Pioneers: Creation

Lone Wolf (Part 2)

Lone Wolf (Part 2)


         It was nearly six hours before Ruki finally exited the gambling pit, over $10,000 richer.  Needless to say she was having one of her off days.  She headed back to the bar just as she saw Ployer do the same with stretched arms and a wide yawn.


         “Have a nice nap, Ployer?” she called over to him, changing directions to intercept him on his way.  The Esten shook his head to get rid of the leftover grogginess and looked over to her.


         “Of course!  Ployer’s Place has the nicest and most comfortable rooms this side of New Terrioc City.  It’d be impossible not to have a nice nap.”


         “That bad, huh?”


         “I think it’s the pre-fight jitters.  I’m the strategist not the warrior.”  Ruki smirked.


         “And what am I?”


         “The good lay when the smoke clears,” the aging barkeep answered and the two shared a smile.  It was traditional between the two of them to say those lines before a fight began, though neither had said the words in nearly a decade.  A few of the pirates and criminals sitting around the room looked at the two strangely, at Ployer in particular, but the rest knew well enough to ignore them.


         “Hey, do you have a couple of extra plasma swords available?” Ruki asked, suddenly remembering she’d lost hers back on the Titan.


         “You lost your old ones?  Now that’s just not like you,” Ployer said teasingly.


         “Yeah, yeah.  I know.  You have any?”


         “Sure...if you tell me how you lost yours.”


         “Ployer!”


         “Hey, I’m becoming an old man.  Gotta live life through the younger generations now.”


         “I’m older than you.”


         “True, but you live a more exciting life than most young’nes.”  Ruki crossed her arms and gave Ployer a stern glare, but he simply walked by her and took a stool by the main bar.


         “I hear you’ve been talking about me again.”


         “It’s been...”


         “Less than a day,” Ruki interrupted.  Ployer looked surprised for a moment, but put his warm smile back on.


         “Ah.  Tamaki.  I see.  And I take it that’s how you lost your swords as well?”  Ruki stared open-mouthed at the barkeep.


         “You knew that was Kenshi?  Why didn’t you tell me?!” she demanded, her anger no longer playful.


         “I figured it would take the fun out of it for you. You always did enjoy your surprises.  And I did warn you he was more than he seemed.”


         “Yeah, well, good ol’ fun and games Kenshi almost screwed over my last job and got both of us killed.”


         “Now that just doesn’t sound right.  From my understanding the kid can hold his own.”  Ruki grit her teeth.


         “You dumbass!  It should also be your understanding that he wants to catch me, not help me!”  Ployer turned in his chair at that and raised his arms up as if to try and calm her.  His face still held the warm smile, though it was clearly strained and sweat beaded down his forehead.  The obvious fright of the man did nothing to quell her rising anger.


         “Ok, I’m sorry.  I should have warned you.  It won’t happen again.”  Ruki kept the glare up for a tense minute before sitting down beside him and taking a drink from an ale she never ordered.  “But I’m guessing he worked with you somewhat if you’re both still alive.”  She shot him a mixed startled and angry look.  “You said his name earlier when you first checked in, remember?”  She slowly looked back to her drink at that and decided she might as well tell him what had happened before he put the pieces together himself - sometimes he didn’t put the pieces together right and created bad rumors.


         “Kenshi found me when I was about to make my escape.  We fought, the guards rushed in and shot me out.  When I came to Kenshi was carrying me out using some girl as hostage.”


         “So he saved your life?”


         “The girl said something about them trying to kill me when I was out and Kenshi’s morality getting in the way.  He wanted to take me in right after but I got away.”  Ployer whistled.


         “Odd guy.”  He smiled playfully.  “But maybe he’s not trying to turn you in.  Maybe good ol’ Kenshi just wants to try a little hanky panky with you.”


         “I wish,” Ruki said, but immediately regretted.  Ployer shot her a startled look as a wide smile grew slowly on his face.


         “I knew it!  I kneeew it!  You like him!”  Ployer started laughing uproariously and the rest of the bar stared at him like he was an idiot.  Who laughed at a record-breaking murderer, after all?


         “I don’t ‘like’ anyone.  And don’t you dare let that one out, Ployer, or I swear to God you’ll know pain before I kill you.”  She had to wait three full minutes before he could respond through his laughter.


         “Relax.  It’ll be between you and me,” he chuckled  He glanced at Charlie and the two other men standing behind the bar, focusing heavily on the ceiling.  “And those three.”


         “Boss!”  Charlie looked at Ployer as if betrayed.


         “Well how ‘bout it, Charlie?  You going to spread the word?” Ployer asked with a lopsided grin, Ruki doing the opposite beside him.  It didn’t take long for the bartender to make his decision.


         “What word, boss?”


         “And you two?” Ployer asked the two men behind Charlie.  Both nodded their agreement enthusiastically.  “Good.  Now Ruki, you’ll find the extra equipment in the meeting rooms.  I believe there should be a box of swords on one of the tables.”  Ruki nodded, stood up and began to walk toward the nearest of the meeting rooms, berating herself all the while for her stupid slip-up.


         ‘I really need to clear my mind of him before I start making these mistakes in more deadly situations.’


-------------------------


         To spend three hours being interrogated by an MMC SEALS team who had just been bested by one man about that said man was about as tiring as trying to stay awake for 72 hours while resting on a comfortable couch near a warm fire watching paid programming.  Adding to that a severe depression at the thought that you just recently scrapped your own life could make anyone fall asleep standing up with their eyes open.


         Therefore it was lucky that Quinn was sitting down during the short reprieve the 16 men were giving her.  Her eyes closed and her chin resting on her chest, it only took a single fist slamming into the bright white table to wake the exhausted woman.


         Quinn sat straight up and blinked a few times to focus her eyes on the man before her - Preesly he called himself.  The brown-haired Terran was average height for his race, which still dwarfed most everyone else.  His strong jaw was littered with a day’s worth of stubble and the look in his brown eyes hinted at the frustration and anger going through his head.  Quinn rubbed at her eyes for a moment before focusing back on Preesly.


         “Awake again?” he asked, some sarcasm slipping into his voice.  “Let me run this by you again, Miss Hower, and tell me if I got anything wrong.  You arrived here about...” he checked his watch, “six and a half hours ago from the Dredendi system in a Bluespace IV customized luxury cruiser given to you by your father.  You went for some clothes shopping, borrowed some equipment to make minor adjustments to your ship, which you studied back home.  While repairing your ship you heard a loud crash, some gunshots and an explosion.  When you go to see the commotion you find our team organizing to find someone.  You hear someone tell everyone to stay behind cover so you hide in your private hangar.  Next thing you know, someone’s cutting through your doorway and stealing your ship instead of one of the sixteen faster, stronger and better-armed military fighters resting in the main hangar.  You don’t know why Tamaki chose your hangar or your ship, he just did.  Am I correct?”


         “Yes,” Quinn replied, feeling nervous as she heard him repeat it all.  It did sound rather queer, and no small wonder.  She had lied about a few points so they wouldn’t connect her to the Titan and Kenshi.  She’d hoped everything would check out with them, what with the sheer size and population of the Dredendi system.  It was looking to be tough luck.


         “And why do you think Tamaki would steal your ship instead of one of those fighters?”


         “I don’t know.  I once heard MMC ships keep transmitters onboard.  Maybe he wanted to avoid them?”


         “I thought of that too.  Then I checked in the black box of the last fighter he stole.  Tamaki managed to take out and destroy the tracker in 28 seconds - a new record to my knowledge.”


         “Well then I don’t know what to tell you.”  Preesly sighed and took a chair opposite of her.


         “Miss Hower, I do not believe a single word you’re saying.”  Quinn’s hands fidgeted nervously under the table, but her expression remained neutral.  “But I’ve talked to a merchant and a mechanic and your story seems to check out as far as they go.  As for Tamaki, he may have wanted to remain a little more inconspicuous and I can’t really say anything he’s done today has been at all normal or predictable.”


         “Sooo...?”


         “So I’ve got nothing on you and I really don’t care enough to keep tabs on you.  I’m a soldier not a detective.  My beef is with Tamaki, so you can do whatever the hell you want.”  Quinn nodded and stood up to leave.  Just as she started walking through the door, Preesly called back once more.  “Miss Hower?”  She looked back.  “You just got a lucky break the likes of which you will never see again.  I recommend you use it wisely.”  Quinn just turned back around and walked into a hallway.


         As she continued into the busy merchants corridor, Quinn wondered what was next for her.  She had a new name now seeing as how Kenshi had supposedly taken all her ID along with her ship and identification was so easy to lie about with the sheer number of people who existed throughout the universe.  Eventually she could find proper work for her skills in a high traffic area or the like, but as for now she couldn’t leave the station with her lack of money or ship, but both could be easily remedied with a job.


         And as Quinn walked past a set of clothing and found herself staring at a wide, toothy grin she knew just where to ask.


-------------------------


         Terrace didn’t know whether to be happy, angry or confused as he sat back in his personal quarters and went over the two entirely different reports.  On one hand the merc had found Ruki and was in a good enough position to follow her.  On the other hand two full SEALS teams had let Tamaki slip through their fingers, one even giving a full-on fight against the former soldier.  On yet another hand, Ruki and Tamaki were in completely different parts of the galaxy.  Did that mean they had already sold the info?  Was one of them carrying it while the other worked as a red herring?  Why were two people who were supposedly working together to steal something that was likely worth billions on separate parts of the galaxy?


         It was probably a trick or safeguard of some sort, Terrace knew.  Ruki could be clever when she felt like it and Tamaki was no idiot himself.  But now Terrace had a decision to make.  While Tamaki was long gone and would never be found unless he wanted to be, Ruki was in his sights and ready to be taken down.  The question was: would it be a good idea to take her down?


         The decision came quick and Terrace quickly threw out the idea for a raid.  Taking on someone as slippery and tough as Ruki would be a pain enough, but taking her on while she was surrounded by some of the most dangerous criminals in the galaxy, if not the universe, was like lining up his men and pulling the trigger himself.


         ‘Though you know that feeling all too well,’ one part of his brain reminded, instantly being shoved back.


         All Terrace could do was keep Cecile observing Ruki until opportunity reared it’s head.  Hopefully the mercenary or some patrol would catch sight of Tamaki, but until then Ruki was the main concern.


         Then there was the problem of if the information had already been sold.  While unlikely, such a situation posed a serious problem.  Capturing Ruki would become even more of a priority than simply raising the Commander’s popularity within the MMC.  It would be a necessity to find whoever the highest bidder/mastermind was.


         With that knowledge Terrace opened a thick file on top of his desk and started spreading out the contents.  Within were the best swordsmen and snipers in the MMC.  It was coming time to put Rea’gis Lager’s simplistic plan into order.


-------------------------


         The Plasma swords were in the second meeting room Ruki searched through, stacked vertically in a small grey toolbox.  She took out two of the small, harmless-looking cylinders before scanning the equipment around her boredly.  Most of it was spare ammo and explosives, though a number of unused weapons sat firmly in gun racks or leaned against walls and crates.


         Pocketing the two swords, Ruki threw herself onto one of the crates and sat back with a long sigh.  In the gloom of the large, dim room she suddenly felt so insignificant in her little corner.  It was loneliness, she knew.  After so many years, after four long centuries, the feeling had finally caught up to her somehow.  No, not somehow.  Through some insignificant little man who should have been dead three years ago.


         Ruki banged the back of her head against the wall and cursed silently.  Her mind had been through this over and over for the past seven and a half hours and she was quickly becoming tired of it.  Instead she focused on the battle to come.


         It would be a simple enough fight with all of Ployer’s lackeys and customers behind him.  Donberry was a fool to think he could hope to take over Ployer’s Place without either losing completely or having so many casualties that he wouldn’t be able to keep up his influence over the region.  Yeah, Donberry was toast.  The bar/restraunt/hotel/casino would live to see another day under the influence of Worrent Ployer and Kenshi really did have a great body, as Ally had shown back on the Wonderland.


         “GODDAMMIT!!!” she screamed in frustration.


         “Man troubles or do you have a problem with insomnia too?” Ployer’s voice called from the doorway.


         “I’ll go with insomnia for now.”


         “I hear masturbation works wonders for that, but I’m not sure it works as well for women.”


