The still air hung in the hallways like a ghost clinging to its former life. A life of masculinity, of showing off. Of sharing porn and booze and smokes. Of playing jokes on one another, and stealing bath towels. Barracks life... with men.
These halls would be quiet for sometime, I thought. The marines, the support personnel... Many of them were dead right now. It wasn't anything new to me, I had been around for more then a few years worth of soldiers. Somehow, I had managed to avoid being injured seriously. Up until now. I suppose the same could be true for my selfishness. I avoided it up until now. Avoided it like I was told to.
"No more," I whispered to myself as I fastened a cloak around me. The halls were chilly at night. And as for me in my present condition, my body wasn't strong enough to generate heat to stay warm against it. Not after an hour and a half ago... Being run through with a spine. The closeness of that death chilled my soul. Not because I was afraid to die, but because I was afraid of losing her...
"Amy..." The name came forth as it was summoned. As if it was the password to the gates that lie ahead, in life or death. It was the name of the path before me, and the end of the path behind me.
I had taken all of my letters from Amy, my med-kit, which I had restocked, and replacement eye for when I had time to mend myself. My uniform was hidden beneath a jacket and the cloak I had just fastened. I had a small amount of currency with me, though I didn't expect to need it. My pistol was attached to my leg once more, and my stolen gun hung beneath my cloak. Two clips and a canteen were fastened to my belt. And the spine that had pierced me, I had that in my boot.
And like that, I disappeared down the hallway. I dropped the letter I had written for Amy in the mail offices. No one was there. I stamped it with the security stamp over the envelope's seal and set it in the outbound mail receptacle. And I was gone from there, too.
All the way to the main gate, there was no life. Not much had changed since I had walked through. Even the guard was the same... The guard knew my face... He had seen me come in. My thoughts rolled back to the medic motto of "Do no harm". There wasn't much to think about however, the very men I heal would turn around and stab me in the back at a moments notice. I approached the desk of the gate man and looked up into his eyes.
"You aren't due out for three hours or so, Williams. Something going on?" The guard asked me. I smiled back.
"I got a private report there was infectious organisms near the barracks, I've been asked to immunize the guards." I replied, lying through my teeth. It didn't matter, the guards were stupid. Not because I said so, but because I knew so. The mind-bending agents they are given to promote their growth destroys their thinking capacity entirely.
"I never received that report, Williams." Oh, so he's a smart one? I turned away from the desk and made to begin walking away.
"I said it was private. Your grave mate." I took a step before he stopped me. He was standing up, his eyes looking at me intently.
"I'm sorry Ma'am, I didn't mean it that way. Please?" He rolled up his sleeve and stuck out his arm. I turned around and unfastened my med-pack. Taking out a syringe, I filled it with a clear liquid from one of my many containers.
"Thank you for being a good sport." I plunged the needle into his arm and injected the sleeping drugs. The man promptly fell to the floor. I had given him five doses too many. "Sorry, I don't have the option to be selfless anymore."
I drew the spine from my boot into my gloved hand. It glimmered in the dim light, the razor sharp point still coated with my own blood. "Ironic the way this worked out. The spine that saved my life once, will save it again. Sorry bud, you'll be happier in the darkness."
It was over the instant the spine pierced his heart, through to the other side. I got up before the blood begin to seep around the wound, and stepped behind the desk to verify that security maintenance was slacking off again. Yup, the cameras were off line still. It would have been okay if they were working too though, I would have just needed to torch the computers in one of the back rooms. If it was one thing I had over these brutish marines, it was intelligence.
Feeling like a psychotic killer now, I knew it was time to leave. I opened the gates and walked into the chilly evening air. It always amazed me how fast the air cooled. While on our neighbor planet during some intensive training, the air always held a balanced temperature. Amy told me once it was because of the oceans.
Lights could be seen in the distance. Headlights even. A green flare was going off in the distance. Apparently, the Confederacy had won this battle. And if they did actually win, that might just be the end of the Zerg infestation on this planet. We had them cornered against a mesa, their last hatchery. If that's the case, we should be seeing cleanup crews coming through soon enough to neutralize the toxins.
"Doesn't bode well for me I guess, one way or another." If they are done fighting, the Confederacy may wind up looking for me if they see through my plans. I wasn't the best at strategy, I wasn't the smartest. There were people out their smarter then me. Like Amy. Yes, she was smarter then me. By a lot.
