Ch 48: The Honor Guard
Rhidi cracked her knuckles, then rested them on the table as Lirya fidgeted with her fingers in front of her.
To Rhidi’s right was the green furred Shaksho, sitting next to him was Har, a black fur, and Bomark, the lithe male yellow fur that Rhidi avoided like the plague.
To her left was Oin, and Anfilid, the two being her first and second making them the same cultural rank as Har and Bomark.
At the head of the long table was the Major General of the Void Corps, Major General Raufus Moorlock. He was an older Human male, his head shaved bald and face looking like a canyon ravine from all the scars in it. Raufus Moorlock had earned his rank through resolute aggression during the Ur War, and despite being in his late fifties, was an absolute brick shithouse.
At the other end of the table was a deputy scribe of the Ashen Templars, dictating what was to be said during the meeting. She was a slight woman with keen amber eyes, and bore multiple deployment honors on her sleeves.
Across from Rhidi was, of course, Lirya, flanked by Tyllia and Mohki respectively.
Rhidi and Tyllia were both struggling to maintain flat, emotionless faces, as every time they looked at each other, they kept wanting to giggle.
Never in their lives had they ever thought they would be working together in a military-operation type scenario, and both found it so ridiculous that they were having to white knuckle their nerves in order to not start chuckling.
“I’m sure we all know why we’re here.” Major General Moorlock said matter of factly, his tone grave, yet amused. “I must say, of all the times I have been peering over the edge of history, I never expected to see this looming up at me.”
The Deputy Templar hummed a quiet laugh to herself as she rapidly typed on her data-slate with a blur of fingers. “It is not every day that we get to discuss a ritualistic duel-to-the-death.”
“If you ask me, we should have more of the things.” Moorlock grumped, folding his thick arms across his chest as the Deputy Templar frowned at him dryly. “Rhidi, you aware of what you’re up against?”
Rhidi drummed her fingers along the table with little thuds of her padded fingers, looking at Lirya before moving her gaze to the Major General. “Yes, sir. Second lieutenant Tamryn can be assumed to be an Elder Council agent.”
“Same with this other yellow fur, ‘Sergeant Liftan’.” Shaksho said, annoyed as he remembered the Kafya’s smug face. “They are breaking cultural protocol in order to give Second lieutenant Tamryn a ‘second’, in which Rhidi and I will have to engage.”
Moorlock nodded, rubbing at an eye with a low chuckle before addressing the table. “Those two have been causing an absolute migraine for our brothers in the European Unified Council. At this point they have managed to grab every Kafya under their sway across all major European bases, and are issuing direct orders that are being superseded over actual military orders.”
“I believe the term ‘frothing at the mouth’ would be in order, here, Major General.” The Deputy Templar mused, rubbing the top of her finger along the bottom of her nose before going back to typing on her data-slate. “The Pwah, Lilgara, and other offworld recruits are so annoyed that there have been brawls with the loyalist Kafya all over the place, and it is sewing chaos. There are still Kafyan holdouts, but they are a minority.”
“Which is where you two come into play.” Moorlock said, leaning forward and gesturing a bladed hand between Rhidi and Shaksho. “You two gotta get over there and stomp these two motards into the dirt like turd daisies.”
The Deputy Templar cleared her throat politely, looking pointedly at Major General Moorlock.
“What?” He asked, Mohki and Har coughing into their fists to try and hide their laughter.
“We addressed this, Major General.” The Deputy Templar said patiently. “You’ve been using that word way too much, and it’s spreading to the offworld troops.”
Moorlock leaned his head back with an annoyed bawl of a groan, then gestured with both hands at the Deputy Templar. “Who cares?! I didn’t see you get all bent out of shape when the Drafriti all learned that early 2000’s slang.”
“It was amusing when all they did was say ‘rawr, ecks dee’,” The Deputy Templar said hotly, pointing a finger at Moorlock, “That did not mean your Corps had to make it worse by showing them early two thousands movies!”
Major General Moorlock pointed a finger right back, slapping his hand to the top of the wooden table. “Mean Girls is a fantastic movie and I will not apologize for introducing it to our troops!”
“You’re not going to make fetch, happen, Major General!” The Deputy Templar nearly shouted, in a towering mood. “Do you have any idea how long it took to correct several thousand records?!”
Moorlock grunted in disgust. “You Ashen Templars, this is why I hang out with the Shieldwall and the Hands.”
