village. A random collection of crumbling adobe buildings rose from the sun-baked ground like weather-beaten blemishes, rusting slabs of what used to be pieces of a crashed ship attached to them like ornaments. A cargo cult, most likely. Septimus remembered thinking that they were going to have an easier go at it than he originally thought. One scruffy-looking boy who was brave enough to approach them walked out into the street, rolling his eyes up at Septimus and touching his belt. He smiled and tried to tousle the boy’s hair, but he jerked his head away. Septimus thought for a moment and raised a finger in the air. He reached into a belt pouch and pulled out one of his homemade necklaces. This one was bright yellow, a ragged piece of metal coolant plating hanging at the bottom like a medallion. He looped it over the boy’s wrist and stuck his tongue out at him. The boy laughed, running back to the safety of his mother who stood in a doorway, and hid behind her dress. The little ambassador’s approval seemed to be enough for the rest of him, and the villagers started to trickle out into the street, gawking at the two strangers. The two of them found the locals to be simple but friendly, the smiles on their light green faces revealing teeth that were almost as white as the hair on their heads. They did have the annoying habit of jabbering incessantly however, and their primitive speech was barely comprehensible to the portable translators worn by the two offworlders. Somehow they got by, though. When the crowd had finally gotten big enough, the two ex-soldiers knew that it was time to put down their rifles and set up their wares. They knew right away that the holoprojectors would go fast. Always did, especially with people who’d never seen them before. But they were surprised to see the villagers snatch up the homemade necklaces and emergency flares, too. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] It looked like their luck had finally begun to change. The both of them had earned more than enough to cover what they originally needed, and after securing provisions and mounts, got a pair of rooms above the tavern. The local booze was strong but adequate, and they even tried a few of the greenie girls. Fin had two, but one was good enough for Septimus.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Closing the window shutters, he turned to face the bed. Septimus couldn’t believe it. These people, these green-skinned villagers actually traded in, of all things; plain old water. How ironic, he thought. There was a tank full of potable water back on the Bay, and they would’ve saved a lot of trouble if they’d just brought some of that instead. So primitive, he thought. But he had to remember that they were not human, and it was in their nature to be so simple. He turned away from the window and froze. It was faint at first, but the tapping outside his door was clearly getting louder. Septimus’ veins filled with ice, his eyes darting toward the holstered weapon buried under his pile of clothes. He glanced back at the door. His gun was at the opposite corner of the room. If he was fast, he thought maybe he could get to it in time, but Sep was already too slow. The door suddenly burst from its hinges and clattered to the floor, a pale and tattered human filling the frame where it used to be. The man’s face glistened with a mixture of fear and bloodlust, the worn black jumpsuit that hung limply off his body festooned with random pieces of mismatched armor. He was an offworlder for sure, and Septimus had the sinking feeling that he wasn’t the only one that knew that Big Nose Oro liked to talk in his sleep. “Don’t you move,” he growled, the heavy plasma pistol trembling visibly in his hand. An intoxicating sense of calm washed over Septimus as he fixed his gaze on the gun barrel pointed straight at his chest. The floorboards out in the hallway creaked ominously, and when Sep squeezed his eyes shut, he hoped that the hell he would soon be rotting in wouldn’t be so bad. The muffled blast of an explosion tore through the air a second later, and when he opened his eyes, the intruder’s head had been blown apart. Septimus dove for the pile of clothes and fished out his own gun, crouching behind the blood-spattered bed in a defensive posture. [/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] “Don’t shoot, Sep. It’s just me,” someone shouted. It was Fin. Septimus eased his finger off the trigger, but kept the gun trained on the doorway until his friend entered his field of view. Finyan stepped over the corpse of the man he’d just killed and aimed his revolver down the hallway. “Get dressed,” he whispered. “We’ve got company.