         “Sleeping pills work even better, though both go through my system too fast to do much.”  Ployer gave a wide smile at that.  “What do you want?” Ruki asked, not in the mood to keep the joke going.


         “Well, one of Donberry’s messengers just arrived.  Seems Donberry is giving us a chance to clear out by noon today before he wipes us out.”  Ruki checked a clock partially hidden behind a pair of stacked crates.  3:42 AM.


         “Let me guess.  Three hours?”


         “Probably closer to two.  One for our comfort, one to move his men into position.  Donberry was never much for patience.  Besides, it’d still be dark.”


         “Does he really think you’d fall for that tactic?”


         “He loses nothing by trying.  I just hope he’s not truly depending on catching us off guard like that.  It wouldn’t say much for the intelligence of the people around here and I might lose some good business like that.”


         “I doubt it.”  Ployer shrugged.


         “So what do you plan on doing about your little boy problem?” the barkeep asked with a sheepish grin.


         “I really don’t see how that’s any of your business.”


         “Because I’m a wise old man and a good friend?” he asked hopefully.


         “And a gossiping schoolgirl.”


         “Brings in business.”


         “Or keeps it away,” she countered.  He widened his smile and shook his head.


         “Fine, fine.  Keep it to yourself,” he said, waving her away.


         “You know, Ployer, I doubt Kenshi would like you spreading rumors about the two of us.  You better watch out if he hears you’ve been telling people we’re a couple.”


         “He already heard it.  Let me tell you, I thought that glare would kill me.”  Ruki gave a smile at the thought, but the humor didn’t last long.


         “What did you say?!” she asked, suddenly realizing Ployer’s admission.


         “Wh-what?”


         “You really have been telling people Kenshi and I are together?!”


         “Well...more as a theory...”


         “PLOYER!!!”  The said Esten took a step back toward the door.


         “Heh.  Gotta go!”  And with that, the small man hightailed it out of the room, a fuming Ruki watching his exit.  Alone once more, Ruki slumped back against the wall and ran her fingers across her face and through her hair to rest against her neck.


         ‘I need to just get some good sleep.  When this Donberry crap is over and done with I’m going to stay upstairs and relax for a few days.  Maybe I’ve just had too much excitement lately,’ she thought as she closed her eyes and fell into a short, deep sleep.


-------------------------


         Davnick was more than a little bored watching reruns of a 50-year-old stand-up comedy.  How people could have found fart jokes and hairy men smashing watermelons with a gigantic mallet funny would remain a mystery to him until the end of his days, he knew, and thinking about it made it all the more boring and pointless.  Therefore the knock on the door was sweet relief to the mercenary.


         Rolling off his bed and shutting off the HV, Dav almost sprinted to the door with hopes that his four hour boredom would finally come to an end.  He wasn’t disappointed.  The opened door revealed a three foot nothing man with an annoyed look on his face.


         “Boss wants ya to know we’s expectin’ an attack within the hour,” the man said in a tough guy voice that didn’t fit his build in the slightest.


         “Tell your boss I’ll be down soon.”


         “Tell him yeself ya prick,” the midget grumbled back and stomped down the hallway.


         Davnick blinked, shrugged, closed the door and prepared for battle.  Opening a large duffel bag in one side of the room, Dav rolled up his sleeves and started assembling a pair of metallic bracers, both with a pistol and pair of wristblades attached.  Under a baggy shirt, the weapons could be easily hidden and quick in hand in less than a second.  Good for those situations where you needed to be quick on the draw.


         The merc knew the next battle would make or break his deal with Burlai.  He knew tailing someone in space without them knowing was on the verge of impossible so it would be in his best interest to become partners with the famed Dread Pirate.  The skill part he knew he would get down and the charisma part was cakewalk to him, but there would be a factor of luck to it all.  Would there be a situation which would come up that would show everybody what he could do, or would the battle be as boring as the hairy guy who hit watermelons with mallets?


         Rolling his sleeves over the twin bracers, he knew the Ruki job was in the bag.  Lady Luck was just another woman, after all.  And women loved Dav.


-------------------------


         The Quicksilver was only 30 minutes from Haqnen II when Kenshi finally emerged from his bedroom, his leg and chest fully healed with only some tightness in the muscles and even that was receding.  Kenshi massaged his thigh and stretched the limb, remembering the pain that had been present in it only hours before.  He did the same with his shoulders, rolling his arms around a few times and knowing it should have been weeks of treatment before he could manage that smoothly.  Plasma cooked flesh alive, disabling the target.


         ‘Or most targets,’ Kenshi thought as he opened his weapons closet.  It was a little funny, really, how many times over Ruki would probably be dead if the people shooting at her merely switched firing modes on their weapons.  Most automatic weapons of the present had two firing modes: a recoilless and controlled shot that sent a slow bolt of plasma designed to lodge itself into the target and burn away flesh and organs, disabling the person and a quicker, smaller shot designed to penetrate armored vehicles using specialized magnets within the gun to literally slingshot the bolt forward.  The first shot was easily dodged, had no stopping power and wasn’t too effective against someone with raised pain tolerance or tougher flesh, such as Ruki, but was terrific against most soft targets.  The second was not only nearly impossible to dodge, but had good stopping power at the cost of recoil, less burning and less RPM.  Really, the second mode was akin to an AC pistol with a little less velocity and stopping power.  Unfortunately most forces tended to side with the slower first firing mode, preferring the easily manageable to the more effective to the point where it was drilled into every soldier’s head that the latter was useless.


         ‘Even mine, after the MMC got through with me,’ Kenshi thought with some frustration.  If he’d used the secondary firing mode when he’d first met Ruki things would be a lot different.


         The search inside the weapons closet wasn’t a long one.  Kenshi wasn’t going to Haqnen II looking for a fight.  It would be quick.  Land, find Ruki, find the info, find the guy who wanted the info and take off as fast as possible.  He had no misconceptions of what would happen if he stayed for a prolonged fight.  That’s why a simple pump-action shotgun was the only weapon Kenshi grabbed.  It could be easily hidden under the long jacket Dr. Uricho had given him, unlike the various machine guns and assault rifles, making him stand out a little less and it had enough power to quickly take down Ruki or any group of men.


         Setting the shotgun into place inside the jacket, Kenshi took a good look at his equipment.  An AC pistol on his left hip, a sonic blaster on his right, one of the stun guns set inside an inner pocket on the right side of the coat, the shotgun slung against the left, the tracker in his right coat pocket and finally his scouter in his left pocket.


         ‘No wonder gunfighters like trench coats,’ he thought, fingering the thick material designed to protect against the sands of Boragar.  ‘You can hide a miniature armory in them.’  He turned back to the closet to grab his only other item: a pair of fingerless gloves he wore to keep a grip on his weapons should his palms become sweaty.


         A hunt for Ruki two years ago had brought the pair to a busy steel mill whose workers had been slain in a fit of rage by the pirate.  In the final minutes of the fight Kenshi had cornered her into a wide vent shaft and went in after her only to have his gun slip away as he was climbing down an incline because of his sweaty palms.  He wore the gloves in fights ever since.


         Closing the weapons closet, Kenshi walked back to the cockpit to wait out the rest of his trip.


-------------------------


         Aiston Malcom was not a patient man, nor did he pretend to be.  In the small, dirty room of Ployer’s Place the HV was much too tiny to take any pleasure in watching, the reading selection was horrid and the minibar along the wall had no wines to his liking, decreasing his patience exponentially.


         In one corner of the room Yenshin sat tensely, his eyes constantly roaming the area as if someone might appear at any instant and kill them both.  Aiston might have talked to the man, but his impatience was not yet to the level of speaking to someone far below his station when it was not needed.


         Growling and jumping to his feet, Malcom took only a moment to smooth out his fine silks before storming out of room, Yenshin following behind, confused and nervous.


         ‘Mr. Ployer had better either have a nicer room available or know where I might find Ruki or else...’ he thought angrily, leaving the threat open partially because he couldn’t think of anything to do to the man and partially because he didn’t think it would come to that.


         It took moments for Malcom to stalk to the elevators, call one to his floor and take it to the ground floor, fuming all the while.  As if possessed, all heads turned toward Malcom as he walked into the main room of the bar/restraunt/hotel/casino then together turned away once more when they recognized him.  Almost everyone turned away, that is.


         “Mr. Malcom!  Such a surprise to see you here at this hour.  Do you need anything?  I must urge you to be quick as this room will be rather unsafe within the next hour or so,” Ployer said, standing from a stool beside the main bar.  A panicked expression must have crossed Yenshin’s face because the aging Esten suddenly gave a confused look to something behind the noble.


         “I would like to see Ruki, Mr. Ployer,” Aiston replied, ignoring the look for now.


         “I see...” Ployer trailed off and Malcom could see hints that the man was trying to put something together in his mind quickly.  “There is nothing I can do about that, unfortunately.  You are welcome to sit and wait in here for her, but I doubt either of us shall be hearing from her for awhile and I’m sure you’d be much more comfortable in your room.”


         “My room is the equivalent to the sewers of Frenceis.  I demand to either see Ruki or to have a better room.”


         “My apologies for such.  May I ask what room you were given and what the problem was?”


         “Your hotel manager gave me room 356.  The problems are much too numerous for me to name in a single morning.”  Ployer paused for a moment of thought before answering.


         “3...56...yes...” he rubbed his jaw.  “Feringal?”


         “Yes?” a man beside the elevators asked with a slight drawl - the same man who had given Aiston his room.


         “Show Mr. Malcom here to our 17th story suite...” whatever Ployer said next was lost on Malcom as at that moment a familiar figure sauntered itself through a door near the end of the small, dirty casino.


         “Miss Ruki.  How good to see you again so soon,” Malcom called across the room.  The pirate paused from stretching her arms and finished a wide yawn, going from mildly groggy to wide awake in the snap of a finger.  Ployer looked back at the vixen behind him then to Malcom again.  He stepped aside, wisely knowing that the coming argument would not be one to get in the middle of.


         “What the hell are you doing here?” Ruki asked, a sharp edge to her tone.


         “I admit to surprise.  You impress me.  I hear you have already acquired what I have hired you for,” Aiston said, trying to keep polite.  He was a noble, after all.


         “We had a deal, Malcom.  You don’t change deals in this business - especially when you’re hiring people like me to do the work I did.”  Ruki started walking around the bar to the prince and his bodyguard.


         “I never knew you were so careful.  And here I thought you were supposed to be bold.”


         “There’s a difference between being bold and being stupid.  You were supposed to get your info in 13 more days out in orbit.  Away from prying eyes.”  She stopped walking beside Ployer, only 10 feet away from Malcom.


         “Miss Ruki do you have what I hired you for or not?  If not I will be most displeased.”  She clenched her jaw at that and took a threatening step forward.


         “Even if I didn’t I would still have 13 days to get it.  Now normally I would tell you to fuck off and wait, but I don’t much like you.  You’ll get what you want after the fight.  If I see you again after that it’ll be with your heart in my hand.”  Aiston smiled evilly at that.


         “Do not try to intimidate me, pirate.”  A number of odd looks went around the bar and Malcom noticed more than a few weapons raise a little higher.  It only widened his smile.  “I want what I came for and I do not feel like waiting in this hell hole any longer.”


         “Now wait just one moment...” Ployer started, but was interrupted by Ruki.


         “You want the info now?  Then you’re going to have to search this place up and down.  I have a fight to worry about and I really don’t feel like dealing with you.”  And with that, Ruki turned and took a stool by the bar.  Gritting his teeth, Aiston raised his chin slightly and made a motion toward Yenshin.


         The next second was a blur to Aiston.  Suddenly Yenshin was in front of Malcom, plasma sword raised in a traditional fighting posture with the rest of the bar, sans Ruki and Ployer, aiming a gun of some sort at the pair.  Malcom didn’t bat an eyelash despite the obvious tenseness of the room and the very nervous expression on Yenshin’s face.


         “I want what I came for,” Aiston said to Ruki.  She didn’t even turn around.  Aiston scowled.  The woman obviously didn’t see the overwhelming odds against her, though few people would.  Lieutenant Yenshin had a way with being severely underestimated.


         “Pal, I think you should look and see where you are,” one of the many men surrounding Malcom and Yenshin said.  A few chuckles followed this.  Aiston didn’t budge and, with his employer standing still, Yenshin did the same.  There were a few more moments of tense silence before an impressed whistle cut through the air.


