Rescuing Halin: Hissa Warrior, Book 1

by RK Munin

  The first thing she notices is how green and lush everything is. She can see dense jungle between the buildings as they walk. There are patches of colorful flowers interspersed in the green, and she catches whiffs of sweet smells in the warm, damp air. The home she's been assigned is just on the outskirts of the city, and they follow a walking path through the city. the men keeping their pace easy so she can take in everything around her. She's thankful when they stop talking to her so she can concentrate on observing.

  All the buildings are round, and she realizes the Hissa like that shape. The windows are round; the doors are round; and as she thinks about it even her bed is round. Now Halin’s grumbling about square hatches on Fortune makes sense.

  She hears a mechanized sound and notices some kind of small transport coming toward them. It's on tracks and seems to be moving only a little faster than their sedate walking pace. As it nears, she can see it's an automated tram, and although it's empty, it trundles along its tracks right past them.

  “Is that a kind of public transport?” she asks.

  “It is,” Dacon agrees. “The trams are powered by geo-thermals. Many of the things on Hissa are powered, that way including the houses. The trams run nonstop, day or night, and have designated stopping points all along their tracks. The tracks run out like spokes from our city center. Only those Hissa that live very far into the jungle don't have easy access to the tram lines. Most Hissa like to walk, but if there is something heavy or if someone is tired or injured, they’ll use the trams.”

  “They were used much more when we had women and children,” Revin comments quietly. “Children loved the trams.” All the men fall silent at his words, and Mian quickly asks another question to draw their attention away from the painful topic.

  “I've noticed you guys have top of the line everything,” she observes. “That armor you're wearing is the latest generation.” She points to the weapon on Dacon’s hip. “I didn’t even know plasma pistols existed with dual cartage loading ports. And the boots Revin is wearing cost almost as much as my ship. Where's the money coming from?”

  “I like a woman who knows her gear,” Veran comments, making the other men chuckle.

  “Both our moons are rich with rare minerals,” Revin explains. “Several generations ago when we discovered this and started mining and trading, our wealth rapidly rose. We also realized very quickly that we are a prime target after we were attacked a few times. We focused on building a military to keep Hissa safe. Almost half the Hissa population serves in the military. The equipment we wear, that you seem so envious of, is standard issue. We want our warriors to go into battle with the best we can offer.”

  “Are attacks still an issue?”

  “No much anymore,” Povin assures her. “At first there were constant attacks and several full-scale invasion attempts. Now we mostly guard the haulers that take our processed minerals outside of our system to be sold.”

  “That explains a lot,” she says.

  She notices the path they’re walking has gone from hard packed dirt to stone and the buildings are closer together. The gorgeous stone work around her is beyond distracting. Even the path under her shoes is elaborately laid down, with different colored stones creating complex geometric patterns. Most of the buildings, also made of stone, are etched with intricate geometric designs.

  As they draw close to the city center, it’s apparent that the Hissa take great pains to incorporate their jungle into the city. Entire sides of building are covered in green flowering vines. There are spaces between building where jungle plants grow thick enough to create a feeling of privacy between towering stone structures. It must take an enormous amount of effort to keep the jungle from taking over the entire city and keep the greenery limited to certain areas.

  Most planets she’s visited stick to either the ancient part of their civilizations, living similarly to their ancestors or they go the opposite tact, embracing advancement. The first category ends up in caves or huts, while the second group builds sterile cities full of steel and glass. But the Hissa have managed to interweave their advancements while still keeping the aesthetic beauty of their planet.

  “This city is dazzling,” she comments and hears all the men gives sounds of pleasure at her words.

  “There used to be many cities like this on Hissa,” Revin explains. He’s been pointing out different patterns and stones as they walk. “After the great death there weren’t enough of us to inhabit more than one city, so most of us moved here. The other cities were swallowed by the jungle. It’s the hope of many that someday our population will grow enough to reclaim those cities from the jungle. For now, most live here or on the moons. A few live deep out in the jungle, unwilling to mix with the rest of us.”

  “Lost souls,” Mian murmurs to herself, but Revin hears her.

  “Yes, souls lost to their grief,” Revin agrees. “This way. We are almost to the Citadel.”

  Shuttles are landing in the distance when they turn perpendicular to the path they were originally following. Soon they crest a small rise. Mian pauses to take in the large training area stretching out before her. A low stone wall marks the edges of the training field.

  Just beyond the field is a massive stone building the makes her think of a fortress or castle. There are giant cannons mounted in a tight ring around the building. Outside the ring of canons is another ring of smaller buildings with retractable roofs, probably containing guns that need to be sheltered from the weather. There are also shield generators on top of the tallest part of the castle, adding another layer of protection.

  “I'm guessing that's where non-combatants go if there's an attack,” she murmurs, and the men follow her gaze.

  “Yes, under that building is a large area to shelter the most vulnerable,” Veran explains. “It's the most heavily fortified and protected place on Hissa. We haven't had to use it in my lifetime, but we maintain it nonetheless.”

