He looked over to where Estelle and Chaz were standing over the gurney. Chaz's hands were already covered in blood and, though she was overseeing the task, he could tell that Estelle was fighting the urge to turn away. Chaz's eyes appeared to be glazed over as he drove the knife deeper.
Dodds found himself compelled to investigate his opponent and wandered over to the soldier's unmoving body. The man still held the shotgun in one hand and Dodds kicked it away before he squatted down. He noted that the soldier's suit, which he had originally mistaken to have been a construct of ceramics, was in fact composed of little else but leather. It was thicker in some areas than others, extra smooth, hardened padding on the shoulders, elbows, knee caps and other parts of the body, giving the impression of armour plating. The texture varied in places, most often around where one part of the plates joined to another, as well as around joints.
“What are you doing?” Kelly asked in a suspicious voice.
“I want to see what this bastard looks like,” Dodds said, eager to see what lay beneath that ominous looking black helmet. It was round in shape and all encompassing, betraying none of the wearer's appearance to the world outside. Two tubes and a thin black cable ran off the back, feeding into the main suit. It looked as though the tubes existed to aid with respiration, although since Dodds had never seen anything like it before they could have existed for any purpose. He found they were all easily unclipped and, after doing so, slipped the helmet off the soldier's head.
“Wow,” Kelly said, drawing closer.
Dodds could not say what he had been expecting to find beneath the mask, but he had not anticipated this: the peaceful looking face of the man that he looked upon was - in a word - beautiful. The man's skin was flawless, with no moles, scars or even any signs of stubble present anywhere; not even the tiniest of cuts or imperfections. The skin was so smooth and healthy looking that the man could well have been wearing make-up. The man was dark skinned, the hair on the top of his head short and almost unbelievably uniform in length. He looked more like a model than a soldier.
“What's that?” Enrique asked, drawing Dodds and Kelly away from the man's face. On the left breast of the soldier's suit was a white emblem unlike anything they had seen before: contained within a circle was an outline of a man holding a spear in front of him. Both of the man's hands gripped the shaft of the weapon, his left higher up the shaft than the right. The spear was set at a shallow angle, the tip pointing to the top left of the circle. A sash, tied at the top of the shaft just below the point, curled its way around the man's body. The man himself was bald and appeared to be naked, apart from where the sash preserved his modesty; though the man was depicted more or less from the waist up so it was difficult to tell.
Dodds stared at the emblem for a moment and then ran his fingers over it feeling the raised outlines of the image.
“That's not an Imperial insignia I recognise,” Enrique said, his own fingers working over the emblem.
“No, I've never seen that one before either,” Kelly added.
Neither had Dodds. Like most he was more accustomed to the noisy Imperial Coat of Arms, being a clutter of swords, laurels, felines and just about anything else the designer had been able to cram into the space the design afforded. This symbol by contrast was a lot simpler than that, though not as simple as the designs of the CSN, UNF, or indeed the INF themselves, those being composed of nothing more than the disjunction of a few basic shapes.
“There's another one on his right arm,” Dodds said, comparing it to the first and discovering them to be identical. He looked over at the helmet he had removed from the man, but discovered that it was devoid of any such markings. He peeked inside, unsurprised to discover its main purpose being to serve as protection for the wearer's head. He noted the eye sockets within, the insides being clear unlike the red exterior. Two circular grilles on each side at ear level appeared to aid hearing. What looked like a small inset, unmarked button resided on the left temple. He put the helmet back down, more intrigued with the strange white pictorial image on the suit.
As he and Enrique continued to try and make sense of the emblem, Kelly reached down to the man's right leg and removed the weapon holstered there.
“What you got there?” Enrique asked the small woman.
“Think it's a plasma pistol,” she said wandering back towards Estelle and Chaz, turning it around in her hand as she examined it. “Looks like a high power version.” There was a low, high-pitched whine as she switched it on, a small digital counter on the side lighting up to display the number of shots remaining in the energy capsule. “Got a full clip too.”
“Careful!”
It was Chaz. Dodds looked over to see that the sound had broken his concentration and that he had stopped cutting, turning his attention from Barber's stomach to where Kelly stood holding the gun. The big man's hands were even more blood sodden now, covered up to the wrists. He was looking at Kelly with an irritated expression on his face.
“What are you two doing?” he asked of Dodds and Enrique, who were still knelt over the unmoving body of the invader.
“Just taking a look,” Dodds said.
“Then make sure he's actually dead!” Chaz said.
“Huh?” Enrique said. He met Dodds' eyes.
That was an odd thing to say. Dodds glanced about to see all eyes were on Chaz, the three other Knights, like himself, a little bewildered by his strange comment.
“What did you say?” Kelly said.
Just as Dodds was about to press Chaz further with a question of his own, a strange noise beside him drew him back to the body. Something clattered, bounced and then rolled along the floor. It was followed by another very similar sound and this time the “something” rolled into his fingers. Looking down he saw a bullet. Dodds picked it up, and discovered it to be wet and sticky as he rolled it around between his fingers. The bullet, just like his fingers now were, was covered in blood. His eyes followed the faint splotches of blood on the floor from where he had retrieved it, tracing them back to the soldier's body.
