//------------------------------// // Chapter 3. // Story: From the Skies We Shall Reign // by HollywoodMarine //------------------------------// Brouge, 2030 standard time Durrant woke up groggily, hands immediately going to his throbbing head. His eyes screwed shut as he tried to drown out the many aches and protests coming from his body. After a few minutes the pain subsided and he was able to slowly sit himself up and take account of his surroundings. First off, he was startled to realize, that he was as naked as the day he was born. Second, he was in a stone brick, torch-lit, and windowless abode no larger than a doctor’s examination room. Third, he had no clue where the hell he was. He shakily got to his feet and walked over to the iron door. He tried the handle but it wouldn't budge. He pressed his shoulder into it and gave it everything he had but to no avail. He thought briefly of trying to kick the door down, but dismissed that notion because he rather liked his feet being intact. Walking back over to the center of the room, he sat down and started rubbing his face with his hands while he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. “Holy fuck, how much did I have to drink last night?” He thought to himself. “I haven’t woken up hung over and naked since shore leave on Nova!” He slowly and deeply drew in breath through his nose and let it out through his mouth. “Okay, let’s think this through, what is the last thing I remember?” His eyes turned skyward and his fist curled under his chin as he tried to recall how he got into this predicament. “Okay I remember being on the flotilla, we were going to Caspian to dismantle that Ork cruiser and then….” It all came rushing back to him: the drop onto the ship, the fighting, the sabotaged engine that caused the slip space jump…. him getting sucked into it. Durrant immediately sprung to feet and reached a hand to the base of his neck, sighing in relief at the small nub that was still there. “Okay, this makes no sense If I was captured by Orks they would have removed my UPI implant in a heartbeat…. or my whole head.” He then activated his UPI-tool, the familiar holographic display coming to life over his left arm. “Ok let’s find out where I’m at.” He typed in a couple commands to try and access the UCE Galactic Network, but to his dismay the readout said that he was out of range of any satellites, extranet hubs, or friendly ships. “This is fucking horseshit, what kind of backwater planet doesn’t even have emergency network access! Alright,” He sighed, “let’s just see if the blade still works.” The silicone-carbide blade, flash forged by the UPI-tool, sprung out with no hesitation. He checked the readouts and the blades stabilizer and internal dampeners were operating at 100%. “Well that’s a relief,” he thought darkly, “at least I’m not “completely” fucked.” It was at this moment he heard voices coming from outside the door. He quickly deactivated the blade and placed his back to the wall to the left of the door. As the voices got closer Durrant could decipher a few things. 1: the voices were female 2: there were only two voices but it sounded as if 4 people were walking and 3: It sounded like they were wearing clogs or high heels. As they neared the door he could finally make out what the two voices were saying, the words were slightly muffled, having to come through the door, but to his surprise they spoke perfect standard. “I still don’t know why you had the bright idea to go get chow for that thing,” said the first voice, “If the Commander found out we left our post there will be Tartarus to pay.” “Aww calm down Lance,” quipped the other voice, “you heard the doc it’s gonna be out cold till morning. I just thought that maybe it’ll be more inclined to be friendly if it sees that we gave it food and water. Besides I told you that you could stay with it while I got the stuff.” “And be alone in there with it? Yeah right, I’d rather volunteer for one of Corporal Brightgleams working parties. It just gives me the creeps, it barely has fur, has those weird, short,” she faltered for words, “…. tentacle looking…. things on its hooves, and it has all those weird markings.” “Don’t be such a foal; I’m pretty sure we could take it if things got bad, besides it’s a male” “I’m not so sure Storm, you saw all the stuff the doc took of it, a lot of it looked pretty dangerous.” “pffff, yeah “dangerous” all it had was some cloth, a couple weird rocks, some armor that probably couldn't even stop spoon, and a big blocky stick. I’m telling ya Lance we got nothing to worry about.” The voices reached the door, the latch shot back with a metallic clang, and the door swung open. “Everything is going to be…” The voice wavered and then barely squeaked out, “ ok.” What sounded like a plate and a container of water crashed to the floor. The two figures then slowly entered the room and