“To the subject at hand.” The Deputy Templar said tersely, her fingers poised above her data-slate.
Moorlock wrinkled his nose at the Deputy Templar, then looked back to his soldiers. “As it is, right now, you two are on a joint mission to not die. Currently you two are the highest ranking Kafya in the entire UAA military both to reflect your expertise, and your cultural rank. You two need to kill these other Kafya, and it can’t be clean.”
Rhidi and Shaksho’s ears perked at the last few words, Lirya looking confused as well with a slight tilt to the head. They hadn’t worn their helmets in so long that their ears were starting to straighten themselves.
“Sir?” Shaksho asked, leaning back a few inches in his chair. “What do you mean they can’t be clean?”
Moorlock fixed his eyes onto Shaksho’s, then to Rhidi’s. “You both know what I mean. These two fobbits have never left on deployment and then had the gall to declare some bullshit duel against two of my finest Kafyan soldiers. This slight cannot go easy in your… what was it again?”
“Qin Ro, sir.” Oin answered, gesturing to Rhidi and Shaksho. “It is one of the few old customs we have left, a duel to the death in hand to hand combat to settle scores. It is still rare to see done, even now, but it is never taken lightly.”
“It is likely that word has spread around to every Kafyan world, the Elder Councils would not waste such a moment.” Bomark followed with a shrug. “We Kuwai had made quite the splash, with Kafya joining your military in droves. This would be a thorn in the Elder Council’s side.”
Anfilid nodded respectfully to Major General Moorlock. “The Elder Councils desire above all else, control. They had only lost control of a few thousand Kafya at first, but the loss of two whole planets would make them burn with a desire for revenge. If they can kill Rhidi and Shaksho, they will have an avenue to regain that control.”
“Same old song and dance, General.” Mohki agreed, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. “You step out of line, you get put back in line. You’ve let all the colors mingle here as one, and that has upset the fuel cart something fierce.”
“So I’ve heard.” Moorlock said with a grin. “To say we are flush with Pwah, Lilgaran, Kafyan, and Kojynn recruits would be an understatement. Not all of them make muster of course, but the ones that do have proven themselves more than capable of being called Human.”
The chests of the military Kafya in the room inhaled with pride, smiling to themselves as they suppressed the urge to wag their tails.
“So you’re going to make my sister brutally murder someone?” Tyllia asked, having thought that the Humans would want cool, clean kills. “That seems… excessive, doesn’t it?”
“It will have to be.” Moorlock stated matter of factly. “Absolute, resolute overkill in order to make the statement that our Kafya, under our command and training, thrash any infiltrator and pretender. Every board has signed off on it.” He looked to Rhidi and Shaksho, his jaw set. “You two are going to need to make a mess of those two, in a big way. We expect them to cheat, and if they do, you make them pay for it in flesh and spirit.”
“Speaking of spirit,” The Deputy Templar said in a secretary-esque tone as she glanced at Lirya, “That is where Lirya steps in. Lirya?”
Lirya, wearing one of her ceremonial uniforms made under the eye of Tyllia, perked her head up. “Oh, yes?”
“Explain to Rhidi and Shaksho what you are wanting to do.” The Deputy Templar said, rapidly typing away.
“Oh. Oh! Right.” Lirya stammered, lacing her fingers in her lap and sitting back in her chair. “I have… a plan?”
Rhidi furrowed her brows as Shaksho raised his in humor.
“You don’t sound very confident in that statement.” Rhidi stated flatly, looking the white fur up and down.
The Kafya looked as if she had popped off the poster for some fantasy game, wearing a hooded cape that came down just over her breasts. Her ears were poking out the top, hair falling down her shoulders along the lower edge of the hood. Her under suit looked more modernized, black leather with reinforced spandex joint gaps, and thicker leather shielding along the outside of the thighs. Around her waist was a tabard, fixed into place with some kind of gemstone.
Rhidi’s fine military eye saw the entire outfit was highly tuned, both ballistic and woven with technology she could only guess at.
“N-... No! I have a plan!” Lirya said more firmly, tapping all of her finger pads on the wooden table a few times as if to make her point. “It will be a further statement to the Elder Councils! To tell them we are not afraid of them, and that they don’t own us anymore!”
