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Mother Confessor:

Arinassi sent for me just as my short break ends. The call sounds urgent by the way it is barked out over the intercom. Setting off at a trot back to the medical facility. I wonder what this is about. It must be what she has anticipated to be my final exam of sorts. A small wave of anxiety washes me as does a sheen sweat. Maneuvering around the busy corridors, dipping and dodging the many busy soldiers in the flow. The further I travel I realized that I am not even feeling the fatigue I once did from jogging the corridors before. In fact I felt great despite the small burn in my insides. Keeping my pace steady, as I make my way. Taking the steps up two at a time, gravity did not seem to want to oppose me all that much as I fight it upward.

Four feet pounding the metal floor in the last leg of the race to my objective. At one point about seven meters from my destination, I need pull off a rather odd maneuver. It seemed unreal until I am out of it. Sliding so close to a wall to get around a rather large group congesting the corridor. Hitting the left side a little harder than I anticipate, as I spread my legs on my left side to splay against the wall. Now being carried by my inertia and right legs, as I slide past the congested area. Shoving off the wall with my left hand just past them. I made it to the medical facility. Slapping the pad to let me enter.

Coming to a hard halt before the elder surgical tech.

“Get cleaned up, sounds like we have two incoming”, she orders me with urgency in her voice,” one is in critical condition the other just has a less, than lethal condition. Not sure what, so move it.”

“Yes ma’am”, I curtly acknowledge. Beginning in a haste, my fingers working like mad as I begin taking off my BDUs. It takes a little longer than I anticipate, as the laces on my boots do not want to release my feet. Rolling up the clothing and setting on a bench nearby beside my boots. Stepping into the sterile washing stall. The automated system sprays my bare body from all angles with pure water and anti-bacterial cleanser. Closing my eyes tightly as the jets power cleanse my skin. My arms outstretched from my shoulders as it washes away any foreign microbes off of me. Just as quickly as they wash me from head to toe, it cuts off. Following up the final phase of the cleansing, the stall dries the wetness from me with jets of warm pressurized air.

Back into the cooler air outside now sterile. I find that a set of my shoes has been placed just outside the door. It feels strange to slip my feet into them, as they are much lighter than my issued boots. The weight of them as I approach the preoperative station dividing medical and surgical bays, is like I am not wearing anything on my feet at all. The automatic door separating the two areas opens. Allowing me to pass without soiling my cleansed hands, ensuring my cleanliness stayed intact. A burst of air pushes against my skin raising goose bumps as it coldly washes over my nude frame. The door slides shut swiftly in this clean intermediary room. All the necessary articles of clothing sat atop the counter in this room, sealed in sterile packaging for me. Spreading the stack out across the smooth ceramic surface. I begin with the underwear, being mindful to not let my hands or the material to touch my shoes as I put them on. It is a bit of a balancing act to get the small garment on, but I manage it alright. Turning my attention to the tunic they took from my old life. Tearing open the packaging on the tightly folded white fabric. Discarding the packaging into the waste bin, and shaking the garment out of its tight folds. Resting it on the broad ceramic counter. I undo the many buttons starting from the bottom working my way to the high neck of the soft fabric. The garment now open, I guide my arms into it. I am glad that it stretches to accommodate my built up musculature from working my body with rigorous exercise. With each of the many buttons clasped, I note that the tunic was more form fitting than I remember it. Almost like a second skin, as the synthetic material forms around my abdomen. My slender fingers deftly complete their task as they clasped the final buttons of the high collar. It firmly wraps around my slender neck.

