CHAPTER 6
Review Corner:
Ulquiorra9000: In the novels, mechwarriors are often accomplished martial artists and hand-to-hand combatants too. I usually describe a mechwarrior having some basic fighting skill. He doesn't have to be Jeremy Stewart who brings katana wherever he goes (:LOL:) but at least he can defend himself if attacked.
The Colonel: Yes, the moment will come. Soon. Very soon.
Strantor Military Academy,
Strantor, Lyran Alliance,
November 3, 3073
The zip ties bit into Noloty's flesh, creating much discomfort whenever she moved her arms. She tried to twist her wrists free, but the miserable thing 'rewarded' her effort by getting tighter and tighter, to the point she stopped struggling. The Lyran mechwarriors escorted her out of the Daimyo and forced her to kneel on the ground, next to two surviving members of the Kuritan company. Apparently those were the mechwarriors who ejected when their battlemechs were shot down.
"Don't say anything to them," Noloty whispered hoarsely. "I'm the ranking officer. I'll find a way to spare you."
"They're gonna torture you," one of them spoke with trembling voice. "Then they're gonna torture us. We'll die a horrible death in the hands of the Lyrans."
"Nobody will die miserably," Noloty tried to hide her fear from the other Kuritans. The curse of a commanding officer was to instill courage and composure in his subordinates, even when he himself was scared to death. "We are prisoners of war. We are protected by Geneva Convention. Be still and don't say anything. I'll find a way to get you out of here."
Across the field the Lyrans were cleaning up the mess. Battlemechs scattered littered the vast training fields. Some were still identifiable, others were left burning heap of scrap. The academy buildings were mostly intact, with the exceptions of the power generator, a few HPG uplinks, and the main mech hangars. JI-50 and JI-100 mech recovery vehicles dragged salvageable parts from every corner of the field. VTOLs buzzed like flies, looking for survivors, and ambulance trucks loitered about, carrying the dead and the injured to the hospital.
The red-haired mechwarrior, the one went by 'Lane', helped coordinating the paramedics, while the dark-haired mechwarrior talked to the sapper team in the recovery vehicles. The mechwarrior of the Uziel, a purple-haired girl, and the mechwarrior of the Cougar, a guy with red headband, now took charge of the POWs. Noloty tried not to make eye contact with the purple-haired mechwarrior, but she killed Enrique, Noloty's friend, commander, mentor, and one-time lover. She couldn't help shooting venomous glare at the girl from time to time. The purple-haired girl caught it, but didn't say anything. She just stood in the distance, with her automatic gun at the ready.
Lane called somebody from his comset, then briefed his lance mates. They coaxed the POWs to walk toward a building. The Lyrans took them to a room to meet a man in Lyran officer uniform. Noloty recognized him as Kommandant Ras Farlow, the man she was supposed to kill. How ironic it was, to find her life in the hands of someone whose life was supposed to be in her hands. Noloty could laugh at that, if the situation were different.
"Who are you?" Ras Farlow's voice was cold as ice.
Noloty stared down at her own boots. The other Kuritans followed her example.
"My name is Kommandant Ras Farlow, commanding officer of the Striking Tigers. I want to know who you are, who in charge, what your objective is, and how many others are coming to Strantor."
Noloty kept quiet, until a girl with dark hair entered the room. She whispered something to Ras Farlow, but Noloty could pick up a few words off her dainty voice. "…Kuritans..."
"Thank you, Sayuri," Ras Farlow looked at the POW one by one. "Kuritans. What does DCMS want, deep inside Lyran Alliance?" When nobody answered him, he signaled the mechawarrior with red headband. The man went outside and returned with a chair and a long rope. Lane and the dark hair mechwarrior grabbed one of Noloty's men, stripped his cooling vest, and tied him on the chair.
"I do not believe in torture, but I want information," Ras thundered. "Deny me, and you will get hurt."
Noloty stole a glance at his lance mate, and the fear in his eyes melted her resistance. "We are prisoners of war," she finally spoke. "Under Geneva Convention you are committing a war crime."
"Then court martial me, after I get all information," Ras turned to Noloty. "Are you the CO?"
"You killed the CO," Noloty replied, shooting a nasty stare at the purple-haired girl. "I'm second in command. Heishi Noloty Malche, Draconis Combine."
"Why are you here, far removed from DCMS fighting arms?" Ras said. "What is your objective?"
"Let go of the other two. They are but soldiers. They don't know anything."
