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Mother Confessor:

The wounded have arrived, and I am feeling a little under prepared for my patient. Quite different from what I am expecting. Full surgical dress, I began assessing my intake as she was quite strange. Her abdomen is partially patched back together in a hurried fashion. She is still upon the gurney, as I wait for the Centurian and Uldivarion surgical techs to get cleansed and dressed accordingly. From the laceration in the female alien, it looks most odd. Her skin is green, but a few millimeters around the large incision it was brown. Darkest at the initial point that the incision had been made. From what I can figure is that this was some kind of necrotic or infection starting to attack the healthy tissues. Feeling unsure of my diagnoses as it is not anything I have ever seen before. Checking her pulse, feeling the faintest of flow in her neck in my gloved fingers. Her breathing slow. She is unresponsive and may have passed out, or gone into shock. Again I am unsure. Checking her eyes. They react in the bright surgical lamps.

Without so much as a hint the two surgical techs have joined me. Rolling the gurney up against the ceramic operating table we transfer her on to it. The patient groans from the action, giving me a small glimmer of hope.

“What is her status”, I ask quickly and openly, trying to find the best course of action to take.

“All, we seem to know about her is that she was being dissected at some point before we found her. Those responsible were dead when we arrived. From what little we do understand about her is that she seems to be plant like, based upon the way her wound is changing color”, the female Centurian surgical tech says, her voice familiar behind the mask hiding her features. Ah of course, just like the leaves from some of the fruit, they turned brown in the waste bin as they are no longer getting the nutrients they needed.

“Well then we should do what we can to make her comfortable, as this is going to take awhile”, I take charge of the situation. The familiar surgical tech wanders to the cabinet. A moment later she returns with a syringe filled with a blue liquid, it was an anesthetic as I understood it. A strong one at that. She set about dulling our patient out, as I begin removing the rough stitching from the large wound. Glancing around her nude body as I work the sutures free, checking for any other signs of trauma. Listening to the Uldivarion as he hooks her up to the monitoring apparatus, and intubates her. All my eyes can see are some old scarring that was probably accrued from various daily life, predominantly on her strange hands. Still working the sutures from the skin, being as delicately as possible. Not wanting to cause anymore damage to her than is absolutely necessary. I start to notice that about halfway through my work on the sutures, that small droplets of an amber colored liquid starts to slowly ooze from the small holes left behind by the missing sutures. Taking a moments pause from my task. Placing a ginger fingertip on one of the many small amber spots. It feels thick and sticky on my covered finger. Running this new development through my mind. I set back to removing the rest of the sutures.

Gently opening her back up. Taking a good look around at her internal organs and structure. Trying to find any abnormalities, damage, or missing tissues within. What I observe is most intriguing. Her anatomy, vibrant colors of blues and yellows. Many fibrous strands weaving the few organs she had together. They were a deep green network that seemed to act like a vascular system. From what I understand based on what I am examining. She has lungs, heart, and a cluster of deep blue nodules. Making an educated guess about the nodules as I inspect them very closely. They appear to be some sort of filtration system, removing impurities and whatever type of waste her body creates. Visually examining the skeletal structure giving her extra support. I can see the odd shape of her ribcage and in her lower abdomen a little of her spinal column as it meets her pelvic bone. It is not bone, but a very hard fibrous growth. It was slightly flexible to the touch as I continue my exploration of her. It is a very dark green, almost black in color to my eyes. Feeling unsure if there is supposed to be a minute amount of organs, or if in fact they were missing.

“Did either of you notice anything out of the ordinary when you initially examined her” , I ask the two looking up from the exposed alien insides. The female Centurian shook her head.

“Not that we could see, though the lowlight made it difficult to ascertain much visually” , the Uldivarion said behind his own mask. His large dark eyes, set deep in concentration as he began to assess our patient for himself. The three of us are now scouring her insides very intently. Tracing and retracing every visible millimeter in the bright surgical lamps.

Tilting the table down a few degrees to light up the lower unexposed part of her abdomen.

“There”, the Uldivarion says just as the table comes to a halt. His extremely long forefinger hovers a few centimeters away from something inside her pelvic cavity. I cannot see what he has seen, from my vantage point. He is at the head of the table, looking straight at something directly in his line of sight. Leaning in as close as possible without touching the patient with my masked cheek. Turning my head to peer where his long digit was directing my eyes. A razor thin eight centimeter incision glittered in the light. The wound was in the mid stages of healing itself. Her blood had clotted around the area and was more translucent and turning a beige color as it hardened. Testing it with my protected digit, it felt barley pliable and slick, not like the clear amber from the suture removal. Upon further inspection, I notice a few smaller wounds around the larger. They were in the same stages of repair that the larger is in. It looks like they were apart of the vascular structure. Tracing the webbing of the vessels they appeared to join at the base of the larger wounds structure. It oddly looks like some sort of canal for birthing, but now it has turned to a state of not being ready to deliver. It is slightly collapsed.