I hurried along my way. The lone road out to the barracks was just that: lonely. In the early hours of night, the only people along it were the drunkards from the pubs. But not tonight. Half of them must have been lifeless piles in the desert. Any normal person would shudder, I know. But I don't shudder. I'm not squeamish. I've been told I have the stomach of a battle cruiser. Not that that makes much sense, but I don't really care right now. Just me and this lonesome night.
And Amy, I remind myself. Somewhere... There is Amy. Wondering about me, worried about me, dreaming about me. I like it when she worries a little about me and lets me know in her letters. I like it when she wishes for my very best and quick return from each scuffle. Though, I guess it's fair to say, I like everything about her.
Speaking of which, I haven't seen Amy in God-knows how long. It must have been nearing four years now. But every week... In her letters... I saw her heart. She hid it very well, but she had too. But every week, I would read her letter, and know that her soul was still alive. Still fighting. Still wanting something good. And speaking of God-knows, I have no idea where the term came from. Strange isn't it? I can use the term and not know where it came from.
Though I could say that about love too. I haven't really experienced it in its entirety yet. All I know is that my heart tells me it's wonderful. Beautiful, vivid, comforting. I know all these things to be true, because now that my feelings are straight, I feel these things mildly in my chest. And with each step closer to Amy, the girl I could truly say I would die for, these feelings grow stronger.
The blood I put back into myself before I dressed up flowed through my veins easily. My muscles were strong again, having what amounted to fluid in a hydraulic device. Each step happened in rhythm to the tune of freedom. I would need to get some food from the Colony hub tonight, but with that and a bit of stimulants from my med-pack, I would be capable of walking all night to Colony 21. I would dare not risk transport. Being the only medic in the area, the soldiers knew me by face.
"You have an eye missing." It was a funny thing to say to myself, but it was true. I did have an eye missing. I plucked it out shortly after deciding my plans. It oozed a little, so I set some nano-machines to in it to cauterize the vessels. They did a nice job. Once I get a few hours of free time, I will stick in an electronic one and calibrate it. I'll even have it match my natural eye color of green. It went nicely with my bleach white hair. Don't ask me how, but the scientists managed to give me white hair with a bit of gene manipulation when I was born. It was short right now, though I couldn't remember when it was long to begin with.
My feet fell upon the ground, one after another. My mind was occupying itself with weird subjects now. I was hidden away in a cloak with guns strapped to me and I just killed a man with a spine that was once in my chest, shot from a hydralisk that is probably dead right now. Oh, and I'm missing an eye and I have a partially-healed hole through my chest. And I'm on a mission to find Amy and make love to her while I remain a fugitive to the Confederacy. Did I mention I am self-entertaining?
"Well, I am!" I shouted to myself, into the black air. The dim stars overhead lit the road I walked upon, but that was all I could see, besides the lights of the city ahead. It was eight miles to this one, and then from there, twenty miles to Colony 21.
Amy of course occupied my mind the rest of the way. It wasn't long before I was in the hustle and bustle of the night life. Drunks, rapists, and thugs. It was swell. Really. I hastily purchased some rations from a small food mart, and continued on my way. Noticing the lowlifes around me were becoming thicker as I passed through the interior of the city, I loaded a syringe with some of my fancy sleeping drugs and kept the device hidden in my cloak. I am Serra, the syringe serial killer. Beware.
It was at this point of my raving fantasies that I wondered if all the meds I injected into myself were having some negative impact on my character. I suppose it didn't matter. It helped me pass the time.
..x.x.X.x.x..
The star was beginning to rise, warming me slightly as I passed through the outer gates of Colony 21. Soldiers were hustling around, their daily exercise had just began. My exercise was just coming to an end. All ten hours of it.
I looked to the city as it came to life. It was much nicer then where I had come from. Law enforcement was in effect pretty well. I knew I would have to stay low today, so I sought out a small pub. When I arrived finally at the door, the star's light was fully on the city.
I knocked on the door until the keeper answered. He was a gruff, old man. Seen a lot of fights you could say, I suppose. He looked at me carefully, and I looked back at him, with all one of my eyes.
"Com' in."
I stepped in quickly, and he closed the door behind me. The bar was musty and used. Liquor stains on the floor, next to blood stains. The smell of smoke and booze and poor hygiene dominated my thoughts, but I ignored it.