Rhidi raised her eyebrows up, crossing her arms as she sat back in her chair. Oin leaned forward however, eyes narrowed while Anfilid smiled at Lirya warmly.
Shaksho was listening politely, as was Har, though Bomark only had eyes for Rhidi.
Rhidi cleared her throat once, which elicited Shaksho to click his teeth, causing Har to stomp on the male yellow fur’s foot.
“Gat-!” Bomark began, then wrangled himself when Major General Moorlock raised a single, bushy eyebrow at him.
“Go on, white fur.” Rhidi said, though it earned her a sharp look from Mohki and Tyllia.
“I have… there was a data-cache.” Lirya began, reaching out with a padded foot and touching it to the side of Mohki’s for support. “I have been studying it, the old ways and customs that survived till now, or at least what fragments have survived till now.”
Anfilid leaned forward now, smiling. “Really? You have had access to old teachings?”
“I had heard whisperings of something being recovered, but I didn’t know it was a data-cache…” Har murmured, glancing sideways at Shaksho.
Lirya nodded happily, reaching down into a backpack below the table and pulling out a large, ornate tome. “Yes! I managed to cobble together… this.”
All of the Kafyan eyes in the room zeroed in on the tome, Major General Moorlock regarding it with curiosity.
“That’s Alcher-hi… remember when dad would study this old stuff, Tyllia?” Rhidi murmured, peering down at the words along the front of the tome.
Tyllia nodded, tapping the book with her padded index finger. “Lirya was able to reconstruct the entire alphabet with us helping.” Her voice became a little more wry as she grinned at Lirya. “Though, she was delayed a few days due to lack of sleep due to… sleep overs.”
Mohki snickered while Lirya looked sheepish, the rest of the Kafya in the room having no idea what the hell they were talking about.
“A-Anyway,” Lirya said quietly, trying to push the memories of Shugart out of her mind, “With this, I was able to reconstruct a kind of punishment our ancestors administered to Kafya who went against their own kind.”
Lirya saw the looks she got from the other Kafya, and she held both hands up above the tome. “Now, I understand how that sounds, but I do believe, from what I have researched, that the Elder Councils have been going against our own kind for… forever, now. Genocides, massacres, even leaving our allies to die in order to secure a firmer grasp on our peoples and the Inner Dolcir Coalition.”
Lirya opened the tome towards the back where she had been keeping record of the Elder Council’s reckonings, tapping a finger at a few dates. “It was difficult at first, but with the help of Humans and some other elements on our side, I have managed to create a list of their atrocities.”
Rhidi glanced down to the page as Lirya spoke, her father’s words echoing across her mind again.
“You have people looking out for you, working around you, working for you, legions of single entities playing out this grand game you were the first to make a move in… but there are some things that only you can do.”
Rhidi pressed her lips together, wishing Morris was here, but blinked her eyes as she went back to focusing on Lirya.
“-So, after Rhidi and Shaksho deal with their missions, as I have resolute faith in both of them to survive the encounter, we will drag the bodies back here.” Lirya finished with a proud pat of her hands coming down onto her hips.
“Bring them back here?” Har asked, bewildered.
“Why not just leave them in Europe? They’ll be dead anyway.” Anfilid added.
Lirya held up a finger. “To make a declaration. To take them to the top of the Remembrance Hill where our spiritual chains were first broken from our wrists.”
Rhidi’s heart picked up a few ticks in rhythm as all of the military Kafya in the room reflexively placed their fingers to where their golden chains of duty lay on their chests.
The golden Human hand, holding a broken dagger, rustled against the yellow fur of Rhidi’s breast as she pressed it to herself, and her father’s words came back to her mind.
“You started the war the moment you crawled out of that training area, darling.”
Drill Sergeant McPhiston’s words drifted in after her father’s, and Rhidi slowly drew the chain out from under her uniform top to hold it in her fingers.
“If you accept our offerings of brotherhood, you will no longer be Kafya. You will no longer be Pwah. You will no longer be Lilgara. You will be considered, for all intents and purposes…”
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“Human.” Rhidi whispered to herself, then her lips broke into a smile as she remembered the rest of the words.
“If just a little funny lookin’”
Rhidi held the golden hand holding the broken dagger up in her palm, running her thumb along the gleaming metal polished to a shine on her fur.
“There she is.” Drill Sergeant McPhiston had said with a bright, hunter’s smile, pulling her chain out of the bag as Rhidi had watched him with a pounding, exhausted heart. “There’s that grenadier’s green I saw in you.”
