“Captain Hitomi Saruyama, Pacific Alliance Air Force.”
“I see. Well, we’re going to get to know one another very well, Captain Saruyama. It always makes me happy to see the strong ones break. And they all break.” He turns to the other man. “Strip her and get her strung up. Leave the underwear on. I’m feeling generous.”
His companion, apparently the subordinate here, approaches me to execute the order. Sucks for him. To get my clothes off, he’ll have to untie me. Trying to undress me doesn’t end too well for anyone other than Rion. I see no reason for that trend to end here.
The stale faced guard reaches me and starts working to undo the locks binding my wrists. What’s strange is that his expression doesn’t seem to change at all. He shows no excitement whatsoever at the opportunity to strip an attractive young woman near naked. I don’t know if I should feel relieved or insulted.
Beside me, the shackles clink on the ground as one of my arms comes free. As soon as the man loosens the second, I pounce. I swing a hard punch for the side of the man’s face. The force of the impact knocks him over on his side and, before he can get back up, I land another blow to his face and catch him in the ribs with a swift kick.
As I prepare to deliver more bodily harm, I hear the click of a gun arming. I look up to see the new man aiming a pistol at my head. He stands with the most relaxed posture ever, as if he hadn’t just witnessed me go to town on his comrade.
“Now, now. None of that.”
I raise my hands in surrender. No point in getting shot right now. I proved my point, anyway. The guard that just got his ass kicked doesn’t look to happy about it, though. He wipes blood from his lip and gets up off the ground. With all the strength he can manage, he reaches back and swings a punch at the side of my face. My head smacks against the wall hard as I fall sideways.
“Oh, that’s not going to work on her,” Mr. Relaxed says. “Just hurry up and do what I told you to.”
Mr. Staleface gets close so that only I can hear him speak. “You’re lucky he’s stopping me, or I’d spend a long time paying you back for that.”
“Catch me outside then, buttercup,” I tell him, not letting on that my head is still reeling from the impact of the wall.
He sneers and unceremoniously yanks my jacket off. My hands are yet again bound before he pulls a rope, raising me by the arms until my feet are just barely touching the ground. His hands rip my undershirt apart and off my body before throwing it to the ground. He works at my waist loosening my pants before wrenching them off, pulling so hard that my underwear comes halfway down my hip with them. The man smirks and yanks them back up hard, causing me more than a little discomfort in sensitive places.
“All black,” Mr. Relaxed observes. “Not bad. Now, while you are a woman, you’re also a soldier. As such, it’s only right that I treat you like one. I’ll make sure not to hold back any while I play with you.”
“What do we do now, sir?” Mr. Staleface asks.
“We wait. Let’s give her some time to think about how much she’d like to cooperate.”
He gathers my discarded clothes and picks them up. The two men exit the room and leave me alone, dangling half naked from the ceiling.
***
I blink moisture out of my eyes as I try to stretch my numb wrists. My breath comes in short rasps, each one grating painfully over my dry throat. Sweat soaks what’s left of my clothes on a molecular level and has begun to accumulate in a puddle beneath me as it drips from my body. My wrists have been rubbed raw by the restraints binding them and my shoulders scream in pain from the strain of being locked in the same position for so long.
Those bastards. As soon as they left the room, they cranked the heat up to well over a hundred degrees and just left me hanging—quite literally. I have no idea how long I’ve been dangling here in the heat, but I’ve passed out at least once from dehydration. If this keeps up, I really might die in this room.
Across the room, the door clicks as it unlocks and swings open. Sweat stings my eyes as I look up to see my two favorite people enter the room. Mr. Staleface wheels some sort of cart in front of him. The cart comes to a stop a few feet away and Mr. Relaxed walks up in front of me.
“Oh, good. You’re awake. I was afraid we might have to give you a little shock to get you going. Are you ready to talk yet, little captain?”
I try to curse him out. I really do. The string of expletives that flows from my brain to my mouth would put even the most foul-mouthed of sailors to shame. Unfortunately, all that comes out is a dry wheeze. After hours of dehydration, my throat is as arid as a desert and can’t quite seem to make words anymore.
“Ah, yes. Where are my manners?”
He reaches over to the cart and grabs a cup, pouring water from a pitcher into it. He puts the cup to my lips and, as much as I wish I could resist and turn it down, my body needs the hydration. The cool, life-giving substance passes my parched lips, crashing down my dry throat and revitalizing my vocal cords. I gulp the water down, unable to get enough. Too soon, the empty cup leaves my lips.
“Better? Now, how about you give me something good in return?”
“Captain Hitomi Saruyama. Pacific Alliance Air Force.”
“I see. Well, in that case, remember that you brought this on yourself.”
He reaches onto the cart and picks up a short blade, maybe eight inches long. The push of a button spawns a flame atop the cart and he rests the metal on top of it. As it absorbs the heat, it starts to glow with an angry red hue. Whatever he’s planning is going to suck for me.
“Now, I want you to know that, as much as this is definitely going to hurt you, it’s going to make me so much happier.”
