A/N: As mentioned in my profile and The Dogmen, a very, very good friend of mine passed away many years ago leaving a legacy of compassion and caring with the friends he left behind. He also left many (MANY) stories in letters (yes, the paper kind), college ruled paper, and, in some cases, on post-it notes. This one-shot is a transcription of one of those paper trails he left behind.
Setting: DragonStar Rising / Living Steel / Rhand: 2349 (go look it up)
Again, I did NOT write this. It is posted by permission of the "Circle of Friends" so they (we) can come visit his stories and join together in remembrance. More will follow, and will be noted as to which of those posted are "Eddie's". Transcribed as it was written. Any spelling or grammar items are from the original paper form (or my clumsy fingers).
Disclaimer: I own no rights to DragonStar Rising, Phoenix Command, Living Steel or L.E.G. If I did, there would be many happy Finnish wargamers (shout out to Yahoo groups PHXCMD). Dominic, John, Donneson, and anyone else mentioned in the quotes are the intellectual property of their respective owners.
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LS~LS~LS~LS~LS~LS
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Truth
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It was a slow patrol we marched. The area had been in Imperial control for two weeks, and there had been no PenKnife or Gumby activity here since the Battle for Turgon Heights. I had just arrived here on ArgosyIII, a raw recruit, fresh out of boot, so I had missed the preliminaries.
ArgosyIII was a medium-sized planet just inside the habitable zone of a small yellow star. A little heavy, G-wise, a bit cold, it was still a valuable agrarian world. The Danakota Group had colonized it in 2137, and it was well populated: 7,000 or so Starcaste, 30 thousand Land', and a few hundred thousand Bondsmen. For close to fifty years, it fed a dozen other planets. The in 2186 the Sworders came, dragging the Dragoncrests in with them.
It hadn't been on purpose. Deep in Imperial space, and lacking any major industrial or technical facilities, ArgosyIII should have been safe. The only troops on the world was DG's own small security force, assigned to protect it's grain-research facility, and Action-Force, a Landcaste military subcon, used to police the Bondsmen. Not a primary, or even tertiary, target.
So, when the crippled Sworder ship appeared in the system, it fairly set off a panic. And, when the 'Crests arrived close behind…
I still don't know exactly how it got to be so damaged. I never saw that ship; it had been scuttled by the Sworders as they evacuated to planetside. And the Dragoncrest ship left after dropping a couple of shuttles off, so I never saw that ship either. Had it been a space battle? Before entering the Argosy system? Not likely, as space battles aren't fought that way. A mystery.
So, when the Imperial garrison on Hauchatka Beta received a garbled distress call, we were called up. When we arrived six weeks later, ArgosyIII was in chaos.
The DG governing board had evacuated, leaving their Chief of Security to clean up the mess and act as corporate representative. Talk about your rapid promotions. Action-Force had been pressed into frontal defense duty, and began "recruiting" from the Bondsmen freely. Three weeks before we got there, the Sworders had taken control of Similidan, the planetary administrative center, from the DG security force and began to bunker down. They came out when the 'Crests went in. Both did their best to ignore Action-Force, but, as it often the case with Subcons, either bravado or stupidity kept A-F from catching the hint. The Dragoncrests took it upon themselves to destroy the A-F command station, and the Sworders took out the board of directors and command structure. The Bondsmen themselves finished off the field personnel. Scratch one Subcon.
Periodic skirmishes marked the time until our arrival. Both sides took care to avoid collateral damage. I know, I saw Kenyar Township before the Imperial Newsvids did. I didn't see any toppled buildings, ravaged fields, or piles of Bondsmen dead. But, then, the ISS didn't get to Argosy until after the Sworders and 'Crests left…
As soon as the ISS Retribution and ISS Vigil entered Argosy space, the Sworders sent a deep space message via the Space Tracking Center located in Similidan. No one on either ship thought that it had been their first communication. I don't know if the Secret Service ever broke the code, but we knew it came from the Sworders. I'd never heard of a 'Crest using a radio.