Collecting the remaining articles on the counter. A protective apron, sterile gloves, and a surgical mask. Making my way into the surgical suite with the disposables in hand. The air is cool as I enter the sterile environment. Placing the gloves and apron upon another counter, keeping the mask in hand. Tying it up so that it hangs loosely around my neck. Opening the apron in such a way as to still have it still protected by the barrier that contains it, but allowing it to be easily accessible. Moving over to the sterile instruments contained within the sterilizer. Plucking the pair of forceps that lay beside the sterilizer, removing the heavy tray from inside. It is far too cold to touch with bare skin or even with gloves. Placing the full tray of instruments on the head of the ceramic operating table, I start carefully selecting the tools that I may require. Using the forceps as an extension of my own fingers, I place them on the pre draped surgical table. Keeping a careful count on everything I remove from the much larger tray. Placing each piece respectively in its place in order that best suits for easy access. It is a tedious job as I have quite a lot of instruments filling the table. Feeling satisfied with my arrangement of the tools, I replace the tray back into the sterilizer. Opening the cabinet above it in search of scalpel blades. This is more of a judgment call on my part as the Centurian had large hands and bodies, and so have larger equipment to match. Selecting three of the smallest blades I can find, I return to my unfinished layout. Resting each of the blades next to each of the handles. Using the forceps to remove the sharps from their packaging one by one and securing them firmly in place on each handle carefully. Disposing of the wrappers into the bin that was just beneath the counter, and replacing the large forceps back where I acquired them initially. Retrieving the sterile gloves, delicately at the top corners of the packaging, and placing them on the bare spot on the table. Bending the corners up away from it to minimize contact with the other surface. Taking a quick recount of the many gleaming metal instruments. For a brief moment I am haunted by my past, as visions of all that I have done flashes rapidly through my mind after my recount. That is not me anymore, I tell myself as the nightmares play across my memory. Feeling sick as they continue a few more moments. That is not me anymore, I bite at the horrific echoes of my dark past. My mental assertion against them seems to have gotten through, and the echoes fade from of my mind, giving me solace. Taking in deep breaths to get my nerves back under control from the shadows that have invaded my mind. If only I could forget them, as they really are not who I am anymore.

Barely more than a whisper I say in the emptiness, “I am sorry.” The words felt heavy on my lips, my face down turn in a sullen expression.

“What was that”, I hear Arinassi say from behind me.

“Nothing”, I say turning to see her standing just inside the surgical suite. Putting a weak smile on my lips, hoping to hide my grief and avoid any unnecessary explanation.

“Good to see you are ready for intake”, she says as she peers at my preparations.

“Thank you, ma’am”, I acknowledge her compliment. She too had been busy getting cleansed and setting up her own surgery.

“Nervous”, she asks politely.

“A little”, I admit as I may have been sweating profusely had the sterile environment not been so cold.

“Understandable grisma”, she says,” The first is always the hardest. Keep your head and you will be just fine, I know it.”

She beams at me with a warm smile as a doting mentor.

“Thanks”, I say to her. With that she disappears silently from the room. Regaining my confidence, I set in the cold silence ready to get to work.

Graxis:

Having gotten a status update from the fresh teams, on how the mission is going. They have finally caught up with the Ober-Commander on the third level down. The task of searching the facility now less cumbersome with the aid of the Uldivarion troops. They report back that they also have come across the body of the cyborg, on the second level. Said that it was imbedded with shrapnel as the cause of death from loss of blood and unknown fluids. They state this before accounting for a mess of burnt bodies in a severely disheveled mess hall. They did however send back the soldier pinned to the wall, as well as the alien that Dlynvacko and the Ober-Commander had encountered. She was accompanying them back to the ship in the Uldivarion ship for emergency surgery. From the way they report on the brute, he seems more annoyed than in actual distress, despite having a large metal spike in his chest.

“Sir, what is the plan”, I ask the senior officer.

“Still the same, Captain”, he replies, “clear this place level by bloody level. Secure the captive refugees, and Red Wolf. Confederation resistance pockets are to be eliminated with extreme prejudice.”

“Perhaps a map, or guide of sorts would come in handy”, I offer a suggestion. Waiting in the silence for a few heart beats.

“That is a novel idea, quick to wit as usual Captain”, he says to me, “They must have run out of maps in the gift shop up top.” He chuckles into the comms speaker.

“Going to have to go with a guide. Although I don’t think these Confed pukes are going to be of much help. Well its the best we got to work with. Just hope to find a smart puke that wants to live.” His laughter is joined by a few others in the comms. I catch myself laughing as well as the helmsman, Janxica, and Steve. The pair of Uldivarions just look at us lost in confusion.

Trying to push the light heartedness of his words aside, “Well for what its worth”, I say in an even tone. Their laughter still fumbling from the speaker.

“You are probably on to something, Captain. Though there is little to no value in a puke”, he responds still chuckling. After a few seconds the comms goes dead again.

The small Andilusion is probably still laying in wait, still hidden. I was starting to wonder just how far down into the crust of the moon the base went. It seems to me that they were wasting time, though I knew it to be the contrary. They were moving through what has to be a maze down there, and not knowing what was designated as what, they had to sweep every last nook and cranny. I just hope that they do not have to many more floors to sweep, as it seems the Confederation soldiers have separated off into small pockets randomly in the lower levels. At least that would make sense according to the way they have reported their findings once they hit the next lower levels down from the first. Making a reasonable assumption that the bulk of their forces will be protecting General Mitsaku. Even though it is just a theory based on previous encounters with the Confederation in the past. Protect the higher ups in chain of command, as though their commanders death would leave them aimless without them. Really challenges my perception of them as an adversary sometimes. Though they do in fact pose a real threat in combat, despite some of their flawed tactics in a tight spot. Will be interesting to see what they will do in a desperate situation. I fear however that they will pull something truly devastating if pushed too far into a corner.