The man picks up the now-blistering length of blade by the handle and brandishes it like a child with a new toy. He makes a big point of walking around me twirling it. Finally, he comes to rest behind me and I can hear him let out a sort of content sigh.
In the next moment, I feel a sharp pain and intense burning on my back all at once. The sensation creeps lower as he drags the heated blade down my lower back, just inches from my spine. I let out a stifled cry, refusing to scream for the enjoyment of this sadistic, twisted man. It gets harder and harder each time the sharp, hot weapon is removed and then plunged into my skin again, making several cuts.
“Still nothing?” Mr. Sadist asks. I just stare back at him defiantly, my breathing heavy. He actually looks pleased that I haven’t given up and puts on a mock apologetic smile as he puts the weapon down. “Well, that sucks. For you, I mean.” He turns to Mr. Staleface. “I guess we’ll have to come back later. Let’s give the captain some more time to think.”
Mr. Staleface gathers the cart and pushes it out of the room. His viler counterpart takes one last look at me before shutting the door. With them gone, silent tears flow from my eyes, joining the plentiful sweat already drenching my face. My back throbs from the cuts and burns. I’m really starting to hate this place.
***
The sensation of something repeatedly hitting my face wakes me. My head rolls as I open my eyes to see my least favorite jailor’s face just inches from mine. Seeing me awaken, he stops slapping me and takes a step back. He looks all too pleased with the pathetic state I must be in.
“Welcome back. Have you had time to think things over? We tried to make things a little more comfortable for you in here in hopes that you’ll cooperate.”
Comfortable, my ass. Maybe for a yeti. They turned the temperature down from a scorching hundred-and-something to shockingly near freezing. All the moisture drenching my body amplifies the sting of the cold air on my bare skin. Hypothermia has started to set in and I’m shivering hard enough that I’m sure it’s causing vibrations in the air around me. It might be appropriate to say I’m shaking in my boots if they hadn’t taken those.
“Have you changed your mind, then?” he asks.
“M-m-my name is Hitomi S-Saruyama. I am a captain in the Pacific Alliance Air Force. That is the
only information I have available for you.” It sounds much less badass stuttered through chattering teeth.
“If that really is true and you have no information that will help our forces, then I guess you’re out of luck. I’ll get to play with you indefinitely without worrying about pesky deadlines, troops dying, or other such trivial matters. I will break you simply for the enjoyment of it. Maybe I’ll make you my own personal slave. Have you lick my boots clean or do whatever else I see fit.”
Have I mentioned how much I genuinely dislike this guy? Judging from his personality, he probably gets that a lot. It turns out the cart from last time is present again and I only just notice it as he reaches down and to his right to grab something. With a look of pure glee, he pushes the button on the cylindrical baton, causing a bright mass of electricity to dance at the end. The energy crackles loudly, echoing through the mostly empty room.
He swings the weapon at me, landing a hard blow to my side. My freezing skin amplifies the pain of the impact, making one hit feel like ten. Electricity jumps from the end and latches onto me, sending who knows how many millions of volts arcing through my nerves. My limbs snap taut, forced to full extension so hard that it feels like they might pull themselves off.
The shock wears off as the weapon is withdrawn and some small amount of control over my limbs returns. I’m going to need this guy to pick one form of pain at a time. My body is starting to get ADD dealing with several sensations at once.
Another blow lands, this one to my exposed thigh. Once again, control of my body is wrested from me by the invasive current. I start to feel like I’m choking as my chest constricts. Somehow, I can’t even manage to gasp for air. It’s like every signal gets scrambled long before it even leaves my brain. Again, and again he hits me with the overpowered stun baton, clearly having the time of his life swinging what feels to me like Zeus’ master bolt.
I don’t know how long the bastard spends beating me, but eventually the assault comes to an end. My heart is beating like the entire percussion section and my breath comes in short gasps. Drool falls from the corners of my mouth and my muscles twitch from the residual electricity. Mr. Sadist puts down his weapon and sighs contentedly.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon enough,” he assures me as he gathers the contents of his cart. He turns and pushes the cart out of the room, closing the door behind himself. It’s taken me this long to notice, but he came in alone this time without Mr. Staleface for backup. It seems like he’s worse when he’s by himself. Totally hard to fathom, but I just witnessed it firsthand.
My body hurts all over and I can still feel the lingering effects of the repeated electrocution pinging randomly. It feels as if I’ve pulled every muscle I have, including some I didn’t know existed. Cohesive thoughts are a thing of the past and… judging from the increased moisture on my legs, my limbs aren’t the only things I lost control of.
I want to go home.
Chapter 16
Lt. Col. Orion Tachibana
January 6, 2113, 21:50
“Anything new?” I ask Lt. Shepard as I walk back into the briefing room. Yet another mission tore me away from the group brainstorming session for a few hours.
“Nothing, really. We think we’ve narrowed it down to four places, but we’re having trouble getting any farther than that. I also can’t advise raiding them all with the forces we have on hand.”
I take a look at the map and see four red markers plopped on it. All of them lie within Republic land in North America. For a while, I just look at the information and search my brain for answers.