         “Wow.  I didn’t think stealing towels was such a crime.  I pity you, friend,” a soft voice laced with humor called from the elevators behind Malcom.  A pale man dressed all in black with brown hair falling around his face walked by and headed straight for the bar to sit next to Ruki.


         Somebody might have made a move then, trying to take an easy shot while everyone was looking funnily at the strange man, but a second distraction threw the tenseness in a new direction.  One of the outside guards walked in holding his stomach tightly.  He gasped only a single word to send the room into chaos before falling to the floor in a pool of his own blood.


         “Donberry.”


-------------------------


         The hangar Kenshi landed in was the same as his last visit; a large, crowded place with armed guards protecting ships whose owners had a little extra money to spare.  Men and women dressed in oil stained rags worked on ships and gangs grouped together around small restraunts at the outer bounds of the area.  One group in particular caught his attention.


         Kenshi walked briskly toward the small biker gang talking around a group of hoverbikes, his ski mask pulled up so as not to look too suspicious and kept on his head so as not to show his current baldness.  The first biker finally noticed him when he was only twenty feet away and called out to the rest of his buddies.


         ‘I should have something for a quick entrance and escape.  Don’t wanna be left running around the streets if I end up taking on too many enemies,’ Kenshi thought while eyeing the closest bike, a black, blue and silver beauty with wet blood dripping down a slightly dented front.  ‘They’re denters,’ he realized, remembering the brutal sport played in many of the more chaotic worlds.


         “You lookin’ for sometin’, pal?” the largest of the group, a human of some sort a half foot smaller than Kenshi and with enough hair to be mistaken for a monkey asked.  Kenshi didn’t respond.  He kept up his pace, walked straight to the nearest bike and grabbed the biker by the front of his shirt, lifting him two feet from the ground.


         “Hey, get the fuck off me!” the man, a Yatari with fur stained black with oil, dirt and exhaust yelled while his five friends closed in around Kenshi.  Still he did not reply, only throwing the man forward and knocking down two of his friends.


         The other three dove forward then with loud battle cries, bent pipes and a wrench in their hands.  Kenshi grabbed the first arrivals’ pipe, jerking it from his hand while punching him in the jaw, knocking him out.  He continued the jerking motion into a long swipe, pushing the wrench out wide and catching the second pipe.  Another sharp tug and the second man was disarmed.  The biker with the wrench attacked again, swinging the makeshift weapon vertically only to meet air and receive a pipe to the gut.  Kenshi grabbed the man and shoved him hard into the last member, sending both crashing into one of the bikes.


         By this time two of the other three men had already stood back up, but Kenshi had no intention of continuing the fight.  Jumping on the bloodied hoverbike, he started the ignition, threw the pipe at an approaching biker and sped off into the air.


         Hoverbikes were fast.  Probably too fast, really, with a top speed normally nearing 700 kph.  With that speed, the many narrow alleys and twisted buildings, the darkness still reining in the morning hour and training born from a war torn people, Kenshi had lost the bikers before they even managed to straddle their own vehicles and was stopping to double-check Ruki’s position on the tracker.


         ‘Ployer’s Place,’ Kenshi thought in frustration, remembering the many armed criminals and guards in the building.  ‘She just has to be in Ployer’s Place.’


         Making sure his equipment was secure inside his jacket, Kenshi accelerated the bike once more, this time taking to the wide spaces above and between the many ruined and dark buildings instead of the many tight alleyways.


         Few people drove at this hour, some fearing to crash in the darkness, others too drunk to even balance their bikes, so Kenshi managed to park his bike on the building across from Ployer’s Place without interruption or trouble.


         Hopping off the bike, Kenshi took a quick look at his tracker to confirm Ruki’s position near the top of the building.  Nodding and pocketing the device, he leaned over the building’s concrete railing to look over the entrance of Ployer’s Place.  There, two guards sat looking over the area while chatting quietly to each other.  Kenshi frowned.


         ‘There weren’t any guards at the entrance yesterday,’ he thought to himself, suddenly much more alert of the area.  ‘Maybe Ployer keeps watches at night.’  But even as he thought it he noticed the machine gun post across and above him, the gunner taking careful aim at him.  An even closer glance revealed two more nests on the third floor and two barrels resting oddly out the windows of the 19th floor.  ‘The hell is going on here?’


         Deciding not to wait and let the gunner grow suspicious, Kenshi jumped over the railing to a steel balcony a story below and walked cautiously down the stairway of the dirty building.  The guards, both one of the many human races, took notice of him almost immediately as the two machine guns took the higher one’s place in tracking him.  Kenshi walked slowly and made no sudden moves, not liking the current odds.


         “Friend or foe?” one of the door guards asked as Kenshi finally stepped onto the street.  It was a loaded question any moron could have seen past.


         “Neither,” Kenshi answered.  “Just heard this was a popular spot for big times and thought I’d check it out for myself.”


         “Ain’t da best time ta be checkin’ dis’ place out, mano,” the other guard said.


         “Yeah.  Stop in if you want, but you’re not going to receive the warmest welcome at the moment,” the first added.


         “What’s going on?” Kenshi asked.


         “The regional leader wants to take over the place and will be putting on a full-out siege any time now,” the first guard replied.


         “Yeah, man.  Gonna be a big fight.”


         “You’re welcome to come in, as I said, but I would really suggest waiting until tomorrow when everything’s back in order and there is less danger,” the first continued.  Kenshi thought for a moment before responding.


         “Mind if I just head inside and make my decision there?”  Both men cringed at that.


         “You can, but I really suggest you be quick.  The fight can start any time,” the first answered and stepped out of the way.  Kenshi walked by and opened the door, noticing the second man turn to keep a close eye on him.


         The inside wasn’t exactly what he expected.  Machine guns were set up, makeshift barricades were in place and everyone was heavily armed, of course, but Kenshi didn’t expect to see everyone so distracted or quiet.  Near the elevators at the side of the room he could see what the cause of the odd silence was.  There, just in front of the metallic doors, stood the rich man Kenshi had seen yesterday staring haughtily down at a very angry Ruki standing on the other side of the room. 


         ‘Didn’t the tracker show she was on the upper levels?  How’s she down here?’  He caught the cultured and loud tone of the man easily from where he stood and began listening.


         “...You impress me.  I hear you have already acquired what I have hired you for.”  Almost definitely the guy who had hired Ruki for the titan job.  She started walking threateningly toward the man.


         “We had a deal, Malcom.  You don’t change deals in this business - especially when you’re hiring people like me to do the dirty work I did.”


         ‘Malcom,’ Kenshi thought.  ‘I have a name and a face.  All I need now is some good time on a computer library and a little planning and I can get him behind glass.’  Kenshi turned back to the guards.


         “I think I’ll stay on my ship for tonight and come back later.”  The guards nodded, noticeably relieved.


         “Good.  We’ll see you then,” the first replied.  Kenshi nodded once and headed across the street and up the stairs.  He jumped once and swung himself over the concrete railing to the roof of the dirty building where he’d parked the hoverbike.


         He had a decision to make, he knew.  He would need to get the Titan info before this Malcom guy left the planet with it.  There was no telling how quickly the information would be beyond reach if the man got his hands on it.  But when would the best opportunity for attack come?  When Malcom left Ployer’s Place?  Just after the siege ended when the bar/restraunt/hotel/casino was still licking it’s wounds?  During the attack through the confusion of battle?


         ‘After the battle,’ Kenshi thought to himself, straddling the bike and starting the ignition.  ‘I’ll be considered an enemy by both sides if I join the fight and I’ll be able to watch Malcom when it’s over and done with.  Hell, maybe he won’t even survive.’


         The hoverbike flew three feet in the air and Kenshi maneuvered the sleek vehicle to point away from Ployer’s Place.  He took a good look back at the 20 story bar/restraunt/hotel/casino before shooting forward into the mass of war-torn buildings, intending to wait the next few hours out.


         Then the gunfire erupted like a fireworks show.


         Kenshi turned the bike and stopped, looking back at Ployer’s Place where blues, greens and reds flashed continuously across the walls.  The snipers on the 19th floor fired their weapons down into the street every second or two, sending short beams of red plasma speeding into the attackers below.  It was one large burst of plasma lighting up the entirety of Ployer’s Place and many of the roofs across from it which Kenshi saw the silhouette of a number of figures huddled tightly together moving slowly toward the battle.


         ‘Smart,’ Kenshi thought with a slight grin.  ‘Send in a full blown attacking force as a diversion and throw in a team to bite them in the ass where their guard is down.’


         Suddenly a thought floated through his head and Kenshi set down the bike and took out the tracker.  A flip of a switch widened his smile.


         The blip was still near the roof of Ployer’s Place.


         Whatever the tracker was attached to Ruki must have set it down in her room.  And that meant there was a good chance the Titan information was with it.  Unguarded with a full blown battle serving as a nice distraction.


         Hopping off the bike, pulling down the ski mask, attaching the scouter and fingering the near-silent stun gun, Kenshi made his way quickly and stealthily to where the silhouettes had been seen.  He would need to take out the few attackers and defenders in his way to be sure nobody alerted Ruki to the present danger and the former SEALS silently wished his old team was there to cover his back, but Kenshi was well adjusted and to working alone - almost preferred it by this point.  Having a team beside him was the way he was taught to get things done safely and effectively, but Mavys had known that’s not how things always worked out.  Kenshi had learned how to work alone and had adapted to it over the years.  He was a trained and tried lone wolf.


-------------------------


         Ruki let out a content sigh as she relaxed into Kenshi’s arms.  It was a nice feeling, having him ease up around her so much.  He didn’t move, didn’t even wrap his arms around her as she snuggled closer, but she didn’t care.  For him to allow this was comfort enough...though he did seem a little tense.  He felt as stiff as a board and moved as much as one as well.  She couldn’t even feel him breathing.


         It was about that time in which Ruki realized she was not sitting on Kenshi’s lap.  Blinking her eyes open, she found herself curled up on a stack of boxes in a shaded corner of the meeting room.  She shook her head angrily.


         “God dammit.  Now I have to fucking dream about him?”  She hopped off the crates and walked around a bit, rolling her shoulders and stretching her legs.  A quick glance at the clock showed she had been asleep for nearly two hours.


         ‘Donberry will be attacking any time.  I better get out there before I miss part of the fight.  I’d hate to live with regrets.’


         Wiping the sleep from her eyes, Ruki walked out of the meeting room and into the main area of the bar/restraunt/hotel/casino.  A few heads turned when she entered, but she ignored everyone and let out a wide yawn while stretching her arms to the ceiling.  A well-cultured voice destroyed any lasting sleep, however.


         “Miss Ruki.  How good to see you again so soon,” Aiston Malcom called across from his place near the elevators on the opposite side of the room.  Ruki’s expression changed from sleepy to angry and her body went rigid within the blink of an eye.  A few steps in front of the noble Ployer looked back at her, sweat beading on his forehead.  He quickly stepped aside, probably thinking a whole different battle was coming - one he didn’t want to be any part of.


         “What the hell are you doing here?” Ruki asked Malcom, drawing her eyes back to the grinning prince.


         “I admit to surprise.  You impress me.  I hear you have already acquired what I have hired you for,” he replied without missing a beat.


         “We had a deal, Malcom.  You don’t change deals in this business - especially when you’re hiring people like me to do the dirty work I did.”  She started walking around the main bar toward the noble as a last attempt to keep her deal with Malcom at least somewhat secret.


         “I never knew you were so careful.  And here I thought you were supposed to be bold.”


         ‘Arrogant dumbass,’ she thought with a sneer.  “There’s a difference between being bold and being stupid.  You were supposed to get your info in 13 more days out in orbit.  Away from prying eyes.”  She stopped walking then, not caring any longer if everyone in the room knew about Malcom and his corruption.  She hated pompous fops.


         “Miss Ruki do you have what I hired you for or not?  If not I will be most displeased.”  She also hated business deals being broken.  She was heavily in demand, after all.


         “Even if I didn’t I would still have 13 days to get it.  Now normally I would tell you to fuck off and wait, but I don’t much like you.  You’ll get what you want after the fight.  If I see you again after that it’ll be with your heart in my hand.”  Normally a person didn’t smile when she said that, but Malcom seemed to be stupid enough to do just that.