“Well it looks like whatever they took was her pregnancy” , stating my hypothesis that fit the facts based on what I am observing.

“Oh, my gods” , the female surgical tech gasps in horrified tone. Her gloved hand about her masked mouth as if to stifle a sob, in my peripheral vision.

“That explains the excess amount of skin” , the Uldivarion denotes his account of now understanding the state of our patient.

Pulling my face away from her pelvic cavity, trying to wrap my mind around why someone would remove her reproductive organs. She was alien to all of us, and had to be just as bizarre to the sick individuals that had taken them from her.

“Hold her skin please” , I address the female tech. Turning to my left to retrieve a scalpel with a slight curve, the blade on the inside of the curve making it look like a small sickle. Turning back to see the flap in the others scaly gloved grip.

“Tighter” , I order her.

She silently complies by adding more tension to the dermal structure. I had to remove the dead tissue, and then mate it on both sides afterward. Otherwise she would slowly begin to decay from outside inward. Taking my time with a steady hand, I begin the slow process of removing the dead tissue before it can continue to spread. From the look of the incision made from whoever had started dissecting the patient, had used a cautery blade. They probably had no idea about her not being a normal being. Had probably assumed that they could save themselves the hassle of having to deal with too much blood as they went about their unethical practices. Keeping my strokes with the sharp instrument even and my line as straight as possible. Trying to keep as little contact as possible with my hand and the fresh amber blood, as I cut the necrotic tissue away. Her skin is thick as I notice the blade only taking a centimeter at a time. This is interesting even though it is a smaller blade, it is still rather large in comparison to what I had thought it to be.

Taking a rather tedious and stressful twenty minutes to excise the dead skin from her body. There is still plenty of slack in the living tissue, which will make joining the fresh wound easier. This is a tedious task as well. Working with the female tech to align the two incised areas back together. Trying to seal the patient up as quickly as possible before the sticky blood clotted. I hold the supple tissue together with my fingers, as the other places precise surgical staples. It is slightly helpful that the suture holes are still a bit sticky. Making it a little easier to push the two flaps of skin together and keep them joined as she locks them into place.

The Uldivarion has gone from the head of the operating table to the cabinet. Having retrieved a sterile dressing and tape. He dresses the patients spliced abdomen with ease. He notes that she is dehydrated, and had hooked up an I.V. of fluid to her, as we were busy removing the dead skin. She is going to pull through. Though I have the feeling she was going to be very upset about having her offspring taken from her. Before taking her out for recovery I notice something between her legs. Whoever had taken her reproductive tract had been inspecting her externally as well.

Feeling sick seeing this, it has to be addressed. Having the Uldivarion hold her open for me to get a better look at what the other had been up to. Her sex is being held open by a few sutures, pinning what I assume are labia to her thighs and pubis. It is a vibrant violet and light red. I set about inspecting her intimate parts for any signs of distress. Feeling inside her for any internal damage. Thankfully I find nothing unusual in my inspection of her private parts. Removing my fingers from her, I set about freeing her colorful outer labia. This is not so difficult as whoever had done the suturing, did it sloppily. Each of her many labia start to come together in much the way a flower would, at least that is what I think some flowers do. Not really sure. The Uldivarion passes me an extra dressing, and the tape. Giving the patient back her modesty in covering up her bizarre vulva with the sterile fabric. Locking it in place around her oddly shaped hips. We move her back on to the gurney gingerly, and wheel her out into the medical bay. A mix of sickness and elation in my mind and insides. I was happy that I have saved her life, and sick from the fact that she was treated like a biology class specimen.

Marckus:

With the third level cleared, on to the fourth. Our terrified prisoner is willing to help. Not that he has a lot of options. He is really chatty, and it is starting to get on my nerves. Nothing has he said is going to be helpful in offset rambling. As much as I just want to slam his head into the wall until it was nothing but a mess of bone, blood, and brains. Restraining myself is difficult. He has the clearance to get us down to the current level and deeper. We set in this new maze, working out a new plan. Our prisoner had mentioned that there is a lift not far off on this level that can take us to the bottom level of the complex.