“This one here was badly damaged by an explosion from within a few months ago. I don’t think it’ll have been fixed enough to be operational yet,” I say, pointing at the northeastern marker. “They know we’re aware of this one.” I point to the easternmost marker. “Everything important there has ceased and it’s a decoy base now. Based on their usual movements, my bet would be on this one here,” I finish, pointing to the marker in the middle of the others, toward the north.
“You sure know a lot about this,” Lt. Shepard muses, then looks over at me. “Classified?”
“Classified,” I confirm.
“Alright, let’s let the big man know.”
“Let me know what?” Admiral Fumihiko asks as he walks into the room.
“We think we know the location. This one here.” The lieutenant points to the marker I indicated. “The information we have points to this being the place.”
“Okay, good. How soon can you move?”
“Twenty mikes.”
“See to it then. I’ll have your ride ready,” he says, turning around to exit.
“I’d like to join this mission as well, sir,” I interject before he leaves.
He turns around, hand on the doorknob. “Need I remind you, Lt. Col. Tachibana, that you are a pilot, not a special operator? You’re also the CO of an entire squadron. Be more aware of your position.”
“I’m aware, sir. But I know how to navigate the inside of Republic bases, which will be helpful in executing the mission.”
He squints his eyes at me. I haven’t technically breached any NDAs on classified information. It’s all in the wording. If he wants to be difficult, I can play along too.
“For what it’s worth,” Lt. Shepard cuts in, “I’d like to take Colonel Tachibana with us. He has good intuition and combat skills. Plus, I could use the extra shooter.”
Admiral Fumihiko looks hard at both of us in turn. The other occupants of the room have largely stopped what they were doing and stand watching the three of us, absorbed in the tension. Finally, the admiral sighs.
“Fine, I’ll allow it,” he says. “But he’s your responsibility, John. I don’t want to be the one that has to explain how we lost yet another one of our precious few skilled pilots.”
“Understood, sir.”
The admiral exits the room, clearly annoyed and frustrated, but determined to maintain the appearance of a dignified commanding officer. Oh, how I know the feeling. The occupants of the room quickly go back to work, pretending they never stopped to listen in.
“Listen, Tachibana,” Shepard says next to me. “I know how you feel, but you’ve got to focus. If you’re distracted, you could get yourself or one of us killed. That said, I meant what I said. I feel like I can trust your instincts and I hope that’ll help us out.”
“Thanks, and I got it. Also, you can call me Rion. It’ll save time getting my attention out there.”
“Likewise, call me John. Shall we get going, then?”
We exit the room with the other three members of his fireteam and head to the armory. I ready up in full combat gear, all the while getting myself in the right mindset for the mission at hand. After everyone has suited up, we head up to the flight deck and board the Shadow Hawk.
We’re off and zipping across land in no time. Clouds crowd the night sky, warning of the predicted snow storm. Clusters of lights pass below as we fly over a number of cities, headed northeast toward our destination. Smaller, more spread out lights snake along the highways.
After maybe an hour and a half in the air, we finally begin to approach our objective. The high walls of the complex jut from the landscape at the end of a lone road, maybe a mile from the rest of the city. There are only powerful spotlights adorning the massive barrier, but patrols of armed guards stroll around the interior. They’ll probably be on alert after our shenanigans last month.
Before entering a range where it would be easy to detect us, the pilot circles around behind the facility and drops our altitude to only a hundred feet or so. On the backside of the compound, a small lake extends from the outer wall to a tight cluster of trees two hundred feet away.
He brings the chopper even lower as we get closer to the wall and eventually pass over it. As we reach the edge of the woods, he stops and hovers in place, the bottom of the vehicle skimming a foot or two above the water. I should really thank whoever it is planting all these trees. T
hey make sneaking into places so much easier.
Our fireteam quickly jumps out, splashing down in the shallow water before scurrying into the trees. The Hawk turns and silently exits the area to await our call. Snow starts to flutter slowly from the sky, too light to accumulate on the ground yet. Things might get a little dicey if that snowstorm decides to get violent.
The soft splashing of water subsides as we move through the trees. Occasional gusts of cold wind blow against us as we hurry through the foliage to approach the important bits of the stronghold. Soon, the greenery gives way to open land with the main buildings on the other side.
“Alright, where’s our most likely target?” John asks.
I take a moment to deliberate before answering. “Three o’clock, second building back. Maybe one o’clock third building. The other buildings are for storage, support, housing, and research.”
“Let’s tackle the three o’clock first, then.”
We leave our perch inside the woods and hurry across the open field, dodging the first patrol halfway across by flattening ourselves against the ground. There doesn’t seem to be much personnel wandering around as we move between the buildings. We only come across another two patrols on the way to the first building. Maybe everyone has turned in for the night.
A quick search of our surroundings finds no one nearby and we approach the door. Finding it unlocked, we dip inside and shut it behind us. A long hallway extends for quite some distance with doors punctuating both sides every so often. Intersecting hallways branch off to the sides, connecting to more passages like this one and forming a grid.
“We don’t need to bother with anything in this hallway,” I tell the team. “These are just administrative rooms. The holding cells will be in the hallways to either side of us.”
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