         “Do not try to intimidate me, pirate.”  Everyone seemed to grow more tense at that, but the noble’s smile only widened.  “I want what I came for and I do not feel like waiting in this hell hole any longer.”


         “Now wait just one moment...” Ployer started, but Ruki was ready to end this conversation.


         “You want the info now?  Then you’re going to have to search this place up and down.  I have a fight to worry about and I really don’t feel like dealing with you.”  That said, Ruki turned around, sat at the main bar and drank an ale she never ordered.


         She couldn’t see what the prince did next, but it must have been incredibly idiotic for everyone in the room was suddenly standing with weapons aimed toward his general direction.  It put a smile to her face.  It was funny how many dumb people actually existed.  A little sad, but still funny.


         “I want what I came for,” Malcom said sternly.  Ruki didn’t make a move.  She’d said her peace and he’d have to live with it.


         “Pal, I think you should look and see where you are,” one of the many pirates said - one of the more distinguished leaders, she noticed.  Saber or Savrer or whatever, she didn’t care much for memorizing names.  Some nervous chuckles went around the room at that and a tense silence followed.  Ruki was sure a gunfight was about to erupt when a whistle cut through the room followed by another familiar voice.


         “Wow.  I didn’t think stealing towels was such a crime.  I pity you, friend,” Davnick said humorously from somewhere behind Malcom.  It did little to calm the tension in the room other than put mild surprise or amusement into more than a few men’s faces.  The next second and the handsome man was sitting next to Ruki with a womanizing grin adorning his features.  “So here’s where the diamond in the rough is hiding.  How would you be doing in this God-forsaken hour?”  She shot him a grin.


         “You better watch that tongue, Davnick.”


         “I needn’t do that at all.  I am very careful with my tongue.  And please, it’s just Dav.”  She couldn’t help the giggle escaping her lips.


         Any further humor was lost, unfortunately, when an outside guard stumbled in holding his stomach tightly.  He said only a single word to send the room into an uproar before finally collapsing to the ground.


         “Donberry.”


         Suddenly a long burst of plasma came through the open doorway sending one of the shotgun men near the entrance to the floor screaming and the rest ducking for cover while a trio of small containers were sent in every direction.


         Ruki only got out a quick, “Shit!” before the flashbangs went off, blinding and deafening her along with more than half the men in the room.


         The next five seconds were a blank to Ruki, filled only with white light, no sound and the burning of plasma from her stomach to her shoulder.  Despite that, she had two plasma swords out and burning away and was sprinting toward the entrance by the time she had the slightest bit of vision back.


         From her spotty eyesight Ruki could make out the forms of the four entrance guards lying on the ground next to the outside guard alongside two new forms.  Three other men stood at the doorway, one firing at the few with enough sight to counter the invasion, the other two moving a pair of tables to block incoming fire.


         Heading for the closest man, Ruki brought her swords up, ready to either cut him down or deflect any shots he might send her way.  The man caught sight of her at the last moment and fired an automatic of some sort - her vision was still too spotty to identify the weapon.  One sword was sent in a wide sweep, absorbing the three bolts while the other was kept raised.  Before she could finish the man, however, a quartet of lasers peppered the man’s head and body, spiraling him to the ground.


         ‘Lasers?’ she asked herself.  ‘Who the hell has a laser?’  Blasters were used primarily for industry and covert operations.  No pirate in their right mind touched them.  They did little damage and took either great accuracy or many shots to bring anything dangerous down.  Stream lasers, on the other hand, could cut men in half but wore through their batteries like they were nothing and blast cannons were large, expensive and almost strictly military.


         Ruki mentally shook her head and forced herself to ignore the oddity.  There was fun to be had and she didn’t want to miss any of it.


         The few men with plasma weapons and sight had cut down the second man by now and were working on the third, who was covering himself behind a table while screaming something to whoever waited outside.  She could faintly hear machine guns firing away, but her ears were still too deafened to make much out.  Walking quickly up to the last invader, the man didn’t even notice her until he had a plasma sword burning through his rib cage.  By that time the second sword was already starting to behead him.


         She spun around then, expecting to see another group of men rushing into the room, but found nothing but an empty doorway and a few newly made corpses.  Standing there, armed and alert for a half minute, her hearing finally returned enough so that she heard the metallic clink of something hitting the ground near her feet.  Ruki looked down just as the grenade stopped rolling.


         “Ah, fuck!.” she yelled as she kicked the heavy ball of iron and jumped back at the same time.  The grenade exploded four feet away from her, deafening and blinding her once again.  Only this time she didn’t see white.


         It was just pitch black.


-------------------------


         Five men.  Four with submachine guns, one with a sniper rifle and a submachine gun slung over his shoulder.  All weapons suppressed.  All men with grapple guns strapped to their backs.  Across the roof were five more men. Probably the same gear, but Kenshi couldn’t be certain at this distance.


         Kenshi crept slowly toward the first group, taking whatever cover he could on the ruined roof and holding his stun gun at the ready while fingering the AC pistol should one of the men look back prematurely.  These guys were arrogant and stupid.  Little doubt they could finish what they set out to do, but they didn’t watch their backs at all, believing nobody would get the drop on them.  A novice mistake.  To add insult to injury the anchor was the sniper.  Should anyone sneak up behind them the first weapon they’d have between them and the enemy would be a sniper rifle.  Rookies.


         When he was finally within reaching distance of the unaware men, Kenshi brought up his stun gun, aiming for the sniper’s neck.  He let out a single shot and waited for the man to start falling before he grabbed him by the chin with one hand and brought up the unconscious man’s submachine gun with the other.  In front of him the four men tensed and turned around to see what the strange electrical noise was.  They only turned around halfway before Kenshi took aim and brought down all four, grunts and gurgles the only sounds they made as their lives were literally burned out of them.


         ‘Three years,’ Kenshi thought as he threw away the smoking submachine gun.  ‘It’s been three years since I’ve killed someone.  Eight since it’s been face-to-face...’  He took a long, hard look at the five men covered in black from head to toe, four of which would never see another day and all of those four not knowing it until their final second.  How quickly life can change completely.


         Kenshi shook his head and kneeled down to grab the sniper rifle and two submachine guns.  He looked across the roof and squinted, trying to make out the five other forms in the dawning hour.  They hadn’t noticed him.


         Creeping toward the second set of men, Kenshi chanced a glance towards Ployer’s Place.  Gunfire continued it’s constant roar, but most of it was drowned out by the three machine guns posted on the walls, as well as the thunder of the two sniper rifles.  Whatever was happening on the street it was pretty vicious to demand all that attention.


         Kenshi went from standing to crouching, sprinting to walking trying to keep himself covered and up to pace with the five men.  At thirty feet away he decided he was close enough to take down all five quickly enough not to get involved in a fight.


         He rose up from behind a crushed wall and charged forward in a speed walk, both submachine guns raised.  Firing the weapons in a scissors sweep, only the middle man managed to turn to his killer before falling down like a puppet who’d lost it’s strings.  Kenshi kept his pace and his weapons aimed toward the fallen men.  He kicked each onto their backs and checked their pulses, making sure none of them would get up to shoot him in the back.  They were dead.


         ‘Nine today,’ Kenshi thought going into a kneel, dropping the spent submachine guns and shouldering the sniper rifle.  ‘And many more to come.’  There was a time he’d like to say he cared, but not anymore.  Sometimes to do good you needed to be evil.  And it wasn’t like any of these people much deserved life.


         He looked through the scope and adjusted the sights slightly.  His finger tensed on the trigger as he steadied the rifle.  A second later, the gun kicked back into his shoulder and Kenshi watched as one of the sniper’s heads exploded, sending gore splattering into his spotters shocked face.  Kenshi swung the rifle toward the blood covered man and pulled the trigger once more before the man could do anything to counter.  He waited only to see the side of the spotter’s head disappear before aiming toward the next pair of snipers, both oblivious to the fate of their allies.  Two more pulls of the trigger and one more shocked expression later, Kenshi was adjusting his aim down 12 stories to the machine gun nest where one snarling man was firing away at an unseen group of enemies while a cursing partner dragged up a fallen comrade from hanging through the window.  Kenshi might have smiled at the display of fury, but the adrenaline in his veins and the knowledge that he’d already killed 13 men in less than two minutes kept the smirk away.  He shot the cursing man first, taking off the back of his turned head.  The gunner stopped firing at the sudden jerk of his partner and let go of the machine gun long enough to pull both corpses safely inside.  When he turned back to man the gun, his throat and jaw were torn out by a plasma bolt going mach two.


         Throwing away the now useless sniper rifle, Kenshi only stayed kneeling long enough to grab the grapple gun off the nearest body.  He put the device under his arm and took out the tracker, trying to determine the exact story Ruki had left her baggage.  He looked between Ployer’s Place and the tracker a few times, doing his best to guess the height of each story.


         ‘Looks like the 19th or 20th.  Probably the 20th if Ployer threw snipers on the 19th.  Wouldn’t want to bother the biggest guest if she wanted to stay out of the fight, now would we?  But then, when has Ruki been known to avoid a fight?’


         Destination in mind, Kenshi put away the tracker and fingered the grapple gun.  He walked cautiously to the edge of the roof, half expecting someone from Ployer’s Place to see him and take up a sniper rifle or the machine gun or someone to ambush him from behind.  Neither happened.


         Below, heavy fire and the occasional scream sounded out and Kenshi looked over the edge to see what was happening.  The two machine gun nests in Ployer’s Place had been taken out already, the smoke venting out suggesting a pair of plasma grenades.  Dozens of men crouched around the outside entrance of the building, some aiming a variety of automatics while the closest few waved around all sorts of grenades.


         Plasma bolts flashed through the doorway, keeping the invaders outside.  One attacker snuck an arm inside with a submachine gun held firmly as he blindly countered the fire.  A second later he let out a loud yelp and pulled his arm back out, now nothing more than a charred, bloody stump.  Kenshi shook his head and looked up to the 20th floor, a large tinted window suggesting it was some sort of fancy meeting room or suite.


         Shouldering the grapple gun, Kenshi took careful aim above the window and fired.  A small spear firmly imbedded itself into the concrete, a thin rope attaching it to the gun.  Absently wishing he had a harness, Kenshi tightened his grip around the handle and pressed a button on the device’s side, activating a hidden gear which spun the rope neatly back inside.  The result was Kenshi flying 10 kph across the street and up 14 stories.  When he reached the window Kenshi pressed the same button, stopping the gear and letting the ex soldier hang over 200 feet from the ground.


         ‘Now let’s just hope she hasn’t already given Malcom the data,’ Kenshi thought with a sudden drop in his stomach.  ‘All this drama for nothing.  Wouldn’t that be usual.’  Kenshi kicked the window, shattering the tinted glass.


         Or at least that’s what the plan was.


         Kenshi swung back at the force of his kick, nearly losing his handle of the grapple gun.  The glass didn’t even shudder.  He tried again, this time using all the strength in his leg and making sure to tighten his grip.  Nothing.  He used both legs.  Not a scratch, though the spear shifted in the wall.


         “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath.  ‘What the hell do I do now?’  It took a full second for an idea to pop into his head and Kenshi reached into his coat and grabbed the sonic blaster.  ‘Maybe...’ he thought, looking carefully at the small pistol.


         He pressed the barrel of gun tightly to the large window and muttered a quick prayer, both that it would work and that it didn’t shatter him with or instead of the window.  He pulled the trigger.


         What happened next was nothing less than strange.  A large wave traveled through the window like a ripple in a pond.  The next second the glass shattered, shards shooting everywhere into the room.  Cracks spread through the concrete around the window, one dislodging the spear of the grapple gun and sending both it and Kenshi into free fall.


         Pure instinct had Kenshi letting go of the device and blindly reaching for the window.  His arm hooked around the sill and caught, but the grapple gun continued falling.  Kenshi looked down just in time to see it clatter loudly to the ground and a number of people look up to see where it came from.  Though he couldn’t see the faces of the attackers at the 200 foot distance in the dim light, he could plainly see a number of weapons raise.  That was all Kenshi needed to gather all the strength in his arm and swing himself through the window.


         Landing hard on the wood floor covered in broken glass, Kenshi looked up to see a large darkened room, barley visible with only the morning light shining in.  Despite the lack of any good lighting, Kenshi could make out a pair of bloodied pants and an even bloodier shirt laying in the middle of the floor.


