Call of the Watch Crow, Part-5
Recap: Kall-Ku boarded a massive, armored hovercraft that had fallen and partially sunk into the bubbling muck of the toxic swamp. He was searching for medical supplies that he could use to fight the infection that had already made purchase in the wounds caused by the deadly Piranha Women.
His search was interrupted by a passing, Consortium Skip Fighter. Using knowledge that he received from his subdermal implant, Kall-Ku activated the assault vehicles sensors and located the fighter, just as it executed a maneuver to turn around, doubtlessly to finish off the fallen Black Sun Imperial assault vehicle.
He fought for neither of these governments…but if he wasn’t careful, he could die for both.
“Implant, how can I fight that skip fighter?” Kall-Ku scanned the controls, fighting to focus his battle-honed senses on the task of survival. He would have to do better than Implant; that was hardly a name.
[THE VERY IDEA THAT YOU WOULD EVEN TRY DEFIES LOGIC. ASSAULT VEHICLES LIKE THIS ONE ARE LISTED AS A SKIP-FIGHTER PREFERRED TARGET.]
“How?” insisted the Mercenary-Slave
[YOU HAVE NO CHANCE OF DEFEATING THE FIGHTER IF IT REALIZES THIS IS NOT A DERILICT. IN THAT CASE IT WILL LAUNCH A FELL-HOUND MISSILE FROM BEYOND THE RANGE OF THIS VEHICLES WEAPONRY, EASILY DESTROYING IT AND YOU. IN ORDER TO FIRE THE VEHICLE’S WEAPONRY, YOU WILL NEED TO BE SEATED IN THE GUNNERY TURRET. IT CAN BE ACCESSED BY THE TOP HATCH. IF IT IS CLOSED YOU WILL BE UNABLE TO OPEN IT FROM THE OUTSIDE.]
Kall-Ku looked quickly to both sides of the driver’s seat; no sign of a medical kit. The implant’s voice informed him that it was located in a magnetic box on the exterior of the vehicle.
No choice. Kall-Ku lifted himself up and out of the seat and clamored back through the hatch above, shedding the mask as he ascended. As soon as he emerged outside his senses were assailed by the dismal filth of the toxic swamp. The melodic baying of the War-Shuck sang clearly through the dim shades. It was a warning, and though the baying seemed distant, the warning was clear; he was not alone.
He dropped heavily back into the seat below, fumbling quickly over the controls, accessing a digital periscope. With is other hand he pressed the air mask back to his face. A tiny view screen flickered to life revealing a digital feed of what was happening outside. The controls were intuitive enough allowing Kall-Ku to pan and search until, at last he saw them; Piranha Women had picked up his trail, there was no sign of the War-Shuck.
Kall-Ku’s head snapped around as he looked at the compartment bulkhead. A Scraping and tapping sound was barely perceptible through the armor. He looked up at the hatch over his head. It was still ajar from his previous attempt at excursion. The sound of something scurrying across the hull was picking up speed as it moved toward the opening.
The Mercenary-Slave cried out in pain as he raced to reach the hatch first. Even the slightest movement of his arm was soaked in suffering. Again—No choice. Pulling himself up to the opening, he reached out and grabbed the hatch. The movement was met by bloodthirsty wails from three of the savage warrior women scrambling to gain access to the derelict. He ground his teeth as he pulled the hatch closed. Metal claws and sharpened teeth dug into his arm and hand, peeling back ribbons of meat. Blood ran from the deep wounds in his tattered flesh. It was dark grey, choked with infection.
“Shee-nuu-Rahzyah!” The strange voice emerged from the communication controls. At once the entire vehicle began to shake and grind. Deafening pops evidenced hoses breaking and high pitched metallic screeching announced that heavy metal was scraping hard against the bulk-heads. The turret was moving.
Kall-Ku gazed at the controls, wide-eyed. On one tiny view screen that was previously black, he could see into a compartment bathed in red light. There was an alien moving there. The creature was reptilian with large, curled horns on its head. It scaly hide was marred by burns. A tattered uniform hung on its devastated body. The garment was ruined, but gave the impression of extravagance.
[IT’S A DRAKUUL WARRIOR TURNING THE MAIN TURRET,] Added the implant.
“No.” Kall-Ku’s eyes jumped between the view screens. Piranha Women were clinging to the outside hull, desperately trying to get in; the Skip-Fighter was falling back for greater range, doubtlessly to launch its Fell-Hound rockets. Meanwhile this surviving alien was preparing to fire the main gun.
SHREEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAH!! The main cannon fired. In the scantest moment before all feeds were lost, Kall-Ku saw the intense blast of Maser energy strike the Skip-Fighter in a nuclear stream. A flashing red indicator warned that the Skip-Fighter had already launched its rockets before being destroyed. He looked up at the hatch. He didn’t have the mobility or strength the fight the vile assassins that were clamoring just outside.
No hope; the rockets were on their way. Whatever might happen next was a matter of fate, cruel and unforgiving. Kall-Ku looked down at the sludge covered compartment floor. Blup. Blup. Blump. Thick bubbles popped and reabsorbed into the foreign muck. Maybe. He took a deep breath from the hose and dug into the mire with his better arm, searching the area of the bubbles. HE found irregular metallic ridges where the bottom hull had been breached in the apparent crash.
Kall-Ku took one last, deep breath, and pulled himself into the sludge beneath the armored craft just as the rockets hit, peeling the protective plates away like the skin of rotten fruit.
[End of part five…look for part six, next week]