Disclaimer: Warning, this story contains graphic depictions of armed combat in the future. This is not the focus of the story by any means, however, if you are offended by such material please do not view this work.

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The breeze was warm blowing in from the desert, far warmer than a furry Yazirian like Yazin would have liked. Here at the edge of the desert's bleak dunes, the Grubber Aircraft Industries compound loomed like a dark imperfection on a desolate canvas. The barbed gridwork of the perimeter powerfence made it seem all the more foreboding. Security towers loomed over the rapidly darkening scene in the fence's four corners like perches for waiting vultures. GAI had built this base on a planet far from the prying eyes of the other megacorps. Being a subsidiary of Trans Travel, GAI could easily relocate development projects to a world as remote as this one.

Yazin was not aware what this world's name was, or even if it had a name. He did know that it was several days off the normal voidspace routes, and beyond the jurisdiction of Star Law. He also knew that if he were killed here, none would know what had befallen him. That thought did not sit well with Yazin, he did not want to die without a legacy to leave behind. No Yazirian did, but then again, Yazin had no intention of dying here.

Leaving all these things aside, Yazin did not like this world one bit. With hardly any vegetation at all this was no place for a Yazirian. The only plants for 500 kilometers were sparse clumps of sabre grass like the ones he and Hawk were hiding behind. It was ugly and rigid enough to cut bare flesh if you had to walk through it for very long. Luckily the only bare flesh Yazin had was his hands, feet and nose. That was the only good luck however. He liked the grass better than the heat at least.

The heat was the worse of the two by far. Yazin panted heavily to keep cool, but was still far from comfortable in his charcoal skeinsuit. He stretched his arms forward a bit to ungather his skinwings and shed some body heat. As he did so he was careful not to jar the magnigoggles he was holding. The rippling effect of the heated air distorted his view some, but at least the rapidly dimming light of the evening star didn't blind him with its brightness.

Yazin took the magnigoggles away from his eyes to rest them for a moment. He looked over his shoulder and made sure the equipment bundle was still covered with the thermal tarp they had brought. Seeing that it was secure, he looked to Hawk lying barely a meter away. "How long now," he asked the prone Human.

"About five minutes less than the last time you asked," was Hawk's curt reply.

"Are they on their way yet?", Yazin asked. Hawk listened for a moment to a report through his radiophone headset before answering.

"Slim is making a final check on the weapons systems," Hawk replied, "and Skitzi is still trying to remote access their computer systems."

"That bug is going to tip them off to us" came Yazin's angry retort. Yazin knew that Skitzi had hacked into an orbital communications satellite from Explorer one's computer link. He was using it to access the base's computers and locate the needed data. The fact that he had not succeeded yet gave testament to the difficulty of his task. It looked like a more direct solution would indeed be necessary.

"The information we might get will be worth it," Hawk stated, "besides Skitzi is the best computer expert on the planet."

"If we get the prototypes we won't need the info and that Vrusk is probably the only computer bug on the planet," Yazin growled.

As Yazin finished the last word, he heard a faint humming noise coming from above and to the right. Instantly he froze every muscle and stilled his breathing to the barest breath. The perimeter patrol robot hummed nearly overhead on its hoverfans. The sand kicked up by the hoverfans stung Yazin's bare face and made him taste grit. The patrol bot hovered over their immediate area for what seemed like an eternity before passing on to another area outside of the powerfence. Yazin silently thanked Slim for his part in the planning process. He remembered back to the Dralasite's booming voice briefing him.

"The planet's star warms the desert to a higher temperature than your body during the day, so any bot's infra-red sensors should be able to pick you two out as a cool spot," the grey lump of rubbery flesh had said. "Unfortunately the same is true in reverse for the nighttime because the desert will cool rapidly," Slim had certainly sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

"What about an Infra-red jammer?," Hawk had asked.

"Skitzi and I dismissed that because you two would show up as a distortion on any IR sensors," Slim continued, "The base would most likely send a perimeter patrol bot to investigate." "The only way to get close enough to the perimeter undetected and have a chance of getting inside quickly is to approach at dusk," Slim had explained, "The cooling desert should be close enough to your body temperatures to be indiscernible for about fifteen to twenty-five minutes." This had been an important gap for Yazin and Hawk not to be detected by the base's robots. They basically had to worry about two different kinds of bots. First there were the VTOL flight capable perimeter patrol bots, and second they had to worry about the tower based security bots. Luckily, Slim and Skitzi's plan had worked to fool the IR sensors of both types.

"Well it looks like the blob was right about that one," Yazin whispered, "I may owe him enough to try one of those steambaths he is always raving about."

"I'll remind you that you said that next time you call him a slow blob," Hawk said.

"He is a slow blob," Yazin replied, "I never said he was stupid." Yazin caught the gleam of Hawk's teeth that shone like a beacon through the blackout makeup he was wearing. Hawk paused for a moment listening to his headset and then turned back to the big Yazirian.

"They've spotted the GAI explorer and are moving out now," Hawk listened for a moment more before adding, "Skitzi didn't get through."

"Lets hope he wasn't detected while not getting through," Yazin added.

Hawk ignored the comment and listened for a moment before smiling again, "Slim says he will take good care of her for you."

"I'll be happy only when they get that crappy new coat of paint off her," Yazin replied.

"Think of it as an extra coat of armor," Hawk interjected. Yazin devoured that comment as he checked his weapons one last time.

Yazin looked down at the almost liquid black of his grenade rifle lying cradled in his arms. He had to admit, WarTech had really made a winner this time. The Boarding Action Grenade Rifle or "BAGgeR" had only been released to private security forces last year. It was a lighter, cut down version of the standard grenade rifle intended for starship boarding actions. The customizable options were the big draw to a monkey like himself who took pride in his work. This particular one had the standard recoil compensator, slightly shortened barrel, bayonet lug, adjustable stock, and of course the liquid midnight enviro proofing finish for covert operations. Yazin had used his for two years and never had to write WarTech a dissatisfied customer letter.

Yazin had also added one extra modification, the dark tanned krickhide bandolier felt cool in his hand. His mother had said that his father had made it for him, but Yazin knew better than to believe that. There was no doubt his father's hands had cut and stained the leather, but he knew deep down that his father never intended this bandolier for his son. Yazin's mother's letter had sounded nice, however, telling him that his father had accepted his choices and wished him luck in battle. It had been what Yazin had wanted to hear, indeed, what he had needed to hear; but he didn't believe it any more than his mother.

Seeing that Bagger was ready, he checked the auto pistol he wore in its right hip holster. Yazin pulled back the black enviro proofed action slightly to make sure a round was in the chamber and then set the selector to auto fire before reholstering the pistol. Yazin grinned despite himself as his hand stroked against the familiar leather of his hip holster, and he remembered the day his grandfather had given it to him. Adjustable to any pistol size, the holster was a work of art. The stain was so dark he couldn't even see it in the fading light, but its rich smell brought back fond memories of his grandfather.

Yazin remembered his grandfather as a kindly old Yazirian, who would sit in the clan's common hall and smoke his rich smelling choka pipe. Of course being the grandson of "Fizzan the fierce" meant that Yazin had not known his grandfather in his younger days, at least not in person. Yazin could remember sitting at the foot of Fizzan's krickhide chair and listening to his stories in the late hours after dinner. He would have liked to sit in Fizzan's lap of course, but his grandfather was wise enough to know that the weight of Yazin and all of his many siblings would be too much, even for a Yazirian as tough as Fizzan claimed to be. The grownups would always be somewhere else talking about grownup things, and old Fizzan would stay with the youngsters and tell tales of his many battles.

The main clue that Fizzan was about to start up with a story was when he would use more than two pinches of choka in filling his pipe. If the children were alert enough, they could usually be seated and quiet by the time old Fizzan had his pipe lit. Yazin could remember the spark of Fizzan's shiny black everflame making the young children almost gasp in anticipation of a story. Fizzan was a showman, sure, but Yazin would have sat quietly through any distraction to hear a good story.