“What the hell...” Dodds said.
“Oh my God! Dodds!” Enrique cried.
Dodds looked back in time to see the eyes of the soldier fly open. The very next moment, and with incredible speed, a hand shot up and grabbed him tight around the throat. Dodds choked as the soldier easily got to his feet, still maintaining a tight hold on him, even as Dodds tugged against the hand holding him.
The soldier's other hand fumbled about his right leg, closing several times around nothing as he tried to locate his missing gun. Realising it had been taken from him, he looked about until he spotted it in the hands of Kelly. He also caught sight of his shotgun, hidden beneath a gurney where Dodds had kicked it.
With minimal effort he threw Dodds from him, attempting to knock down the small woman that was staring open mouthed at the unfolding scene. The woman reacted much faster to the incoming body than she had to the incoming Imperial fighter earlier that day, and Dodds crashed to the floor, skidding along past where Estelle and Chaz stood over Barber's gurney, still trying to discover the whereabouts of the data card.
* * *
Enrique saw Dodds land, roll and then remain still before he turned back to face the man who had just got back on his feet. He raised his guard.
With one of his opponents out of the way, the soldier turned his attention to Enrique, the blonde haired man now the only thing that stood between him and his armaments. Weaponless, but not altogether outnumbered, the soldier fell back on his fists.
Enrique avoided the first blow, as well as the follow up, before returning three of his own into his opponent's face. He held back none of his power as he struck the man, the blows he dealt enough to floor many of those he had sparred against in the past few years, almost certainly knocking them out.
The combination over he hopped back, only to see that his opponent was still standing, the strikes not having had the effect that he desired. No blood, no sweat, not s
o much as even a grunt. Nothing. The soldier had not so much as even reeled from the blows. Enrique suddenly felt as though he were a featherweight boxer pitched against a super-heavyweight.
It was then that he noticed just how big and tall the soldier actually was. It seemed that even Dodds, who had tackled him earlier, had not found the time to appreciate the height of the man. He was just as big as Chaz and also as stocky, but with something else added. Enrique had sparred with Chaz many times and, on more than one occasion, the big man had called time outs when Enrique took it too far. Enrique knew there would be no such call here, however; not because the pair were fighting for their lives, but simply because the soldier did not need one.
The soldier once again swung at him, as if nothing had happened. He managed to parry the attack, but failed to land his own counter attack. The two then engaged in a more serious fight, fists flying, legs attempting to connect kicks, grapples made and broken. Enrique's face betrayed his situation, stunned at the fact that the soldier was still standing. He knew he was not going to be able to hold off the soldier for very long.
“Estelle, shoot him!” he called, ducking under a swing and looking to his wing commander for assistance.
“I can't, it's empty!” Estelle shouted back. She looked back at the clutter of items next to the gurney, unable to recall seeing any more magazines; although they might be in there somewhere. She did the only thing she could think of: with all her might she threw the pistol at the soldier's head. It missed.
“Thanks!” Enrique said as the gun bounced off the wall and clattered to the floor.
The soldier caught Enrique's leg as he attempted to deliver a kick to him, tipping Enrique backward. He crashed into the gurney behind him, overturning the metal trolley and causing it to smash onto its side.
Estelle ran, seeing the shotgun exposed and anticipating the soldier's next move. Reaching it first she kicked it further back up the room before then attempting to take the man on herself, hoping to give Enrique a chance to get back to his feet.
* * *
Their plight had not gone unnoticed by Chaz, who was working faster than ever now that the urgency of the situation had reached new heights. Just as he thought he wasn't going to find anything, his fingers closed around something small, solid and cylindrical. Drawing it out and wiping away blood, he discovered it to be some sort of tiny plastic capsule. Inside was something thin and blue. That was good enough for him.
Stepping back from Barber's body he saw that the soldier was starting to overcome Enrique, the black clad invader landing two successive punches across the man's face. Enrique cried out with the blows and stumbled backward. Estelle was lying on the floor behind him, the wind knocked out of her from a boot to the stomach, her reward for coming to Enrique's aid.
“What are you standing there for?” he shouted at Kelly, who had remained rooted to the spot following the soldier's miraculous resurrection. She did not seem to even hear Chaz or be aware of anything until he wrenched the plasma pistol from her hands and shoved her aside, lining himself up with the soldier.
“Enrique, get down!” he barked at the man up front. Enrique did not need to be told twice and fell backward, away from his enemy.
Chaz proceeded to fire the pistol three times: the first bolt struck the soldier square in the face; the second tore straight through his right temple; the third shot struck the soldier in the forehead, almost taking the top of his skull off. The man's lifeless body tottered for a fraction of a second before it slumped down on to the floor.
Chaz strode forward, ignoring everyone else and knelt over the body, keeping the pistol trained on it the whole time. After some inspection he was satisfied that the soldier was now dead. He then started looting the man's suit, pulling out all of the various items that were contained within and about it.
