Halfbreed Ch. 02

Allynna made no indication that she understood he was trying to apologize. She turned her head to one side, marching stiffly to her bedroll as she turned her back on Mike.

The humming grew annoyingly oppressive in Mike's ears. "...What is that?" He asked, having finally gotten his breath back. Allynna didn't turn around to face him, kneeling as she angrily rolled up her bedroll. Mike suddenly became aware of his surroundings. The humming was growing closer.

"That's a fucking repulsor cycle." He said, rising to his feet. "Aly! Eyes up!"

The Elf turned to face him, her face growing solemn when she heard his shift in tone. Mike put a hand to his ear and mimed listening. His first mate's eyes sharpened, recognizing the approaching bike.

"A scout." She said, stuffing her bedroll into the bug out bag, even as she pulled out the two small service pistols that were stashed there. "Likely the tribe that found our crash site." Mike nodded, reaching out to catch the first pistol as she tossed it to him. Mike checked the thorium clip, racking the slide back and chambering a round.

There was a low rumble in his chest. The sound of whirring turbines grew loud in his ears. "Figures that they'd check every clearing in the area for the missing crew." He said, hurriedly kicking dirt atop the campfire before giving up and gesturing frantically towards Allynna. "Into the bushes, quick!"

Together the two ducked down behind a thick, rotted log a short distance away from the campfire, behind a stand of those strange, bulbous-bushed trees. They hunkered low with their weapons at the ready, as the approaching whirr of the repulsor cycle became deafening.

Mike turned his head, seeing Allynna at his right. Her blue eyes were tense and focused upon the sound. He reached over and lightly tapped her shoulder. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm sorry, Aly." He said, as solemnly as he could. They stared at each other for a long moment. Allynna gave a rigid nod and turned her gaze back to the clearing.

Bursting past the stand of trees came the onrushing cycle. Its blocky, chromium painting was colored a shimmering blue, and the green-skinned rider laid stomach-flat atop the rider's seat in a charging position. The long-necked vehicle shuddered as it came to a sudden slow, its turbines whirring in a deafening echo as the engine growled and sputtered.

"That cycle could seat both of us." Allynna whispered as the Orc paused at the other end of the clearing, his head turning towards the telltale sign of their makeshift campsite. He did a slow, revolving circle with his hovercraft. The alien let out a guttural growl and killed the engine, dropping down to the ground as skids emerged and the thing came to a rest near the center of the clearing.

"Maybe if we spoon on the driver's seat, sure." Mike said in response. The prospect was more intimidating than exciting to him. "...I'll drive." He said, to himself more than anyone.

The Orc clambered down from the cycle, stomping down hard onto the grassy earth with his large feet as he peeled his flight goggles off his head, revealing small, somewhat beady black eyes. The alien's snout was broad, thicker in bone structure to a human's, with long tusks that jutted out from his lower jaw on either side. His nose was thick, his dark beard full and scraggly.

As the green skinned creature approached the campsite, Mike could see that he cut an imposing figure: nearly seven feet tall in height. Dressed head to toe in camouflage fatigues that matched the browns and greens of the local fauna, with a scoped rifle slung across his back, the Orc approached the abandoned campsite warily.

"What do we do?" Allynna whispered, keeping her head low so that only the top of her head and her ears poked up over their cover. Mike mimed punching himself in the head, then pointed at the Orc.

"Gunfire might draw his buddies. We gotta take him out quietly." Mike put a finger to his lips and shushed his first mate. "Quietly."

"...Who should do it?" She asked. The Orc had his rifle out now, aiming in the vague direction of the dead campfire as he moved forward, alert for any sudden change in his environment.

Mike pointed firmly at himself with his thumb. "Besides the fact that a stiff breeze could knock you to the ground Aly, I'm the better sneak between us... and I don't need to kill him to do it."

"I really wish you'd stop talking like I can in any way understand you." Aly said. Mike had to consciously suppress a chuckle so as not to be noticed. "I'll cover you, then."

"Wish me luck." He whispered, pulling himself up and over the log once the Orc moved away to face the campsite. Finally reaching the spot where Mike and Aly had flattened the grass with their prone forms, the Orc turned his head this way and that, reading something in the ashes and the indents on the ground.

Mike tiptoed forward, moving as quietly as he could, avoiding dry leaves and stray twigs. His youthful instincts as an alleyway street rat kicked in, allowing him to move quickly across the open earth. He came to the last tree between him and the clearing, holding there a moment as the Orc's eyes swept across the area. He wasn't spotted, staying perfectly still so that he blended in with the foliage.

The Orc bent down to examine the fire pit more closely, reaching up with one hand to talk into the communicator on his collar. His words were guttural and deep, seeming to well up from the bottom of his lungs and radiate outwards. Mike's translator could make neither heads nor tails of the thing. He used the sound of the Orc's voice to mask his footsteps, approaching at a greater clip till he was within a dozen paces of him.