We were told to prepare for a heavy assault, and duded up in our combat gear. I felt my first pangs of fear. To this point, it had all been fun and games for me, the nineteen-year-old third son of a Surrogate banking family. Running and crawling around a field, shooting at practice targets with our practice guns. Simulating heavy drops in the morning and hitting the clubs at night; the Imperial Starfleet Infantry's Fifth Battle Group seemed like the life for me. Now, carrying the first real instruments of death I'd yet been allowed to touch and wearing more hard-skin than my old buggy at home, the ideas of glory, honor, and obedience were quickly being reconsidered against the concepts of continued life and pain-free existence. Strapped as I was into the belly of a dropship, I had little opportunity to take action on my philosophical musings.
So, down we went, meeting…nothing. There was no attempt to prevent our atmospheric entry; there was no defense at our landing. We deployed into Cuttern without incident. The entire landing force. As we moved toward Similidan, encountering occasional escaped Bondsmen, we foot soldiers became more exuberant; the PenKnives and Gumbies were afraid of us, real Imperial Starfleet Infantry! Six hundred Sworders had disappeared, pure and simple, and some one hundred Dragoncrests with them. Our Group Colonel was having palpitations.
For a week, nothing. As time went on with no sign of our Enemies, and our officers refusing to lower the alert status (thus forcing us to wear the uncomfortable armor, night and day), we were quickly becoming bored and numb.
Then the 'Crests came out to play.
We were shocked. We were stunned. We were prepared (damn officers fault, thank God). As the Dragoncrests attacked, and we counterattacked, we were reminded by our sergeants, loudly and often, that we were Imperial Starfleet SOL-JERS, dammit! We fought hard, and won, thank in the most part to the saturation bombings during the battle. True, entire companies were used to tie up the 'Crests while the Air Combat Vehicles and Grav Platforms did the dirty work, but they died Imperial Soldiers. Long with they be remembered.
Turgon Heights was fought over for eight hours. Afterwards, six Gumby bodies were found. We had only lost 1,200. Command called it a great victory.
A week later, the ISS Magog arrived from the Imperial Garrison on NovatkaIII, carrying another division, with two more ships in tow. There was now and Imperial presence of over 20,000 field soldiers, command staff, and support personnel to defend ArgosyIII from some 700 marooned and desperate "invaders". This wasn't how we were briefed, mind you. No, we were here to defend the Imperial Way and to show a bunch of casteless bastards what a properly motivated Starforce warrior could do.
We could wait really well.
So, to keep us from getting bored, command started sending out old-fashioned foot patrols. We walked around in full go-mode, mostly in Bondsmen areas. Try to cow them…I guess before they could get any ideas. Didn't work entirely, but there weren't as many uprisings as expected.
Turgon Heights had been a nice little area; I was told it once grew low-temp pears. The blackened and splintered stumps stretch for miles in all directions, control rails for the machinery lacing through what once must have been a beautiful forest-orchard. Now, those rails were lying on the blighted ground, twisted and ruptured like worms. The squad didn't talk much.
We were to cover 30 klicks that day. Our platoon was to pass through Turgon Heights, brief the Bondmen Community leaders at Villages Delta and Epsilon, and reform with our company at the Landcaste city that gave the area its name. We had started out just before dawn, and the pink morning sun gave us our first view of the battlefield.
There was no way any battle, even one with the Dragoncrests, could have caused that much devastation. To this day I don't know what happened there.
We reached TH Delta by 1200Hours, about an hour and a half before planetary noon. Some 800 Bondsmen silently witnessed our arrival in the town. It had been spared most of the destruction, meaning that the Administration building that housed the community bomb shelter still stood. That's where they had all been sleeping for the last two weeks, their housing buildings and commissary buildings having been leveled. They had been subsisting on emergency rations, patiently waiting for their Landcaste managers to return and put everything right. I guess that when they saw us, they realized that would be a while.
"Hey, Donneson," my gun-partner, Carrington, said to me, none too quietly. "What's the difference between a Bondman slit and a cow?" That he could make jokes in a situation like this surprised me, but that it was a caste joke in these poor peoples' hearing…? "A cows' tits aren't as much fun to play with." He grinned. Others laughed, but I could only muster a weak smile. Seeing that I wasn't going to give him the feedback he wanted, he turned to his more appreciable audience and continued. The sergeants only stopped him after the lieutenant had spoken with the Community Leaders and it was time to resume the march. The thin faces quietly witnessing our departure was the only farewell they offered.