  Have they not had to use it because they haven’t been attacked or because there are no women and children left? One reason is good; the other makes her heart hurt for this species. She turns her attention to the large open field where men, all dressed in the same dull brown outfits, are running obstacle courses, wrestling, or practicing a number of other fighting techniques. She watches them with interest for a few minutes, envying the Hissa’s large, powerful bodies.

  A flash of light catches her attention. When she zeros in on the cause, she smiles and points eagerly. “Is that what I think it is?” All the men look to where she's pointing.

  “If you're thinking it's a weapons range, then yes, you’d be correct,” Revin answers and chuckles at her expression. “You want to go there next, don't you?”

  Nodding her head vigorously. “Oh yes, very much so.” Amused by her eagerness, they guide her around the training field and toward the weapons range. It’s set off far to the side of the training field but takes up just as much space. She's so eager to get there she ends up pushing the men into a slow jog, and they arrive just as an exercise starts.

  She watches with rapt attention as a Hissa male in full armor waits behind a line, watching a light above his head. He's holding a plasma rifle just like the one Halin bought her and has several smaller blasters strapped to his person. His helmet is up and his body is tense and poised.

  The light turns off, and he sprints forward. She watches him dodge several blasts and gasps with worry. Could they be using live rounds during a training exercise?

  “Calm yourself,” Dacon soothes her, a hand on her shoulder keeping her from grabbing a weapon off a nearby rack and running after the man to guard his back. “This isn’t real. If a round hits him, it only makes his suit show a dark spot. He’s wearing training armor, and the shots are set on a harmless low charge.”

  She nods but doesn't take her eyes off the warrior. He ducks behind a large stone and returns fire, targeting one of several training drones hovering in the air. He manages to hit and blow one up but misses the next one.
It’s obvious he's too anxious. He’s letting his adrenaline interfere with his aim. Without trying to take another shot at the second drone he leaps out from behind the boulder and sprints down range, just barely missing another blast.

  As he runs, he doesn't check his periphery and a small many legged robot that looks like a mechanized spider rises up from a hidden hole and catches his foot, tripping him to the ground. With movement almost too fast to follow it's on top of him and tapping the armor repeatedly, making the entire suit go dark.

  “Halt!” a voice calls out, and all the action stops. The small mechanized creature hops off the warrior and disappears back down its hole. The man remains still until someone walks up and taps the armor with a small device, removing all the dark spots. When the armor darkens it must restrict movement, mimicking battle damage.

  “This is impressive,” she comments, her hands itching to touch the weapons. The man who yelled halt is suddenly in front of her.

  “You must be Captain Sorrow,” he says, taping his fingers to his heart. “I'm Merin, the Range Master here.”

  Taping her fingers to her throat, she smiles. “You can call me Mian. This is an excellent training field.”

  “Yes,” he says looking around. “We've worked hard to make it so. All the drones and attack bots run individual random patterns so there's no way for a warrior to know when or where they'll be. The suits help us determine what we did wrong, and all the training is recorded so it can be reviewed later in a class room. We also change the layout of the range every week. Sometimes we’ll set down an old ship on the range and have the trainees run exercises through it.”

  “I wish I'd access to something like this when I was learning,” she comments wistfully.

  Merin looks visibly startled by her words. “Learning?”

  “Mian is a bounty hunter. She stalks raiders,” Dacon explains.

  “But not anymore,” Merin states with a frown. “It's much too dangerous.”

  That’s really too much for Mian.

  “Were Hissa women helpless?” she asks, drawing everyone’s attention to her. “I kinda get the feeling they were incapable of protecting themselves. You know that's rude, to keep women defenseless, especially if they have children to care for and protect.”

  The moment the words are out she feels growls vibrate in the air around her, even her guards sound pissed.

  “My mother was an exceptional marksman,” Merin tells her with real anger. “She taught me how to shoot. Our females were not helpless. Many were warriors that stood side by side with our males to defend Hissa.”

  Mian holds up her hands, palms out. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset anyone. I've just been getting a lot of flak from you guys over my job, so I just assumed you treated your females as if they were helpless.”

  The growls stop suddenly, and she looks around to see abashed expressions on most of the men's faces. “It's just you,” Dacon tells her, his scale pattern flushing a grayish color before going back to the familiar blue. “We've been without women for so long that it’s hard to think of someone as rare and precious as you in battle.”

  “It appears we haven't been treating you with the respect due a warrior,” Merin states, drawing her attention back.

  “So, if you're going to start respecting me as a warrior, how about letting me have a turn on the range?” she asks, seeing her opening and grabbing it. “I saw the hand-to-hand training in the field, and you guys are too big for me to play there. But this,” she points to the range. “This is right up my alley.”

  “I'm not sure that's wise,” Ravin starts, but Merin cuts him off.

  “We either accept she's a warrior or tie her hand and foot and lock her in a home,” he states flatly, and the men around him give a few snarls. She's guessing everyone knows how Halin brought her to the planet, and it’s apparent they don't approve.

  “If we can find training armor to fit you, then you can take a turn on the range,” he tells her and turns his attention to one of the dozen trainees gathered around them. “Simin, run to the fortress and see if you can find adolescent training armor. That should just fit her.” Simin sprints off and returns a short time later, out of breath and carrying a set of armor. Nearly vibrating with excitement, she slips into the armor. Except for being slightly too big in the chest and a little tight in the hips, it fits her perfectly.