Setting the thoughts of my enemy and my speculations in the back of my mind. Looking at the Uldivarions, setting at the table awaiting further instruction. Having Hinara patch me through to Commander Kionxxia, her taught face hovering in the center of the HUD.

“Yes, Captain Graxis”, she formally asks, “I trust my men were able to meet your needs?”

“Yes, thank you”, I kindly address her, “Shall I send them back?” She pauses a moment.

“Not at the moment, Captain” , she begins, “I think they can be relieved for now.” The pair stand up and salute their Commander and take their leave of the bridge.

“Well those two will stay out of trouble. I am sure they will have little problem in finding your pub”, she says to me. I look back at her image puzzled by her statement.

“I was not aware that your kind drink” , I say in my puzzlement.

“Well some of us do. Now with that bit of banter out of the way” , she clears up my small misstep for me, “ I should like to extend an invitation to dine with me and my officers this evening. Would like to settle a few matters with this Terran Commander, as well as his staff. You included of course.”

“That would be pleasant, Commander” , I do not want to offend her, “ What time this evening?”

“I should say 2100 hours. We have much to cover. I trust you will accept invitation”, she proposes with a precise time.

“Yes, Commander, 2100 hours will be perfect” , warmly accepting her offer.

“One more thing, Captain”, she catches me a little unaware, “Bring my men back when you come aboard please. Thanks, and see you this evening.” Nodding my agreement to returning her men. With that the Commander disappears from the HUD. Commander Kionnxxa was right in that we needed to converse about many things. Odd allies, it would be good to build a more solid relation with them.

Marckus:

Breaking up into ten three man teams, we scour the third level. I had Rhino and an Uldivarion Lieutenant in mine. Though it is good to see Shadow boys again, I was actually glad to be backed up by Rhino. He had brought along Betty, a nasty little bitch. Well not little, as it was a twenty millimeter semi auto shotgun. Fires a cluster of nine millimeter ceramic composite balls and shrapnel, making one hell of a mess. From what I can tell, the Uldivarion had some sort of assault rifle. Beyond that I have no clue as to what caliber, or if it is a projectile or beam weapon. Same for the pistol on his belt.

“What is your story, slenderman”, Rhino asks the Lieutenant behind me as we sweep our designated area. Biting my tongue to keep from laughing at his odd choice of calling the Uldivarion.

“Hardly the time to be swapping friendly chit chat, now is it Captain”, the Lieutenant says formally and somewhat flatly to him.

“Sounds like somebody has his panties in a bunch” , Rhino snorts back at the overly professional Uldivarion. Damn it, straining to not release the roar of laughter trying to escape.

“Not that is any of your concern the nature of my under garb, but they are not in a ‘bunch’” , the Lieutenant replies annoyed at Rhino’s jest. Good thing the room we were in was clear. Rhino and I lost it. Slapping the large man on the shoulder, as my sides split. Fighting for composure, and breath. We move on to the next room.

Upon entering this new area on our sweep, we go just as stone cold as the Uldivarion. What we see is nothing short of being straight out of a nightmare. Many shelves filling the room, and the walls. Lining them are large sealed containers of preserved specimens, and organs swimming in a preservative solution. It is all housed in this warehouse of macabre, like a disgusting collection of a twisted mad man. So many things unfamiliar to me, floating in the jars. There does not seem to be any reason to sift through this collection of death frozen in time, suspended in the light pink fluid. Nodding back towards the entrance, we back out of the room. Taking off down the corridor to the next. Somethings are better left to the imagination, and that room filled with specimen jars is definitely one of them.

The next door in the expansive corridor should be a little less unnerving, I hope. Slapping the pad to open it after the Lieutenant and I take up positions on the sides, and Rhino in front. The large shotgun aimed directly at the closed hatch. As soon as it slides open, “Please don’t hurt me”, erupts from within in a cracking voice of terror. Looking around the edge, there is a man huddled up in what looks like a broom closet. An odor of piss wafts out at us. The Uldivarion reaches into the shallow closet with his lower right arm, and pulls the scared occupant out. A look of disgust on his face as the smell grows stronger now that the other was out of the closet. Seeing that it is a scientist, his hands up in surrender. The Lieutenant releases him still disgusted at the stench emanating from the soiled man. Is not quite what I am hoping for, but he will have to do. With our prisoner we proceed to finish our sweep. It is a bit faster as he helps us avoid any unnecessary areas.