We continued to Epsilon. As the day went on and the sun rose, we began to talk more and more. Who was our favorite MoVid actress, what was our favorite futbol team. Little stuff. A great amount of discussion was made as to where we would furlough after this mission. Some wanted to visit the leisure planet of Centaurus, others wanted to hit the casinos and brothels of Mars. Me, I wanted to see Earth. You see, I've always loved history, and Earth still has the best museums and historic sites. Places like the Louvre, Gettysburg, and Uruk were still known, even if not available to most people. Of course, I didn't voice my opinion. Visiting Earth is a privilege extended only to a chosen few. If you had to ask to visit, there was no chance of going. With a world population of 1 million, and most of those the richest families in the Starguild and their servants (and the rest environmental staff), they weren't letting just anyone on.
When we got to Epsilon, about 1630, we found the place evacuated. With no one to brief, we started down the road to the Turgon Heights Landcaste city.
We were laughing, our conversations having turned to the VidShow A Day in My Life. It was one of the most popular shows on the vid. You ever seen the episode where Martin, thinking his dad had been promoted to Manager of his tool-die plant, used the family credstick to fund a surprise party? His dad, arriving for his surprise party, was made late for a meeting with the leader of a rival company's extraction team, and so was caught instead by his own company's security force. Instead of a promotion, he got a personality upgrade! You haven't heard of it? Huh. Maybe they don't broadcast it to your world. But, trust me, it was funnier than it sounds.
Anyways, we were talking and laughing when the sergeants pulled us up. The lieutenant was receiving orders, they said. Five minutes later we were gathered in line for an announcement.
"Approximately twenty minutes ago, Turgon Heights was attacked by a Seven-Worlds contingent. There is only one platoon of Starfleet Infantry inside the city. We are closer to the city than Bravo platoon, so we stay on foot while Bravo gets to wait for a ride." He went on, but the only thing important he said beyond all of the morale crap was that since most of the stuff we were carrying was useless in battle, we could drop it all here and now.
So, why were we carrying all this…stuff anyways? I suppressed that question.
We began double-time, hard enough most days; after some 20 klicks on a 1.1G planet with some 60 pounds of baggage strapped to our backs was murderous. Still, some clown had enough energy to ask if our armor and weapons could be dropped as they would be useless in a battle with run-happy Sworders anyway. I wanted to slap that ass.
We were in sight of Turgon Heights within two hours, our confidence inexplicably growing as we went on. Words of encouragement that the sergeants were shouting inspired us, though it seems like so much drivel now. We were ready to meet the Enemy head on and chase him off this world.
We entered the city unopposed, the lieutenant now in constant communication with his Alpha counterpart, here in the city, and the company Captain back with Bravo, still waiting for pick-up in the field. As he coordinated our movements in the city, the sergeants were reminding us of urban tactics and movement rules. Move quickly. Avoid doors and windows. Shoot from around a corner, not from over a barrier. Etcetera, etcetera. Like we hadn't done this before, which we hadn't, but that was besides the point.
We began to move towards Alpha platoon, out by the city's park, when the sergeants broke us down into gun-partners. Carrington and I were given a route through the alleyways to follow and a rendezvous point. Off we went. Considering the destruction in the fields at the Beta and Epsilon villages, Turgon Heights was relatively undamaged. Almost completely undamaged. I've always wondered about that.
Sounds of battle started up. The high-pitched whine of our lases, the sharp report of Sworder rifles. Carrington was becoming anxious, wanting to join the fighting as soon as possible, ignoring orders to look for Landcaste survivors. I finally gave in and joined him after he threatened to leave me. Glory before duty, I guess.
As we got to the park, the first ones to the rendezvous point, we could see the situation. The Sworders, along with a sizable number of Landcaste hostages, were hunkered down in the depressed walk that ran alongside the artificially sunken park stream. Sort of like trench warfare. They had setup up barricaded at the top of the depression, and were making a good defense of it. I had no idea how many Sworders were there, but as Alpha platoon, some 12 men and an officer, had holed them up here, it couldn't be many. We spotted Alpha among the Landcaste houses that bordered that end of the park.
We watched as Alpha prepared to start launching grenades. If the Sworders thought that using twenty or thirty Landcaste hostages would shield them from Imperial retribution, they were dead wrong. As the 160 year-old tradition said, no negotiation.