  “For this exercise you can have two single-hand weapons and one rifle,” Merin explains.

  “I’d rather have mine,” she murmurs as she plucks a gun from the rack in front of her. These blasters are a bit bigger than she normally uses, but she can make do.

  The Hissa watch silently as she starts arming herself with two hand blasters and spare cartridges. She checks each weapon carefully as she loads them, then places them in the holsters built into the suit. She notices the plasma rifles are smaller than the ones Halin bought and assumes they’re specifically for training. She likes the smaller weight and how it fits easily into her hands. Just like the trainee, she decides she’ll enter the range with the plasma rifle in hand and then pull the smaller blasters as she needs them.

  When she's done arming herself, she turns to face the men and finds they're all staring at her with various degrees of lust.

  “That was arousing to watch,” Dacon tells her, crossing his big arms over his chest.

  Holding the plasma rifle in one hand and letting most of its weight rest on her shoulder she gives the assembled warriors a big sassy grin. “You haven't seen anything yet.”

  Several men bark out laughs at her words, but Merin just grins and gestures her to the start line. He points down to the far end of the range.

  “Do you see that orange circle on the ground?” he asks, and she nods. “That's your objective for this exercise. If you reach the circle, you've accomplished your mission.”

  “Right, I need to step inside it?”

  “Yes, but all of you needs to be inside it,” he warns her. “Even a toe outside the line and you failed. The armor has standard training shut-off settings. If you're hit in a limb the armor will deactivate and that spot will go dead. Two hits to the chest and your whole armor will freeze until I come and unlock you.”

  “Understood.” She takes a couple of deep breaths, then engages the suit’s helmet. She brings the plasma rifle up and rests the butt of the weapon against her shoulder, checking the sighting marks in her helm's heads-up display.

  “Ready?” Merin asks.

  “Ready,” she replies. She doesn't look directly at the light, unlike the trainee. Instead, as Merin steps away, she keeps her eyes on the field in front of her, confident she'll see the light change out of the corner of her eye.

  When the light goes off, she steps forward, keeping her knees bent as she moves and sweeping the area with her weapon. She doesn't sprint to the boulder, she knows better. The trainee she saw run was much faster than she and barely made it. If she runs she won’t be able to accurately fire.

  She's only three steps in when one of the first drones appears. She sights and fires. The smaller lighter plasma rifle barely gives a kick. The round hits dead center, and the small flying device explodes. Unlike the trainee before her, there isn't a second one right behind the first drone. Three of the spider machines emerge from the ground. She picks off the first two quickly, but the third is too fast and is on her leg before she can sight the plasma rifle on it.

  She drops the rifle and pulls a blaster from the holster and fires. The spider explodes next to her, but not before it made her right leg go limp below the knee.

  Damn, she just lost use of her lower leg and she's only a third of the way to her goal. Annoyed with herself she holsters the blaster and scoops up her rifle, checking the charge and swiftly loading another cartridge in.

  She takes a tentative step and finds she can still move, it's just slow and ungraceful. Her right leg below the knee feels like dead weight, but the armor keeps her dead foot from dropping with each step and getting in her way. The
only thing she might point out to them later is that if she was really wounded in that leg, she’d be in some serious pain. Learning to function through pain is a tough lesson and hard to simulate. Maybe they can put some kind of shocker unit in the suits.

  Her thoughts are interrupted by three drones. As they appear in the air over her, she drops to a knee to keep her dead leg from affecting her aim. She sights and fires, ignoring the fire coming at her. With three blasts she's destroyed the drones. Movement out of the corner of her eye has her swinging to her left just in time to blast a spider.

  Stumbling to her feet, she moves as rapidly as she can, while still maintaining enough balance to aim effectively. She sees a drone just lifting off and manages to get a shot in before it's very far off the ground. She gives a small triumphant laugh as she watches it crash into another drone coming out of the same spot. Two kills with one shot. Damn, she’s feeling on point today.

  She takes several more steps and almost falls into a hole where a spider is emerging. Quickly she puts her already 'wounded' leg forward to protect the rest of her and sweeps the butt of her rifle down to batter at the creature. It tries to crawl on the injured leg, but she manages several blows and it flops back, twitching slightly.

  She hears the whine of a drone and reacts on instinct, ducking down and rolling. She hears a round hit the ground where she was kneeling, and she finishes the roll on her back, bringing the rifle up, aiming from the hip and firing. To her surprise the round wings the drone and it flies wildly around her, taking several hits meant for her from other drones before crashing down.

  There are two more in the air and she manages to down one, but the second one gets a round off and it hits her left arm, making the limb go dead to her shoulder. At least it wasn't her dominate arm, she consoles herself.

  She drops the rifle. The two handed weapon is useless to her now that she has a “wounded” left arm. She grabs the dead limb and holds it to her suit front. “Attach left arm to chest” she orders and the suit locks the arm in place, making sure it won't flop around and get in her way.