         He was in Ruki’s room.


-------------------------


         Davnick dove behind the makeshift barrier the second he saw the flashbangs roll into the room.  Even still, the three small grenades managed to take out his hearing and much of his vision.


         Looking around desperately, his spotty vision could make out a long burst of plasma spread around and across the room, taking out more than one defender including one blinded man right beside him.  He could see gunfire going both ways, but making out individual figures strained his eyes too much.  Where Davnick had been sitting a moment earlier, he saw two bright beams of plasma come to life.


         ‘Plasma swords,’ he realized.  His blurry vision could barely make out the figure of Ruki behind both of the bright red weapons.  ‘Not usually considered the best weapons to use in a severe firefight.  But then again, neither are these,’ he thought as a pair of blasters slid from the sleeves of his jacket into his waiting hands.


         The plasma swords started moving forward at an astonishing pace and Davnick would have thought his target had thrown them if he didn’t see the barely visible and very shapely figure sprinting behind them.


         ‘Crazy woman is gonna get herself killed!’  Davnick grit his teeth at the thought of losing his shot of having an extremely good steady employer and peaked out around the barricade.  He managed to let out four shots from his blaster and saw something in the doorway fall to the ground before the speeding pirate blocked his line of fire.  Around the room, other pirates managed to get shots around Ruki, knocking one more attacker to the ground.


         By this time, Davnick’s vision had returned enough to make out the figures at the doorway well enough.  Ruki was there along with one invader crouched behind a turned barricade where some of the men toting shotguns had earlier taken cover.  What happened next didn’t even take a second.  One of the plasma swords burst through the man’s chest, the other slicing through his neck, beheading the man.  She probably hadn’t even seen it, having spun toward the doorway the moment the deed was done.


         Davnick might have called it impressive, might have admitted some of what they said about her might just have been true.  But then there was a short bit of motion at her feet.  Davnick hadn’t even begun to guess what the small object was when Ruki suddenly jumped backward, an explosion following her and sending her crashing through a table and a few chairs next to the gambling pit in a bloody heap.


         ‘Shit.  Ruki’s dead.  What the hell am I going to tell Burlai?’


         There was no time to answer that question as at that moment a wave of fire came from the doorway just as two men rushed into the room.  They were cut down quickly enough by the combined fire of the remaining defenders, including two of the machine guns.  It seemed everybody was starting to recover from the flashbangs.


         Of course, he just finished that thought when another pair of the small black grenades were thrown into the room.  Davnick took cover as best he could, pushing his eyes into his knees and covering his ears with his hands.  Even still, his recovering hearing was once again knocked out of action by the thunderous sound the two explosives let out.  His vision, however, was almost back to normal, only a few spots marring his sight.


         The rest of the room hadn’t done so well, Davnick quickly noticed.  Most of the defenders were rubbing their eyes desperately or blinking them rapidly, trying to get at least one useful sense working again.  The rest were either lying dead on the ground or moving forward from the back to cover the blinded.


         A rush of attackers came in through the entranceway two at a time and the few fighting fit defenders quickly went to work disposing of them.  Davnick peppered the first pair with his duel blasters while 12 men from the back rushed into different positions around the room - reinforcements from upstairs must have arrived.  He recognized Ployer moving to the gun post behind the main bar, earplugs and welding goggles he probably grabbed at the start of the fight firmly in place.  Davnick felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to feel a pair of earplugs and goggles shoved into his own chest.  Ducking back behind cover, Davnick allowed the reinforcements to deal with the incoming enemies while he put on the protective gear.  Around him various half-blind and completely deaf men and women did the same.


         Davnick peaked back around the overturned table just as another trio of flashbangs went off.  Light filled the room and a few soft claps could be heard through the earplugs, though little damage was done this time around.  Only two attackers tried to enter now, the overwhelming wave of plasma nearly completely disintegrating the pair, warding off any further attacks.  Instead, a single arm snaked it’s way around the door, a submachine gun firing all the way.  The blind fire hit mostly walls and ceiling, though Davnick caught a glimpse of one man across the room falling to the ground.  The resulting wave of plasma melted the gun and turned the person’s arm into smoke.  The rest of the stump withdrew quickly and Davnick could imagine the loud scream the victim probably made.


         Seconds later, three more grenades were thrown into the room, their larger size telling Davnick they weren’t mere flashbangs.  Diving down once more, three muffled claps made it past the earplugs and dim fire illuminated the room briefly.  When Davnick looked back up, another two grenades were already through the door.  He ducked back down, heard two more claps and looked up again to see yet another two grenades flying through the air.


         ‘Sonofabitch!!!  How many grenades do these asshole have?!?!’  Davnick decided not to find out.  Hearing the all too familiar claps, he rushed for the bar, grabbed a stool and rushed back for cover, gaining more than a few odd looks from the crouched defenders.  Three more claps sounded off and Davnick shot up from behind the table, throwing the stool toward the door as hard as he could.  When two more claps announced yet more explosions, this time noticeably more muffled than the others, Davnick knew his half-minded plan had worked.


         Peaking out from behind cover, he looked over the smokey room and toward the scorched and cracked ruin of a doorway.  No movement.  No grenades.  No attackers.  They had bought some time.


         One by one the defenders picked themselves off the ground.  It was soon apparent many of the gathered criminals hadn’t survived the successive grenade attack, though more uniformed reinforcements did pour in from the elevators, some dragging away the wounded and dead, others taking their place.  At the very back of the room stood the rich guy and his bodyguard, both unharmed and both seeming to have not moved an inch except for the welding goggles now covering their eyes.


         Turning around, Davnick could see through the open entranceway occasional men running back and forth.  A few defenders fired small bursts, but none managed to bring anyone down.  That’s when the rumbling came.


         It wasn’t a sound - the earplugs blocked all but the loudest noises - but tiny vibrations that could be felt through the floor.  For three tense minutes everyone in the room stood rigidly, weapons at ready and expressions of nervousness, anger and determination molding the faces of each of them.  Some, including Davnick, took off the goggles and earplugs, believing the flashbangs would be out for the remainder of the fight.  As the mercenary dropped the two small plugs, the roar of a large engine and the squeal of heavy treads filled his ears.


         “What the hell is that?” one of the many pirates asked.


         “Must be a land vehicle of some sort,” a man behind the main bar replied.


         “What the hell are they doing with a land vehicle?” one of the few women asked.


         Few worlds used such vehicles any longer, technology being advanced enough to put most combat vehicles in the air where they could be more maneuverable.  Some vehicles, however, were too heavy to keep in the air for any good length of time, such as larger trucks, APCs and tanks.  Even fewer could create such vibrations or make as much noise.  Three vehicles did come to mind, however.


         One was a APC used by the MMC during the middle of the war.  It had little for armament and couldn’t carry more than a dozen soldiers at a time, though it’s armor was tremendous and it could hold a killer arsenal inside it’s belly.  The Warthog, as most liked to call it, was too fast to be taking so long to arrive, however.


         Another was one of the few tanks used by the Terrans at the beginning of the war.  Slow to a fault, the armor was incredible and the ion cannon it towed on it’s back was devastating.  Such a weapon would be useless in a takeover siege.  It’d be like going to war with a planet for it’s natural resources then glassing it from orbit.


         The final vehicle was dubbed ‘Peacemaker’ by the MMC.  Constructed by the MMC’s finest, the enormous tank was in use today as a quick solution to a purely hostile problem.  At a length of 18 meters, a width of 13 meters and a height of 8 meters, the Peacemaker was adorned with 12 automated machine gun turrets - three along both sides, four adorning the front and two protecting the rear - a triple barreled heavy blast cannon and an antimatter cannon to top it all off.  It needed only three people to operate fully; a driver, a gunner on the cannons, and one technician to operate the machine guns.  Altogether, Peacemakers had been known to take out entire cities with enough time and a good crew operating it.


         ‘Of course, there are probably hundreds of possible things it could be,’ Davnick thought, trying to keep any fear or nervousness out.  ‘One of the more ancient models.  Haqnen II isn’t the type of place have expensive technology.  Maybe they have an RV.’  The idea was shot down before it even came to mind.  A ramming vehicle would knock too large a hole into the wall - though the last few grenades had done that job well enough.  He knew that chances were some foreign or ancient tank was probably coming toward them, but the thought of a Peacemaker rolling in was too much to throw out.


         As if to destroy all hope, a tall, familiar tread rolled by the open entranceway.  Seconds later, one of the vehicles many heavily armored machine guns was in the doorway, still deploying from the tank’s tough siding.


         “Peacemaker,” one of the many awed defenders whispered out just before the automated gun started firing.


         Green plasma streamed into the room, burning through the bar and the many tables to rip apart the ducking defenders.  Everyone lay flat on the ground, making themselves as small a target as possible, but still the gun managed to occasionally burn a hole into a person.  Some of the defenders peaked around their cover to counter the devastating fire, but the plasma was merely absorbed by the powerful armor as the gun’s systems homed in on them.  Davnick was starting to think up possible escapes when a slender figure sprinted by from the gambling pit, a red hot sword of concentrated plasma in each hand.


         ‘What the hell?’ Davnick thought, quickly recognizing the person.  ‘Ruki?  How is she still even alive?’


         What happened next could surprise and impress even the greatest veterans of the Terran War.  The pirate dove in front of the machine gun, swords twirling faster than should have been humanly possible, and deflected each and every bolt of plasma.  She walked forward, keeping her swords deflecting the dangerous bolts and, with a growl and a wide swing, sliced through the machine gun, the concentrated plasma beam disabling it.


         Around the room mouths hung open and people stood stock still in awe and amazement.  Only two people kept moving.  Ruki squeezed between the doorway and the Peacemaker to take the battle to the attackers and Ployer jumped over the bar to join her.


         “Load up and lets go!  Charlie, grab some RPGs.  Lets get this thing over with,” he yelled before disappearing through the door.


         Davnick shook his head and started forward.  There was a battle to be won.  He could be awed later.


-------------------------


         ‘Should have brought a damn flashlight,’ Kenshi thought as he stepped carefully through the room.  Down below he could hear a number of loud bangs like a number of explosions going off.  His attention was focused on finding the info, however.


         Taking out the tracker, Kenshi looked closely for the transmitter.  He smiled noticing he had definitely chosen the right floor and started walking forward carefully, both to not trip over something in the dark room and to keep his sense of direction straight as he made his way toward the blip on the tracker screen.


         It didn’t take long to find what he was looking for.  On the table next to the enormous four-post bed a small strip of unknown material sat.  Kenshi picked up the material and turned on a nearby lamp to get a better look.


         ‘The hell is this?’


         It looked like a small, black strip of cloth, but it’s surface was unnaturally smooth.  At an edge he could make out a tiny crease and picked at it to reveal it was a pocket of some sort.  Just on the inside a tiny piece of grey plastic stuck.  The tracker’s transmitter, he quickly realized.


         Opening the pocket as wide as he could, Kenshi was somewhat surprised to stretch the opening five times it’s normal size and very much surprised to find two objects within: a strange gizmo with numbered buttons adorning the front and the sleek device Ruki had used to steal and store the Titan’s information.


         ‘Bingo,’ Kenshi thought, ignoring the fact that he had just found two reasonably large objects within a small strip of cloth.  Pocketing the sleek hacking device, Kenshi threw the cloth back down to the nightstand, turned the lamp off and walked back to the window...


         ...only to realize he couldn’t escape from the window.


         “Shit,” he muttered, looking down the 20 stories to where a number of people ran around seemingly randomly.  ‘I’m going to have to go through the building to get out of here.’


         That knowledge in mind, Kenshi pulled the shotgun loose from his jacket, cocked it and headed toward an elevator on the other side of the room.  Pushing a button on he wall, it took nearly a full minute for a car to finally reach his floor.


         Kenshi stepped into te elevator and paused.  Which floor did he want to attempt an escape from?  Ground level would be flowing with people - all of whom would likely consider him an enemy - and he didn’t want to risk jumping above three stories, though he was sure his body could survive a full five or more story drop well enough.  The third floor would also probably have some more men stationed by the machine guns.  It would be foolish to let heavier artillery go to waste in a fight like this.  That meant there was even more of a danger of stepping outside should he ignore he third floor.