"I remember once", old Fizzan would start, "when we were on deep patrol beyond the main starlanes into Yast, we ran into a large freighter trying real hard not to be seen by anyone. They had coasted in without any thrust so as not to show up on energy sensors, and the captain was lucky to distinguish the radar blip as far out as it was," Fizzan continued. "We didn't think that they were lost so we approached and the captain hailed them," Fizzan took a deep draught from his pipe before continuing, "they answered with a very unneighborly blast from their laser battery, followed by a salvo of rockets from their dorsal rocket battery. As we weren't expecting this kind of a welcome, it took the Captain a moment to give the order to fire," he continued. "Ole' Hotchkiss nailed em true with our laser battery and the blast clean knocked out their rockets," Fizzan puffed, "after that, it was a simple matter to knock out their lasers with a little judicious assault rocket use. They must have gotten concerned at this point because they veered away and accelerated," he laughed, "now I don't know what their captain was thinking, but I haven't seen a freighter yet with enough legs to outrun an scout."

Later in life, Yazin had been able to see his grandfather's old ship. The "Morning Mist" was to him a piece of legend, and it looked every bit of it sitting in its berth. The ship was still in active service with the Yast militia force where it had served in Fizzan's day. As it was on ready status, Yazin hadn't been able to tour the inside of the assault scout. However, just the memory of running his hands across the smooth hull was a powerful one, and it lingered.

"After we disabled the drives, the Captain ordered the boarding party to the lower deck to wait by the airlock," Fizzan continued, "I got my men in a line after we armored up and told my corporal to make a final check, we were going in hot!"

"Contact in three minutes," Hawk whispered.

"Hunh?," Yazin exclaimed.

Hawk hesitated, and then, "Where were you just now?"

"Trying to get back into old Fizzan's lap," Yazin grinned.

Hawk grinned too, for he had heard the big Yazirian speak fondly of his grandfather many times. "Let's get back into character, Yaz," Hawk said seriously, "Contact in two and a half minutes."

"I'm with you," Yazin grunted. Continuing his equipment check he ran a hand down his left side and felt the ammo pouch filled with bulletclips and powerclips checking to make sure it was secure.

Tucked into his belt was the sonic stunner Hawk had insisted that he carry. Although Yazin usually preferred his highly polished laser pistol, the team had a reputation to uphold. "I want zero casualties", Hawk always stressed, "these are just guys who ended up working for the wrong corporation; they aren't really the bad guys." Yazin didn't prefer the puny stunner, but he respected Hawk's words enough to carry it. Yazin dutifully checked the weapon's powerclip and secured it in his belt.

Next to the stunner, a small medpack was attached within easy reach. Yazin ran his hand over it to check each of the pack's three main contents. The pack contained only a few trauma patches and three autoinjectors, each with a different drug. Valence, the team's biosocialist, had briefed everyone on the drugs and their uses. The Human female had been helping the team suit up, and was less than thrilled about being left behind on the escape shuttle for this mission. The autoinjectors were a recent addition to the team's equipment, and Valence was bringing the team up to speed.

"Okay, guys," Valence had started, "Pay attention to these autoinjectors for a moment. You use them by priming here, then all you have to do is press them against your thigh. Its quick and easy so they just may save your life." Yazin had watched as Valence's delicate hands plucked three small cylinders from the console. "This Red striped one is stimdose," she said, "it will revive someone who is unconscious, and give a wounded person the strength to move. Be careful with this one, after it wears off you are going to feel like a zombie. You must rest for at least twenty four hours after it stops working." The team had nodded and Valence continued.

"This Blue one is biocort," Valence explained, "It is a fast healing agent and will help stop blood loss. If you are wounded, don't wait to use this one. The catch is, only one dose will work for a twelve hour period." The team had nodded again, and Valence held up the last injector.

"I hope you guys don't need this one," Valence said as she held up a black striped unit, "this is staydose. It will help preserve a mortally wounded person until they can reach medical care. It works by slowing the body's metabolism to a very slow rate. This is essentially a last-ditch effort, and be ready to have someone carry you. That's all I have for you guys." Yazin was familiar with all of the drugs, but he knew they probably would not do him any good. If he were hit, he would probably be killed before he could even reach for the pack.

Running a hand along his chest, Yazin checked that all of the grenades for "Bagger" were secure in their bandolier. Three of each of the standard types were tucked securely into it. "Well, not quite all of the standard types," Yazin thought grimly, "No need for poison gas grenades."

After counting the grenades, Yazin checked the power readouts for the two inactive defensive screens he was wearing. Seeing that they were both working nominally he went on to check his last and most prized piece of equipment.

Slightly forward of his ammo pouch was his family Khad'dan. Presented to him the day he became a warrior, it was one of Yazin's most prized items and greatest of moments. The thick blade of the short sword was at this moment covered with a krickhide scabbard, but the hilt and guard poked out in easy reach for a swift draw. Both the blade and hilt were embellished in a tasteful way, and on its pommel the weapon bore Yazin's proud family crest. The day he had received it had been a proud day indeed, but it was the last day he had ever seen his grandfather alive. It was also the last day his father had ever spoken to him. These thoughts made Yazin feel a strange sense of foreboding deep inside.

"No dark thoughts before a battle," Yazin's father had always said to him, "It breeds self doubt, and that is a most powerful adversary." Yazin tried not to think about his family and concentrated on getting himself psyched for the mission. He was almost successful.

"Contact in 10 seconds," Hawk said as he ducked even lower behind the sabre grass. Yazin did the same and perked up his ears for the sounds of battle.

WhaBOOM! Budda Budda Budda Budda.

In his mind's eye, Yazin could see Explorer 1 mugging the nearly identical GAI explorer that was returning from a patrol. Identical at least in outward appearance, Explorer 1 was more that a match for the GAI vehicle. It was over in thirteen seconds.

"They got off their distress call," Hawk said, "Slim says that it was disabled in thirteen seconds, you owe him twenty credits."

"Tell him I want to see the chrono," Yazin gruffed.

"ETA three minutes," Hawk stated, "and jamming is active."

With that, Hawk pulled out his radio earpiece. Getting up on his knees he turned with Yazin to the equipment bundle. Folding back the thermal tarp, they brought out two glijets and set about strapping them on. Yazin checked the buckles and turned to inspect Hawk's glijet pack. It was almost completely dark now, and Yazin had to squint to see the blacked out shape of the rocket pack.

"Checked em while you were daydreaming," Hawk grunted as he cinched the straps, "they check out ok."

"You think Slim's baffles will work?," Yazin questioned.

"He said maybe," Hawk interjected, "So it's an official maybe."

"Grrreat", Yazin groaned.

Hawk took out a TD-19 charge and set the timer for 7 minutes. He set the radiophone and tarp on top of the charge near the base of the powerfence. While Hawk was prepping the charge, Yazin broke open his grenade rifle and removed the fragmentation grenade meant for any stray patrol bots. In its place he loaded a tangler grenade. "Zero casualties," Yazin said mostly to himself.

The base was now under full alert having received the transmission from the GAI explorer. As the sentients hustled to their posts, previously offline patrol bots began trundling out of their fortified maintenance shed. Any previously unused exterior spotlights, came on in a blinding flash. Most of the spotlights spilled their light on the area directly in front of the main gate.

The sound of an explorer's four engines being gunned hard became apparent. It was a sound that Yazin had heard many times, and it still quickened his blood. As Yazin and Hawk watched, a scarred-up explorer with GAI markings barreled into the view of the spotlights and flashed its headlights repeatedly. A scarred-up and burning explorer.

"YOU DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THEM SETTING HER ON FIRE!," Yazin shrieked. Hawk had covered his ears as soon as the explorer had come into view, so his guilt was all too apparent to Yazin.