“A statement of what kind, Lirya?” Rhidi asked, slowly folding her fingers over her chain of duty as she tucked it back into her shirt. She looked up at the white fur with new eyes, her Human eyes, and saw the white fur how she should have been seeing her the entire time.
Not just her fur color, or her scars.
Lirya swallowed hard, finding it difficult to maintain Rhidi’s baleful ivory gaze that seemed antithesis to her own void-like eyes. She placed her hand on the tome again, looking down at it before looking back up to Rhidi. “Our ancients… they had a punishment that was both a statement, declaration, and warning.” She looked at Major General Moorlock. “In Human terms, I believe it would translate to… ‘To Expose The Sins To The Moon’.”
“Will you need help administering this punishment to the bodies?” Moorlock asked, curious as he watched the little white fur.
Lirya swallowed again, her lips turning down into a frown. “If there were more white furs like me, maybe, but from what I understand there is only one in the UAA.”
“And she is currently on a deployment.” The Deputy Templar said as she tapped on her data-slate. “I’m afraid she is not close enough to help with your plan.”
“I believe that at the current time, you are the only white furred Kafya on Earth and the surrounding stations.” Moorlock added. “Have a lot of your kind gone to ground?”
Lirya shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Moorlock before looking back down at the tome. “I’m… afraid it has less to do with going to ground, and more to do with the systematic destruction and degradation of my fur color, Mr. Moorlock.”
“We have come to a conclusion that it was the care of her parents, and their actual love for her, that kept Lirya from succumbing like most white furs.” Tyllia said politely, though there was a grim edge to her words. “Most white furs, as I’m sure the others can tell you, either die from lack of care, from self-inflicted wounds, or from direct application of removal procedures.”
Moorlock cut his eyes to Tyllia as he interlocked his fingers in front of his chin, tapping at his bottom lip with a thumb. “Direct application of removal procedures?”
Anfilid flared her nostrils with a sigh. “We have found their bodies before, while working in construction. Sometimes we’d find them wrapped in blankets, as if they had died in the cold… but the other times… you don’t have to be a doctor to know when someone has been murdered.”
“You Humans have a proper word for it.” Lirya said, smiling at Anfilid in appreciation of her words, but slowly sat down in her chair. “Genocide.”
Moorlock caught the amber eyes of the Deputy Templar, then they both moved their eyes to Lirya. “How bad have these genocides been?”
“According to the data-cache, they have been targeted, and substantial.” Lirya murmured, her ears falling. “Mr. Carmine brought me further information that confirmed Mohki’s clan histories, including the eradication of adult white furs, and the kidnapping of their children for… whatever they may be using them for.”
Moorlock hummed in his throat, closing his eyes; He had been well aware of what comprised the assault teams that had attacked Lirya and Kohan, both teams being comprised solely of white furred Kafya.
It didn’t take a Human to connect the dots.
“You wish to take the bodies to Remembrance Hill in order to administer your punishments to their corpses?” Moorlock asked slowly, opening his eyes with measured pause. “And I assume you wish the press to be there as well, to record.”
Lirya nodded once, before letting her chin droop and settling her gaze onto the tome.
“Do the Templars, Odinists, and Hands support her desires?” Moorlock asked.
The Deputy Templar nodded. “All have given Lirya her blessing, as well as their protections.”
“Then so be it.” Moorlock said darkly. “Rhidi and Shaksho shall initiate mutual combat via fighting word law, as is outlined in the United American Authority Uniformed Code of Military Justice.” Moorlock turned his head to the two Kafya. “You two are to kill them, brutally, and without mercy, in hand to hand combat. You will not stop attacking them until their bodies are broken, in which you will personally take away their spirit with a physical coup-de-grace of your choice. The duels will be recorded and broadcasted, and the kills will be added to your combat tally. You will not, however, gain a promotion from these kills. Understood?”
“Understood, sir.” Rhidi and Shaksho said at the same time with a quick bob of the head.
“You will then choose your honor guard.” Moorlock said as he stood, his chair gliding out a few inches behind him. “They will be there if they break the laws and try to intervene, in which they, too, must kill their targets in the same fashion. You will be transported tonight. Pack light. Oh, and we’ll supply you with some special shirts, they’re very fetch.”