Then, a burst of lase fire—from behind Alpha. At first, Carrington and I thought it might be the rest of the platoon, or even Bravo platoon, and it took us by surprise when we saw that Alpha was returning fire. More Sworders, using Imperial weapons? My gun-partner pointed out that the sound of the lase report was pitched too high to be Imperial weaponry.
Dragoncrest. I dropped my load right there.
As we watched one Alpha member drop after another, our comm sets lit up: "Fall back, Donneson and Carrington. Fall back."
Fire started coming our way, from the 'Crests. Our position was insecure. So we scooted back behind the building, expecting to find the rest of our platoon. Instead, no one.
More radio, "Who is on this channel?" We recognized the sergeant's voice, realizing now that we hadn't recognized the first. But then, who argues with good advice? As the comm sets were essentially one-way unless the 'Sarge or an officer gave a special command that activated the VOX feature of the radios, neither I or my partner would be active members of this conversation. "Repeat, who is on this channel?"
"Captain John Donovan, Silver Sword DRAGON."
Carrington and I looked at each other, then peaked over our cover. We could see that the Sworders were now firing over the Alpha platoon and into what we could only presume to be the Dragoncrest.
"How the hell did he know our names?" I asked. Carrington slapped my forehead, then pointed to one of the Sworders. He was holding a pair of binocs, viewing a position off to our right.
"Our names are on our helmets, beemer." Oh. Looking across the backyard of the Landcaste house on our right, we saw our platoon.
"Before you switch channels, hear me out." The voice of the Sworder had the air of a man used to command. I wouldn't have changed my comm set even if I could. Those controls are remote operated by the Sergeant or Lieutenant. "It took us five minutes to tune you in. Another five minutes and you could be dead." There was a brief pause.
"A truce." Another pause. Apparently, the officers had switched to Command Mode, ordering our comms deaf, and didn't know that the Sworders' intrusion was reaching us slogs.
"There are between thirty and fifty DCs in this town, repeat, 30 to 50 Dragoncrests. Between your forces and mine, we might make half of that." Pause. "Six" Pause.
"We can talk about that when you get here into the trench."
An explosion sounded. One of Alpha's cover houses had had enough. Looking over, we could see six members of Alpha platoon. Their backs were exposed to the Sworders. They could have been picked off by the Sworders so easily. I know what my superiors would have ordered. As the Sworders stepped up their firing into the Dragoncrests, the remaining Alpha platoon members broke for the stream. We both breathed relief when the men made it, the 'Crests having shifted their fire to the Sworders.
Thirty to fifty Gumbies… I had counted that many attacking Alpha. I started getting very nervous, as was my gun-partner. He was visually scanning the path we had come up. I was looking for a way to rejoin our platoon. Imagine my surprise when I saw that they were breaking for the stream under cover of both Sworder and Imperial fire. Dragoncrest fire lanced into the barricade and we could see someone fall. We couldn't tell if it was one of us or them.
"Carrington, Donneson, break when I give the signal." I tried to reply to the Sworder, but he hadn't opened our channels.
Carrington looked me in the eye. "There's movement behind us."
The comm chirped, "Eyes to the stream. Move straight and fast. Close your ventilation system now. Wait, wait," the voice said. We started to comply with this strange order after a brief hesitance, then, "GO, GO, GO!" Up we went.
Two smoke grenades landed practically at our feet, instantly enveloping us with its contents. Our vision severely reduced, we heard a step up of increased fire and moved towards it. With less than sixty yards to cross, we cleared the smoke quickly.
Up and over, many hands reaching out to help us down into the depression. I fell hard, making sure to land on my back so that I could keep my weapon off of the ground. The shock drove the air out of me, and I lay still for a moment.
"Is he hit?" I recognized the sergeant's voice.
A bare head appeared in my vision. He was a black man, hair cut short. He had dirt and deep sweat lines all over his face, but his brown eyes were calm. His look quieted my own panic. Such composure I'd never seen.
"No," he said, his voice a deep, rich tone of…certainty. "He just had the wind knocked our of him." He couldn't have been much older than me, but the command this man projected held me in thrall. "Slowly, Donneson. Focus and breath in." In stuttered gasps, I complied. I immediately started to get up, but he held my shoulder down.
"Wait a moment, until you are breathing normally." He smiled, and my anxiety started to melt away. "My name is Dominic."
A hand pushed him away from me. He spun once in that crouch he was in to talk to me, and fell. Carrington was now over me, and each Sworder I could see took his weapon from barricade fire and pointed it at my gun-partner.