"You have to admit, it's realistic looking," Hawk said quietly.

"YOU ARE SCRAPING OFF THE SINGE MARKS WITH A POCKET TOOL!!!", Yazin hollered.

"Do you want this to work or not, Yaz?," Hawk interjected. Yazin gave Hawk his best "eat krick pie and die" look before turning back towards the main gate.

The flashing headlights getting the guard's attention, the base's gates swung open just in time to allow the explorer to squeeze through. Yazin perked his ears up to listen for the sound of scraping metal from the tight squeeze, but thankfully didn't hear it.

The explorer turned to the right as if to enter the vehicle bay, but at the last moment swerved towards the perimeter patrol bot storage shed. The sound of an accelerator hitting the floor followed, and Explorer 1 plowed over three patrol bots which were attempting to take off. As the big explorer plowed over the last bot, Explorer 1's top turret spit a ruby beam that contacted with the power relay just outside of the main power plant. In a brilliant shower of sparks the transformer fused itself into worthless slag before bursting into flame. The base's lights instantly winked out, and a moment later came back on almost as strong as before.

The team had been lucky that the sandy environment had forced the base designers to place all the powerlines and relays above ground. It made the Explorer 1's part in the plan so much easier, and more spectacular too. Yazin grinned like an Ixiol addict on his first hit, and reached down to turn on his sonic screen. The hush field activated and the sounds around him faded to an eerie quiet. Yazin turned to Hawk. Hawk gave the thumbs up.

Yazin figured he would be a little taller after the glijet's rocket acceleration. He did have a better view of the compound at least. The perimeter patrol bots still on the ground looked like total losses, and it was taking the security bots in the towers a moment to compute what was happening. As Yazin extended the glijets wings, however, he noticed a shape veering in above the explorer. The remaining perimeter patrol bot ducked in behind the explorer on its jets and brought its own weapons turret around to bear.

Yazin felt a cold sickness in the pit of his stomach seeing Explorer 1 about to get blindsided. The fact that he couldn't do anything made him feel the worst. On the bright side though, the plan was working perfectly. All eyes were on the explorer, and none of the base's occupants noticed the two dark shapes gliding towards the center of the complex. The flare baffles Slim had installed on the glijets had hardly worked at all, but the hush fields had completely blocked any of the rocket noise.

In the explorer, Slim was on the ball and he veered left before the flying bot could catch him in a full burst from its machine gun. Skitzi must have been on it as well because an azure beam stabbed out of the explorer's top turret and damaged one of the bot's hoverfans. It listed to the left and lost altitude, missing completely with its second machine gun blast. The plan was working very well. Then, of course, something went wrong.

Yazin noticed them as they were finishing their set up. An anti-aircraft heavy laser team had just finished setting up on one of the building's roofs. Luckily they had not spotted Hawk and Yazin, but they were hell bent on nailing the intruder explorer. The security robots in the towers at the four corners of the compound had finally gotten their machine guns turned around, and were carefully firing at the dodging vehicle. Slim was doing fairly well and turned to head for one of the towers. As the explorer slewed around, the anti-aircraft crew's heavy laser opened up and burned a jagged scar across the side of Explorer 1.

Yazin looked down at the heavy laser crew. Arcing his flight towards them, he readied his grenade rifle. The crew was intent on Explorer 1 and fired again, this time missing the speeding vehicle. Yazin brought the rifle up and steadied it as much as he could. If he didn't help Slim and Skitzi, they could be cut to ribbons by the heavy weapon in no time. Yazin was still pretty high, so it wasn't the easiest shot he'd ever made. As the grenade landed next to the intent gunners, he realized that it wasn't the hardest either.

The grenade impacted on the left of the Vrusk firing the weapon. The Human on the Vrusk's right had just finished attaching a parabattery to the laser, and saw Yazin's muzzle flash. The Human's cry of warning came too late, and the grenade exploded with a loud pop that Yazin didn't hear. The tangles spilled out over the rooftop almost immobolizing both the gunner and loader, but not quite.

The gunner was totally covered with tangles and while he could still pull the trigger, he couldn't aim the heavy weapon at all. The Human however, had been luckier. Standing on the opposite side of the laser, he had been covered from the waist down with tangles. Yazin figured the man couldn't walk and would be attached to the gun for the next 30 minutes. The Human was silently cursing Yazin and no doubt his entire clan. Unfortunately, the Human didn't need to walk to do what he next intended. The Human's hand came up with a wicked looking auto pistol and Yazin gritted his teeth. Once he was spotted, the backdrop of stars behind Yazin made him an all-to-easy target.

The little pistol's muzzle flare was impressive in the dark, and it spit silent death at Yazin's rapid decent. The noiseless little bullets ripped through his glijet's right wing as Yazin heard the vibrations through his harness. As the glijet tipped to the right, Yazin soundlessly cursed the Human, his clan, and his future children as he scrambled for the quick release harness. Grabbing the grenade rifle with one of his feet, Yazin released the glijet harness and let himself fall away. As the damaged glider spun wildly off into the night, Yazin rapidly accelerated towards the ground.

Yazin stretched out his arms and felt his skinwings catch on the rapidly cooling desert air. He had no time to choose a landing spot before the same roof on which the laser crew was stuck was under him. Luckily Yazin wasn't landing in the middle of the tangler threads, but he was landing hard. Sparks flew as the grenade rifle's barrel scraped the roof and Yazin dropped it just before impact. Yazin landed in a heap as he hit the roof, but didn't hear any bones crack. Of course, he couldn't hear anything at all. Nothing felt broken though. Then Yazin remembered the Human.

As Yazin turned, his knees ached from the landing, but he was still able to move. The Human was trying to turn to face him. Yazin figured that the man would not quite make it. Leering with a nasty battle grin, he drew the sonic stunner from his belt and pointed it at the immobolized Human who was only three meters away. The man's eyes told that he knew he wouldn't make it, and he steeled himself against the blast to come. Yazin raised the stunner, aimed, gave a little wink, and fired. They were both surprised when nothing happened.

Realizing his mistake in a panic, Yazin frantically reached down to turn off the sonic screen at his belt. The battle grin slipped from his face and manifested itself on the face of the Human who was taking aim barely three meters away. Yazin could see that he would not make it, and he steeled himself against the burst to come. As the Human was about to fire, three small rockets arcing from behind Yazin slipped past his field of vision. Yazin ducked and rolled, seeing the muzzle flashes from the Human's auto pistol reflected off the rooftop ferrocrete. Lying prone against the roof, Yazin mentally checked himself for holes. Finding none, he looked up at the man.

The Human was lying limp against his tanglebonds, yet still standing because of the grip they had on him. Yazin looked at the man who had almost killed him. He looked at him for what seemed a long time. "No dark thoughts before a battle," Yazin silently mouthed to himself. Turning to his left Yazin saw Hawk standing on a rooftop of a building five meters away. Hawk was grinning nervously and gave Yazin a thumbs up. Then Hawk turned and headed for the roof hatch on his building, leaving Yazin to contemplate his next move. Absently Yazin reached down and flipped off his sonic screen.

Instantly the sounds of a fierce battle greeted the ears of the big Yazirian. Jarred back to reality by the thunderous roar of battle, Yazin stunned the helpless Vrusk gunner trapped in the tanglebonds with his sonic stunner. Yazin then turned his attention to the Human. The man was breathing weakly, but after being hit with three doze rockets he would be out for a long time. Yazin briefly considered killing the man in response to his nearly lethal actions, but only for a moment. The team did not operate that way. He reached down and took the man's auto pistol before tossing it over the side of the building. Then, whirling on his footpads, Yazin retrieved his grenade rifle and headed to the building's stairwell.