“God above give me strength…” The Deputy Templar hissed under her breath, glaring up at Moorlock as he grinned at her.
—
Radishow exhaled a long plume of smoke from his cigarette, flicking ashes from the vice while his other hand stayed in the pocket of his trousers.
England was colder than he had expected, and he had to run out of his hotel when he arrived and buy a woolen hoodie to keep away the odd chill.
Radishow looked down at his Human watch, and watched the seconds tick by. “Not long now…”
Watches were one of those odd little things that those not of Earth had left behind a long time ago. They had never been truly fancy things, just little screens that displayed multiple times, but Humans perfected them into an art form.
The one Radishow wore now was known as a TAG Heuer Autavia with a brown leather band, and it was a work of art that had caught his eyes in the window of a shop in the UAA. They had made it from the steel of an aircraft that had fought in, and survived, the Pactless invasion, and it ticked softly against his flesh.
He blinked his bubble gum pink eyes at the watch, the rims ringed in red, and he rubbed at them with a grunt.
Radishow had been wearing so many color-changing contacts that his eyes had been starting to become raw, and instead had to wear sunglasses so his eyes could rest.
His equally pink hair caught the wind as he took another drag from his cigarette, then popped it into the butt receptacle next to him.
“Take it easy, chums.” Radishow murmured as he stepped down from the curb, the other Pwah and Humans raising their ciggy-bearing hands at him in salute as he trudged down the old, English road.
He walked down the ancient road silently, hands in his warm, woolen pockets as the wind pulled at him like the fingers of ghosts. The old, rebuilt brick buildings loomed around him as he trudged down the lane, the sounds of chattering voices in the hundreds growing louder by the step.
When Rhidi and Shaksho landed in England to duel their opponents, Second lieutenant Tamryn and Sergeant Liftan had panicked, declaring that UAA military law was not legal in the European Unified Council’s own military. This had caused weeks of delay, but now they were backed against the wall with nowhere to go once the EUC proved to them they were not safe.
This had included grounding all air traffic, making sure the cornered prey couldn’t find a way to escape their fate.
“No where to run now, you little rats.” Radishow mumbled angrily, his fists clenching in his pockets. “No one will deny me my revenge!”
Radishow had been waiting for this day since the end of the Ur War, when he could finally sick a meaner, angrier animal after the Kafya. He stopped on the side of the street and looked up as a few drops of chilly rain sprinkled down, softly landing on his head and sliding down his cheeks.
“It had been raining then, too.” Radishow whispered, staring up into the sky past his sunglasses.
He closed his bubble gum pink eyes as another drop of rain coursed past his cheek, and he remembered.
Radishow and his men had been extremely active during the early years of the Ur War. Pwah weapons and their soldiers had been fierce before the tide started to turn, and Radishow had loved his men as if they were his true blood brothers. He still remembered their birthdays, their names, the names of the families, their camaraderie days where they would drink, and sport… the memories constantly gnawed at him, like an open wound that never healed.
Promoted to a field commander by his now extinct royal house, he had been on the main front when the Ur had invaded their planet.
Things had been going well, at first anyway, but the Pwah were beginning to lose more and more ground to the Ur.
The House of Torrid Hearts had been a major, major player in the IDC, leading from the front of several other Pwah royal houses, and they had been so… gallant.
“Gallant… in the promise of brotherhood.” Radishow whispered to himself, opening his eyes to the sprinkling rain as it came down onto the dry road around him.
The Lilgara, Kojynn Remnants, and the Skalathir had kept their promises, landing ship after ship of infantry and armor to support the Pwah against one of the more recorded Ur pushes to consume a world.
Yet, the Kafya were nowhere to be found.
Only when the royal capital of the Torrid Hearts had fallen, burned to the ground, and his people slaughtered beside Lilgara, Kojynn, and Skalathir, did the Kafya arrive.
They had claimed delays, fighting against Ur ships in space, and how thankful they were that they had at least arrived in time to rescue those still alive. He had been fighting with the last hundred of his men, protecting civilians as best as they could, when Kafyan fighters came down and bombed the Ur, strafing them as transport shuttles landed to take them away.
He had been wounded too many times, falling unconscious, and was unable to object being taken off of his planet.
He would have rather died on his home world, than live as the listless wretch he was now.
Radishow’s planet fell, consumed and ravaged, while the Kafya were still able to call themselves heroes for bombarding the Ur long enough to get hundreds of thousands of survivors off world.