"Wha' can I do fer ya lass?" He spoke evenly, as if he knew what my situation was already. His eyes looked at me, old and soft. He had been through many trials.
"I need a place to stay the day." The man looked at me, expecting more. "To sleep. I need sleep." I added quickly.
"Looks like tha' wound's fresh, lass. Yer eye." He made a motion to point at his own eye. I smiled.
"You wouldn't believe me, but a chunk of bone took it right out. Soldier's skull flicked right into it. Hurt like hell until I found the strength to med myself." I could tell my eyes were shining. I was proud of that story. The story not more then a day old. The man smiled back at me.
"I believe ya, I was on the field once. Medic even." He grinned. "Laugh at me if ya want, I was the best damned man medic ou' there though."
"No no, medic is a noble line of work." My smiled turned down slightly at those words, I had broken the do no harm rule. I wasn't noble anymore. The man caught this, I knew, but he didn't speak immediately.
"Lass, I know yer predicamen'. I ran away. Ran far an' wide, to my Mother. Bless 'er soul. She was sick, but no doctor would come fer 'er. Anyways, I'm sure ya get wha' I'm get'in at." I nodded, and finding myself in a seemingly safe environment, my body began to sag. Sleep depravation was catching up to me. "Here here lass, righ' this way."
He lead me into the basement, though he didn't stop there. He opened a hidden door in the wall, and lead me through to a very small room, the walls of which where lined with medicine, and in the middle of it all was an old cot.
"This is my stash, I trea' the poor. They never see this room though. Always done upstairs. Here, please lie down lass. 'Let you be and wake ya at star-set." And with that, he disappeared, closing the secret door behind him as he left.
Well, he was a medic alright. He was kind and understanding at that. Currently very comfortable with the idea that I would be safe here, I lay face up on the cot after removing the things attached to my back. The sub-machine gun however stayed on my chest.
"Amy..." I whispered to myself as I fell asleep moments later.
..x.x.X.x.x..
I was awoken by the noisy stomping upstairs. Like someone had let lose a bucket of marbles on the floor, and they never stomped bouncing. It must have been eight or so, when the soldiers were allowed to leave the barracks for the night.
I took several breaths in, exhaling them slowly. I looked around the room, remembering where I was. The spine, the walking, the barkeep... Amy. The angel of my heart. She had brought me this far. She had given me the strength to live another day. To crawl out of that accursed desert and have another chance at life. To make it better.
Soldiers upstairs? The sudden thought I might be recognized as I left the pub was unsettling. My mind was quickly coming back on track after the long sleep... It was gearing up for a long night of travel. If I walked, I could get to Colony 13 tonight. It was 40 miles away.
"Chill Serra, chill." I told myself. My mind was bouncing around subjects way to fast. "I need to get out of here first." I leaned up in the cot, slid my legs over, and stood up quickly. One might expect me to be dizzy, but nope, not me. My blood was running quickly already. Running with the thoughts of getting out of this pub, this city. Running with the thought I would be in Amy's arms in short time.
Amy... I couldn't stop thinking about her. I was tempted right then and there to reread her last letter, but I knew... Every minute was precious. Every minute I wait is a minute the Confederacy has to find me. That is, if they are looking. They may very well think I died. And if that's the case, I'm as good as buried on the battlefield, the resting place of most medics.
The men upstairs would be troublesome if they looked at me, or stopped me. If they poked at me, it would be easy to see I was armed. And if the saw my med-kit, it would be easy to see I was a medic. I didn't know what to do. I decided to wing it.
After gathering my things and tightening my cloak, I pulled my hood over my head and went into the basement. No one was there of course, and I closed the secret door gently. I made my way softly up the stairs to the back hallway I had come through. The barkeep looked around the corner, hearing my faint steps. He smiled at me, and winked.
So, this was the way it was going to be? He had a plan already and then we would part our ways? I wondered how often he had done this before, but before long I side-tracked to the idea of leaving him some money. I bent down and deposited a bit on the step behind me, and while he still watched, he nodded his head in understanding, then turned back to a drunk customer with an empty mug. I stepped forward, just barely out of view of the men.