Before our company-mates could return the favor, Dominic held up his hands, "No, no! The Dragoncrests are the threat! He's just trying to protect his friend." The Sworders turned back to the barricade.
Carrington's helmet was off now, his face full of rage. The sergeant was there now, and I could hear him whisper through clenched teeth, "Later, Carrington. The only way out of here alive is to stay calm." Louder, to me, "Get your ass up Donneson. There ain't no Sunday breakfast waitin' for you." His hands under me, he and Carrington helped me to my feet.
The Lieutenant, his Alpha counterpart, and one of the largest men I'd ever seen were huddled together talking. This fellow, a Sworder—I could tell, he actually had a sword on him (I'd heard they carried swords, but who could believe that?)—was at least 6'3" and 280 pounds, all power and muscle. This guy's neck was bigger than my thigh, his arm at least as thick as my torso. It took both lieutenants to equal his shoulder to shoulder width. I don't know what they were talking about, but the lieutenants were strongly disagreeing with the man. He was getting red faced, but still speaking too low for me to hear over the now-reduced volume of fire. The Alpha officer start to point to the Landcaste.
"They never were hostages, you ass! We were trying to evacuate the goddamn city!" The man threw up his hands and stalked off. The black man stepped in and began speaking with our officers.
I looked over to the Landcaste. There looked to be thirty, mostly women and children. It was obvious they were frightened and exhausted. The big Sworder was walking over to them. I could swear he was going to take his anger and frustration out on one of them; I'd seen Starforce officers do it before. After all, who's going to complain? A Landcaste middle-manager against a Starcaste officer? As a Sworder he'd be even less culpable.
Instead, he knelt down. After a few words, he stood again, his black mood replaced with a slight smile.
"You don't get yer deposit back for a fully-charged lase pack, beemer," the sergeant gently reminded me…at 110 decibels! Up to the barricade I stepped.
Park benches, office chairs, desks, kitchen tables, boxes, crates. Whatever they could get to form the defensive barrier. Three feet high in some places, it topped the four foot embankment. Fire was conducted through the spaces. From the looks of it, the Dragoncrests' lase fire had yet to penetrate. From watching the Sworders as they moved from firing port to firing port, I sensed that the 'Crest were accurate enough to not need to penetrate the structure.
I joined in. I was shooting at every flash of green I saw, three bursts, and then moving. Spot, shoot, shift. After doing this for a few minutes, I got the feeling that someone was watching me. Turning my head, I saw that Carrington was staring at me, an amused look on his face.
"What?"
"You planning on pruning that tree leaf by leaf, are you?"
I looked out my port. Shit.
A lase beam hit a chair wheel two inches from my face. I scrambled back down the bank. Damn Gumbies.
The big Sworder was back with our officers and the black fellow. Most of the defenders were starting to sit down, there being a lull in the firing. I took off my helmet, their low voices now reaching me.
"We can't do that," the black man said.
"It's the only way out of here," the Alpha lieutenant pushed. "You know what they are like."
The Sworder was still shaking his head. "Yes, I know what Dragoncrests are like. I am aware they will not fire on non-combatants. This is called honor." The lieutenant stiffened at that. "To use these innocents as shields would be dishonorable."
"Now see here…" the lieutenant began, loud enough to attract the attention of those who had been busy elsewhere.
"YOU see here!" exploded the huge Sworder. "You want to use these people, Your People! As a wall. That's worse than dishonorable, that's craven! They are the only ones in this mess who are safe, and you want to capitalize on that. Damn Imperial parasite! We almost had them out of the fire zone until you and your," he shot a contemptuous look at everyone in an Imperial uniform, "men started this mess. If you had waited five minutes, five minutes, like we asked you to over the radio, and parleyed like your sergeant suggested," I looked at the 'Sarge. He shrugged. Must have been Alpha's. "then we could have briefed you on the situation. You'd have seven more men, and we'd have been able to put up a real defense, instead of this…goatfuck! Now, understand this," he took a breath, lowering his voice to menacing tones, "yes, we can use these men, women, and children as a human barricade. And, the Dragoncrests will hold their fire. But we won't survive the incident. They will walk through the people, gently," he reached out to our lieutenant and lifted him off his feet, setting him down two feet to the side, then turned back to the Alpha officer, "remove them from danger, and then RIP OUR HEADS OFF! And no amount of weapon fire will stop them." He sneered, "You know what they're like."
