Saturday, July 6, 2013

Chronicles of a Space Mercenary - Vengeance

Leethea was wearing a thong and fanny pack and armed with a Fsyth blaster and that was all. Reptiles, nor either of these girls, were particularly worried about public nudity- no matter what body they happened to be wearing at the time. I had chosen armor gear- cool when it’s hot, warm when it was cold and impervious to much but a direct blaster attack- and was bedecked neck to ankle. A Fsyth would never wear footwear unless it was part of a spacesuit. I had two blasters and a fresh deck of playing cards- human’s most notable contribution to the Cosmic society and already spread throughout the Universe undoubtedly. I was about as ready as I would ever be. “Let’s go see this place.” I said.
Vengeance

The Alien Agenda

Those around us were all Juvenile to us by many degrees.  It was like slaughtering incompetent novices.  They were all well trained, even Masters of the art of the weapon each carried, but they could not perceive the blinding speed with which we attacked.  I parried an attack from my left and then stabbed the Palag through its neck before it realized its blade had even been deflected.  Then I quickly yanked it free, coated in black blood, before the Palag I had stabbed in the neck began to fall, parried another blade among the mass either chopping or stabbing at me, and another and another and another, much faster than the thought, operating on muscle memory alone, before finding the barest sliver of a moment to strike back.  While my Cumosachi wove a defensive ring of steel around me to my right, and my cane-sword danced the same caper to those on my left, as I swung the cane-sword back to parry yet another attack I let my arm slip out to its farthest reach and the tip of the blade opened the great black teardrop shaped eye of one of the Palag whose blades I had just parried there.  As the Palag staggered back my cane-sword cavorted on, and the opening the Palag had left in the ring around us was filled with the next eager attacker. They came blithely on.
My Cumosachi Katana, though longer and heavier, moved with a grace that seemed to be animated by the blade itself.  The balance of the Cumosachi was unmatched by any weapon I had ever held, excepting only possibly, the blade I had given my son, and it moved as with a life of its own, floating, weaving and buoyant among the blades besieging me, occasionally darting out to sever hands, nick the great black teardrop shaped eyes, or even liberate completely their overlarge heads with a deft slice at their thin, scrawny appearing necks.
Sonafi, smaller and more nimble than I, and fighting with her shorter weapons, was often away from my back as she literally danced among the attacking Palag, I trying to maintain our proximity only to find her once again beside me and expecting me to parry blades that were descending on her as she slipped under one or another of my arms to slice the unsuspecting Palag in front of me.

No two humans could have fought the way we did.  We could not view all of our attackers all at once.  They came from everywhere all at once but not in a coordinated attack that we might fight them in a systematic manner.  We picked our targets on a most imperative basis, but it was all instinctual, autonomous and reflexive.  We did not have time to think, to calculate.  We had to act in the now.  Their blades fell from every direction, and we fought them like the demented beings that we were.

http://www.amazon.com/The-Alien-Agenda-ebook/dp/B00DGWVWNS/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1373126587&sr=1-2