We decide that the only way to achieve success is to split up. I am to take a team with me, and the Master Sergeant of Shadow Company is to lead the rest. The captive scientist is going to be their guide after sending us on our way down the lift. Taking on another ten men, from both Shadow Company and that of the Uldivarion squad. We make way for the lift.

Taking it slow at the intersecting corridors. Checking around the corner there is another squad of Confederation troopers. The pricks had set up a heavy machine gun turret, and had a heavy metal piece of furniture as cover. Keeping out of sight, I try gauging just how far they are down the corridor.

Turning back to my team,” Squad of about thirty Confeds, twenty meters down. heavy machine gun turret, and makeshift cover” , I quietly relay to my team.

“I will take care of this”, the Uldivarion Lieutenant replies in hushed tone. Sliding away from the corner, allowing the tall Lieutenant the edge of the wall. He takes a grenade from his belt. Good idea, they won’t have time to react. He peers down the corridor, the explosive in his upper right hand. Pulling the exposed half of his face back behind the wall. He arms the grenade with his thumb, and cooks it a moment. Then he twists with great speed to face the wall. His long limb throws the grenade high, and straight down the enemy held corridor. My heart beating the seconds against my ribcage, anticipating the roar of the explosion to follow. The blast lighting the opposite wall from us in a flash of bright white, fading just as quickly. Shrapnel can be heard bouncing off the walls. We keep behind the cover as the shards of high velocity metal spray everywhere.

The Lieutenant peeks around the corner, and then motions us to move. Taking off from the wall we run to the lift. Not even caring to engage the enemy further, as they have probably scattered away from the grenade blast.

Coming to the lift some forty meters further down the corridor from where we had hit the Confederation soldiers. The seconds tick by as the winded scientist fumbles with his access card in the lift mechanism. I get a funny feeling that one or two of the enemy will be stumbling our way soon.

“Got it”, the prisoner exclaims huffing and puffing, “going to be a few minutes, but it is on its way.”

Good we can hold this position until then.

“Get back to the others”, I order him, “now!” He doubles over trying to fill his lungs with air.

Firing a round off near his head, “I said move your ass” , leveling the rifle at his head asserting the next bullet will not be a spoiler.

The prisoner shrieks, and trots off back down the way we came toward the others.

“Watch our other flank, Rhino. Got a feeling that we might just have some unwanted company” , ordering my Captain, he takes up watch on the opposite end of the group. Betty at the ready to stop anyone trying to sneak up on us.

It isn’t long before we have an uninvited guest to our party. We are shrouded in the shadow, the next nearest light fifteen meters up from us in the corridor, and behind. Not sure who they thought they were, but they were stupid to come barreling up. Watching in the low lights, it is a single soldier, we can hear the others being dealt within the distance. He has his tactical light mounted to his rifle on, as he runs toward us. He does not make it more than halfway to the nearest light. Rhino fires a round off. Might has well have been small artillery, as the composite balls and shrapnel burst from the barrel of the shotgun. A swarm of hornets from hell tearing down the corridor. A wet thud in the distance relays that the spray found it’s target. The lift should be here any second now, it felt like it has been ten minutes. In reality it has been maybe three. Off in the distance the man coughs. Looking back at the severely wounded man, blood coming from his torn up face. Dragging himself toward us something in his hand and strained laughter on his face. Gurgling and coughing up more blood as he kept up his futile efforts. These guys got nerves of steel, I will give them that. A large muzzle passes by my peripheral vision, a long slender hand supporting the large weapon as it hovers just above my right shoulder. The Lieutenant is going to finish off the Confed. He fires his rifle, a bright blue flash from the muzzle. The man still fighting on despite being fatally wounded, stops moving.

“He had a grenade”, the Lieutenant justifies his shot. Not caring why, as the now dead combatant could have maybe rolled the frag just close enough to cause at best superficial damage to us.

“What the hell are you using in that mule”, I ask the Lieutenant.

“Standard issue twelve mil fusion pulse rifle” , he explains politely.

“So it is somewhat like the Centurian coil rifle, but with a kick”, I say to him. He nods.

A low hissing announces the lifts arrival. Letting the others file in first. The Lieutenant and I at the front of the cramped lift. Tapping the touch screen to take us to the bottom level. Looking up the Uldivarion once the lift has sealed us in.

“Got a name Lieutenant” , I ask now that we have a few minutes between battles. He looks down at me with his large deep black eyes. A brief moment hangs in the air.

