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Mother Confessor:

My hands raw from scouring the many scalding hot pots, pans, trays, and eating utensils. Going to have a few blisters from the minor burns. Not that I cared as the repetitive task in the rear of the kitchen has taken my mind off of my anxious thoughts about what Arinassi has in wait to test my skills in medicine. Wiping my dowsed brow free of sweat and condensation, working the next round of items in the wash.

My hands engross in their menial task my mind wanders. Wondering what it would be like in a real fire fight. In part it sounds very intriguing, almost fun. Well except for the consequences of incapacitation and death of course. From listening to some of the veterans they make it sound like a high stakes game. Probably due to the fact that they have seen their fair share, and still live to tell the tales. The older vets seem almost nonchalant in their musings of war. Perhaps after enough nightmares and death, one gets a little too comfortable with the death parading. It is a little depressing when they discuss the loss of close comrades in the thick of it. Many times the stories end with their comrades dying in their arms, or being dragged to safety from the chaos of the battle field. This has to burden them, as they did what they could to save a buddy just to have them snuffed out like a candle anyway.

Most seem to hold an odd belief that I just cannot seem to understand. Could be what some might say is religion, or something like it. Very few however wear a bizarre symbol about their neck. It seems to be a part of their odd belief. From the way it looks, almost like an eclipse with a strange addition of a nine pointed star weaving the eclipse together. Perhaps this represents the binding of the being to the world as well as the next. Not really sure. Letting the thought slip from my mind, and back to the task at hand. They hurt as I finish up the last stack of trays and utensils now drying on the rack. Steam and the diluted detergent water drying on my skin. My hands wrinkled and burned by the high temperature mix. Informing the staff leader that I am done washing up. He allows me to take a few pieces of fruit to indulge in as reward for my fulfillment in the harsh task. Thinking about what would come next, as the soft flesh fills my hungry lips.

Graxis:

Feeling ashamed having to lock up the Admiral, but it has to be done. Turning against a sanctioned official by the Council of Elders is a high crime. I have no idea what their judgment will be for such an offence. Though it is just shy of all out treason, it is very dishonorable. I equate it to stabbing a fellow comrade in the back. The Ober-Commander probably feels that way. Speak of the devil, I have not heard from him in quite sometime. Not since his call for a surgical team to help Dlynvacko. The reinforcements I and Commander Kionxxia had sent to the enemy facility had landed little more than thirty minutes ago. They had made no mention of the old officers status. However, Dlynvacko has received the help she needed. It seems that they are having complications in keeping the alien stable, as neither our surgical techs, nor the Uldivarions had any knowledge of the refugees anatomy or specie. Last I had heard she was alive, but it is getting complicated.

Something did not sit right in my gut, even knowing there was twice the number of men now on search and destroy of the Confederation forces within. They had relayed that there was no resistance once they had made it down to the first floor. No targets in sight, their report. What bothers me is the odd update as they had come across the bodies that the Ober-Commander had mentioned earlier. The tone in the voice of the Lieutenant was shaky as he relayed the exact accounts that the elder officer had.

“Hinara get the Ober-Commander on the comm.” , I order the helmsman wryly, my mouth dry and raspy. He opens up the channel immediately at my request.

“What is sit status”, I rasp into the comms. The speaker remains silent several heartbeats twisting my nerves at the silence. What if this phantom killer has taken him out of action? My heart plummets into my stomach at the thought.

“ Graxis”, his voice low sparks life into the speaker,” Good news, you can tell the boys that I have found the phantom killer.”

Taking in a long breath of relief that he is still in the game.

“Funny story, they are helping me,” he continues,” Turns out my mute friend here has a score to settle with the Confeds. Also she is some sort of cyborg, with active cammo and more interestingly a plasma blade.”

Well that would account for the bizarre way the bodies were cut up without making a mess.

“Shit”, he growls into the comms, “got to go, just made it to the kitchen. Can hear somebody in the mess.”

I was feeling a little less concerned after having the facts I was looking for on the front. Glad to hear the Ober-Commanders voice. It is interesting however, that he had a cyborg wielding a plasma blade for company. Not really considering either notion. Some poor soul used in effect as a means of testing out some horrible experiment in the Confederations infantry and weapons development. From the way the Ober-Commander spoke about her, she was not affiliated with the military beyond being a piece of advanced equipment. Albeit a very lethal person, hardware, I am not sure what to call her. Seems more of an it, at least to me.

Marckus:

Taking cover with the mute female cyborg behind the meter high wall separating the kitchen from the mess hall. Encountering a group of a about a dozen Confeds, at least three have flame throwers. They have taken up a defensive position in the middle of the dimly lit mess hall. Using the heavy metal tables as makeshift cover, as they lay on their sides. Having all sides covered, the lay in wait. The officer in charge tries repeatedly to calm her subordinates, as they chatter on in fear. Snickering under my breath as we sat behind the much more solid wall. The cyborg did not seem to share in my delight of them cowering behind their little fort. Looking at her in the deep shadows of our position. If only I had something to use as a distraction, I could take the lot out with a few well placed shots on one of the flamers tanks. Think man, think! Looking around for something, anything to throw out into the open as a distraction. Glancing back at the cyborg, it hits me like a ton of bricks. Of course!