Yazin knew he could not leap the five meter gap to the building Hawk was in. Because the buildings were of equal height, he could not glide over it either. Hawk had known this too, that was why he didn't pause after helping Yazin. Yazin stopped at the trapdoor to the building's interior and flipped on his albedo screen. The silvery aura coalesced around the big monkey for a moment, and then became a shimmery field just detectable to the eye. Reloading his grenade rifle, Yazin readied himself and opened the roof door.

The stairwell was dimly lit, but enough for Yazin's night eyes. As he entered the building, the sounds of Explorer 1 battling the rest of the base diminished rapidly until it was a dull droning. Yazin's knowledge of the base's buildings was limited to the assembly and testing lab next door. Yazin hoped Hawk was having better luck than himself. Reaching the landing at the top level, he opened the door and peeked inside. Rows of empty bunks and footlockers lined both walls of the room. On the far wall were the entrances to the shower rooms. Between these entrances, a red light attached to the wall flashed on and off, signaling an alert was in progress.

Yazin listened quietly for a moment, and sensing that the room was indeed empty, he closed the door before continuing. Yazin carefully crept to the ground level. Two doors greeted him on this level, one obviously to the outside, and the other a security door leading inside the building. Turning his attention to the security door, Yazin covered it with his rifle. He reached out to check the control panel, and as he did so, the door opened.

Yazin was not sure who was more surprised, himself or the Yazirian who was coming through the door. Both of them yelled in astonishment, and Yazin brought the butt of his grenade rifle up under the other monkey's chin. The blow cut short the other Yazirian's yell, and knocked him back into the room. The other Yazirian had a parabattery in his hands, no doubt on its way upstairs to the laser crew. His pistol was in its holster, and as he fell he dropped the parabattery to catch himself with his hands. This was all Yazin needed to bring the stunner into play.

Stepping over the unconscious Yazirian, Yazin surveyed the room for other threats. Seeing that none was present, he took stock of the room's contents. This room looked like a combination armory and parts storage area. Boxes were stacked neatly against two of the room's walls, with a large half empty rack of personal weapons covering a third wall. A large metal shelf holding tools and various equipment rested against the fourth wall. A security door exited the room directly across from the door Yazin had entered.

"Definitely an armory and equipment storage bay," Yazin thought out loud, "If this is a standard layout, I can guess what is on the other side of that door." Yazin strode to the far door and readied himself. Placing one of his large ears against the door, Yazin could hear the sounds of yelling and tools clanking. Checking the load of his grenade rifle, Yazin firmly kicked the door slightly above the simple mechanical locking mechanism.

Drivalen the Dralasite was really angry. He was the head technician on duty in the motor pool and it was on his shift that insurgents had decided to attack. To beat that, the first thing they destroyed was the generator's power relay that led to the rest of the base. Of course all the buildings had battery powered lights and the lab even had enough batteries to be at full power for an hour after power loss. The security system also had power backups, so that insurgents couldn't sneak in to the base easily in the event of a power outage. These were all very clever measures to protect the base in case of attack. Of course, the designers hadn't considered that without power, the security vehicle's garage door was unable to open.

"Cheap lowest bidder crap," the Dralasite cursed loudly, "This damn thing doesn't want to work." Drivalen tried again to connect the power lines spliced from a power beltpack to the door's power uplink. The crew of one of the desert patrol cars was here waiting to get outside into the fray. They were angry too, and that made Drivalen even angrier. The Vrusk driver waved his antenna irritantly in the air and the Yazirian gunner looked like he was about to go into a rage standing next to the heavy outside door.

Luckily the other vehicle crew had been ordered topside to work the heavy laser on the roof. Drivalen had sent his useless assistant to help them, and to get the big grease monkey out of his way. The sounds of the outside battle penetrating the walls of the garage served only to increase the agitation of the three sentients. Drivalen looked back to the wires he was holding and once again applied his lasoldering iron.

The connection smoked a little and was fused. Drivalen looked up to the door control panel and saw a light glowing weakly. Even though he couldn't see its color, he knew that it was green. "Got it!", Drivalen shouted. He turned to the vehicle crew standing impatiently nearby and said, "Ready when you two are." The Vrusk and Yazirian nodded gruffly and turned to enter the vehicle. What happened next was so fast Drivalen could hardly comprehend it.

As the crew turned, Drivalen heard a loud bang followed by a equally loud smack. As he looked, he saw the door to the equipment room smack against the wall and then hang weakly on its bottom hinge. A tall Yazirian was striding through what was left of the door grinning wickedly. As the big monkey raised the rifle he was holding, Drivalen thought that he should dodge or run, but there was nowhere to go. The big Yazirian's grimace got bigger and was followed by a loud pop. Something flew past Drivalen and he heard it impact on the wall behind him with a similar pop. A misty white smoke quickly began to fill the room and Drivalen's last thought was that the big monkey had missed.

Yazin watched as the doze grenade's gas began to overtake the three occupants of the vehicle bay. The Yazirian slumped almost immediately, as did the Dralasite amid a heap of tools. The Vrusk was almost quick enough to get away from the rapidly expanding cloud, but collapsed in a pile of legs after going less than a meter. Yazin continued smiling, and surveyed the room.

Two groundcars modified for desert use were sitting side by side in the vehicle bay. There was also a parking space that looked just big enough for an explorer that would never return. Several gear storage lockers for the vehicle crews were lined against one wall, as was a workbench and a small metal shop. The large outside door was closed, but the control panel showed a green light. That was a little odd, these GAI guys were no cowards. Puzzled, Yazin stepped up to one of the vehicles.

It was a small groundcar with an open top and roll cage. It looked tricked out for offroad use, and its powerful engine looked like it could really move if it had to. A small cargo bed rested on the back of the vehicle. The car had spaces for three people, two up front, and one in the weapons mount up top. "Nice," Yazin thought, "too bad too." Yazin took out two of his fragmentation grenades and set them for seven minutes apiece before setting them behind the parabatterys in each car. With the grenades set as they were, the three unconscious sentients on the floor would not be injured by the blasts. With an affectionate pat, Yazin left the vehicles behind and turned his attention to the main door.

As he reloaded his grenade rifle, Yazin studied the door control panel. As he did so, he noticed what the crew must have been waiting for. A power beltpack was spliced to the power cable for the door control panel. "It's a messy job," Yazin noted, "must have been done in a hurry. That makes sense though," Yazin grinned. It hadn't exactly been an easy job because the smaller cable of the beltpack was a totally different grade than the heavy cable of the building. Yazin looked at the heavy cable on the wall for a moment, and a nagging thought stopped him. With that, Yazin turned and headed back for the stairs at a full run.

Reaching the roof, the sounds of a fiercely raging battle assaulted Yazin's ears. Glancing at the laser crew, he could see that they were still resting comfortably in their tangler web. Running to the edge of the building, Yazin leaned over and looked at the side of the building. Anchored to the corner of the building was a heavy power cable. As he followed the cable with his eyes, he could see that it ran to a tower about thirty meters away. Another cable from that tower led to the next door lab. No doubt for the purpose of redundancy, a cable also bridged the five-meter gap between Yazin's building and the lab next door. Yazin spared a glance at the burning transformer, making sure it was out of commission before leaping onto the cable and scampering across the gap.

Standing on top of the lab building, Yazin noted Hawk's glijet sitting in a corner. Yazin moved to the still-open roof hatch and climbed down the ladder to the floor of the topmost level. The lab was a two-level building, but the objective was luckily on the second floor. The first level was mainly offices and security stations; that was why the plan called for a roof insertion. Yazin strode down the short hall past a pair of bathrooms, to the junction with the main hall. If the information he had was correct, to Yazin's left should be the elevator and stairwell from the first floor. There would also be a small security station with at least two guards.

Peering cautiously around the corner into the main hall, Yazin saw two unconscious guards lying in front of the security station. "Hawk's been busy," Yazin thought. That meant that down the hall to the right was the lab area and probably Hawk as well. As Yazin stepped out into the hall, he heard the stairwell door down the leftside corridor slam open, the sound of running feet followed. As he turned left, Yazin caught sight of several guards spilling around a corner with weapons drawn.

