Rescue...Of another Sort
David Lee
Blackrazor@rogers.comThe lone warrior stole through the darkness, hidden under the heavy blanket of night. His slim figure was bulked out in smooth, jade green armor. Red eyes glinted in the scarcely visible moonlight. The warrior flexed the fingers of his ornate power glove, then dashed through the remnants of woodlands, his feet barely touching the ground. He crouched behind a small moss-covered boulder, then sighted the fluorescent lights illuminating the Imperial garrison gates enclosing the large barracks. The green-clad intruder crouched low to the ground and quickly closed the distance to the side wall of the battlements. Upon reaching the far wall, he glanced up, measuring the height of the obstacle. Fifteen meters, the warrior estimated. Taking one quick, barely noticeable breath, he leapt. Soaring upwards, he quickly grabbed onto the battlements, then performed a perfect midair somersault, and landed on the ramparts without a sound.
A few Imperial guardsmen sat together on one of the corners of the ramparts, laughing and talking. One grasped a bright lantern, forcing the darkness away from their faces. "So I yelled, shove THIS up yer slugga!" one soldier joked, taking another puff from his cigarette. The two others laughed along with him. "Say, Bobby, did you hear the one about the----*hhuukk*" The soldier was cut short when he collapsed to the ground, a razor-sharp disc lodged in his throat. Blood began to seep out of the wound as the fallen guardsman continued to choke and sputter. The other two soldiers quickly raised their lasguns and looked around, panic-stricken. From one direction, a single flash could be seen, as they both fell at the same time, literally perforated by metal discs. One more flash, then the lantern shattered, concealing the bodies in darkness.
"Filthy mon-keigh." The voice uttered with disdain, and then the green-armored warrior sped off down the rampart again.
The main barracks was filled with life as soldiers took time off from their rigorous duties. Smoke hung in the air as men laughed, played cards, or generally put their feet up and relaxed. A few barred windows were situated near the tops of the walls. A pair of red slits glanced inside.
"Hey, did ya hear about our new prisoner? A real important alien digneeetary, they say..."
"Damn aliens, hope it gets what it deserves..."
"Naw, I hear they're bargaining 'er for some weeepons or somethin'..."
"It's a 'she'?"
" 'S what I heard..."
"Wow, thought they were all ugly lookin' freaks 'r somethin'...Hey, ya know if she's hot?"
"Yer sick, Mullins, real sick..."
"What?! Can't blame me fer askin'!"
"No. I can't."
"Yeah, that's what I...HEY! What th' hell's that s'posed ta mean!" The other man had no chance to respond as the Eldar warrior smashed through the window with his power claw, incinerating the bars and fusing the shards of glass on contact. He leapt down from the window, the shuriken catapult mounted on the claw blazing with monomolecular edged death. Five guardsmen died before he landed. The green-armored warrior was resplendent in his ornate and elaborately decorated armor. Two large, gold cylinder-shaped contraptions were mounted on either side of his elongated helmet. An exotic-looking power claw fitted on his right hand hummed with a hazy blue field of energy. Several equally strange-looking weapons, including a massive black chainsword were strapped around his back and waist. An icon of a silhouette of a scorpion hung on his chest plate.
Time seemed to hang for half a second, as the Striking Scorpion looked around the stunned barracks, then the carnage began. His power claw moved in a blur as he dispatched each enraged guardsman with a swipe to the head. Six died before the rest of the soldiers formed a circle around the Eldar warrior. Three guardsmen attacked him at the same time, yelling obscenities. The Scorpion jumped and smashed the heel of his boot into the face one, then twisted in midair and broke the second's jaw with a back kick. Landing on the ground, he swept his claw around in a short arc, instantly killing the third. The next one and a half seconds were silence. Each guardsman quickly snatched up a lasgun and levelled it at the Eldar. Before the first shot was fired the Striking Scorpion backflipped out of circle of guardsmen, tossing a brass, oblong-shaped object into it at the same time. He dove for the closest piece of furniture, a small desk, and ducked. A bright flash and a bang, then all was silent. The smoke hung even heavier in the room now filled with the stench of burnt flesh and plasma.
The Eldar warrior walked into the adjacent room, finding a dead guard and a small, dark metal confinement inside. He opened the door, and found his target.
The Seer sat cross-legged on the floor facing him, her hands outstretched in front of her, glowing pale blue. The glowing red slits of the warrior peered at her.
"Spiritseer Iyanna, Iyanden still has use of you," he said, as if he were chastising a child. His voice sounded like a hundred speaking at slightly different intervals, creating a magnificent echo. Iyanna Arienal stood up, smiling in the darkness.
"Thank you, Lord Karandras," she replied, and stood up. "I was planning my own escape." Karandras glanced back at the dead jail guard, and saw his eyes were blank. The seer smoothed out her glittering robes, as many thin strands of energy played about her sleeves. The Phoenix Lord led her out of the confinement, and unshouldered a dull-coloured spear and handed it to her. As Iyanna gripped the weapon the blade instantly flared a brilliant green. She smiled.
"We must move quickly, Spiritseer," Karandras warned. "Mon-keigh approach." Iyanna nodded, then both quickly fleeted out of the Imperial outpost as a loud siren began to sound.
By David Lee
October 16, 2000