The Orc finished barking into his communicator and stood back up, turning his attention to the lone bedroll that had been left behind. Mike had neglected to bring it along with him when they'd bolted, but it provided the perfect sound cover with which to sneak up on the unsuspecting Orc.

Mike was now within six paces. The Orc lowered his rifle for a moment, reaching out with one hand to tug at the lip of the bedroll in an attempt to pull it open.

Mike held himself short, tense in the silence. The wind picked up, whistling through the trees as a chill breeze ruffled Mike's hair. He took in a deep breath, the whooping call of native birds trilling an alien sound in his ear.

Zzzzip! The bedroll's folds parted. Mike surged forward, crossing the last six steps without a sound, forming a fist with his right hand as the liquid metal rolled across his knuckles. He cranked his arm back, aiming for the back of the Orc's head.

A footstep before Mike expected him to notice, the Orc's head snapped around. The wily smuggler was just starting into his punch when the Orc twisted in place, lifting his rifle like a staff with both hands to block the strike. The near-instinctive move caught Mike completely off guard, his solidified fist connecting with the unyielding metal of the rifle. He hit hard enough to bend the weapon slightly, but the recoil sent a jolt of pain down his arm.

"Mother f-!" Mike yelled, his left hand reaching up impulsively to grab his fist as he backpedaled a step. The Orc gave him little time to recover, letting out a bestial roar and leaping to his feet, surging forward at Mike, wielding the butt of his rifle like a scimitar.

The Orc swung high at Mike's head. Mike ducked the roundhouse, extending the three digits between his middle and pinky fingers as he tucked his index and thumb against his palm. The liquid metal reformed into a small axe on the outer edge of his right hand, which Mike lifted to bat aside the Orc's second swing. The Aliens' superior strength forced Mike to backpedal once more.

"Aly!" Mike shouted, rolling to one side when the Orc tried to sweep his feet out from under him. The alien was quick, far quicker than a creature of such girth should be. He stayed brutally close to Mike, refusing to let the nimble footed rogue gain any distance on him.

Sensing an opening, Mike swung at the Orc's head. The scout lifted his rifle, catching Mike's blade as it embedded itself deep into the hilt of the long muzzle. Mike had hoped he would have cleaved through it altogether; no such luck. He was forced to change hand gestures, pulling the liquid metal back into his wrist to extricate his blade.

The Orc grunted and threw aside his ruined rifle, leaping forward at Mike in an attempt to overwhelm him. His large green mits grabbed Mike by the scruff of his leather coat, shoving the smuggler to one side as he slammed Mike against a tree. Mike felt the wind fly from his lungs as the Orc lifted him bodily into the air, only to slam him back against the ribbed tree bark a second time.

The smuggler closed the fingers on his right hand and extended only his index, creating a long thrusting dagger. As the Orc lifted him up to fling him against the tree again, Mike jammed it as deep into the side of the Orc's rippling bicep as it could go. The Orc let out a roar of pain, shoving Mike as hard as he could into the bark. The back of Mike's head struck the solid wood, and suddenly the world was spinning. The wounded native dropped Mike to the ground like a rock, and he collapsed into a heap.

Aly was crossing the distance between them, shouting at the top of her lungs with her pistol raised. Mike tried to scramble to his feet, but now the bloodlust was in the Orc. The scout leapt atop him. One of his great fists closed around Mike's throat, and the other cranked back a truly monstrous blow. Mike watched as the punch came down upon him, sending stars across his vision as maintaining consciousness became a sudden struggle.

BANG. The echoing roar of a gunshot rolled like thunder across the treetops. A large flock of birds leapt from the foliage and fled in all directions. The Orc paused in his fury, lifting his gaze to see the hard-eyed Elf standing a dozen feet away, her gun pointed at his head.

"Let. Him. Go." She said, a dark menace in her voice.

The Orc grunted and raised his hands, leaping away from Mike's prostrate body and standing to his feet. Mike let out a groan and shifted his hips, planting his elbows to the earth as he tried to blink the fog of confusion from his eyes.

He failed to do so, shakily sitting up off the ground. A rush of vertigo struck him as he tried to recover his thoughts. There was blood in his mouth. He could taste copper on his tongue.

"Michael!" Allynna called out, "Michael, are you all right?"

Had Mike been of sounder mind he'd have cursed his reckless first mate for revealing their position to nearby patrols. As it was he let out a groan and staggered to his feet, swaying back and forth as he struggled to maintain balance.

Something was wrong. Something had been jarred in his head in that fight. He had a splitting, throbbing sensation at the base of his temples, and his eyes refused to focus. His heart was beating out of his chest, endorphins flowing fast throughout his body.

Mike pulled himself up, stumbling forward as he closed the distance on the Orc, standing there with one hand raised in surrender, and the other cradling his wounded arm against his chest. Without missing a beat Mike made a fist with his right hand. The liquid metal formed at his knuckles just in time for him to coldclock the native hard in the jaw. The Orc crumpled to the ground, knocked senseless by the blow. Mike tripped over his own feet on the follow through, collapsing onto his hands and knees.