In a motion that was pure reaction, Yazin snatched the auto pistol from its holster and pointed it at the first guard. Remembering Hawk's words, however, Yazin aimed slightly off target and spilled a full burst down the hall past the very surprised guard. The guard, a Vrusk, skidded to a halt and dove to cover out of sight with the others. Smiling a rather nasty smile, Yazin raised his grenade rifle and fired it at the entrance to the main hall, just his side of the guard's position. The tangler threads spilled out into a massive sticky web that covered the floor and walls of the hall's entrance. Yazin then ducked back around the corner to reload.

Reloading quickly, Yazin stuffed a smoke grenade into his rifle and leaned around the corner to shoot. With a loud pop, the grenade impacted down the far end of the hall and began spilling smoke in all directions. Yazin ducked back into cover as the guards fired at him, the laser blasts scoring deep burn marks on the wall protecting him. After a few more shots, there was less shooting and more coughing from the far end of the hall. Leaning around the corner Yazin saw the smoke cloud envelop the tangler barrier and begin heading his way. With the guards held up for the moment, Yazin sprinted down the hall to the right towards the lab.

A few laser blasts whizzed past Yazin as he ran, but most were poorly aimed by the coughing guards. His albedo screen flared only once as he ran, just before he turned into the lab's security door. Luckily the door was still open and Yazin charged in at full speed, right into the muzzle of Hawk's gyrojet pistol. The dark muzzle brought the big monkey to a screeching halt, and both Hawk and Yazin smiled.

"Pleased you could join me," Hawk chided.

"Had to scratch Slim's back," Yazin replied.

"Nice going, by the way," Hawk stated. "Do you want the bad news now?"

"Why can't anything ever be easy?" Yazin joked.

"Wouldn't want you to get soft, Yaz," Hawk retorted. "But I hope you have a ride out of here."

"What?" Yazin exclaimed, "What now?"

"The prototypes are not quite finished," Hawk stated, "they must have run behind schedule."

Yazin took stock of the room's contents before answering. Two partially assembled prototypes were sitting on the lab's work tables next to three unconscious scientists. One looked mostly assembled with the cowling removed to expose the engine, while the other was mostly frame with a few components bolted on. Flit Boards were a new development of GAI's, sort of a combination aircar and hovercycle. Streel, their competitor, was paying big money to be able to get a patent first. When Streel fell behind in their research, the team was called in.

Looking around irritably, Yazin also noted the room had a hinged door that looked like it led to the outside. He guessed this was to allow the finished flit boards to fly out for testing. Before Yazin could speak, their chronocoms buzzed. Hawk was quicker.

"Go, Slim," Hawk said.

"Hawk?, this is Skitzi," the tiny form of the Vrusk buzzed on the screen. "Slim's busy," the bug continued, "We have three aerial contacts inbound." "ETA three minutes," Skitzi sounded concerned, "Have you boys got your ride yet?"

"Damn," Hawk cursed, "We've got a problem with our birds, they won't fly." The plan had been for Yazin and Hawk to fly the prototypes out of the compound to their grounded shuttle waiting nearby. The fallback plan was to escape in the explorer, but that was about to become very difficult.

"Skitzi, take off," Yazin interrupted, "We have alternate transport."

"You sure?," Skitzi buzzed.

Hawk looked at Yazin and caught the look in his eye. He held the look a moment before answering. "We've got it covered Skitzi, take off," Hawk stated. He looked to Yazin and then said, "Ok, what's your plan Yaz?"

"Can you get one of the prototypes out that door to the ground?," Yazin asked, pointing at the door to the outside.

"This one," Hawk said pointing to the mostly complete flit board, "can move vertically, but doesn't have any thrust."

"In about two minutes," Yazin stated, "Meet me on the ground below the door."

"Can do," Hawk stated confidently, "I've already copied their computer files."

"Can you hold them till then?," Yazin asked. In reply Hawk smiled and held up his gyrojet pistol. Yazin grinned too and moved back to the lab's door. The hall was filled with smoke that was rapidly coming his way.

"The hall is tangled so they won't be able to get in here for a while," Yazin stated, "and the smoke should cover me leaving."

"I'll keep them busy," Hawk said, "Just don't take too long."

Yazin turned to Hawk and a look of understanding passed between them. Neither one would leave without the other; if only one escaped, it would be because of the other's death. Yazin sprinted out the door and back down the hall to the roof.

As Yazin reached the roof, he spied Hawk's glijet sitting in the corner. If he stopped to put it on and ensure his escape, he could not ensure getting to the garage in time. If the grenades blew the groundcars, then their way out was gone.

"A warrior can sometimes escape death by leaving a comrade behind," Yazin could hear his father say, "But he will never escape his conscience." Yazin sprinted right past the glijet to the cable between the roofs without a moments temptation.

As he approached the edge of the roof, a huge explosion engulfed the powerfence where Yazin and Hawk had been lying minutes earlier. The TD-19 charge had successfully blown a large smoking gap in the electrified barrier. As the flash from the explosion faded from his dazzled eyes, Yazin could see Explorer 1 heading for the gap at full speed. Tracers from the remaining tower's machine guns pelted the damaged explorer with little effect. Yazin could see the last perimeter patrol bot smoking and shattered lying in a shallow impact crater. Two of the towers were burning and the third looked as if it had collapsed.

"Slim must have put the ramplate to good use," Yazin considered. It looked as if Slim and Skitzi were going to get away clean. With the speed of their escape, it looked like they would be able to avoid their aerial pursuers too. Yazin turned back to the task at hand and leapt onto the cable bridging the buildings.

After a few quick moves, Yazin was scrambling across the cable running between the two buildings. As Yazin reached the halfway point, he felt a slipping tug at his belt. Yazin looked down just in time to see his sonic stunner spinning towards the darkness below him. Without a second thought to the lost weapon, Yazin was on the opposite roof.

In a few moments he was once again in the stairwell of the building on which he had landed. Running down the stairs, Yazin passed the second level door and then came to the two doors on the ground floor. As he flew through the open security do or to the makeshift armory and over the still unconscious Yazirian mechanic, Yazin wondered how much time he had left.

Running past the racks of weapons and supplies, he sprinted through the destroyed door into the garage. The two groundcars were still sitting innocently in the parking area as Yazin flew into the room. Running to the back of the first vehicle, Yazin reached behind the parabattery to grasp the grenade he had put there. His hand closed on empty air.

The click of an auto pistol cocking was soft in the silence of the garage, but to Yazin it sounded like a thousand cannons signaling his doom. As he spun around, he saw the Yazirian vehicle gunner standing four meters away beside the crew's lockers. No doubt the big monkey had awakened and heard Yazin's headlong flight down the stairs. He probably had just enough time to get to cover before ambushing Yazin. Yazin remembered that his rifle was unloaded and useless, and dropped it in a sign of surrender. But his opponent was also a battle hardened Yazirian, and was not taken in by the gambit. Their dark eyes locked for a moment in a measuring glare, and then hellish fury was released between them.

The other Yazirian moved fast enough to bring his pistol up as Yazin was halfway through his draw. Yazin's howl was matched by the gunner's as their auto pistols spit deadly fury in a long staccato burst. Yazin's realized that he was just a moment too late.

Yazin's arm stopped working as he felt the bullets slip through his skein armor and enter his right torso. He could feel the bullets bounce off the armor protecting his back and fracture his shoulder blade. The pain was tremendous, and it crippled his entire right side instantly. Yazin dropped his auto pistol as it fired the last bullets of its burst and it spun away to the floor. His shots had missed the gunner cleanly, and the other monkey howled in triumph just as Yazin howled in pain. Yazin began to feel weak and found himself leaning back against the groundcar in order to stand. His vision was beginning to dim as he saw the other Yazirian lifting his pistol for another burst. Yazin had failed the mission, failed his family, and failed himself. For his failure he would die, and Hawk would die with him through no real fault of his own. That last thought sparked the tinders of something deep inside Yazin's soul.