The officer, his face white, was desperately clinging to his dignity, stuttered, "W-well, what do you propose?" He nervously folded his arms and shifted to one foot.
The man turned on his heel, ignoring the question. The look on this face froze me in place.
He got one step before a hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Yes, John," the man called Dominic began, "what are you going to do?" There was almost a pleading quality to his voice, as though he were begging the man not to do something.
"What I should have done at the beginning of this thing." He climbed up the embankment, stepped over the barricade, and drew that sword of his.
"Remembers always what you see here today," Dominic said. John walked out to the park. Three 'Crests were waiting.
"Jesus Christ!" This exclamation, strong as it was, came from me. As big a man as John was, these…monsters dwarfed him. I felt that some sort of invocation was needed.
I heard mumbling to the left of me, and turning my head, saw Carrington. Sweat streaming down his face despite the cold, his eyes bugged. He began to stand.
"No, man. Don't…" I didn't stop him in time. Lifting his lase rifle he opened up on the three Dragoncrests. Fire from the building tore into my gun-partner. As I watched him fall back into the gully, the rest of the Imperials began to fire.
"STOP! Cease fire! CEASE fire!" Dominic and our lieutenant were yelling simultaneously. The Dragoncrests began to return fire. Finally, the order sunk in, with some help from 'Sarge, and our line stopped shooting.
"Oh, no."
The despair in that voice tore my eyes away from Carrington, small tufts of smoke drifting out of the multiple holes in his body, most clustered around his heart. Looking out into the field, I could see that John had been caught in the cross-fire. All three of the Dragoncrests were standing, watching to see our reaction.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. Looking over, I saw that, somehow, unconsciously, I had climbed up the side of the depression and was now crouched behind the barricade. Dominic was standing next to me. He was looking at me strangely.
"That name you mentioned a moment ago. Do you know him?"
The question threw me. I shook my head to indicate that I didn't understand what he meant. He touched something around his neck. It was an odd pendant, made up of several symbols, one of which I recognized as The Cross.
My grandmother had been very religious. Understanding his question, remembering my outburst. I answered, "No, but right now, I'd really like to." I guess that more of her teachings had sunk in than I had suspected.
He smiled at that. Lifting the chain from around his head, he placed it around my neck. "Come with me." He went over the barricade.
It seemed like the right thing to do.
We went over to John. He had been hit several times from both sides, but was still conscious. Seeing me, he asked, "You the fucker that started that?"
I shook me head no.
Shaking his head as I helped him to his feet, he watched as Dominic continued towards the Dragoncrests.
The black Sworder stopped ten feet in front of the 'Crests. Then removed his combat webbing, and placed it on the ground to his right. He drew his short sword from it's sheath and placed it on the ground to that side as well. He then bowed at the waist. The Dragoncrests just watched.
I have seen martial arts contests before. I knew what Katas look like. What Dominic began to do was to Katas what ballet was to barn dancing. Starting with a one-two stomp, he began to flow.
It was beautiful. The air snapped at his punches. His foot moved volumes of air. Sinuous, jointless, he moved from form to form. Crouching, leaping, Tiger, Monkey, Stork, Mantis, I could see the animals he was emulating, at once cavorting, attacking, and defending. As fast as he moved, as smoothly as his dangerous dance was performed, I know that for every blow, block, kick, and sweep that I saw, I had missed two or three others. This man was a master. The air reverberated with the punishment.
And then he was done. With a deep bow, chest heaving, steam curling from his perspiration-soaked shirt and pants, he waited. His performance must have lasted five minutes.
One of the Dragoncrests, nodding its approval, stepped forward. Dominic twitched slightly, unsure of what the seven-foot alien was going to do.
STOMP! STOMP! Dust flew for ten feet from the 'Crest. Without moving its feet from the places it had planted them, the monster began its own display.
Teeth bared, claws exposed, tail lashing, it was brutal and beautiful. The Dragoncrest's form seemed as much intimidation as maneuver, arms flinging wide and head thrown back, jaws gaping in silence after every move. Crouched, tail out for balance, one hand on the ground, the other thrust forward in a lunge that brought the claws within inches of Dominic's chest. Pivot at the hips, the tail snaps around. Sweeping arcs of arms, head, and tail. A roar into the open sky. The exhibit is over. The Dragoncrest seems un-winded.