“Tlln, Semrzz , first Lieutenant of the Empyreal Navy, Sir” ,he says professionally, with a hint of a smile on his slit of a mouth. Damn that’s creepy, I think to myself as his taught features coax a shiver up my spine.

“Marckus Syrilious, Ober-Commander, ex lapdog of the Confederation turned renegade. Still hold the rank though” , I say politely back to the tall warrior, my hand outstretched to him. He clasps it firmly in his lower right hand, “Sir.” Better meet the officer I am more than likely to die with down in this hell hole.

Graxis:

It has been an interesting day and it is barely past fourteen hundred hours. Caught a traitor. Began the introductions of an alliance with the Uldivarions. And accepted invitation of the Uldivarion Commander to dine and discuss the terms of this alliance later this evening. Been rather exciting outside of the little bout on Pluto. Though it has been challenging keeping up with all the chaos taking place on Callisto. I think what is gnawing at me, is the fact that in a way it was hard not to become too involved with the troops on the ground. Although if I had been apart of the landing party, I may not have caught the traitor, or ended up in a body bag. As much as I enjoy my authority, I would rather be in the field. No soldier should long to be pent up and out of the fray. It felt like a waste of my experience, and all the prior training, to be kept out of the fight.

Taking my leave from the bridge after instructing the helmsman to inform me when all this is said and done on the enemy facility. That they can directly notify me in the physical training facility where I practice my swordsmanship. The workout will help me sort out my thoughts. Keeping me from wondering about every last inch of death and mayhem taking place out on the moon.

* * *

Marckus:

The lift doors open as we hit the bottom of the base. My tank top clung to my sweat soaked frame from being packed in the lift, not that my armored coat did much to keep me cool. We exit in spaced out pairs, keeping a three meter gap between each pair. No way are we going to make it easy for the enemy to take us in a cluster. Rifle snug in my shoulder, we creep as quickly and quietly as possible. Better to catch them off guard than to flat out announce our arrival.

Coming up to the first intersection I split the men up. Checking the corridor crossing ours, sending off two teams of four down either direction, the five of us left in the main corridor running the middle. Now more spread out, we can cover much more area, and make an ambush more in our favor. Keeping pace with the outer teams sweeping each junction. Anticipating a fire fight each time we come across a new intersection. Starting to wonder where in the hell all the resistance is. Are they really just setting up on the upper levels hoping to thin or annihilate us entirely? Seems like a reasonable tactic, though I do not think they will be able to account for the fact that brute force in tight grouping with little cover is not well thought out. At least not in the last couple of encounters in the corridors earlier.

The lack of opposition is starting to play on my mind. Something more subtle was afoot down here. Even the lighting was more sinister and gloomy in the thin air, and atmosphere at the bottom level. Feels uncanny why this level is more or less a large grid pattern. The others seemed fairly random in the layout as if they had been designed based upon what the purpose of each area was to be used for. This at the very last layer felt more like a prison. This must be where the test subjects are housed when not being stripped of dignity, body parts, sanity, and ultimately life.

After concluding this thought, we are approximately halfway through the level. Gathering up the troops in the middle of the floor.

“New plan”, I begin this new realization, “Those with a plasma cutter take a buddy and start popping open these cells blocks. Have a strange feeling that this is where the refugees are being kept. If found keep together, and under any circumstance do not move them upward until the rest of the other levels have been cleared.”

Three pairs disperse from the group. Opening up the comms I need to find the Andilusion, and equally Red Wolf.

“Rynis are you on the last floor, and what is your position”, I ask of the small hidden Master Sergeant.

“Third row at the far end, second cell from the end” , his reply to my question.

“Thanks, be there shortly” , I tell him, gesturing the seven men still with me to move out. Tearing down the corridor, feeling all the rage towards General Mitsaku for taking Red Wolf prisoner. Feeling impossibly faster than my comrades, as I push my legs harder than I thought possible. A thousand horrifying thoughts passing through my mind of what that asshole has done to her. They only add fuel to my rekindled burning desire to get my hands on the cowardly General hiding in this hole. Ignoring the burn in my lungs catching fire with the dead run to recover Red Wolf and punish the rat who thinks he can do as he pleases.

Slamming hard to a halt where the Andilusion Marine has indicated.

“Care to get me out of this damn vent first”, the small soldier growls frustrated in the duct above us. Another Uldivarion in our small party tears open the metal grating that is at about three meters up at the ceiling. Mentally taking note of just how powerful the tall slender framed creature really is. Having that small bit of business out of the way, focusing my full attention on the cell before me.