“Hey, let’s have some fun”, I whisper to her leaning in close,” can you go to the far end of the room, and get them to notice you?”

She nods.

“Oh and stay at least fifteen meters out from them. You might be bullet proof, but not safe from being cooked in that metal exoskeleton” , I catch her before she disappears over the barrier between us and them.

Setting alone now, my hands on the rifle in wait. Should not be more than a few moments, as the cyborg is fast and for all intensive purposes invisible. Then I hear it break the silence. A loud clack off the far wall being rapped upon.

“What the hell was that”, I hear one of the enemy soldiers shout out in a quaking tone.

Silence falls for a few moments, my heart pounding with anticipation of the kill to come. Clack, clack, clack! The other rapping the wall again.

“Show yourself”, their leader barks, anger in her voice. Taking a quick glance over the short wall concealing me. I see that they were now starting to sweep the area around them, trying to find the one making the racket. “Shit”, one of her men belts out. Come on, just a little more and they will get into a panic fire. Off in the distance another round of clacking.

“Sarg, this is bullshit”, another barks at his superior.

“Shut up and do it”, she barks back,” get your ass out there and find them!”

“Fuck me”, he protests her order.

“Get your ass out there, of I will kill you myself”, she growls at her subordinate. I hear the sound of boots, as the soldier hops over the sideways table. Another series of rapping echoes off in the distance. Listening in the silence, ready to spring into action. Clack, clack, clack.

“Hey shit head, stop playing games and come out”, the soldier growls at the cyborg drawing him out of safety. The intervals continue, the cyborg rapping against the wall, and the soldier getting more aggressive and threatening.

Out of the blue it happened. Although it felt like an hour, was actually mere minutes. Still squatting behind the wall, my opportunity presented itself.

“Oh my god”, the Sergeant howls in anger and fright, “Tear this place apart now!”

Assault rifles bark, bullets ricochet off walls. Flamethrowers belching brilliant streams of napalm. Peering over the lip of the wall, rifle up and ready. Taking aim at one of the flamers tanks, as he sweeps the area of the far end of the room. I squeeze off three shots at the tank of volatile liquid on his back. In a bright explosion of the pressurized napalm lights up the mess hall. Weapons fire goes silent, and howls of pain and anguish fill the room. The foul smell of burning flesh fills the air. Then two more large explosions roar as the other two flamers tanks ignite. I felt a bit dizzy as the fire feasts greedily on their bodies, and the thin oxygen. Taking shallow breaths, soaked in sweat from the intense heat. Making a mad dash to the other side of the large area. Hell of a barbecue! Exiting the inferno.

Out in the corridor this small victory quickly turns into another loss. I had not yet seen the extent of the damage that had been done, as the two other tanks exploded in brilliant devastating concussive blasts. My new friend had not fared so well as a result of the situation. I see the female cyborg laying oddly against the wall, contorted from being harshly bounced off the opposite wall from the entrance to the mess hall. A large metal fragment was piercing her left side like a blade that was left after a failed attempt to cleave further. The shrapnel tore through metal, wiring, and soft tissues beneath. A mix of bodily and mechanical fluids seeping around the large laceration a few centimeters below her ribcage. Most of her looks charred from a light coating of being licked by the flames. Tears streaming down her metal face, in her silence I could hear her pain. What made it worse in a way, is knowing she is not a soldier, nor a willing participant in any of this. Just a broken weave of a being forced to fight for her life, and live with the abhorrent torment of being maliciously forced into such a device against her will. The only sound she made is a rasping as she breathes her last breaths. The damage to her body from the shrapnel is to be her demise. There is nothing I could do to stop the inevitable. Setting beside the tortured cyborg, offering what little I could until she passed into solace. It will be over soon, and you will be at peace. Taking her hand in mine letting her know that I am here for her till the end. Her rasping breaths were getting worse, starting to become gurgling deep within her lungs. Time and the enemy seems to afford this time to us. It is not your fault, and you did not ask for this. You spared me when you could have ended me. I wish I could have done the same for you. In the final moments of her struggling to breath, her other arm weakly moves toward me. The devastating weapon in a weak grip. Taking it from her smooth metal hand, focusing on her nightmarish gaze as she slips away. Shortly her labored breathing ceases. Her eyes still wide. Her mutilated body goes limp. Placing my calloused fingers on her eyelids, I close them.

Standing up from beside the slain cyborg, her weapon still in my left hand. You are free now. A rage welling up within, like a rapidly filling vat of acid. In the distance I can hear my comrades coming, but I do not want to share in the wake of my growing anger. Starting off once more, my resolve renewed. Placing the prototype plasma blade inside my coat. pushing downward. Going deeper into this place my brethren made in a mock image of hell and despair. Freeing the rifle from my body, I descend to the next floor. No more of this sneaking shit, if it is a Confed it dies. Moving at a brisk march down the new set of stairs. All that is on my mind is completing this rescue. Anybody gets in my way, they will not stand there long. This is going to end only one way. My way.