         He pushed the button labeled with a bold ‘3'.


         The elevator car made a barely noticeable jerk and started moving steadily downward.  Kenshi used the time to examine the shotgun and double check all was right with the weapon.  Cocked, locked and loaded, it was ready for hell or whatever else life could throw at him in the moment.


         The elevator stopped on the eighth floor.  The doors slid open revealing a pair of suited men.


         “...you, Ployer needs us down there.  Didn’t you hear all...those...ex...plo...sions...” the man trailed off as he noticed Kenshi.  “Who are...” he was cut off when Kenshi pointed the shotgun forward and fired a single shot, blowing both men to the ground with small pellets of plasma burning away in their abdomens.  The elevator doors closed, drowning out the whimpers of pain, and Kenshi pumped another round into the barrel.


         15 seconds later the elevator stopped once more, this time on the third floor.  Kenshi peaked around both ways, checking the hallway was clear before stepping out.  Silently he wished he wasn’t in the middle of a hotel where people would be moving around in each of the rooms, making his scouter next to useless.  It would have been nice to get a clear view of who exactly the hostiles were.


         Muffled machine guns were going off in the side rooms and Kenshi could hear the loud roar of a large engine as well as feel slight vibrations in the floor.  Through all the noise he could hear people barking out orders in the different rooms.


         Kenshi turned left out of the elevator, his shotgun pointed at chest level straight down the hallway.  He passed slowly by each and every door, silently nervous someone might walk out behind him and kill him before he even noticed them.  The loud noises would muffle out any approaching footsteps if a blip was missed on the scouter.


         At the end of the hallway he finally came to a door where the gunfire and yelling could be heard the loudest.  Stopping in front of the door, Kenshi looked down the hallway to double-check no one was sneaking up behind him.  Satisfied he was alone, Kenshi raised his weapon, reared back slightly and kicked the door with all his strength.


         Of course, he forgot his strength was much more than it once was, so the door not only flew open, it flew off it’s hinges as well, landing a good three feet from the opening against a bed.  Two men stood inside, a gunner and his partner.  The partner spun around just as Kenshi brought the shotgun back up and fired, the spread from the weapon plastering the man against the wall and bringing the gunner to his knees with a hand to his side.  The gunner reached for a pistol, but Kenshi had pumped his gun and fired before the man could even begin to aim.


         Turning around when he was sure both men were dead, Kenshi walked out of the room while pumping another round into the barrel.  He walked down the hallway at his same cautious pace.  It was then that the rumbling stopped.  Kenshi paused in the middle of the hallway, wondering what was happening and trying to determine if it’d be an obstacle.  Seconds passed and Kenshi just started moving again when heavy gunfire erupted from somewhere outside, drowning out even the machine gun stationed down the hallway.  Kenshi continued forward reluctantly, knowing without a shadow of a doubt he wouldn’t like whatever was outside Ployer’s Place at the moment.


         He was about ten feet from the door when it suddenly swung open revealing a man backing out of the room.


         “...get an RPG from downstairs!  We gotta take that thing out before it crushes us!” the man yelled over the gunfire.  He turned to face Kenshi just in time to receive a chest full of plasma.  The man let out a loud grunt and slammed backwards into the wall.  Kenshi walked past as the man slid down the plaster and entered the room to see a few bolts of green plasma take the head and most of the right shoulder off the gunner.  A third man ducked beneath the window, letting out a stream of curses that would have made a drill instructor proud.  He didn’t even notice Kenshi before a wide spread of plasma flechettes peppered his body, killing him before pain even registered in his mind.


         Kenshi walked forward slowly, remembering the gunner’s fate only a second earlier, and peaked down around the window.  The twilight hour still darkened the area, but even so Kenshi could easily make out the enormous tank below him.


         “Dear God,” he whispered, his jaw clenching tightly.  ‘How the hell did anyone on this shithole get their hands on a Peacemaker?’


-------------------------


         Pain.  That’s all Ruki felt as she woke up.  A blinding headache and soreness throughout her muscles.  Opening her eyes she saw...nothing.  Plain darkness.  It was then she realized she was buried under a pile of wood.


         Reaching a hand through the splinters, Ruki picked herself up to a sitting position, the other hand holding her head as she grimaced.  She looked around the room slowly, taking in the sight of dozens of men and women huddled around the room behind various tables, all with expressions of fear, anger and/or determination on their faces.  At the back of it all stood Malcom and his nameless bodyguard, both standing stock still as they in turn observed the room around them.


         It was then that Ruki took notice of the loud rumbling of some sort of engine, the squeaking of treads and the vibrations in the floor.  Ruki looked at the doorway expectantly, but when it appeared nothing would be coming through it anytime soon, she ignored the sound and started checking her body, making sure everything was healed before trying to stand up.


         “I hate grenades,” she mumbled to herself.  She thought back to the past 24 hours.  “What a day.  I never used to get this beat up.”  The pain was disappearing fast so Ruki took the chance to look around for the two plasma swords.  Finding them buried under the wood she smiled happily to herself.  Then the rumbling stopped.


         “Peacemaker,” a man whispered and Ruki looked up to see the barrel of some sort of heavy machine gun enter the room and begin spitting out green plasma at an alarming rate toward the defenders.  Everybody went to the ground as one, all ducking behind the various barricades around the room.  The wooden tables were no match for the intense plasma fire, unfortunately, and defender after defender was gradually engulfed by the powerful shots.  A few men tried to return fire, but the gun must have been heavily armored for it not only continued firing without problem, but homed in on those peaking out behind the tables.


         It didn’t take long for Ruki to become tired of this turn of events.  Exploding upward, she switched on the two plasma swords and sprinted for the doorway.  The armored gun ignored her until the last second, the shattered doorway blocking her from the weapon’s line of sight.  Only when she was near directly in front of the turret did it acknowledge her presence, turning toward it’s last foe.


         Green plasma shot out at her almost immediately at rate which would liquidate a smaller gun.  Still, Ruki managed to get her two swords up to block each and every shot - easier than it seemed considering the heavy machine gun had little recoil making predicting the next shot’s path relatively simple even though the opposing force of the shots bounced her swords back hard.  Despite the relative ease of the situation, Ruki walked forward slowly so as not to miss one of the plasma bolts.  If she failed to block a shot it could easily take off a limb or her head, maybe even knock her out again should one tag her in the chest.  When she was finally within range Ruki brought one sword up defensively while using the other to make a powerful swipe at the gun, splitting the barrel with her intense beam of plasma and destroying the magnets inside which launched the dangerous green bolts.


         It was then that Ruki realized what was in front of her.  She had only noticed the machine gun before, but now the veteran merc took in the sight of the enormous tank resting only a few feet away which could only be one of the fabled Peacemakers.  It didn’t intimidate her in the least.


         She headed toward the right where the back of the beast lay, jabbing her swords brutally into the two gun bays so the vehicle didn’t have to simply move forward to resume the one-sided siege.  Jumping onto the tank’s slanted rear, she stabbed both of her swords into the two rear gun bays before spinning around to look over the street.


         There before her stood a few dozen men, some merely standing to watch the Peacemaker do its work, others erecting various supply posts around the area to help them as long as the battle lasted.  All looked at Ruki with surprise.


         She smiled back.


         Launching off the back of the tank, she flew to the nearest group of men, swords crossed before her.  Two of the trio dove aside as she sped toward them at 60 kph, but one stayed staring, frozen in fear at the sight of the demonic woman approaching with two fiery red swords.  He was split into eight separate pieces with only two swings.  Spinning around with swords outstretched, Ruki managed to slice a deep gash into one fleeing man.  He fell to the ground and tried crawling away with a choked sob, but Ruki swung a sword once more along his spine, disintegrating the vertebrae and splitting him open with a thick gush of blood.  By this time the rest of the attackers had figured out that yes, they were indeed being attacked by a single psychotic woman and, with mixed shouts and orders, joined the fight.  Within seconds well over 100 bolts of plasma were racing toward Ruki.


         Her smile only grew.


         Jumping aside and deflecting the stray shots with her two swords, Ruki deftly flipped a switch on her wrist and dove through the ground.  She flew blind through the solid soil and tar and emerged at what she guessed was 20 feet from her original position.  Right in the middle of group of ten attackers.


         ‘Whoops.  Wanted to get behind them,’ she thought almost bashfully.  ‘Oh well.’


         The plasma swords came up, the red glare flashing bright across her fangs as her eyes grew wide with excitement.  The attackers jumped back with various yelps of surprise, a couple firing off a burst from their weapons reflexively.  Dancing out of the way, Ruki twirled her swords, cutting through the ribs and skulls of three of the men and deflecting any shots she didn’t dodge away from.  She spun around and faced the rest of the group, not hesitating to fly forward at full speed, her swords a blur even to her as they cut through the multitude of people, splitting bodies and creating one large pool of gore.  Some tried to run away, but she just chased them down and pounced on them one by one, stabbing and cutting into them to make sure they’d stay down.


         It was when she’d pounced on her 22nd victim of the morning when she realized Ployer and a few others were outside by now as well, taking potshots at people hiding behind buildings, supply crates and various pieces of equipment.  Closest to her was Dav, wrist blades slicing away in one hand, blaster peppering victims with the other.  Ruki took a moment to look around at the carnage of it all, smiling slightly.


         The battle was won.  Most of the attackers were retreating now, the rest were being taken care of by Ployer, Dav and the others.  An explosion on the Peacemaker signaled someone was taking care of the small tank problem, but the vehicle wouldn’t be doing any more damage without the machine guns aimed toward Ployer’s Place or the half-built supply camp.


         She watched Davnick stab one man in the stomach and take his head with another shot before spinning around and slicing through the neck of another.  Turning, he started firing at another group of men taking cover inside a building.  All the shots hit their mark.


         Ruki felt herself give a wide grin.  The womanizing rookie had a talent for fighting.  ‘He might actually be just what I need to forget Kenshi.’


         She just finished that thought when blinding pain filled her entire arm and part of her side.  She looked down to find her left arm had disappeared above the elbow and the flesh between hip and rib at her side was spilling blood.  Growling and spinning around she found the triple barreled heavy blast cannon taking careful aim at her.  Her eyes widened.


         Diving away, a second laser fired out of a cannon, passing through where her chest had been less then a second ago.  She went into a roll, ignoring the flash of pain in her side as best she could - it would heal.  The third barrel was ready for her and launched another enormous laser, nearly taking off her head.


         She almost charged forward then, ready to tear apart the tank piece by piece, but a strange distortion in the air made her pause.  There wasn’t much time to examine it, but the way the high-speed distortion crashed into the rotating cannon, shattering the metal like it was glass immediately told Ruki what it was...and who it’d come from.


         Jumping down from the third floor, a man wearing a grey trench coat, ski mask and a pair a strange tan slacks landed on top of the pulverized Peacemaker, sonic blaster in one hand, shotgun in the other.  She saw a few blasts of plasma fire from what must have been a surviving machine gun in the front, but the thunderous roar of a shotgun told her of it’s destruction.


         ‘He found me.  How did he find me so quickly?’ she thought with a bit of annoyance, but this was soon replaced by an entirely new thought.  ‘It doesn’t matter.  I need to talk to him.  I need to get everything straightened out and get rid of this damn affection.’  Ruki stepped forward slowly, knowing Kenshi in no way trusted her enough to think she would try being peaceful with him this once.


         The last of the attackers destroyed, everybody turned toward the new arrival.  Kenshi, however, wasn’t finished.  Opening the crushed hatch into the tank, he aimed the sonic blaster down.  She didn’t hear any shot, but the sudden and short ear-piecing scream told her he had fired.  He closed the hatch and jumped off the tank to the side facing away from Ployer’s Place.  Two loud clicks and another thunderous roar announced another machine gun was gone.  Ployer and his men moved to talk to the man, but Ruki signaled them away and continued forward.


         Stepping around the tank, she was so preoccupied with what to say to Kenshi she almost didn’t leap back in time to avoid the blast from his shotgun.  Two loud clicks told her he’d already chambered another round into the gun again.  Her plasma sword still on, Ruki rushed around the tank and stabbed into Kenshi’s stomach, but caught only air.  Left arm mostly healed, she swung her elbow into his face, but again Kenshi countered, blocking with his forearm.  She tried swinging the sword into his side, but he countered once more, blocking her blade at the hilt with the tip of his shotgun.  Locked in position Ruki took the chance to begin speaking.