Rage filled Yazin as his eyes snapped back open; he issued an inhuman howl that gave the gunner a moment of pause. In that moment, Yazin rolled backwards over the back of the groundcar to the safety of the other side. Bullets whizzed and flew past, puncturing his left skinwing, but doing no more major damage. Yazin took a moment to realize that the other monkey was out of ammo. As he peeked over the car, Yazin could see him changing the timer of one of the grenades he had recovered from behind the vehicle's parabatterys. Yazin only had a few seconds. He had to take the gunner out now. He only had one weapon left, but it was enough.

Drawing his Khad'dan with his left hand, Yazin stood and issued a bloodcurdling battle cry. In frenzied rage, he charged the gunner, swinging his keen edged weapon before him. The gunner was stunned momentarily by Yazin's sudden ferocity and paused as he primed the grenade. He then turned to dodge or get away. He was far too late.

In Yazin's enraged hands the thick blade slid effortlessly up and into the gunner's torso, and into the locker behind him. The eyes of the Yazirian widened and he erupted in an intense howl of pain. Yazin matched his howl with an feral cry of victory and twisted the blade severely. The other Yazirian's howl turned to a soundless gasping exhalation and he looked directly into Yazin's eyes with a pleading look of desperation.

Yazin was brought up short by the look in the dead warrior's eyes. He immediately felt a hard lump of grief and remorse forming in his throat for the fallen Yazirian. The rage left Yazin like the realization of a dream, and without its veil his soul screamed in view of the carnage. The warrior's head lolled back against the locker and a peaceful sigh emerged from the dead form's throat. The body went limp with death and as it did so the hand dropped the grenade it was holding.

Yazin looked at the primed grenade lying on the floor for a moment. He was filled with the urge to throw himself upon it in order to quell the surge of shame and grief he felt welling inside him. Yazin's anguish made him stoop foreword to do it, but the realization that Hawk would probably not escape stopped him. Yazin was so filled with grief that he could endure no more in the afterlife, by leaving behind a comrade to die. With a certain level of regret, Yazin turned away from the grenade and leapt as far away from it as he could.

The blast was deafening in the enclosed garage, and the shockwave picked up Yazin and slammed him into the side of the groundcar four meters away. The dull sound of broken ribs cracked with the impact and he slumped weakly against the vehicle's tire. The impact and shock had knocked Yazin's breath out of him and he gasped desperately for air. The right side of his face was numb where it had connected with the rear of the groundcar. Taking a moment to recover what senses he had left, Yazin turned himself about to sit with his back against the groundcar's oversized wheel. Yazin tried to ignore the deafening ringing in his ears, concentrating on checking for any new injuries. As he did so, Yazin felt several new areas of pain on his back. The shrapnel had punctured his armor in places and ripped new wounds into his flesh. Realizing that his eyes were closed from the pain, Yazin opened them.

The garage had filled with a misty smoke from the blast, and several lights had burst. The resulting surreal dimness confused Yazin's concussed brain, until he saw the remains of the Yazirian warrior standing pinned to the locker across from him. The fragmentation had savaged the warrior's lower extremities and the concussion had left a macabre smile on the dead warrior's lips. The proud crest of Yazin's family was displayed on the hilt of the Khad'dan, Yazin's own Khad'dan, protruding from the dead Yazirian's chest. The ghoulish image renewed the overbearing guilty feelings born moments before, and Yazin wished for no more of it. Instead he turned his attention to his own body, and was shocked by what he saw.

Yazin's chest still rose and fell as he breathed, but that was the only evidence that he was alive. Bluish red blood oozed in flowing rivulets down his chest from the many bullet wounds in his torso and shoulder. The thick matted fur on his body clung to him in wet clumps soaked with blood. Several knots on Yazin's side showed where broken ribs threatened to pierce the skin from the inside. His skinwings had been torn and savaged by the grenade, and the ripped skin hung bloody and limp by his sides.

To Yazin the sight was a horrible one, but just resting lessened the pain. Yazin began to feel cold. The colder he felt, however, the less his wounds hurt. Fascinated, Yazin watched as the blood seeped out of him in tempo with the raggedly thudding beat of his heart. He began to feel better. Yazin could hear something now; was that footsteps? As Yazin looked at the floor by his feet, a familiar pair of leather boots came into view.

"So," Yazin's father sighed, "Here is where my oldest surviving son has ended up." Yazin tried to look up at his father, but the ceiling lights hurt his eyes when he did so. If he squinted, Yazin could just about make out his father's silhouette.

"Father?," Yazin called weakly. There was no reason for his father to be here, on this world.

"You couldn't let go of your dream to be a corporate enforcer, could you, Yazin," his father chided, "Look where it's gotten you, my son."

"I didn't want to be an Enforcer," Yazin continued with the old argument, "But the megacorps offer better training and opportunities than the militia." Yazin was already becoming tired of the old argument. The more Yazin squinted the better he could see his father, looking grim in the semi-darkness.

"And no honor," Yazin's father corrected, "your brother has done quite will in the militia." With the mention of his brother, Yazin smiled a weak smile.

"How is Darzin, father," he asked, "has he made full lieutenant yet?"

"He is a damn sight better off than you are at this moment," his father raged, "no matter where he is!" Yazin's father stooped down to come face to face with his son. "Yazin," his father said, "why did you leave your clan behind on Yast to lead a life as a megacorp lackey?" "You might be in command of your own ship now," his father winked, "a good crew and a fine ship would bring honor to even the most rebellious son."

If his father had been making him smile as he talked, the smile would have melted at that point. "I have my honor, father," Yazin said through clenched teeth, "my companions and I have won honor for ourselves."

"They didn't even put you on a ship, Yazin," his father corrected, "and none of your friends is a warrior of our clan."

"You are correct, father," Yazin answered, "None of them are warriors of our clan." "But they have all bled with me in times that even the greatest warrior might pause to enter," Yazin said a little louder, "and if you had cared anything for what has happened over the last few years you would know that!"

"Yazin," his father chided again, "your kinsmen have been members of the Yast militia for five generations, until you. Do you care nothing for your family's history?"

"I still honor my lineage by following the path of the warrior," Yazin retorted, "I still remember the deeds of you and grandfather in the militia forces. I still carry my honor blade." Yazin gestured to his belt before he noticed the Khad'dan was gone. Yazin's father looked down at the empty scabbard and then turned to look over his shoulder at something on the far wall. There was something important on the far wall; Yazin couldn't remember what it was, but it was related to his Khad'dan. Yazin didn't know why, but he was filled with a feeling of shame.

"You have killed one of your own kind," his father scolded, "for nothing but money!" As his father said that, the image of the Yazirian warrior sprang back to Yazin's mind in a flash of grisly insight.

"I had no choice," Yazin defended himself, "I would be dead now if I hadn't defended myself."

"Yazin," his father corrected, "you will be dead in a few minutes anyway if you don't do something."

"Perhaps that is best," Yazin croaked, "I don't think that I could carry the burden of my guilt for a long life." With that, Yazin's father looked at him for what seemed like an eternity. His measuring look made Yazin feel naked before him.

"I only want you to have honor, Yazin," his father stated, "I know what it means to carry the guilt of many battles inside a heavy heart. All those space pirates, smugglers, and corporate revenue cutters, people died in every battle I fought with the militia," Yazin's father continued, "You never forget the first one, and after that the weight only gets heavier."

"Is there no honor in being a warrior then?," Yazin asked, shocked, "are the stories you and grandfather told just to keep the children quiet around the fire?" Yazin continued, panicking slightly, "Is there no honorable satisfaction of the old warrior?"