Kicking open the door to the third level, and entering it in full view of any who wish to oppose me. At least they can try to. Small burst fire off in the distance, they miss me by mere centimeters. Scoring the wall at my back, as they bounce off in all directions. Peering off into the darkness of the new corridor with my night vision, I see the small squad in the distance. A nasty smile on my chapped lips. Rifle raised, I proceed toward them. Picking off each and every last one of them. Spending more rounds, as they try to retreat. The ceramic composite ballistics cutting through them as they run for cover. A few of their shots hand found me as they tried to keep me from advancing. My armored jacket preventing their penetration, and the bite of their impacts only fuels my fury.

Coming upon the fallen enemy units, some are still trying to fight despite being all shot up. The closest to me tries to stab me in the ankle with a combat knife. I prevented it by holding the butt of the rifle, and swinging it into his thrusting arm. He growls back at me in contempt, as he tries to recover from the blow for a second attempt. Slamming my left foot down on his arm, pinning it to the metal floor beneath. His teeth bared like a wild animal, as he aggressively tries to free his arm. Hitting me in the knee with his free hand. Dropping to a kneel from the building pain with each swift blow. My injured joint slams hard into his chest winding him. Slamming the butt of the rifle down onto his throat, crushing his wind pipe. Raising up to my feet once more, only to be pelted by another a few meters down.

Son of a bitch, that hurts! This new jackass had hit me with a few rounds from a fifteen mil. Staggering as the large caliber bullets hit me hard. Growling through gritted teeth, forcing my battered body toward him. Keeping an eye on my target as he fumbles for a fresh magazine. Throwing my rifle at him since he is still too far away. Barely had the full mag halfway into the heel of the pistol when it hit him. Glancing off of his body with a dull thud. It hits him awkwardly before clattering to the floor. He did manage to reload the pistol, but not prime it before I am upon him. Kicking his hand with my injured leg, sending both is hand and pistol hard into his stomach. Groaning from the impact, he tries to pull the slide back. Kicking the weapon up, the pistol slams into his face busting his nose. Leaning down and grasping him by the throat. I raise the dazed combatant up with both hands. Holding him in midair as he flails at me, fighting to keep his life. It is cut short as a small burst of rifle fire hits him in the back. Bullets intended for me. Using the corpse as a shield. His body absorbs the sporadic fire. Bearing down on the next enemy with my meat shield.

“Shit, shit, shit”, I hear a female voice frantically spouting off as I approach.

Using the momentum of the lifeless body over my shoulder. Planting it firmly onto the muzzle of the others rifle even though a moment earlier clicked empty. Shoving the mangled man off of me, hitting the metal floor in a nasty wet thud. The rifle piercing his back. Watching as the woman takes her pistol from her holster to bear down on me. Catching her mid way through the motion with my left hand, bringing a heavy fist to meet her face with my right. The pistol goes off into one of her fellow Confed. I hit her again, and another round fires into the dead. Taking hold of her arm with both hands, unpinning the pistol hand. I break it at her forearm. She howls in pain letting the pistol drop from her grip. I am done being shot you stupid cunt, I glare at her. Twisting around with her arm still in my iron grip. I grapple her over my shoulder, feeling hers dislocate as I propel her over mine. She screams in more pain as she travels to the bloodied floor below. Feeling her grip on my back from her good arm, we both tumble downward. Hitting hard on impact with the unforgiving surface. Static dancing before my eyes from the blow, face hurt from her hard pelvis. Sharp pointed pain in my kidneys as she struck repeatedly into my kidneys. Foreplay is over now. Trying to ignore the sharp pains of her assault on my back. Forcing my left arm between her legs and beneath her as she tears into me. My other arm groping around for some part of her to hold onto in the front. All I hear is her fury and contempt. My hand finds purchase on her soft collar flesh where her neck and shoulder met. Clamping onto it like a vice. Pushing up from her as she struggles to free her tender flesh from my grasp. Forcing myself into a kneel, and raising the woman off the soiled floor. She starts clawing desperately at my hand with her good one. Roughly forcing her spine across my knee, I bend her backwards with all the strength I can muster. She tries to use her legs for leverage. Wrenching her soft tissue, gives me the opportunity I need as she tries to flail her legs in an attempt to free herself. Bending her with all my rage, her spine snaps. A sharp gasp on her lips. I shove her off of me to join her dead companions.

Slumping down in battered exhaustion. Retrieving another rifle from the bloody floor. Dropping the magazine it displays it is empty. Clumsily tossing the spent magazine into the mess around me. My fingers slick with blood and sweat as I produce a full one from my pocket. Slapping the fresh one into the catch, and arming the rifle for action. Get up, get going! Growling and using the rifle to help me stand. Setting off once more into the fray. My comrades just behind me. It felt refreshing to know that I am not alone anymore. The echoes of many boots swiftly moving closer to me in the dim light and the madness.