InysaJoin Date: 2012-09-18
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... I had chocolate for me breakfast. And I didn't go for a run either. What's happening to me...?
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Peritia looked around the room carelessly, observing all the different forms of machinery lining the walls and tables. The Centurion seemed to be getting above himself with this. Attempting to make rules for something already begun? No. It will not be tolerated. Even for Pond, there was a line... He must be reminded of our stations. He controls the movements and fates of the soldiers beneath him. Why was what Pond was doing different? As it was. The butterfly's life was his now.
He stopped typing the new program the Centurion ordered and looked over his shoulder to Peritia. He was admiring one of the surgical arms, currently with a bone saw on it. That had seen frequent use. Most augmentations need bones removed, so it was almost always attached to that arm. Completely guided by computers. The doctor smiled to himself. Machines malfunction, yes? He put a quick startup program into the system. Accidents happen. And thats what this would be. An accident.
With only a click as warning not a split second before it moved, the safety releasing, the arm abruptly cut downward. Peritia stood under it, startled by the unexpected movement. But it wouldn't help. The saw hummed and went into his shoulder, cutting fiercely and sending his precious lifeblood away. The doctor put the half command in and ran over to Peritia, who had fallen over onto the metal floor. His artery was severed and collarbone cut. It was difficult to see what was there. Te doctor put pressure onto the wound, taking out his intercom speaker. "Yes. Padraig? Come quickly. Morcero Peritia has been badly hurt. Yes, it untreated it will be lethal. I don't know. No. One of the surgical arms safety gave off and fell on him. The bone saw. Yes, the artery was very clearly broken. He had touched it in admiration and it just happened; you know how poorly balanced they are. Yes. Quickly."
The communication ended, and Pond smiled. Peritia was unconscious, eyes closed and breathing becoming a labour. "See, dear Morcero?" he whispered into Peritia's ear, "We all simply do as we are meant to. You crossed out of your area. This is the result. Look on he bright side. It's a life lesson... Rest easy, lad."
"Held prisoner by my own brother," I subvocalised, chuckling. "Cute." I stood up, stretching myself as I did so, observing the room. A box. A grey box. A bed and a door. Nothing else. Not the best situation, is it? So escape was't an opion. So I wonder what wo
Why escape? Return to what? As it was, there was no chance of getting out. Why bother trying? Take the path of least resistance. It onl
No, I couldn't. That's dead treason. I had taken the Arcadian pledge, hadn't I? That
Was the only rational path. A pledge is merely words. They hold no meaning. A pledge is a staccato in the middle of a slur. Something that breaks what should be. You can't keep a pledge and do what it best, just as that is an impossible thing to play. Any composer who writes that is daft.
I thumped myself in the forehead. Damnit. This pressure wouldn't go away. It
Didn't matter. It was trivial, wasn't it? Of course. Trivial. Irrelevant.
I walked to to the window and tapped on the glass. A guard outside turned, face covered by a simple black cloth mask, only showing blue eyes. "Whachyuh wan'?" he demanded. What an ugly was of speaking.
"Please recall Mister Cadence," I requested, "I would like to speak to him again."
"And THAT," cheered Remi, "Is how you do it!"
The other Guardsmen and the commanding Legionnaire looked at him blankly. "Well," said one of the Guardsmen, a bald headed boy who couldn't have been sixteen, "Now I know how to stack boxes. You are a real master."
"Oi, nobody else had an idea how to get over the damn fence. Had a better idea?" Remi demanded. They were in a long alley, and a wooden fence was blocking their path. The road back there now had some sort of technical stopped on it, a basic kind of civilian car with a heavy machine gun on it. Nobody wanted to take the chance. The tanks would handle it when they passed by.
"It works," said the Legionnaire, moving to climb up. He hopped over the fence, cursed, fired a few rounds from his Reaper, and apparently was met by a storm of other shots directed at him.
Someone punched Remi on the shoulder. "Well done, man," she said, "You got the CO killed. I didn't like him anyway."
Remi blinked and shook his head. "Balls."
"Who's the current Imperial governor of the planet?" Josh asked as the last of the Shivan troops fell. Stabbed in the left side. People don't learn the weaknesses of fighting one handed with a blade.
"I'm not sure, sir," one of the little neophytes that called themselves Arcadians informed him.
Josh clucked his tongue. Useless. The street was now covered in corpses, all killed in under a minute. The Shivans weren't much of a fight, apparently. Where we're the actual soldiers? These ones were crap equipped and poorly trained. The 'Military Order' wouldn't let this be standard.
He gestured for his men to follow him forward, as he slid extra rounds into his revolver.
His communicator chimes once. "God?" asked Josh, looking up, "Is that you?"
" I'll accept that," said Strategus' voice.
"My my, you simply can't pry yourself away from me, can you?"
"Don't flatter yourself. You're commanding the largest group of infantry right now. I-"
"I think a few died," Josh said, turning around and viewing the crowd.
"Expected," said Strategus, "You can still go on. How many?"
Josh lifted his finger, counting heads. "Twenty-three."
"How did you lose that many?"
"Twenty-three survivors."
"YOU LOST OVER OVER 75% OF YOUR FORCE?!"
"We met resistance," Josh said casually.
"What the hell did that to you? Can you. Not command at all?"
"They had a fortified shopping centre. Used as a vehicle depot. None of ours somehow, mainly old WIJ crap, but they had some Frostarian (How DARE they call the selves that) aircraft."
Strategus sighed, annoyed. "Fine. You got rid of it. Good... Still. The government building has fighting going on. It seems the governor has loyal troops. Go help him, will you?"
"Boring," Josh mused, ending the call. "Oi, Riverson, Lance! Land those things! We're going for a ride."
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Uh... Yea. Nothing to say this time.
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