"The weight is heavy, my son," Yazin's father said, "as you no doubt know. But as long as you believe what you are fighting for," he continued, "the burden is worth bearing." "It isn't always easy to bear," he ceded, "but the best things in life are never easy."

"When I killed for the first time," Yazin said, "it was one of the HUSP terrorists on New Pale." "I wanted to talk to you about it," Yazin said, "but you were so distant then and..." Yazin trailed off.

Yazin's father looked at the floor for a moment before answering. "I was so angry when you left," he said, "I couldn't talk then. Later," he continued, "when I thought about it, I decided that you didn't want me in your life." His father's voice cracked a bit before continuing. "I still believed that when you came back for your grandfather's rites," his father continued, "and seeing you brought back so much regret I just couldn't talk then."

"I'm sorry I embarrassed you on my first day as a warrior," Yazin sobbed, "but I was so heady with accomplishment that I thought you would support my choice. I should have talked to you about it before I announced it," Yazin said, "but I had researched the options so carefully..."

"What have you learned, Yazin," his father cut it, "did they honor their agreements?"

"I have learned so much," Yazin said, "I don't know where to start." "The intensive education and training of a young warrior gives way to more specialized training," Yazin continued, "things I never knew existed came into my understanding. But that doesn't matter now does it?," Yazin sighed.

"Knowledge is power young warrior," his father said in his most serious tone, "and there is always time to make amends."

"I'm not sure I could stand the pain of a heavy heart," Yazin stated defeatedly, "I feel as if my time has run out."

"Then you are ready to come with me," a new voice stated from afar. As Yazin listened to the voice, he thought that he recognized it somehow. That seemed so long ago, however. He was still pondering this as he looked up to see that his father's face had been replaced by a kindly older face. Yazin stared in shock.

"This reminds me of the time that we were on deep patrol through the Jovian belt," his grandfather stated. "Sensors couldn't pick up other ships too well with all the debris," he continued, "and when we reached the pirate base they looked like they had seen an spirit sent from space itself to collect them!" "Well, what's a' matter boy," old Fizzan laughed, "you look like you've seen a ghost!"

Yazin didn't know what to say, so it was a weak, "Grandfather?"

"Who else would come to take you over," the old Yazirian said, "I see you still have the holster I made you." As Fizzan spoke, Yazin was vaguely aware that he was rising to a standing height even with Fizzan's face.

"Come on, Yazin," his grandfather continued, "We can hunt kricks just like we did when you were a boy." Yazin hadn't seen the old warrior this animated for several years before his death, and he smiled in spite of its strangeness.

"You still remember how to fire my old laser rifle, don't you, Yazin?," his grandfather asked. As Yazin listened to his grandfather he looked over to a fallen form huddled against the wheel of a groundcar; it seemed familiar somehow.

"But I lost the rifle you gave me, hunting in the forest alone," Yazin said, "the time I snuck out by myself, when I was still too young. Don't you remember, grandfather," Yazin asked, "it was you and father that found me injured days later."

"Nonsense, my boy," old Fizzan laughed, "I still have it waiting for you if you want to use it. Now we have to hurry though," Fizzan cautioned, "The herd will migrate soon, we have to go now."

"But wait, grandfather," Yazin questioned, "who will tell my story in the clan's hall of warriors?"

Fizzan paused a moment in thinking. "Well what about that Hawk fellow you're working with," Fizzan asked, "Can't he tell your story?"

Of course Hawk would, he would do that for Yazin. "Well then, let's go grandfather," Yazin said, "We shouldn't wait for the herd to migrate." Fizzan's warm smile brought ease to Yazin's heavy heart, and the younger warrior turned with his grandfather to leave.

"But I can't record your stories, Yaz," Yazin heard from behind him, "I am dead, because of you." As he whirled Yazin saw Hawk pinned to the equipment lockers with his own Khad'dan. The proud family crest protruded from Hawk's chest and the macabre smile grinned at Yazin in death. Yazin tried to cover his eyes to stop the vision of Hawk, but as he did so he noticed the blood on his hands. The blood, Hawk's own blood, covered Yazin's hands and arms. Yazin knew that he had killed Hawk.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!", Yazin's eyes snapped open and he jerked himself against the groundcar's tire bringing fresh pain to his tormented body. Yazin's own tortured howl had brought him back from where he was before. Yazin couldn't say exactly where it was, but he knew that he had left a piece of himself there, a piece that would be gone forever.

As he looked across the room, for a moment the vision of Hawk's macabre grin superimposed itself on the Yazirian warrior pinned to the wall. It then faded to nothingness, leaving only its memory burned into Yazin's brain. As he looked down at himself, Yazin noticed the large pool of blood he was lying in. Yazin's own blood soaked the floor forming a pure blue-red reflection in the dim light. The reddish color almost matched the cross on the medkit at his waist.

"The medkit!," Yazin's brain exclaimed. With cold hands, Yazin fumbled for the flap and pulled out two of the autoinjectors. Squinting at the red color bar, Yazin brought the stimdose canister down against his thigh. The stab was painful for only a moment before mixing with the collage of agony he already felt. Readying the blue canister, Yazin brought the biocort down against the other thigh. Yazin waited for a few moments before continuing.

If anything, Yazin felt worse. He hoped that meant good news, however, that his body was beginning to reassert itself. Pushing with his good arm, Yazin tried to raise himself from the cold and sticky floor. Yazin tried again. Yazin tried once again, only to lie gasping in fresh pain against the tire. Lying weak and bleeding against the tire, Yazin reached deep within himself to draw forth the energy to try once more. As he did so, his will mixed with the effects of the stimdose, and gave him that which he required. With his last try, Yazin was able to pull himself up to a standing position against the groundcar.

Drivalen was sleeping lightly at best. It was a fitful sleep, like something had been forgotten. Drivalen felt like he should be doing something. He could remember a great amount of noise wracking his body, and then the sound of a voice talking. Was it two voices? There was a loud wail and Drivalen awakened to a horrific sight.

The Yazirian gunner had been killed, and his body displayed against the wall of lockers. From the damage done, it looked like his attacker had attacked fiercely and without rational thought. The body hadn't been killed as much as it had been... savaged. But where was the attacker? The movement against the groundcar caught his attention immediately. Drivalen was still muzzy from his sleep, but it looked like an injured Yazirian was trying to get up. The big monkey looked familiar for some reason. Drivalen thought about this as he watched him. As he picked up a grenade rifle lying in from of him, Drivalen remembered where he had seen him.

"The big Yazirian who came through the door," Drivalen thought to himself. As he watched the monkey reload his rifle a panic gripped Drivalen. He was frozen with fear and could only watch as the big simian trudged across the garage floor to the gunner. When he reached the gunner, he looked down at the gunner's tunic. After he did so, he ripped off a patch of some kind from it. Drivalen wondered for a moment, he had seen the patches on the gunner's tunic before. They had something to do with his clan, yeah, that seemed right. But why did the big monkey want them?

While Drivalen thought this, the big Yazirian reached to the gunner's chest and pulled out a large blade. As he did so, the gunner's lifeless body hit the floor with a solid clunk. Fascinated, Drivalen watched as the Yazirian wiped his blade before returning it to a scabbard at his side. The big monkey then stopped to arrange the gunner's body peacefully, and closed the dead warrior's eyes. This confused Drivalen. "Hadn't they been enemies?," Drivalen thought to himself.

As Drivalen watched, the big Yazirian staggered to one of the groundcars and pulled himself inside. After getting himself inside the car, the Yazirian looked towards the garage door sitting closed in front of him. With an irritated sigh, the big monkey started to get back out of the car as he noticed Drivalen looking at him.

