Plasma swords were a special kind of weapon that merged the old with the new. They could be used like regular blades for covert operations. When the plasma emitter was turned on, it produced a blade-shaped energy field that followed the original sword edge. Only near-indestructible layered molecular alloy swords could deal with the plasma edge. All other metals melted. Iullus Oda leapt from cover and adopted an en guard position as his amaranthine blade lit up the night.
The shooting stopped briefly as the thugs were confused by a blade-wielding Guard, and his comrades shouted for him to get out of the way. It did not take long for the thugs to decide not to ignore such a deceptively easy target; they opened fire.
As expected.
The slug on the standard sonic shot knock-off moved at a speed of 300 meters per second. The sonic blast that preceded the slug moved at 340 meters per second. Sonic rounds were a gimmick designed to incapacitate the target and void any miraculous escapes. However, like all projectiles, they depended on the user’s skill and the target’s luck. Relying solely on instinct, Iullus had launched himself into a lightning-quick evasive pattern, repeating no movement as he leveraged his incredible physical agility to become a human blur. He had trained under the fierce tutelage of one of the last surviving masters of the sword art in the harshest conditions on Kore for most of his life. Iullus found his current action to be little more than a nuisance. In a quick bark over the comnet, he ordered some of his troopers to circle around the thugs to cut off escape.
Three thugs had discarded their sonic guns, their weapons probably slagged by repeated fire. They all drew some sort of blade weapon, obviously intending to take Iullus on as a group and eliminate him as a threat. With a mournful little shake of his head, Iullus faked a retreat, then used his speed to jump toward the alley wall before he catapulted from the wall and into the thugs’ midst. Wasting no time, he neutralized them, using his plasma sword to chop off the thugs’ weapon arms. Two of them were crippled before their minds could grasp what had happened. The last remaining thug tried to stab Iullus’s throat with a knife; Iullus easily dodged and sliced off his arm as well. The plasma sword cauterized the wounds before they could bleed, and the three screamed in pain before falling into shock.
Iullus heard the shout to run away before he heard the peculiar implosion of a fired stunshot. A series of grunts followed a several stunshots brought down the criminals. Almost stereotypically, the reinforcement vans arrived as soon as the criminals had been secured in confinement rings. Police under the command of the Office of Planetary Security rushed out and secured the scene, attempting to isolate the area to find out what had happened. Two medics picked up Captain Aram and carted him into an ambulance.
Iullus observed the inept attempts of the sergeant-commander of this particular squad at trying to get information. Not feeling particularly forgiving, he shoved away the surprised man, picked up the thug he had observed as the leader, and slammed him into the wall. In direct contrast with his action, he calmly asked, “What went down here?”
“You ain’t gettin’ notin’ outta me, Rep,” the street enforced snarled. The man had a smashed nose, while his face and arms were decorated with the various scars that betrayed his status as an enforcer and biker. Iullus knew from previous encounters that these thugs had only one thing of value in their torrid existences, and that was their lives. Gang members held an exaggerated fear of the Republican Guard, whose reputation had unfairly been twisted into the role of brutal fanatics. He may as well have some fun with it.
“Is that so?” he asked, slowly adjusting his grip on the man so that he gripped the biker’s throat. “This is not officially a crime scene yet, you know. I can kill you, here and now. Do you think the police will betray us when we’re making their jobs easier? No one will know. Anyone who finds you and your dead friends will think that it was just another gang battle. No big deal. Want to risk it?”
Fear rippled across the man’s face. He shook his head, eyes glazed with terror. Nodding his acknowledgement of the thug’s acquiescence, Iullus let him slide to the ground. “I see we’re communicating. Start talking. Who are you? What gang do you belong to? What happened before we found you?”
Under the guise of getting up, the thug went for a concealed knife. Iullus had seen the knife well before the thug went for it. Viciously kicking him in the face, Iullus sent him sprawling. “Don’t try it, or you’ll find yourself in endless agony. Answer my questions, and all you’ll get is a comfortable prison cell.”
Sullenly, the thug sat up and glared at Iullus. “Name’s Shred. Wit da Red Stingers. We was jus doin’ some business ‘fore you damned Reps showed.”
“What sort of ‘business’?” Iullus asked, observing the orange specks in the ganger’s eyes that betrayed addiction to the drug A-17.
“Jus’ da usual. Notin’ to bother us wit.”
That flat-out lie was punished with a second kick, this one directed at Shred’s chest. Aware that the thug might need convincing, Iullus drew his plasma sword. Before he even activated it, Shred blurted, “Iight! I get da idea! We was on da watch for some KoreCorp delivery!”
“KoreCorp? Why did you want to steal KoreCorp’s property?” Iullus asked. KoreCorp was Kore’s chief electronic producer and innovator, with contacts with many high-ranking politicians.
“Big Boss tol us dat KoreCorp came out wit some new tech. Wanted it delivered, real discreet like, to some folks. We was to swipe it and make ‘em pay us to give it back. So we took the truck, and dat’s all I know! Gonna haveta ask Big Boss if’n you want ta know more!”
Iullus perked up at mention of Big Boss. The leader of the Red Stingers, he was a fat hedonist who had muscled his way up to the top slot of one of Apeiron’s two gangs. He had his hand in extortion, drug-dealing, assassination…anything punishable by law was his domain. His only rivals were the Camon Family, run by a woman known as the Lady. Loathing each other with a passion no street rumors could explain, they fought for control of Apeiron’s ghettoes.
“Where’s Big Boss?” Iullus demanded. When the answer was not immediately forthcoming, he turned on his sword. “Where?!”
“I dunno!” Shred screamed, terrified. “We was jus at our hangout in the Gamino when he came and tol’ us wha he wanted!”
Disgusted, Iullus indicated the impressed sergeant-commander should take him away. The rest of his squad gathered around him, awaiting his orders. Before, there had been an air of resentment to these enlisted men when near either Iullus or Aram. Now, they seemed to respect him for his willingness to fight alongside them. Of course, acting like one of the heroes from the stories they’ve heard since childhood didn’t hurt none either.
Iullus yanked off his combat helmet, turning to regard each Guardsman in turn. He was a handsome young man, but his hard eyes betrayed he was more mature than his years. He was black-haired and black-eyed, a rarity among Korens. After regarding all of his squad, he smiled wearily. “Gentlemen, it seems we had some more action than we had expected. Since our shift is almost over anyway, we’ll return to HQ and file a formal report. Thank you for your efforts, all of you. We’ll see if we can have some more fun tomorrow.”
Several of the other Guards had followed Iullus’s example in removing their uncomfortable helmets. One of them, young and still feeling the aftermath of adrenaline, exclaimed, “Lieutenant, begging your pardon, but that’s your idea of fun?!”
Iullus joined the other Guards in laughter. After he caught his breath, he replied, “My idea of fun is waiting at home for me, Private! And I intend to get there before she gets worried!”
This work by Ronald Mina is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