Radishow had been naive enough to believe the propaganda at first, as one does during war, and returned to fight beside the Humans. He had seen the war out, finished, and only then did he started his research.
It didn’t take long until he found the first crack in the narrative, and spreading it wide with his fingers only revealed the darkness that lay underneath.
Falsified travel and combat reports were everywhere, routes that didn’t make sense, ships that were not there but that were said to be there, entire units that had never existed, it was all just a web of carefully laid lies to catch his people within them. Then he had found that a nearly identical thing had happened to a Skalathir planet, and a correlation between their power and his own house laid bare the plan.
Kojynn worlds, Skalathir worlds, Pwah worlds all set to the sword to consolidate power.
Radishow looked away from the sky and towards the military base ahead of him that was crawling with Humans, Kafya, Pwah, Lilgara, Skalathir, Kojynn, and Drafritti, all of them waiting to see the bloodshed that would come today.
He looked up and around to the roof of a tall hotel nearby and saw a pair of shadows move along the walls, and he smiled, looking down at his watch.
“Right on time.” Radishow said with a grin, then tapped the face of the watch once. “Sparkle Otter.”
“Yes boss?” Sparkle Otter said cheerfully, whirling into shape on the face of his watch.
It was a classic, yes, but it was modern where it counted.
“Prepare the files.” Radishow began, stepping forward towards the base with a renewed energy. “Once the enemy agents are down, send them to the target databases with the cover warning.”
Sparkle Otter bowed her head politely. “Yep! We’ve been prepping them for the last few minutes.” She then frowned prettily along her digital face. “Um… boss?”
“Yeah?” Radishow asked, stopping just before the busy front gate of Dark Chimney Garrison.
“... She’ll be okay, right?” Sparkle Otter asked, her digital fingers fidgeting against each other. “Rhidi?”
Radishow swallowed, then nodded with a shake of his pink hair. “I have no doubts. Do you?”
“I’ve been watching that girl since the beginning.” Sparkle Otter said firmly, crossing her arms. “I think… I know, she’ll make it out of this alive.”
Radishow smiled at the little AI standing on his watch, then held up a finger pad towards her. “Team Rhidi?”
“Team Rhidi!” Sparkle Otter yelled out, then slapped both her digital palms against Radishow’s finger pad. “Let’s do this shit!”
Radishow chuckled as he powered down the watch, then rolled his shoulders as he placed his hand into a pocket again, the other pushing up his sunglasses. “Yeah… let’s do this shit.”
—
Rhidi flexed her shoulders as she sat beside her honor guard, the female Kafya staring at their male counterparts.
Rhidi was flanked by the quiet black fur, Oin, the humming brown fur, Anfilid, the snacking pink fur, Imridit, and the blue furred bimbo, Inthur.
Shaksho was flanked by the quietly snoozing red fur, Muidi, the lithe yellow fur, Bomark, the stern looking brown fur, Poploi, and the ever patient black fur, Har.
They had been told to only wear their combat paw boots, their uniform pants, and a white tanktop emblazoned with the symbol of the UAA Dropper Corps.
Rhidi glanced down at Shaksho’s chest, the flaming drop pod symbol on a horizontally, bisected field of black and blue neat and tidy in the center of his chest.
They all wore this symbol now, though Inthur’s drop pod was mildly… stretched.
They didn’t say a word, even as the shuttle began to hum as it touched down on the ring of the designated dueling field. Rhidi and the rest of the Kafya stood, arranging themselves towards the ramp.
Rhidi and Shaksho stood shoulder to shoulder, their honor guard behind them as the ramp began to lower.
Rhidi had almost expected the roar and cheer of crowds, but the ramp came down in eerie silence, thudding onto the grass.
“Step.” Shaksho whispered, and they all took a firm, in sync left foot forward.
Rhidi and her fellow Droppers marched out of the Pufferfish transport, its engines whining to stillness as the pilots powered her down.
The quiet was deafening, tripled by the thousands of people sitting beside the ring, standing, kneeling, arranged on vehicles, or sitting on the roofs of the barracks.
Dark Chimney Garrison had been chosen due to the large “football” field in between the dozens of barracks, at the end of which was Charlamagne's Chimney. Blackened by flames during the war against The Pactless, a soldier nicknamed Charlamagne had stood at the top of the old bakery’s chimney on a stack of broken bodies, swinging a greatsword at The Pactless as they tried to take him.