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman] Septimus nodded and did what he was told, grabbing the Lancer rifle propped up against the wall on his way out. Fin took point as he had done many times before, Septimus and his rifle following closely behind as the two men inched their way down the hall. Finyan’s own room was just four doors down and he raised a closed fist when they got there, signaling for the two of them to stop. Pointing at the door to indicate that he was going in to retrieve his own rifle, Fin quickly dropped to one knee as he spotted another gunman wander into his sights. The man realized his mistake and raised his own pistol to fire on the two men, but Finyan was quicker. He fired two quick shots at the attacker, one round embedding itself into the wall and the other tunneling into the man’s torso. Septimus peppered the hall with covering fire as Fin ducked into his room, the green streaks of light spitting out of his Lancer rifle like molten rain. He ceased fire and stepped through the green-gray smoke that poured out of his weapon. There was another one, cowering just around the corner of the long hallway, the bastard’s weapon rattling in his hands. He watched as the man’s elbow wavered in and out of his field of view. Septimus knew he would make the mistake again, and triggered a well-aimed burst when he did. The energy rounds quickly found their target and severed the man’s forearm, instantly cauterizing the blackened stump that remained. A high-pitched scream rose from the bottom of his lungs as he dropped the weapon and backed up against the pockmarked wall. The man was out in the open now, and when Sep had a clear shot, he took it. His shoulders twitched as he felt Fin’s hand clamp onto his shoulder. Time to move. They continued forward past the bodies and down the stairs, reaching the tavern just as more of them started coming in. Finyan dropped two of them right away before jumping behind the bar; Sep’s Lancer rifle kicking hard against his shoulder as he sent the others diving for cover. He flipped over a table and crouched behind it, his breathing shallow, senses sharpened by fear. His eyes rolled in the general direction of the tavern’s curtains and noticed that they were starting to smolder. Septimus glanced over at Fin, his eyes wide, and nodded. Finyan nodded back, and when Sep leaned his rifle over the top of the overturned table, he slipped away from the bar. White hot bullets and energy rounds snapped past Sep’s ears, tearing chunks of wood out of the table and superheated stucco from the floor. But Septimus kept firing. Fin caught another two of them from the side and ducked back down. Sep stood up and moved closer to the pair that remained, stitching a ragged line of charred holes across the one that turned to face him. He and Fin closed in on the last man from both sides and cornered him, blasting him apart when he when he tried to run for the door. Finyan grabbed a handful of charge cartridges and shoved them into the loading gate of his rifle. Septimus glanced over his shoulder at the ruined interior of the tavern and saw that the fire from the curtains had spread to the bar. The smoke was getting thicker, and it wouldn’t be long before the whole place went up in flames. He checked the power levels on his Lancer rifle and brought the weapon back up to his shoulder, aiming at the deserted street outside. Sep took a deep breath, letting it out slowly between his teeth. “Go!” he screamed.[/FONT]
[FONT='Times New Roman'] “Going!” Finyan screamed back, and ran across to the building on the other side. Someone peeked out from behind a doorway and fired a few potshots, but the gunman ducked back inside when Sep squeezed off a long burst in his direction. He heard Fin shout for him to go, Septimus called out that he was going, and moved away from the burning tavern to take cover behind one of the load-bearing columns out in front. Footsteps padding in the dirt approached him from behind and he swung the rifle toward the sound. Another offworlder, his braided hair swirling around his head like angry snakes, the twin pistols in his fists blazing away. Shards of the weather-beaten column kicked up around Sep’s face and the Lancer rifle’s shots went wild. Fin drew a bead on him and emptied his charge disruptor, blowing off the man’s right leg at the hip and vaporizing most of his torso. A bright blue beam flashed past Fin’s shoulders and he hugged his body closer against the wall, his trembling fingers stuffing fresh charge cartridges into his weapon. Sep leaned out from the column to give his friend some covering fire, but the energy rounds that chewed up the ground near his feet changed his mind. The bastards had him cornered from both sides. His back was pressed hard against the column, and the smoke that was billowing out from the tavern was getting thicker. Finyan was still kneeling when he saw the same gunman peer out from the side of the building for another shot at Sep. Fin waited until he could see the man’s stomach before pulling the trigger twice. The first shot missed him completely, but the second one cut the gunman in half. “Go! Go! Go!” Finyan screamed, swinging the rifle around and firing at the other side.[/FONT]
