Through the vomit and bile, he still tasted blood.
Beside the street, the blue-eyed husky crouched nose-down on hands and knees, shaking. He wore a green steel helmet that curved about the ear, green fatigues, pants tucked inside black combat boots; canteen, pistol, empty grenade straps at his waist. Name? Rank? His comrades call him 'Ice'. It'll do.
His rifle lay beside him, rainwater cascading around it. Normally, that would concern him.
There was blood on his muzzle. On his lips. In his throat.
Blood on his paws.
Delya sat in her room for several hours trying to figure out how she would get out to see her father again. She had tried to leave a short while after Drivet had left, but the guards refused to let her out. "Drivet doesn't want you at the fridona," was all they would tell her. What did 'fridona' mean? She had never heard the word. Was she a prisoner after all? The windows wouldn't open and the only door was guarded. She checked the door several times over the next hour and never found it unguarded.
After awhile the guards feed her, though it still wasn't enough to fill her up. Moping about the room she came upon her box of frena and ate two of the remaining pieces. Feeling her spirits lift she looked about the room and tried to figure out how to get free. Spotting the wand on the floor she walked over and picked it up. Stupid thing did nothing but sparkle, glow or make a small flame. Drivet had claimed that it could do much more, but he hadn't shown her how.
"Papa?" Where was she? Everything was dark. She could hear Papa though. She heard other men too. They all seemed to be arguing. Who was he talking to in the dark like this? Feeling along the wall she found a doorway leaking a faint light. Peering in she saw Papa along with the other men huddled around a table with a single candle.
Moving towards her Papa she tried to see the faces of the other men in the dark. If only it wasn't so dark. That one was huge though. Was he? "No," she gasped, "An Ortanan!" And that stocky one had to be a Mesini. Was that little one a Gnome, no they weren't real. It was a Bensian! Only the Trevvan were missing of the major races of Soria. Why were they here?
The next two sections I wrote are both short and I'm a week behind on posting so I'm going to post them together.
Delya walked down the hall side by side with Drivet. She was happy to be able to walk again. Looking up at Drivet again she grinned. He had helped make her better. Now he was taking her to see her family again. They were all going to be together again. She started to skip for a moment and then stopped again when her leg started to ache slightly.
They turned the corner and Delya saw the open door. She hurried in despite her leg and saw what was left of her family. Papa was sitting in a chair facing the door and Momma had baby Valya cradled in her arms. Papa reached over and set his hand on Momma's arm as he jumped up. Momma looked up at Papa's movement and let out a little squeak.
Delya awoke with a scream. She screamed until her throat was parched and sore and she could scream no more. When she stopped she realized that the screaming hadn't. Someone else was still screaming. Where was she? The last thing she remembered was leaving her fathers room with Drivet. Papa had been screaming. Was that him screaming? Was that him? She had to find her Papa. She tried to sit up and she found that she could indeed scream more after all. The pain in her left side had returned and if anything it was worse. She was unable to move. As she lay there she just kept asking herself, "Is that Papa? Where was Momma and Gill and little Valya? Someone please help!"
Delya had horrible nightmares. She dreamed of constant screaming and crying. She cried herself, but she didn't know why. She had a vague memory of her bones being set, but the memory repeated over and over again. Were the screams hers? Who else would be screaming? At one point she had looked in a mirror and all of the skin had been gone from one side of her face. She remembered a knife. What about the knife? It wavered on the edge of her memory.
Here is the first part of a story I've been working on for a few months. I already have nine parts done, but I'm only going to post about once a week since I write slow. Later parts are somewhat disturbing and not suitable for work or small children. It started off as a fantasy due to it being based on an RPG character of mine, but I am re-writing it as science fantasy.
Delya stormed out of her hut yelling across the courtyard, "I've been with you to visit the Trevvan before. I want to go again! Why won't you let me come, Papa?" She watched as Pasinia Deriya turned back to gaze at her patiently. Her father turned back to gaze at her patiently. Giving him her best "I'm the cutest five-year-old in the world" smile she twirled her dark brown hair. She had manipulated him into bringing her along many times and she knew this trick was one of her best, but she could see from across the open courtyard that he was going to be unwilling to give this time. Still, she would not let him go without at least trying.
He reboots my visual systems. He’s younger than I thought he’d be. As more bands of the spectrum come up, I see that he’s had a lot of work done. Way more than me. Way more than anyone I’ve seen before.
He’s well crafted. Most of him looks perfectly human. Except for that arm. I can’t stop looking at it. It’s not crude, like military enhancements. It’s a sculpted work of art- chromed angles and knotted steel muscles.
Audio comes next. He puts the stylus down. “Sorry about the shutdown. You were about to enter your Omega Seven state.”
The smoke clears and the explosions stop. I’m still standing and they aren’t.
I’m about to pursue the other half of the squad when I get the stand down order. “We’ve got it covered,” I hear on the Secret Service frequency.
I walk to the gate where I’m met by my new partners. Both of them are sporting some heavy mech.
“Agent James Yona, reporting for duty, sir.” The Rush is fading, enough for me to deal with conversation again.
“At ease. I’m agent Tovar, this is Agent Vasquez. You all right?
“Looks that way. Were you expecting company?”
Most guys hate the lab. Not me. They hate the lectures, the updates, the endless tinkering. I like to show off.
When someone says to me “Hey, what have you been doing with your imaging links?” or “This ware was never meant to work under these conditions!” it’s a compliment. Officially, they have to disapprove. Secretly, they like it. They just want to see what’s cool and what’s next like anyone else.