The Reign is Over – Part 18
The Reign is Over is coming to a close.
The story is almost upon its natural conclusion. Most of the re-write is focused on the lead up to the assault. More layers of intrigue throughout, perhaps a few passes for more even pacing. However, the meat and potatoes of the story is almost at the finish line
Once I’m done with revisions, once it’s entered the final edits and beta readers have given me feedback, I’ll publish it. At that stage, I will be going through and removing all but the first post on The Quill. I will be leaving the blog portions, but The Reign is Over parts will be taken down from both here and Wattpad.
It’s been a blast to write, and I like that I’ve continued to stick with it even though the story has gotten a little side-tracked due to my life going bat-shit crazy. I’m glad that I went ahead and knuckled down and did it though.
It’s not my best work, but I’m immensely proud of it none the less. It’s been a long road to hoe getting it here, but I promise the payoff will be worth it.
You all deserve that from me.
The Reign is Over – Part 18
Lieutenant McNamara ground her teeth in frustration. She was crammed in next to Corporal Hidera, who wore an eye-patch with panache and was smiling whenever she spared him a glance. He was on his second set of stims, but who could blame the man? He’d had an eyeball almost blown clean out of his head.
No. Corporal Hidera wasn’t the source of her discomfort. It was the fact that she was wedged into one of the hidden panels she had known were waiting behind her in the hallways leading to the spaceport and was in the dark. She hated not being in charge, but Reignover was calling the shots. Armsworth was with Reignover however, and Reignover would think twice about trying to stab them all in the back with 127 kilos of behemoth breathing down his neck past the walrus mustache.
They had been waiting for almost ten minutes. Ten long, tense minutes where each moment she was sure Reignover would signal it was time to die. 15 officers, cronies of Captain Walsh, led by Lieutenant Raithe, were making their way slowly towards them. They wouldn’t take prisoners. They wouldn’t give quarter. They would shoot, and shoot to kill. And they hadn’t been battered about and abused for the last six hours like her team had been.
So she waited. And ground her teeth. And did her best to ignore Hidera’s medication induced buzz. Someone in this mess should feel good about themselves. Why not Hidera?
Her helmet chimed, and a terse command was barked without fanfare.
“Go.”
In a firefight, surprise was everything. But this wasn’t an ordinary police raid. This wasn’t even a military engagement: This was murder, cold and calculated. Kill before you could be killed. Lieutenant McNamara had done a lot of things during her life, but she hadn’t done something this cruel before.
Corporal Hidera, blind in one eye but still willing to stand next to her and try to fight their way out of this mess convinced her that she needed to woman up and get to shooting. Moralizing was all good and well, but she had a team to save.
She slammed into the panel with her shoulder, turning the momentum into a tight roll across the hall she had studied from a monitor in Reignover’s office. It was about two meters to the pillar she would use as cover during their ambush.
Reignover had pulled the trigger too early. The pillar, one of several which dotted the walls on the way towards the Shipyards, wasn’t giving her cover from the party she was taking from behind.
Raithe’s squad was still passing them.
The rearguard saw McNamara coming, and fired off two quick shots before she made it to the pillar. She caught a blast in the arm and felt as though it had been covered in lava. She screamed, but she worked quickly to master the pain. Training, adrenaline, and experience allowed her to cut through each nauseating wave to get a quick pair of shots sent towards her attackers. Nothing fancy; just a few body shots that wouldn’t’ve penetrated either assault suit. They would be more than enough to drive her attackers back, giving her the breathing room springing the assault to early had cost her.
Hidera wasn’t ready for the screw-up. Numbed by the drugs, surprised to find enemies dead ahead instead of further down the hallway, he had hesitated for a few moments before breaking towards his own pillar.
They were a few moments too many. Those ahead of the rearguard, drawn by the fire and the scream, took aim at the Corporal and let loose a wave of plasma fire.
He died with a smile upon his face.
McNamara screamed again, and this time there was no pain in it. Her world turned red. She scooped up the plasma rifle of the fallen officer, kept herself tight and low, and charged around the pillar towards Raithe’s team.
It was suicide. It was also the last thing anyone expected her to do. Especially Lieutenant McNamara. It was the only reason she didn’t die immediately.
She continued screaming as she sent blast after blast at everything in front of her. She wasn’t an officer, wasn’t a veteran. She wasn’t even human.
She was a whirlwind of Death, and it was reaping time.
Three went down in the first few seconds of her charge. The two she’d clipped earlier took another few shots in the chest, and their armor couldn’t keep up. Another took a shot to the face and dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut. She caught a fourth in the shin below the armor line, blowing the limb clean off.
She kept screaming as she went. If she’d been hit, she was too lost in rage and grief to even notice. She just kept firing and screaming and running.
Awhile later, she realized that she was alone in the hallway. All fifteen members of Raithe’s assault party were down. Raithe herself was splattered against the walls further down the hall, proof that Reignover had joined the melee in his signature fashion.
She fell to her knees, so tired that she could barely keep her eyes open. Injuries she hadn’t noticed while she was rushing pell-mell into the fight announced their presence. She’d taken a few shots to her chest, and she could barely breathe through the pain of it. She risked a glance down and almost lost whatever was in her stomach.
The armor was gone. Her skin showed, and where it was visible, it wasn’t the usual ruddy pink. Instead it was a mixture of black and red, cracked and oozing. She’d been in enough fights to know that she was lucky as hell to to be alive, despite the horror show her chest had become. Upon further inspection, her right arm was equally crispy. The first shot had taken her her right in the elbow where the armor was weakest.
Even if she survived the day, which was doubtful at best, she was looking at the better part of six months in rehab. Even after all that, she may never be able to use the arm again. Between the shot and the abuse afterwards of holding and firing a plasma rifle, it was a wonder it hadn’t fallen off.
She looked up, eyes swimming, and saw Armsworth standing over her. He looked worried, face a dour mask of concern. He specialized in scowls, and she could see this was his most Armsworth-y. She’d seen that look before, once, and that meant she was in worse shape than her quick scan had shown her.
So she grinned. A massive, cat-who-ate-the-canary affair full of cocky swagger and confidence. Her face felt like it was breaking under the weight of it.
“See? That wasn’t so hard Armsworth! And you were worried. Silly.”
Then Lieutenant McNamara collapsed to the floor.
To be continued….
Valkyriefully,
The Unsheathed Quill