They didn’t, with death being the only one able to truly lay a hand on the Human as the last of his life’s blood trailed from his veins.
They had built a base around it to honor him, and it was in front of the chimney that the duels would commence, sacred ground that would take their blood as it spilled, just as it did Charlemagne's.
Rhidi sucked in a breath as she caught sight of some familiar faces as they marched across the football field, thousands of eyes upon her and her fellow Kafya.
Standing beneath a grand, fluttering flag of the Dropper Corps was Drill Sergeant McPhiston, his hazel eyes boring into hers like mining drills as his strong hand held the pole in place beside his foot.
Drill Sergeant Almoore, the extremely short female Drill Sergeant that had haunted her dreams at night, grinned broadly through her facial scars at her.
Drill Sergeant Curahee with his massive blonde mustache, the black skinned boulder Mavericko, and the bronze fleshed Prince also smiled at her and the other Kafya as they marched forward, their uniforms so clean that they nearly gleamed.
Then there was the towering Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss.
A massive female Human, standing at six foot three and with more muscle than most Human men, had her face set to a stoney, grim glare. Her missing left eye caught the light as she bore a steel coverplate over it, socketed into place where the eye used to be. Her one, single blue eye was bright with pride, but edged with warning as she narrowed it at Rhidi.
Without a single word spoken, Rhidi heard the warning.
“You will need to bring all of you to this fight.”
The only sound Rhidi could hear was the fluttering of banners, the clang of guide lines against the poles, and the rustle of their boots on the grass.
It was unnerving, and reminded her of the places where fallen warriors were buried beneath the soil.
“Duel detail!” Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss roared, splitting the air like a ship’s horn.
Rhidi and the rest of the Kafya timed their step to match, merely waiting for the word.
“Halt!”
Rhidi came to a smooth stop beside Shaksho, all of them standing at attention.
“Pa-rade, rest!” Senior Drill Sergeant bellowed, and Rhidi’s hands flew behind her back as her feet parted.
Rhidi could still feel the eyes of Drill Sergeant McPhiston on her as they waited, the wind rustling her hair as she stood as still as possible.
—
“Skipper.” Carmine said, cracking the tab on a can of beer.
“Yeah boss?” Skipper asked into his ear.
Carmine took a sip of the ale, leaning back against the shingles of the roof of his hotel. “Everything recording?”
“Oh yeah!” Skipper laughed. “You should see the view from the long range cameras, could spy a pair of flies making love at mid field.”
“The flies are on the goal line, Skipper.” Kowalski corrected.
Kindred giggled from beside Carmine, laid back on her tank top and sprawled across the shingles like a lounging cat.
Unlike Carmine, who was wearing normal khaki pants and a hoodie, she had chosen to instead wear Hello Kitty pajamas, slippers, and a tank top based on the cartoon Puffy AmiYumi.
“You two make sure to keep your camera where it counts. Keep the lenses on Rhidi and Shaksho, don’t miss the money shot.” Carmine said, glancing down at the gun bag beside him.
“Nothing to worry about boss.” Skipper said smugly. “We’ll be sure to catch every squirt!”
“I’ll be sure to go to the wide shots if they happen to get it in the neck from our Kafya, Skipper.” Kowalski said gamely.
“True that, Kowalski! High bytes!”
Carmine rolled his eyes at the sounds of slapping going on in his ear, then went back to watching Rhidi down below.
“You made sure to remember the surprise, right boss?” Skipper asked.
Kindred leaned out a hand, patting the gun bag. “Right here, Skipper.”
There was a pause, then Skipper’s voice came back into their ears.
“Puffy AmiYumi? Good grief boss, two thousand four called and it wants its weeb bait back!”
“I thought it was rather unique for the time, Skipper.” Kowalski said blandly.
“Unique for the time?! Kowalski, we really have to talk about your choices in early two thousands animation!”
Carmine exhaled out his nose as the two AI began to bicker, then looked down at the gun bag.
He unzipped the bag, looking down at the gleaming steel wrapped in oiled leather.
“Throwing arm still good, Kindred?” Carmine asked.
Kindred wiggled back and forth on the tiles with a contented sigh, folding her arms behind her head as she grinned up at Carmine with her long, sharp canines. “Always.”