* * *
Dodds pulled himself to his feet once more, his back sore from the landing. Enrique flipped over and started to stand, moving to help Estelle who was still trying to draw breath. He caught Dodds' eye as he did so, glancing at Chaz and then back again, wanting to know, as Dodds, the same thing: Where the hell did he learn to fire a gun like that?
His short known team mate had handled the firearm as if it was second nature to him; as though he had used it every single day for years and years. Whilst Estelle had held Barber's pistol as though it burned her hand, Chaz had wielded the gun with total confidence. And the accuracy of the shots he had gone on to fire had more than asserted his marksmanship.
Dodds rubbed the back of his head and looked on at the carnage in front of him. What he had just seen was impossible: Estelle had shot the invader four times, landing all the bullets in the torso. Yet a few minutes later the man was back on his feet as if nothing had happened. He spotted one of the bullets that he believed had been embedded in the man, now resting on the floor close to the body.
Had the bullet missed? No, it couldn't have. There had been blood, the man had fallen. He had heard the cries of pain behind the mask. The bullet he had picked up had also been sticky with blood and the man's suit had been torn where the projectile had entered. Surely he couldn't have imagined all of that. And the strength! If it weren't for the pain in his lower back - he considered himself lucky he could still walk - he might not have believed how far he had travelled with the throw either. He felt at his aching throat. It was painful to swallow. He was certain that beneath the lining of the flight suit there would be some rather pronounced bruising.
“That man was dead! Estelle shot him down! How the hell did he get back up?!”
Whilst Dodds was silently considering everything that had just happened, Kelly was voicing her opinions aloud. Enrique made his way over to reassure her, as she pointed at the still corpse of the solider Chaz was plundering. She looked a little hysterical, as if her worst fear of dead bodies had at last been realised.
“Is he really dead now?” Kelly said.
“He's dead,” Enrique said.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, he is, calm down.”
“How do you know he's not going to get back up again?”
“I don't think he'll be getting up after that.”
“Yeah, but we thought that after Estelle put four damn bullets into him...”
“Are you okay, Enrique,” Dodds asked above Kelly's ramblings, as he stumbled forward.
“Fine. Are you all right?”
He looked in the direction of the two corpses on the floor by the locker. “I meant what I said earlier: should bloody well have stayed in bed.”
“What was that all about?” Enrique wanted to know.
“Don't know. I've got about a hundred thousand questions, but answers that I could count on one hand.” He realised his voice was shaking. But then, so was everyone else's. “Did that really just happen?”
Enrique nodded, an arm around Kelly, rubbing her back. Dodds left them to it and made his way over to where the solider had fallen. He caught a glimpse of what remained of the man's head before turning away. He spotted some more red-stained brass coloured objects on the floor. Two more bullets; that made three. He had no idea what might have happened to the fourth. One hundred thousand and one.
Chaz was still removing things from the soldier. He had so far collected what looked like four grenades and a fuel cell for the plasma pistol. Other items were being tossed aside.
“Chaz, where's the card? Did you get it?” Estelle asked through sharp intakes of breath.
Chaz continued to search, ignoring her question.
“Chaz?” Estelle asked again louder, rubbing at her stomach.
“What?” he roared, looking back at her, anger and impatience clear in his eyes.
“Do not speak to me that way, Lieutenant!” Estelle said, the stress causing her own temper to flare. “Did you find the data card?”
Chaz tossed the capsule in her direction. She caught it and wiped the remains of the blood away, revealing the contents. She caught Dodds' eye and held it
up as if requiring a second opinion. He nodded; he could see the small blue card within was marked with the Confederation insignia.
“Right, we've got what we came for,” she stated, and began to secure it in her flight suit. “I think what it might be worth us doing is trying to contact...”
“What we have to do is get out of here, now,” Chaz said, snatching up the items he had removed from the soldier's body and stuffing them into various compartments and pockets of his own flight suit. “Enrique: how many more did you see?” he asked as he set about retrieving the shotgun from where it lay under a gurney.
“Four, maybe five,” Enrique said.
Chaz swore, then looked around the morgue, his face becoming quite grim. “Doesn't look like there is any way out of here except for the way we came in.” He glanced at the shotgun in his hand and then turned back to the group, his eyes flickering over each of them. He then turned back to Enrique. “Do you know how to use one of these?”
“Sure,” Enrique said. “I've done my fair share on the firing range.”
Chaz tossed the shotgun to him.
“Magazine holds seven rounds, but it has a low effective range so anything over about twenty-five meters is hardly going to be worth shooting at; especially if you don't have a steady aim. Don't waste it on pot-shots, it won't do us any good. Only use it when I tell you.”
The tone in his voice let Dodds know this was far more than just a mere suggestion. Enrique nodded as he began to familiarize himself with the handling of the weapon, turning it over and bouncing it in his hands to feel the weight. Dodds looked at Chaz in confusion. It seemed that the big man knew a lot more than he was willing to let on, but quite why he didn't know. His usual silent and steady demeanour had abandoned him, and Dodds wondered if they were now seeing his true colours.
Dodds pointed at the body. “Chaz, that guy...”
“Do you really want to stand around and talk about this now?” Chaz said.
The Honour of the Knights (First Edition) Page 32