         “Kenshi...we need to talk.”  She said, looking into his eyes.  Cold anger melted somewhat into confusion.  “No tricks.  I just want to talk.  I promise.”  It took him awhile to respond.


         “Word of a pirate?” he finally rasped.  Ployer and his lackeys must have been sneaking around the side of the tank for Kenshi’s eyes suddenly strayed over her shoulder then came right back to her own.


         “Just you and me.  No fighting.  Please Kenshi?”  Confusion etched itself even more into his eyes.  A full minute they stayed locked together like that, staring into one another’s eyes, hers pleading silently, his questioning coldly.


         Finally he replied with a barely audible, “No.”


         Knowing what that meant, Ruki disengaged from him quickly, trying to slide her plasma sword back enough to cut across his shotgun so she might pin him.  Kenshi had plans of his own, however, and jumped out of reach while raising the gun.


         She heard the all too familiar thunderous roar, heard the yelled protests behind her and the sound of many automatics shooting their plasma.  She felt rather than saw herself falling backward.  Her sight was already black.


         As consciousness faded she managed to let out one final thought: ‘I hate shotguns.’


-------------------------


         Kenshi tried his best to look out the window and watch the battle unfold, but every time he showed any good amount of flesh the machine guns started tracking him again.


         ‘Automated machine guns oh how I loathe thee,’ he thought bitterly.


         This continued for a few moments more until a peculiar noise filtered through the air: silence.  No gunfire.  No screams of pain.  No barking orders.  Just silence.


         Then the screams started anew.


         It didn’t take a genius to figure out Ruki was finally doing what she did best.  Kenshi peeked around the corner and saw group of men surrounding Ruki.  He couldn’t see her exact movements from his distance, but within seconds seven men were lying dead with the rest of the group trying their best to scramble away from the crazed woman.  The other attackers weren’t about to sit and be content to die at the pirate’s blades, however, and they tried to get off potshots whenever they felt they had a shot on her.  All missed their mark.


         Ruki was just beginning to get overwhelmed when plasma started shooting out from somewhere beneath Kenshi.  He tried to peer over the window, but a flash of green plasma quickly reminded him the Peacemaker was still very much dangerous.


         ‘Damn battle’s raging outside and that tank’s keeping me in.  I should’ve waited until the battle was over.  Might not have been many leftovers to take care of and I wouldn’t have to deal with the single most dangerous land vehicle a man could face on the ground.’


         It took a few moments for Kenshi to dare look out the window once again.  When he did the attackers were in the last stages of defeat, some retreating, others holing themselves in as best as possible.  In the middle of it all stood Ruki, admiring her handiwork and pleasantly watching her allies slaughter their enemies.  He heard the sound of gears moving and instantly knew the Peacemaker was about to enter the fight once more.


         Daring a quick peek, Kenshi saw one of the two things he hoped wouldn’t enter the fight enter the fight.  Three large barrels attached to a hexagonal piece of rotating gear and dark grey metallic armor turned slowly toward the defenders, completely unnoticed while they were caught up in their supposed victory.  When it finally stopped rotating Kenshi smiled sardonically.


         The tank was aiming directly for Ruki.


         It was an odd choice, seeing as how a blast could easily take out one of the many groups of defenders, yet it was aiming for one single person.  They gunner obviously knew Ruki fairly well.


         A blast of red launched through the air at the speed of light, taking off half of Ruki’s left arm like it was nothing but ash.  The pirate spun around and Kenshi cringed at the expression of pure rage he knew she’d be wearing.  She dove to the side just as the second shot fired through the air, narrowly missing her trailing legs.  The gunner obviously didn’t understand the barrel’s reticle, much to Ruki’s luck.


         ‘Dammit,’ Kenshi thought, gripping the window with white knuckles.  ‘I should just let her die and leave it at that.’  He clenched his jaw, thinking of the risks of keeping her alive.  No, not risks.  The sheer chaos she brought wherever she went.  But even with that knowledge his body still tensed, ready to swoop down and somehow save her.


         Rolling to a crouch, the third shot barely missed taking her head.


         “Fuck!  Why the hell do I have to help her?!” he yelled to the ceiling.  Yanking out the sonic blaster, he let loose a single soundless shot, shattering the tank and destroying it’s cannons.


         ‘Get out of here, hide the info and catch her later, Kenshi,’ he told himself.  ‘Forget about her for now.  Just work on getting out of here.’  Basic plan in mind, Kenshi threw himself out the window and onto the tank, only half a story below.


         Now the center of attention, Kenshi acted carefully, knowing it wouldn’t take Ruki long to figure out who he was and that the others wouldn’t care for the fate of some nameless, faceless guy.  He heard one of the machine gun bays behind him open up and looked to the front of the tank to see a barely attached and slow moving machine gun turret trying to lock onto him.  Taking a step forward, Kenshi dropped the barrel of his shotgun and finished the weapon just as it let out it’s final burst of plasma.


         Below him, Kenshi heard the echoed sounds of footsteps moving through the tank.  Realizing the gigantic tank might still be somewhat operational, Kenshi walked to the shattered hatchway and opened it, the broken locks giving way instantly to his enhanced strength.  A single man could be seen below, gun in hand and scared expression obvious on his face.  Kenshi aimed his sonic blaster down and let loose a single distorted shot.


         It wasn’t the actual death of the man that got to him.  He’d killed more than his fair share in one conflict or another.  Nor was it the look of every single bone in the man’s body shattering under the wave as his insides turned to pudding, his skin stretching and blood seeping out of every pore.  What gave him the shudder was the short, ear-piercing scream the man let out the second the distortion touched him - the same second he died.


         Kenshi shook it off.  Death was death.  The guy probably hadn’t gotten a much worse death than any of the pirates would have given him should he have been captured.  The man was scum in any case.  He worked for a greedy band of killers driving a rare and expensive piece of machinery, didn’t he?  Must of done something big to be trusted with something like this.


         Around the tank, Kenshi saw more than one strange look go his way, but his attention was drawn to Ruki.  The woman walked over to him at a snail’s pace, her expression showing she was deep in thought about something.


         ‘She knows it’s me,’ he knew.  ‘And she’s trying to be cautious.  Little bitch probably already knows I have the info.’


         Jumping to the ground, the mechanical sound of gears working informed Kenshi one last gun turret was still in working order.  He pumped another round into his shotgun, turned around and blasted the still opening gun bay to scrap.  Pumping another round into his gun, he waited for Ruki to round the tank.


         She turned the corner at the same slow pace, deep in thought and barely aware of the world around her.  Not taking any chances, Kenshi leveled the shotgun and fired, knocking the pirate out of her apparent concentration and sending her jumping back behind the Peacemaker.  He quickly pumped the gun again just before Ruki sped around the tank and stabbed forward with her remaining sword.  Kenshi had seen it coming long before, fortunately, and had started his sidestep the second she appeared again.  Standing upright, Ruki used her half-healed arm to try punching him in the face only to be blocked by Kenshi’s own free forearm.  She swung her sword around, trying to split him in two, but again Kenshi managed to block, bringing his shotgun up to catch the cylindrical hilt.


         He expected her to try overpowering him.  He thought she might back away and try for another attack.  He never suspected she would start talking to him - especially in a pleading little voice he’d never even imagined her vocal chords could create.


         “Kenshi...we need to talk.”  Looking into her eyes, he didn’t think he’d ever seen her like this.  She looked...defenseless.  Like a little child confronting the Boogey Man.  It was a look he never thought he’d see on her and it put a momentary seed of doubt into his mind.  He mentally shook it away.  Moments before she had killed over a dozen men with a smile.  This was a hoax and nothing more.  “No tricks.  I just want to talk.  I promise.”


         “Word of a pirate?” he whispered back after a moment.  He wouldn’t fall for her tricks this time.  She might have improved her acting, but he’d known Ruki too long to fall for such a prank.  Behind her, Ployer and a few other men silently rounded the corner.  They all reeled back at the sight of Ruki evenly matched with someone.  He looked back at her pleading face.


         “Just you and me.  No fighting. Please Kenshi?”  It was tempting to drop his weapons right then at her whispered voice.  For a split second she was a beautiful woman who looked so vulnerable, just asking to talk to him.  But she was also a killer who had played these games with him before and he was a man with a job to do.  There was more at stake here than a troubled woman.  He made up his mind then, resolved to never trust a word from her mouth.


         “No,” was all he said and all it took for her to leap back.  He was on the move almost as quickly and had his shotgun pointed at her torso before she had a chance to try anything.


         A single blast from a shotgun.  Unavoidable at point blank with it’s wide spread and not survivable by just about any creature in the universe.  Ruki took the blast full on, much like she had those three long years ago.  It knocked her to the ground with plasma burning away in a dozen different places inside her unrecognizable torso.


         Five various protests went out as she hit the ground and Kenshi looked up to see Ployer, his bartender, Charlie, and three men he’d never seen before all fire as one.  He managed to dive away from all the plasma, but one of the men had a blaster and, while it didn’t do much damage, it stung like hell.


         Getting his feet on the ground, Kenshi pushed forward into a bull rush.  Laser and plasma grazed and occasionally impacted his shoulders and chest and he was forced to bring his forearms up to block any headshots, but Kenshi continued his charge.  At the last second, the black clothed blaster man shot his arms forward and two pairs of wrist blades slid out from his sleeves.  Kenshi knocked both away with a quick double swing with his shotgun then put the man out of action with a final third swing from the butt of his gun to the man’s jaw.


         Pumping another round into his shotgun, Kenshi felt a pair of plasma bolts lodge themselves into his upper back.  Spinning around and diving to the side, he let out the shotgun blast, knocking three of the four men to the ground.  The fourth tried to bring his weapon to bare once more, but Kenshi went into a roll, leaped up and forward and laid out another swing from the butt of his gun.  The man stumbled back a couple steps and fell to the ground, unconscious. 


         Around the street various survivors looked in awe at the former SEALS.  A glare to each had them dropping their weapons or holding their hands up in surrender.  Looking back to Ruki, Kenshi observed the unconscious woman take a few ragged breaths before he was finally convinced the fight was over.


         Stowing the shotgun into his long, battle-scorched coat, Kenshi walked toward the attacker’s half-made abandoned camp.  He straddled a bike with it’s engine still running and revved the accelerator twice before shooting into the air toward the hangar.


         10 minutes later, Kenshi was finishing the final touches on setting his next set of coordinates while his ship broke through Haqnen II’s atmosphere.  Typing in the last commands, Kenshi double-checked to make sure his stealth system was running and walked back toward the bedroom for some research on a well-dressed man named Malcom.


         As he walked the picture of a vulnerable Ruki entered his mind.  And he almost smiled.


-------------------------


         Ruki awoke a half hour later in a unfamiliar tank surrounded by a strange green liquid with a mask to keep her breathing.  Her eyes shot around the strange environment as her mind started to panic and scenes from a past long ago surfaced.


         Tearing off the mask and punching and kicking forward, the tank’s viewing glass shattered and it’s contents spilled out, throwing Ruki to the tile floor.  A technician clothed in white ran to her side, but Ruki sent him to hell with a quick jab to the throat, crushing his trachea.  Standing up naked as the day she was born, Ruki looked around to finally realize where she was and how she came to be there.


         There in Ployer’s basement sat 20 different healing tanks, each filled with green fluid and a wounded person.  Across the room, two other technicians looked at her in still fear.  Ruki gulped in a breath of air


         “Clothes.” she said.  One of the men nodded and approached reluctantly with a folded white shirt and pants.  She grabbed the items as soon as they were within range and the technician scrambled back to the other side of the room.


         As soon as she was dressed once more, Ruki took a look into the different tanks.  Most of the men and women she didn’t recognize, though there were a number a well-known pirates healing.  Her eyes narrowed as she recognized the forms of Ployer, Charlie and Davnick lying inside.


         ‘Kenshi did that,’ the murderous part of her brain said venomously.  ‘He dared to hurt those you cared for.’


         ‘But he let them live,’ a separate, unknown voice said, somewhat surprising her.  ‘They probably attacked him first.’


         ‘As he attacked you.  He refused to talk.  To listen.  He refused to care.  He deserves to die.’