"You are not in a position to negotiate, Heishi Noloty. Tell me what I want to know and I guarantee you and your men will be treated humanely. Resist, and your subordinates will beg you to tell me what you know. And when you come to that point, some things are already irreversible."
Noloty would rather die before betraying her country. She was not afraid of death. But the Lyrans would not just kill her. They would squeeze every bit of information off her through torture. She was not prepared to handle grisly situation like this. She did not have the heart to see men under her command suffer. They were just teenagers, who dreamt of big things like purging the Word of Blake, but ended up in the wrong side of the war. She would do anything to save her lance mates.
However, could she live with herself if she willingly cooperated with the Lyrans? Wouldn't that be treason, even for the sake of the lives of her lance mates? Would Ras Farlow be true to his words, to treat her and her lance mates with respect if she revealed the nature of her mission? The commander had the pride of a lion, but she would never know what kind of hyena lurking behind his rectitude.
Before she could make up her mind, the door blasted open and a few men barged in. The majority of them were teenagers, just like Noloty. The leader, however, was a burly middle-aged man with malice bleeding from his eyes. He observed the room like he owned the entire facility, then went straight to Ras Farlow while his men boxed in the Striking Tigers.
"We'll take it from here, Kommandant Farlow," the burly man said haughtily.
"These are my prisoners, Kommandant Nachtschatten!" Ras Farlow growled. "My men captured them in the battlefield, in which I do not recall seeing you!"
"Don't forget your place, Kommandant Farlow!" the burly man called Nachtschatten traded barb with Ras Farlow. He was half a head shorter but twice as broad as the Striking Tigers leader. "You are a guest at Strantor. Everything you have here is provided by Strantor Academy. You have no claim of anything that happens at Strantor ground. We take the prisoners."
"I will not allow you to take them!" Ras didn't buckle under pressure. "I will handle the prisoners. You can have them after I'm done, providing Archon Peter finds it acceptable."
"You think you can strong-arm me with your collusion with Archon Peter? I don't give a damn who you answer to! You are on Strantor ground, and I am the CO of Strantor Training Cadre. The prisoners are mine!"
"Step away from the prisoners!" the mechwarrior with the red headband stepped up.
One of Nachtschatten's men drew his sidearm and pointed it at the mechwarrior with red headband. Ras made a move to draw his gun, but found himself at the gunpoint of three men. The rest of Nachtschatten's men took out their guns and pointed them at the heads of the Striking Tigers.
"This is madness!" Ras gritted his teeth.
"Madness? This is Strantor!" Nachtschatten bellowed. His breath was hot on Ras' face. "It's sad that a smart guy like you can only communicate with guns and violence on the table. But that's why we are called 'warriors' in the first place, isn't it? The only language we speak is weapons!"
"You will hear from Archon Peter!" Ras gained his composure. His voice was calm, but his eyes emitted firestorm. "I will make it my business that you are removed from your current position!"
"Bring in his brother Victor and his in-law Tancred as well!" Nachtschatten snapped his fingers, and his men sheathed their guns. "Get the prisoners!"
A few men pushed Noloty and the other Kuritans out of the room, and out of the building. The men dragged them at gunpoint, forcing them to march at half-a-jog speed with hands tied behind their backs, until they reached a barrack of some sort. They climbed down a stairway to a cold, dark, damp, stuffy area underground. Somebody turned on the light, and Noloty could see a large wooden table with chains and shackles attached to it. More chains and shackles hung from the ceilings. Various sharp objects littered the ground.
Suddenly Noloty felt very, very scared.
Two men cut Noloty's zip ties and stripped her in rapid succession. They removed her cooling vest, shorts, and combat boots, then heaved her up the wooden table. Two more men shackled her ankles to the table. Then they pulled her back until her legs were stretched. They spread her arms behind her back, using them to uncomfortably prop her body, then shackled her wrists to the table.
The other two Kuritans were also stripped naked, but they were just shackled by the wrists and hung until their feet were off the floor. Their groans and gasping breaths filled the dark room, adding suspense to the already ghastly chamber.
The room was chilly but Noloty was sweating bullets from sheer fright. She sat exposed, helpless, with dozens of eyes already fondling every inch of her skin. The last man to see her curves without clothing was Enrique, and he treated her with respect. His gaze caressed her chocolate skin with passion, unlike the lewd stare the Lyran trainees threw at her. The only thing keeping them from ravaging her was Nachtschaffen, but his malevolent stare gave her an insight of the horror that was yet to come. She couldn't help but to whimper.