Playing a gamble, “Sir, the enemy has been neutralized”, I bark flatly at the door. Rhino, Lieutenant Semrzz, Shadow Company, and the other men were positioned in a semi circle around me and the door. Waiting in the silence for an answer from the General hold up in the cell.

After a few more heart beats, “Sir, all clear” , I bark at the door adding a hard round of knocking on the heavy metal door. Allowing another lapse of silence in the moments. Knowing that those at my back did not have a cutter on them, I think a moment. Reaching into my coat remembering the weapon the fallen cyborg had given me before her death. Producing the plasma blade housed in the heavy handle. The blade leaps eagerly from the handle, quietly humming in its high heat glow ready to be used. Placing the hungry super heated blade up against the door at the edge. It greedily chews through the minerals, slowly gnaws at the door with my direction. Leaving a molten trail of slag as I carve the entrance to the cell. Tracing the frame as quickly as the plasma blade would allow.

Three long minutes of cutting through the door, a deep anticipation to know what is on the other side. With a loud clang the door falls free to the floor toward us. Jumping out of the way once the mauled door fell. The edges of the door and where it hung still smolder hotly. Retracting the blade back into the handle and replacing it back inside my coat. Rifle in my grip, at the ready. Swiftly stepping into the cooling threshold to the holding cell.

Spotting Captain Flurren crumpled in the corner at the far right. Sweeping the room with the sights to the left. Further to the far left corner grotesque overweight man lay in a brutal display of feral ferocity. His face is battered so badly that there is no way to identify him by facial features. A chilling shard of ice leaps throughout my entire nervous system. Swinging the rifle full arch the final part of sweeping the cell. Then I see her. She does not look like herself. Red Wolf is standing just a few centimeters from the muzzle of rifle. Her eyes wide, and her teeth bared like a wild animal. Her stance aggressive. Fists raised, I notice the metal covering her knuckles. Slowly lowering the rifle, and she lowers her fists. This is a side of Red Wolf I have never seen before. Starting to lose my rage rapidly. Beginning to wonder what in the hell had happened in the cell. Small clues start appearing as I visually inspect her. Her dress jacket torn as well as the blouse beneath. Her left eye blackened. Lip split and her cheek bright red. Turning my gaze back to the beaten man dead on the floor in the corner. His blood is in the middle stages of coagulation. Looking back to Red Wolf, I start to put the pieces together. It makes me sick at what the fat bastard had tried to do. Small pieces of General Mitsaku’s flesh and bone clung to the metal knuckles in her clenched fists. Putting aside the thought of where she got them, or where she hid them upon her person. I was glad to see that she had them and unleashed her wrath upon the prick until there was nothing left of him.

“Zlada, it’s ok” , I offer trying to calm her, “Let’s get you out of here. The guys can finish up with this nightmare.” Placing my arm around her, she shakes against me still in shock of what she had endured in captivity. Leading her through the door frame where the others are waiting. Stepping back into the cell to fetch the short old captain. After assessing that he is just unconscious, begin to raise his thirty six and half kilo frame off the floor. As his head lolls with me getting a grip on him. I see blood on his chin just off center. Pausing a second in raising his limp body of the cell floor. Running a finger across his chin. The blood was red. Peering at the other body with Captain Flurren hanging over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Having not noticed it on my first inspection of the dead generals person. Seeing where the blood had come from on the Grey’s mouth. The small Captain had bitten off the last two fingers on the dead mans hand. A smile crosses my face at seeing this. Hate to admit it, but as much as I dislike Greys. Flurren had done what he could to help Zlada even though he knew the stakes. Should like to thank him once he comes to.

Handing the limp Captain over to one of the Shadow Company boys, “Get them to the top in the lift”, I order the team, “Wait for the rest of the prisoners first. The rest of you come with me, we are going to chase the rats on both ends.” The Master Sergeant and the three men of his command are with me. To my surprise Lieutenant Semrzz accompanies me on my retaliation march back to the stairs. To think that there are those that call me a devil, a demon. I am vicious to my enemy, but never, never have I ever been so vile as to do what they had done to Zlada.

Casting the rifle aside, and dumping the ten remaining magazines for it, from my cargo pockets. Drawing both my pistol and the large split bladed knife. After what I had just bared witness to in my General, my friend, my adopted daughter. Wanting to make them realize that I can be exactly what they believe me to be. They are going to pay for protecting such a monster. This monster coming for them is far worse.