when Durrant finally saw them his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. They were short, about lower chest height, colorful horses with wings and were wearing what appeared to be plated barding. One was a dark orange with a fire-engine red mane; the other was a slate grey with a jet black mane. Durrant was so flabbergasted that he couldn’t help but let out a quiet, “What the flying fuck.” The two equines whirled around and when they caught sight of him their eyes got as big as dinner plates. As Durrant took a step towards them the orange one rushed forward, head butted Durrant right in the groin, hooked her left leg around his, and then brought it back in a sweeping kick that sent him sprawling onto his back. She stood over him, placing one fore-hoof on each of his shoulders. As she was turning her head to say something to the grey one, Durrant’s knee shot upwards striking the equine in the gut, then stuck her jaw with the flat of his palm, throwing her off of him. He then rolled over and mounted her. He locked his knees on both sides of her hips, used his legs and feet to pin her hind legs to the floor, placed his left hand onto her shoulder, and laid his right forearm perpendicularly across her throat; effectively pinning her in place. As the grey one was about to rush in to assist her partner, the orange one turned her head slightly, determination evident in her eyes and shouted, “NO! Lance, get out of here and go get the commander! I can handle it!” The grey one took one last hesitating step towards the locked pair, then turned around and sprinted out the door; slamming it shut and sending the bolt home. The orange one then locked her golden eyes onto Durrant’s and croaked, “You better let me up if you know what’s good for you.” “You’re in no position to be making demands sweetheart.” Durrant stated menacingly. He leaned in closer and put more pressure on her throat. “But I am.” “I ain’t your sweetheart you bald freak!” She spat back, “My name is Private First Class Fire Storm and on my honor as a Pegasus Legionnaire, you are not going to leave this room alive!” She arched her back allowing her wings to shoot out from underneath her. This knocked Durrant off balance which gave her the opportunity to lash out with her left fore-hoof, clocking him in the side of his temple. She then used her rear hooves to launch him back into the wall. Durrant gained his bearings just in time to see the pegasus snort, paw the ground once, then charge. He barely had enough time to get into his combat stance before she was upon him again. She reared up onto her rear hooves, flaring her wings for balance, before trying to strike him with her fore-hooves. One missed and struck the stone behind him, the other he blocked with his forearm. He went in to try and land another knee strike to her gut, but the pegasus turned at the last moment, landing the hit onto her hip instead. He then lashed out with his elbow, swinging upwards nailing her in the snout, knocking her back to the floor on her stomach. Before Fire Storm could recover, Durrant rushed over, looped his right arm around her neck and wrenched her back to standing on her rear-hooves. He then activated his UPI-blade and brought the tip of it just inches away from the now terrified pegasus’s temple. She could feel the overwhelming heat pouring off of the device before Durrant spoke up again. “Now, where were we, oh now I remember. You were about to tell me everything I want to know before I slice your head open like a ripe melon!” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Brouge, 2045 standard time Commander Hurricane cursed as she bolted down the winding stairs of the citadel, a squad of 10 legionnaires behind her. She wished the stairwell was wider so she could take flight and get down to the lower levels in half the time. But for now she just had to grit her teeth, run as fast as ponily possible, and hope that Fire Storm could hold her own till they got there. It took but three minutes for the group to reach the room the creature was being held in, and to form up outside the door. From inside Hurricane could hear muffled shouting, so to her relief she knew at least Fire Storm was still alive. She signaled for the squad to stand by then opened the door. And what she saw made her catch her breath. The creature had Fire Storm in a headlock and was wielding a strange, but wicked looking orange blade that glowed with light and seemed to come out of its arm. It turned to face her, keeping Fire Storm in between her and itself. It held the blade closer to Fire Storm’s head, and spat out in a deep rumbling voice, “One step closer and she dies!” She tried to read the creatures face, to see if he meant what he said. She saw determination behind his eyes, but one other thing. It was the same thing she saw in the eyes of a cornered enemy or animal. It was Fear.