He heard Allynna running over to him, her footsteps like shallow breaths growing shorter. He closed his eyes for what felt like an instant, but then he felt her hands at his arm, gently pulling him to his feet as he leaned into her. "Easy, Michael." She said, struggling to lift him. He was wobbly and disoriented.

"I'm... fine." He said, knowing that he wasn't. Mike came to his feet feeling like he was standing back on the crashing Halfbreed, when the stabilizers had given out. The slender Elf slung his right arm over her shoulder and hoisted him to one side, steadying him around his back with her left arm. Together they began to move.

"How'd he spot me, Aly?" Mike asked, feeling almost dreamlike as the Elf led him in an uneven, ponderous gait across the clearing to the repulsor bike. "I know he didn't hear me coming. Not at all."

"Stop talking for once and breathe, Michael." She said in response. "You took a bad hit."

She kept saying his name wrong. For some reason that bothered him.

Mike nearly collapsed when they got to the repulsor cycle. Allynna laid him out against it, perching him on the blast shielding before leaving to retrieve the bug out bag. She was a double image of sheer beauty as she left, and then shortly thereafter returned. Time was starting to act strange in Mike's head.

"Michael, I can't get this to work." Her voice seemed faint to him, for some reason. There was a low hum in the distance. "It's got a biometric starter; we can't unlock it without the scout's DNA, and I don't have the strength to carry him over here in time."

"In the bug out bag." Mike said, picking his words slow and deliberately, trying to focus. He was seeing double, his tongue felt thick and ungainly in his mouth. "My communicator."

"Michael, I can't underst-"

"T-the communicator." He half-babbled, lurching his upper body forward as he reached his hand into the open bug out bag. He fished clumsily through it, his hands moving like sludge through its contents till he found his communicator. Allynna looked paralyzed. He held up the device for her to see, pointing at the dongle.

"This," Mike said, blinking repeatedly. He pointed at the biometric scanner. "Into that."

Allynna set her jaw and moved to the task. Once her course was clear, the Elf acted as effortlessly as if she'd come up with the idea herself. The communicator lit up her Elven features with a robotic green glow as she unsubtly hacked the starter. The repulsor cycle emitted a loud beep, and then the turbines began to whirr. The hum in the distance was growing even louder.

Allynna secured the bug out bag to the back of the cycle as Mike tried to pick himself up off the ground. His balance gave out on him once or twice, but he was able to rise upon unsteady legs. His Elven companion walked over to him, concern written in plain letters across her face.

"Let me help you up." She said.

Mike shook his head. He pointed at her. "You have... to drive." He indicated with his thumb at the driver's console.

Allynna picked up on what he was saying. With many a backward glance she hopped up onto the seat, leaning forward and grasping the mechanical handlebars. She revved the turbines, and Mike reached out to hold the brakes for her. The repulsor cycle growled as it came to life. The sound of humming coming from the distance was now like a growing swarm of bees.

Mike tried to pull himself up behind her, and Aly grabbed at his jacket to help. But as he was reaching his legs gave out on him. His vision was coming in and out, and his muscles felt weak and tingly. The smuggler realized that he was going nowhere; time was not on their side. Mike struggled, reaching up to grasp the handlebars again, holding the brake as he dragged himself back to a standing position.

"Michael, they'll be here any moment!" Allynna said, her face inches away from him. She was frightened, it was a strange emotion to see the Elf wear on her often expressionless face. She'd stared down a charging Centaur without blinking, yet here she was: looking like a Catian child terrified of going in the water. Mike smiled.

"Rev the turbines again, Aly." He said. She shook her head, not comprehending what he was saying. He gestured with his free hand, pretending to rev as he swayed on his feet. The approaching sounds were now nearly upon them. True to her Elven nature, she went along with his request without question.

The second she revved, Mike stepped back and let go of the brakes, sending Allynna firing forward a dozen feet in an instant. She let out a horrified shout, her head whipping around to stare back at Mike.

Allynna had no time to recover. Just as she began her unintended escape, three repulsor cycles burst into the clearing from where the first had come. Realizing in the moment there was no hope of saving him, Allynna gunned the engines and fired off like a cannon into the forest.

Two of the cycles followed in hot pursuit, but one slowed down, cutting to the ground in a few seconds as the Orc leapt from her vehicle, lifting her rifle to her shoulder and pointing it directly at Mike. She called out to him in her guttural language. Mike could see her eyes flicking over to the unconscious Orc lying just a dozen feet away from him, near the treeline.

Mike laughed, pulling himself to his feet as he staggered forward. The world was fading in and out of sight to him, the blue leaves of the trees beginning to blur with the faded green of the grass. But he managed to maintain his senses long enough to get his point across.

"Hey, y-you!" He said, stumbling forward like a drunk man as he tried to maintain his tough demeanour. "...You see that guy over there?" He pointed at the unconscious scout. The other Orc looked at Mike, confused. "I kicked his ass, fair and square. Whatever else he tells you is a filthy lie."

Mike tipped forward, collapsing to the vine-strewn earth as darkness took him. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.