Everyone in the gully was moving, evacuating the Landcaste. It seemed as though only the Imperials were watching the exhibition. The Sworders were doing the bulk of the work, opaque faceplates down. They had already given Dominic up for dead.
The realization hit me hard. Dominic was sacrificing himself. He knew, anyone who watched knew that the greater strength and stamina, the natural weaponry of the Dragoncrest would overpower any form that Dominic could engage. John and I, still standing in the middle of the park, tears running in our eyes as we watched, knowing that the real contest would now begin.
Dominic moved back into a defensive position, ready to start. I wondered if any Imperial would do the same for a group of Sworders.
One of the other Dragoncrests stepped forward. We heard gasps from behind us, even as air escaped our own lips. Where they expecting him to fight them all? I made a move forward, restrained by John.
"Don't. He knew what he was getting into." A crack appeared in his voice, "Any assistance from us would sully his gift."
It sounded like so much bullshit to me, and was about to say so when events proceeded.
The first 'Crest had yet to move as the second one reached it. The second pointed down, causing the first to look to the ground at its feet. Looking back up at Dominic, it nodded that huge head and then, awkwardly, bowed down from the waist. The second continued toward Dominic.
A deep bass rumbled forward, "Good fights. You good fights." The 'Crest pulled a tube from his (its?) belt, then pointed towards John and I. "Him use. Smile, 'bye." It then bared its teeth—grinned?—turned and began back. The third rejoined its own line, which was pulling out.
The Dragoncrest who had 'lost' hadn't yet moved. It looked deeply at Dominic as he moved forward, and said something I couldn't hear. The 'Crest grinned, turned and left. Dominic rejoined us, unable to suppress his own smile.
"Set him down," he said to me. Opening up the Dragoncrest's gift—it was an oddly-shaped syringe and a roll of some sort of bandage stuff—and went to work on John, who silently accepted the treatment.
"You're just going to inject him with that stuff?" I asked, incredulous.
John smiled as Dominic answered, "They have better medicine than we do. They know how to take care of their friends."
Oh, I had a LOT to say to that, but in deference to the man who had just risked suicide, I kept it to myself.
I could hear footsteps as my lieutenant and sergeant approached. They stood as the officer spoke.
"You have twenty minutes before Bravo platoon arrives. Lieutenant Steicher, the 'Alpha Officer', doesn't like it, but there were no Sworders here. Reports were erroneous. A small team of Dragoncrest were present, but left after minor skirmishing. Its inexplicable as to how such a misidentification could take place." He stood at attention and solemnly saluted. Sarge did likewise.
"Donneson," he said, as they turned to leave.
I looked questioningly at Dominic. "Go with God, Geoffrey," he said to me. I got up and rejoined my line.
It never occurred to me to wonder how he knew my name.
.
LS~LS~LS~LS~LS~LS
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The Sworders were on the planet for another month, though we never saw them again. They left when another Sworder ship jumped in system and ran a Dragonstar raid to retrieve them. No Imperials were injured in the rescue.
We never saw hide nor hair of the Dragoncrests after that encounter. The only thing command could figure was that they left with the Sworders. To say this possibility was worrisome would belittle their reaction.
Our lieutenant made no attempt to explain the presence of Sworder bullets at Turgon Heights. He stuck to his story, even after an ISS debriefing, and no one contradicted him. He and Lt. Steicher received Command Stars for the encounter.
ArgosyIII was annexed by the Imperium, citing the lack of a proper corporate presence during the crisis. Within a generation, the Danakota Group was reduced to Surrogate level.
I stayed with Starfleet Infantry for another two years before I left, via a Seven-Swords extraction. The same mission also liberated my lieutenant and sergeant. Although we never worked together again, we did stay in touch. And the names of Dun Kincaid and Carrol MacReade joined the ranks of heroes.
I eventually did meet up with Dominic Regent again; in 2191 he welcomed me into the White Legion.
Geoffrey Donneson
White Sword TARGA
19 May, 2349 – Rhand
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LS~LS~LS~LS~LS~LS
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A/N: Transcribed in loving memory of Edward Kammert, who penned this work between July 12 and 18, 1996.