"Quiet down ya lot, I need a favor dun," The gruff old man was pounding an empty mug into a wooden surface. Men talked amiably in the back of the room, drunk as all hell, I knew. "Hey Edwards, shut yer yapper or I'm cuttin' you off!" The barkeep pounded his mug again. The rowdy room was silent.
"What is it Clancy? Not one of your stories again is it?" A soldier replied, and the room chuckled at once.
"You watch yerself Tibbits, I ain't jokin' with any of ya." The barkeep took a breath. "If ya' all want this pub open any longer, ya'll take the landlord's courier to where they need ta go." The mug landed soundly on the wood, and remained still.
"I'll do it Clanc'"
"Yer drunk Robins, I wanna level head." The barkeep was doing a good job for me. He sounded almost like he was having fun... It was time for me to be selfish, I told myself.
I stepped into the thick air of the main room, and the heads turned to me now. I smiled a cold smile, my mouth showing, yet the rest of me masked with darkness. The cloak and the gun beneath it helped to mask my gender even, as it almost made my chest look flat. Serra, mysterious syringe serial killer. "There be the courier now. No questions."
The dim light made it easy to stare at the men with anonymity. I strode through the still room, driving my boots into the floor to make sure they all heard the sound in their drunken ears. I eyed a few men, but their faces spoke tales of plastering.
"These men are drunk as hell, Clancy." I spoke in the deepest tones of my natural voice. Still feminine, but it sounded hard. Unforgiving. I thought back to the moment after I had slain the guard at the barracks. Yes, that kind of hard. It was easy to recall. No one forgets murder. A couple men stirred under my voice. One of them was sitting next to me, a grin on his face. I turned to him, and stared at him from under the hood for several tense moments. This was a battle of the mind, and he, the victim, grew uneasy under my stare. His comrades were looking at him. Of this, he was plainly aware.
"You're lucky you have two," I growled with a startling amount of hate in my voice. "You know, it's not much different getting around with one." I bent low, and tilted my head up. So he could see. See my empty socket. See me blink the lids open and closed, making the disturbing noise of raw flesh slapping against raw flesh. The man recoiled from me, the dim atmosphere amplifying the appearance ten fold. I looked away from him and stood up.
"Get Simmons," The man I had stared back at with death in my lone eye called from behind me. No one moved. He turned around to face his men. "Hell you can hear, get Simmons!" Feet shuffled behind me, and the front door could be heard swinging open and close as they filed out to find this man named Simmons.
"Clancy, I trust you'll take care of these men once I leave. They are good boys. Don't let the war get to them." I spoke, smiling from under the hood to the barkeep as I spoke in the cold voice I had just found within myself. He smiled at me.
"Be my pleasure, lass. I trust you will stop by again?" He meant it too, I knew it. The boys would be talking about this one in their bunks for a week to come. Of the courier maiden and her voice of steel.
"If I am treated properly." Another pair of footsteps left the pub. I turned to face the exit of the building as the door swung shut once more. "It is rare to find caliber among men. Men that appreciate the arts."
"Aye, lass."
I strode from barkeep, and the soldiers, my boots pounding the floor. The men, smoking and drinking silently around me, watched me leave. Their eyes, looking at me with wondrous lust and drunken divinity, told me the secrets of their shallow needs. I suppose it didn't matter, I could have guessed. The pub door swung behind me, closing.
The men that had left the performance were lined up outside, a standard issue military vehicle behind them. A clean faced man stepped forward, his eyes sharp. His jaw rigid. He saluted me.
"First Sergeant Simmons, at your service, Ma'am." He moved perfectly, the practiced rhythm of military service was apparent in every last muscle. "Right this way." I was lead around to the passenger seat, he opened the door, and offered to help me in. I declined with a wave of my hand. He was a nice man, but a cold-faced courier would never ask for a help up. He closed the door behind me, and walked around to the driver's seat.
"Who was it that I had that nice conversation with?" I asked coldly. The man that I showed my eye came forward. "Who are you?"
"2nd Lieutenant Steven Mastella, 21st Colony First Division," He replied promptly.
"I was never here, Mastella." His eyes shot open in understanding, he has just given me the one thing I needed to end his life. A name. His expression lost its neutrality, and became mildly contorted in the evening light.
"Yes Ma'am."
I turned back to Simmons, satisfied. "Drive. The destination will be revealed if you survive five minutes."
"Yes Ma'am."
It was good to be the Queen.