"As you might have heard, I am the head of Strantor Training Cadre," Nachtschatten came by the table. His fingers traced the outlines of Noloty's bare toes, lingering at the soft underside where her toes met her feet. "I teach my students every aspects of war, including interrogation. That is actually my specialty." He pinched the padding on her toes, forcing her to gasp. "Lucky me you Kuritans present yourselves for the treatment. You will make perfect subjects for training."
"This is war crime!" Noloty writhed and squirmed to find a comfortable position. She tugged mightily at the chain, but there was not enough room to do anything. "Let the other ones go! They don't know anything!"
"I like the little spark in the advent of agony, but it won't help you," Nacthschatten chuckled. "Now let's start with today's lesson. Who sent you?"
"Queen Himiko of Yamatai," Noloty hissed. "She knows about your torture shop, and she wants it gone."
A cold, sharp thing stabbed Noloty's soft sole. She yelped, but clenched her jaws to deny Nactschatten the satisfaction. She pulled her legs toward her chest, but the chain kept her feet in place.
"Peachy, isn't it?" the burly man snickered. "Let's see if you are as cute as you talk!"
"Kill me!" Noloty strained to speak amidst the increasing urge to scream.
"Oh, I will. I just want to know who sent you so I can send your head back to him when I'm done."
"Do what you want with me, but let the others go..."
The sharp thing drove deeper into Noloty's flesh, and her body started buckling. Her eyes shut and her legs trembled. Her breaths came in short gasps. Tears welled up in her lids. Still, she refused to scream.
"Stay strong Noloty!" one of the Kuritans yelled his support. Immediately a Strantor trainee took a birch rod and flogged the Kuritan by his ribcage. The sound of spiky twigs tearing through flesh seized the room, surpassed only by the bloodcurdling scream of the mechwarrior.
"Let them go, you bastards!" Noloty squirmed wretchedly. Suddenly her torture stood pale in comparison with what the other two Kuritans went through. "They have nothing to do with everything!"
Another thing slithered between her toes, and this time Noloty couldn't control her body any longer. A mad fit of sobbing escaped her lips, as her head trashed from side to side, trying to process the sensation coming from down below. Her back bucked as far as the chain would allow. Sweat and tears mixed together in her face.
"It's been a long time since a specimen as exquisite as you came to my table," Nachtschatten hovered over Noloty. He traced a finger from Noloty's chin down to her neck, and between her heaving breasts. "It's a shame to see everything go to waste, but I do what I must to get what I want." He whispered in Noloty's ear, "And I always get what I want!"
"Don't give him anything, Noloty!" one of the Kuritan mechwarriors groaned weakly. "We are ready to die in the name of Draconis Combine! Courage and honor to the death!" But as soon as he stopped, the Lyrans scourged him, as if punishing him for speaking out of turn. His tormented scream bounced from wall to wall.
Noloty didn't know if honor had anything to do with everything. She didn't even know if she was fighting for DCMS. The Black Dragon Society put her in this situation, and the more she pondered, the more she was convinced that everything would come to waste. She was on her own, well behind enemy lines, carrying an order DCMS didn't give and The Black Dragon Society wouldn't admit. Still, was it a reason for her to regurgitate the nature of her mission? To an immoral individual like Nachtschatten?
"We're just mechwarriors," she mustered everything she had left to reason with the Lyrans. "We don't know anything…"
"Who sent you?" Nachtschatten forcefully grabbed her jaw and turned her head towards him.
"Let the others go. I'll give you what you want."
The sharp tool dragged harshly across her soles, from the ball of her feet to the edge of her heels, while the bristly thing flitted in between her toes. Noloty was losing her mind. She clenched her toes to protect her soles the only way she could, but the Lyrans mercilessly pried them open to keep the foul objects inflicting great agony upon her naked soles. Her abs and leg muscles cramped from trying to free herself from the restraint, only to find it fruitless. Her lungs were burning from all the crying and screaming, begging for her own skin to have mercy on her.
Weakened and unable to speak, Noloty looked into the eyes of her tormentor in a vain attempt to find a merciful, compassionate warrior. But she saw only a madman, gripped by such perversion to see her trashing and writhing in the throes of agony. Long after her mind shattered, Noloty's body reached the limit of her endurance. She fell into a bottomless well.
