Chapter 7: The Dance of Anger
Anger is a signal, and one worth listening to.
Harriet Lerner, The Dance of Anger, 1985
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The Perseid name was Fohn and he was thinking of another Flash doze. The one awaiting him after this whole wicked thing is over. The doze and the money. He already knew what he'll do with all the credits. Half for the Flash, the other half…
No. After all, he was trying to quit. Let's say one third for the Flash, the other two thirds for the cruise. A personal reward.
It's been a while since he last operated on a human. They had weird physiology. The holo projectors did help, layering the body map onto the unconscious woman. The holo heart was beating strongly. Fohn took the laser scalpel from his 'tool box' and set the desirable cut depth.
He saw his employer's face twitch.
"Don't worry," he said reassuringly, placing the tip of the device on the woman's stomach, below the navel. "There won't be any blood."
xXx
Harper stopped suddenly, dragging Trance with him as he was holding her arm to steady himself. Dylan and Rhade turned simultaneously, now facing Harper.
"There," the engineer did not gesticulate, just pointed with the movement of his chin. "The big one."
The big one, as Harper described, was pushing through the curious crowd, not paying much attention to his surroundings. Armed—the two belts with ammunition did not go unnoticed—and definitely dangerous. But too confident. Like most Nietzscheans, Rhade thought. Only this one is a human.
"We follow," ordered Dylan. "How many there were on the Maru, again?"
"I counted five," Harper said with a slight hesitation in his voice. "But there might have been more."
More. It didn't matter, really. They were already dead.
xXx
Fohn finished in no time. He was really proud of himself. All he had to do now was patch the human up. He didn't ask questions and he didn't care much about his work. This patient of his was not supposed to die. At least not at the very moment.
His employer took the container. The artificial womb.
People would buy anything these days.
What a universe.
xXx
Angus closed the door behind him and looked at the men he worked with. He preferred to work alone, but they did come in handy when that blonde bitch started shooting. Not his kind of woman, definitely. He liked his women submissive, preferably scared. And dead, but afterwards.
There were seven men, gathered in the large room that used to be some sort of a magazine. There were still spots on the walls where lines that held crates used to be secured. Further, behind another set of doors, the doctor and the boss were playing with the blonde bitch. Not to be disturbed.
"Brought us something, Angie?"
Angus thought of a few answers, but eventually settled for nothing. He grunted and paced slowly towards the other door. The one that was not supposed to be opened. The operation room, as the boss called it.
"A High-Guard junk just docked," he felt like explaining something to the band of morons he had to work with. "Messed up pretty bad."
"Must be, if it docked here!" noticed one man, Coll.
And then there was a ring at the door. Angus stopped.
"You ordered out?" asked the short, muscled one. Peter.
Coll was at the door, checking the visor. He turned around, beaming.
"Angie ordered out a girl!" he exclaimed.
"A girl? How does she look like?"
"Pretty little thing…A bit yellowish. Says she's lost."
"Lost? Riiiiiiiiight. Let her in, I'll find her."
"Maybe she's from that High-Guard ship?"
"I'll show her high guard. And my force lance. Know what I mean?"
Laughter. Angus sighed. Amateurs. What a bunch of libido driven amateurs…
Coll opened the door. "Come on in, swee-"
Angus did not need to look. He knew what the thud sound meant. Amateurs.
xXx
Rhade swirled around, his fist hitting the attacker on the chin, sending him flying to the wall. There was no visible sign of Beka, but he felt her smell—albeit faint—coming from behind the door. The door blocked by Harper's 'big guy'.
Harper and Trance hid behind a pillar, shooting at the assailants whenever possible. Rhade did not expect Trance to be so… fierce. Maybe that was not the best word to describe her now, but the only one that came to his mind. He always considered her a sort of a pacifist. The 'talk first, shoot later' type. Or rather 'just talk, never shoot' type. He had to revise the statement.
Dylan preferred hand-to-hand combat, it seemed. In the little pandemonium that broke lose, it was difficult to get a mark on someone, left alone shoot accurately. At one moment Rhade and Dylan froze back to back. There were three men left standing, including the big one at the door.
The big one, who finally decided to join in the party.
xXx
Angus never really liked Nietzscheans and now he had one of those dickheads beating up his men. Right, technically they were not his men. Still the prospect of killing a Nietz… Tempting. Very tempting.
It's not hard to shot a Nietz. Really, no challenge at all. Angus put away the gauss rifle and smiled.
xXx
"Dylan!"
Captain Hunt understood and ducked. The fist swung above his head, brushing the hair with a gust of wind. Dylan rolled on the ground, knocking down another attacker in the process. He kicked him in the chest, just to be sure he won't get up and turned to see how Rhade was doing.
Well. Not bad. Not bad at all.
His Nietzschean—Dylan kind of liked to think along that term—had the big guy's head locked against his own chest, evidently chocking him.
That was fast.
Reminded him of the times with Gaheris, where he didn't need to look out for his back. Gaheris was deadly when provoked. And he never hesitated—well, not until that fatal day. Dylan hoped that his friend had hesitated once. Before turning on him.
Even in the ever-present noise, Dylan heard the big guy's neck snap. A terrible, nauseating sound.
And suddenly there was no one to fight with, only the door.
Author's ramblings: Finally, some action. And we are getting closer to poor Beka. Just one door left now... And one chapter. (I'm leaving for the wekend, so the update will happen after Sunday. Sorry, no net in the woods.)
Thanks to the reviewers, You make me want to write more. (I have the whole story scripted out up to the final sentence, don't worry!)
Side note: I had a Trance/Gaheris dream tonight. Weird. Really, really weird...