         ‘And what have you done to deserve his trust?  Why should he care for you, Killer?’  There was no argument.


         Ruki shook her head at the odd voices and exited the room into an elevator.  Seconds later she was walking into the ground floor of Ployer’s Place where a dozen different pirates and guards  sat around with various weapons still in their arms.  Some picked up bits of rubble while others sat around the room with a drink of some sort.  None spoke a word.  She noticed the bodies had already been cleared from the room, most of them probably incinerated in the basement.


         “Miss Ruki!  So good to see you back amongst the living,” a familiar cultured voice called out from the other side of the room.  She turned her head to see Malcom sitting in a far corner of the room, his bodyguard standing just behind him.


         Walking over to the noble, Ruki tried her best to resist the urge to crush his head with her bare hands.  She was not in the mood for petty annoyances.  Stopping a few meters away, she gave the prince her best scowl.


         “Would you mind fetching me what I have paid you for?” he asked with an award-winning smile.  Impossibly, Ruki’s scowl deepened.  Turning toward the elevator without saying a single word, Ruki walked up, punched in her floor number and waited to enter her room.


         As she was raised 20 stories, a feeling of unease grew in Ruki’s stomach.  Something wasn’t right.


         ‘I’m still alive and I haven’t been captured.  Did they kill Kenshi?’  She shook the thought off as soon as it came to her.  ‘He’s tougher than that.  Kenshi wouldn’t die like that.  But what could he have been after?’  Her groggy mind came to the answer almost instantly and as the elevator doors slid open, her concern became supported.


         Running over the shattered glass of her room, Ruki charged straight for the nightstand where the small subspace pocket lay.  Opening the black cloth, her fears were confirmed.  The info was gone.  In it’s place she noticed a tiny, gray disk attached inside.  Plucking it from the pocket, Ruki clenched her teeth.


         ‘A transmitter,’ she thought, crushing the device between her fingers.  ‘Ally gave him a tracker.’  Growling in rage, she punched the wall, sending her hand through marble and plaster.  “I’LL KILL HER!!!” she screamed.


         Letting out a shaky breath, Ruki ran her hand through her hair a few times.  She grit her teeth in frustration and decided to change clothes.  Minutes later, she was clad in a blouse, a pair of jeans and a new pair of shoes.


         “What the hell am I gonna tell Malcom?” she asked herself.  Cursing mixed swears to herself, Ruki walked back to the elevator and punched in the ground floor.  That’s when a new thought entered her head.


         ‘Kenshi won’t just let this go.  He’s going to keep coming for me.  What’s more, he wasn’t happy about this heist to begin with.  That means he’s going to try for my employer.  He’s not going to let him get a second shot at stealing the Titan’s information.  Question is, does he know Malcom hired me or will he try to beat that out of me later?’  It didn’t take long for her to figure that out.  ‘Kenshi knows I wouldn’t talk.  He would have waited around until he found out.


         ‘What the hell should I do about it, though?  Kenshi’s got the info and he’ll be coming after Malcom any time.  So Malcom gets his, Kenshi loosens up a bit and we can continue our game.


         ‘But I’ve never failed a job.  This could kill my reputation.  I need to get that info back.  But if Kenshi will be going after Malcom, how do I find Kenshi?’  The answer gave her a wicked smile.  ‘I follow Malcom.’


         The elevator opened and Ruki walked toward the noble’s little corner.  Malcom sat ramrod straight, sipping a glass of red wine with a bored look on his face.  He smiled when he caught sight of the killer.


         “Am I to conclude our relationship is over?” he asked in false sadness.  Ruki’s grin widened.


         “Oh no.  I’m afraid it’s just begun.”  Malcom frowned.  “Ever heard of Kenshi Tamaki?”  He narrowed his eyes.


         “No.”


         “Well Kenshi is a bounty hunter of a sort who’s been after me for awhile.  He found out about the Titan and tailed me.  During the siege he stole everything back,” she said casually.  Malcom’s face turned beet red.


         “You...failed,” he said with barely contained rage.  Ruki shook her head.


         “Not yet.  Kenshi doesn’t like leaving loose ends.  He’ll think you’ll try to raid the Titan again.”


         “And I will,” Malcom interrupted.


         “You won’t have to.”  Confusion started shining through his anger.


         “What do you mean?”


         “Kenshi will come after you.  He will try to put you in jail before you try anything.  And I’ll be there to stop him and get the info back.”


         “You want to travel with me to lock wills against a man who has already bested you?” Malcom asked skeptically, giving Ruki a slight frown.


         “We both know the value of intel, Malcom.  I know more about Kenshi than probably any man alive at the moment.”


         “Intelligence I could easily research for myself,” he countered.  “And still he might best you.”


         “Would he best both of us?”  The prince remained silent.  Arrogance definitely ran deep in him.  “Kenshi doesn’t have much written intel on him.  I’ve checked myself.  Most of it is basic stuff.  Not the type of guy to let people in.”  Malcom frowned further and closed his eyes.  When he opened them again he nodded.


         “You travel with me and stay out of sight.”  Ruki looked at him strangely.


         “What?  You’re afraid of being seen with me now?”


         “I am afraid of being seen with you around those who matter.”  She scowled.


         “You pompous sonofabitch.”


         “Now, now.  We are to be partners, are we not?”  Malcom smiled.  Ruki clenched her jaw.


         “I guess that screws up my plan,” a soft voice laced with humor said from behind Ruki.  She turned to look at Davnick, dressed now in the same white cotton she had been given.  “So that was Tamaki, I hear.  That guy can hit hard.”  Ruki let her jaw relax and felt herself smile slightly.


         “You fought with him?”  Davnick nodded with humored grimace.  “Well don’t feel like he took your manhood.  He’s Terran.”


         “I noticed.”


         Ruki remembered her earlier thoughts of the rookie Frentan.  The guy who might just be able to take her mind off Kenshi.  She felt her smile spread.


         “Malcom, I’d like to introduce you to my partner,” she said, turning around.


         “What?” both men said at once.


         “Aiston Malcom, I’d like you to meet Davnick Cecile, though you can just call him Dav.”  She looked back at Davnick to see him staring back with an even dose of confusion and surprise.


         “Now wait one minute!  One criminal will be difficult enough to hide!  I will not harbor two!” Malcom said, anger returning to his tone and face.


         “No worries.  Dav, here, is a rookie.  Nobody would recognize him.  Isn’t that right, Dav?”


         “Well...yeah...sure...”


         “And besides, he can help with our little problem.”  Malcom looked between the two for a full minute in deep thought before he responded, though Ruki knew he would agree.  He had to.


         “Fine.  But I want this done with quickly.”  He stood up to leave.  “I will meet with you again in orbit.  Do hurry.”  And with that he exited Ployer’s Place, his bodyguard tailing close behind.


         “What’s...” Dav started, but Ruki interrupted.


         “Get everything you need together.  You want the chance of your career?  You’re getting it.”  That said, Ruki headed for the elevator to grab the equipment the techs must have taken from her when they threw her in the tank.  That collar and bracelet would be invaluable against Kenshi.


-------------------------


         Davnick didn’t know how he was so lucky.  It was just the way things happened.  One second he’s about to ask Ruki to be his partner, the next she asks for him.


         ‘Must have made more of an impact on her than I thought.  Women love you Dav.’


         Walking behind Ruki to the elevators, he punched in the button to his floor.  First he needed new clothes.  White was just not his color.  Then there was the question of his weapons.  Chances were if you lost something on Haqnen II you weren’t getting it back...unless you had a big gun, of course.  He had a feeling Ployer ran a tight business, however.  You needed to if you wanted to attract so many high-level criminals.


         Humming a tune to himself, he suddenly thought of Tamaki.  Ruki had impressed Davnick.  Kinda scared him, actually.  The way she fought...vicious, to say the least.  But Tamaki had thrown her aside and taken care of Davnick, Ployer, Charlie and the others like they were nothing.  Frankly, the event made him start to feel taking Tamaki down would be close on impossible.


         Davnick quickly shook those thoughts away.  Nobody was unstoppable.  Even the strongest obstacles could be overcome.  Sometimes it just took a little care, maybe a little luck.  And Lady Luck loved Dav.  All women loved Dav.


-------------------------


         Sitting silently by his ruined bar, Ployer nursed a steaming cup of coffee carefully in his fingers.  It had been two hours since he’d been knocked out and most of the mess made during the battle had been cleaned up. Still, there was much repair work to be done.  Wood needed to be replaced, doors and windows needed repair and a few hundred tons of scrap metal needed to be removed from his doorstep.


         “Running a decent joint is getting harder and harder these days,” he muttered quietly to himself.  Taking a sip of his coffee, Ployer turned around at the sound of the elevator opening revealing Charlie supporting himself with a cane.


         The bartender had been in the tanks the longest, him taking the brunt of Tamaki’s shotgun blast.  The large man would feel like rubber for weeks.  Limping forward, the enormous Midollonian headed straight for Ployer and took a seat by the bar.


         Both men stayed quiet for minutes on end, Ployer drinking his coffee and Charlie finding and lighting up a cigarette from a pack he kept behind the bar.  It was Ployer who broke the silence.


         “Did you notice anything strange about that battle?” he asked before draining the remainder of his drink.


         “Like how the hell Donberry got ahold of a tank such as a Peacemaker?” Charlie replied.


         “Stranger.”


         “Oh yeah.  Someone defeated Ruki.”


         “Kenshi Tamaki, you mean.”


         “That was Tamaki?” Charlie asked, his face a mixture of surprise and a grimace.  “How do you know?”


         “The eyes.  Only one other time I’ve seen someone look that coldly at anyone.  You remember?”  Charlie thought for a moment.


         “The Jarcden...Len something.  But that wasn’t...” he trailed off as he put all the pieces together.  “Damn.”


         “Yep.”  Silence filled the room alongside Charlie’s cigarette smoke.  Ployer broke the quiet once more.  “Stranger than Ruki being defeated.”  Charlie thought for another moment before giving up.


         “Beats me, Boss.  To me that one takes the cake.”  Ployer nodded his head in understanding.


         “She saved us.”


         “She what?”


         “Ruki.  She saved us.  Jumping in front of that machine gun.”


         “She needed to cut the thing down somehow,” Charlie pointed out.


         “But she also could have stayed out of sight and cut it down.  Instead she jumped in front of us.”  Charlie sucked in a deep breath of smoke.


         “So...what?  What are you thinking?”


         “I’m thinking our favorite mass murderer is forming something of a conscience.”  Charlie coughed out his cigarette.


         “That’s not funny!”


         “In my life I’ve seen Ruki pull all kinds of stunts just for the fun of it.  But I’ve never seen her put her life on the line for anyone.  At least not when she needed them.”


         “But why?” Charlie asked, lighting a new cigarette.


         “‘Why?’ isn’t the question.  Ruki herself wouldn’t be able to answer that.  Hell, I don’t even think she notices she’s changing.  ‘How?’ is much more appropriate.”


         “Okay then.  How?”


         “How does anyone change?”


         “I don’t know.  Trauma, maybe.  Or tragedy.”


         “What else?”  Charlie thought for a moment


         “A role model or loved one?”


         “When we rounded the corner to see Ruki and Tamaki, what did you see?”


         “I saw Ruki...”  Charlie trailed off.  “She was trying to reason with him,” he said with wide eyes.


         “So either she thinks of him as a close friend and role model...” Ployer started.


         “Or a loved one,” Charlie finished.


         Both men sat quietly as the info sunk in.  Ruki wasn’t the type to really care.  Her idea of caring for someone was having a social life.  Nothing more, nothing less.  It’s how it had been for centuries.  This was a startling change.  One that neither was sure was welcome.


         “So which is it?” Charlie finally asked a minute later.


         “Don’t know.”


         “Huh?”


         “This is the first time she’s had emotions like this.  He may be a friend to her, but she’ll think of him as something more since no one’s ever meant quite so much.  On the other hand, she might really love him.”  Another minute of silence.


         “Poor Kenshi.”  Ployer outwardly nodded, though silently disagreed.


         ‘Poor Kenshi indeed.  The man has turned the tiger into a kitten, something that only he will be allowed to truly witness.  I wonder if he’ll ever realize how special a position he’s in.’  Looking around his ruined bar, Ployer shrugged his shoulders, stood up and prepared to rebuild his home.