The big bore of the grenade rifle came around then and pointed straight between Drivalen's eyespots. "Open the door," the big Yazirian growled menacingly. Terrified by the prospect of being killed, Drivalen reached towards the control panel and hit the open button. The big door creaked and groaned before grinding to a halt halfway open. It was enough for the groundcar. "Thank you," the big Yazirian grunted. With that the big monkey turned the rifle to point inside the other groundcar and fired a grenade into it.

Drivalen could see that the grenade was a tangler, as it covered the inside of the car. The sticky tangles would make the car undrivable for the next thirty minutes. With that, the Yazirian turned his attention back to Drivalen. The look that he gave was a sorrowful one, Drivalen observed. Not at all what one might expect from a Yazirian. Somehow, Drivlaen felt that something important had happened in this garage, and he had missed it. As the groundcar's engine whined to life, Drivalen tried to give his most understanding look to the monkey. When the car rounded the corner, Drivalen knew the big monkey had appreciated it.

Had he not been so mortally wounded, Yazin would have been enjoying himself. The groundcar accelerated smoothly and he cut the wheel slightly to stay in the shadowed areas of the base. Just a few minutes ago, there would have been no shadows on the base. Slim and Skitzi had done their job admirably, however, and most of the light was from the fires burning amidst the damage. Yazin didn't have time for sightseeing, however.

Pulling up to the side of the lab, Yazin positioned the car under the unloading door two levels up. He reached out to his chronocom and keyed it to send a signal. As he waited, Yazin reloaded the grenade rifle for what he hoped would be the last time tonight. Yazin finished reloading the rifle as the lab doors swung open. Squinting upwards, Yazin could see a dark shape descending towards him. The shape was faint against the stars, but was then instantly clearly visible.

The incendiary grenade Hawk must have set in the lab went off with a trembling KaBOOM! The flames from the explosions spilled out of the second floor door for at least three meters. Hawk, backlit by the detonation, was brightly visible descending on the stolen flit board. The maiden flight of the board lasted only a few seconds as it fell controlled to the cargo deck on the groundcar. In a few seconds, Hawk had secured the board and jumped into the gunner's turret.

Yazin tried to push the accelerator through the floor and the groundcar took off like a scalded chukka. Not turning at all, Yazin headed straight for the nearest part of the powerfence at full speed. From his position in the turret, Hawk saw what Yazin was doing.

"Uh Yaz, that's the perimeter fence," Hawk said. When there was no response from the driver's position Hawk tried again, "Yaz, we're gonna crash!" The barrier raced towards the front of the vehicle with blinding speed and Hawk was taken with a moment of worry. Seeing that he didn't have time for worry, Hawk tried to power up the main turreted weapon. He knew he wouldn't make it.

Yazin felt like he was floating again as he came out of his wounded daze. As his eye wandered absently, Yazin was struck with the realization of the moment. The fence rushed towards him at frightening speed, and Yazin, still dazed, wondered what he should do. As the full impact of what was about to happen shook him fully awake, Yazin raised the grenade rifle to point directly in line with the car's path.

The fragmentation grenade slammed into the fence fifteen meters away as it was still accelerating. The flash of the grenade's detonation was bright in the darkness of the night, and Yazin was taken with the urge to turn the car. The flash had disoriented his night eyes and Yazin tried not to let vertigo overtake him. With Yazin's firm grip on the wheel, the groundcar leaped into the opening made just seconds before by the grenade. The fit was hardly exact and the disabled fence tore at the groundcar fiercely, so fiercely that Yazin and Hawk both thought they might not make it. But, they did.

Accelerating into the all encompassing blackness of the night, the speeding groundcar kicked up a cloud of sand behind it. It took Hawk a moment to realize that they had made it through, and another moment to realize that the mission was a success. Hawk ducked through the bottom of the turret into the passenger's seat and turned towards Yazin.

"What in all of space where you thinking, Yaz?," Hawk yelled over the whine of the engine, "we were two nanoseconds from dead and you were asleep!" As his eyes adjusted to the light, Hawk could see Yazin more clearly. What he saw took away his voice.

The big Yazirian was slumped in his seat with his eyes closed. The rapidly drying blood from several bullet wounds covered his entire torso. Had he not been smiling, Hawk would have thought the big monkey was a corpse. The wheel turned absently in Yazin's hands, but the accelerator stayed down under the weight of the simian's foot. Hawk turned to look forward and was greeted by a large rock formation rushing towards the groundcar.

Lunging quickly, Hawk grabbed the wheel and pulled it towards him as hard as he could. The groundcar dodged wildly to the right, and it felt like two of the wheels were off the ground. The rock formation and clumps of sabre grass dodged rapidly left, and the groundcar rose sharply on a low hill. The two dangling wheels slammed back to the sand before the car crested the hill. As it went over the top, Hawk felt weightless and heard the engine roar with no resistance. Hawk barely had the wheel straightened before they slammed back to the ground.

Yazin was thinking about his grandfather again as an invisible hand pressed him fully down in his seat. Broken ribs floated with the impact, and the pain jarred Yazin back to a semblance of reality. Hawk was speaking softly.

"Let up off the gas, Yaz," he said, "we have to stop now." Yazin took his foot off the accelerator and the car slowly rolled to a halt. Hawk already had his medkit open and was pulling out an autoinjector. Yazin didn't even feel the injection of the staydose, but he suddenly felt very sleepy. He was still smiling.

As Yazin slumped against the wheel, Hawk carefully pulled him back against the seat. With some effort, Hawk was then able to move Yazin to the passenger's seat. The look of pain on the Yazirian's face as he did so gave Hawk a pang of guilt, but he had no choice. As he leaned Yazin's limp body on the back of the passenger's seat, Hawk wondered if he should attach the seat harness to Yazin's injured shoulder. He finally decided against it, he would have to drive carefully back to the shuttle. Switching the car to IR lights and donning his goggles, Hawk accelerated into the peaceful darkness of the night.

Section 8: To Fight Another Day

Yazin awoke with a muzzy feeling in his head, and a foul taste in his mouth. He focused on Valence's face looking down at him. She was smiling and had a nice, "It'll be all right," look on her face. Valence reached towards the wall and touched a control there; a slight chirping sound followed.

"He's awake," Valence said, "you guys get back here and collect on your debts." Slim was the first through the door.

"Hey Yaz, how about my twenty credits," the Dralasite joked, "you better give it to me now just in case you don't make it." Valence playfully punched the Dralasite in one of his arms. She opened her mouth to speak but Skitzi strode in on his eight legs and beat her to it.

"You seem to have been repaired admirably," the robotics expert said, "I have no doubt your recovery will be swift." Turning to Valence, the bug added, "Were there any problems in his reconstruction?"

"The ship's doctor had some problems with one of the bullets in him," Valence answered, "it had punctured a lung and was lodged next to his heart."

"Does he have one?," the Slim joked. Yazin smiled weakly in spite of himself.

"The Doc. had to get the captain to go to zero g before he could remove it," Valance said as she ignored Slim, "it was touch and go for a while."

Yazin, not really wanting to hear how close he had been to death, asked a question. "Hey, where is Hawk?," he said weakly. He was answered by a groaning sound to the left of his bed. As he turned, he saw Hawk lying on a small couch covered with a blanket. The man looked as if he had been there for several days, assuming the scruffy beard he wore was an accurate indication. Hawk blinked taking in the scene, and then spoke.

"Looks like he made it," Hawk said, "I guess I owe you twenty credits Slim." The Dralasite laughed with a deep bass sound while Skitzi and Valence looked to each other and grinned. Yazin was irritated by the comment until he saw the relieved grin on Hawk's face. "How you feeling, Yaz?" Hawk asked as he stepped to the bed and grasped the big Yazirian's hand.

"Better than I might," Yazin answered, "but not as good as I'd like." Yazin tried to give a firm grip on Hawk's hand to affirm that he was improving. It was a weak grip at best. At that moment all four of Yazin's visitors started talking at once and he flattened his ears against his head to curtail the onslaught. One by one the others fell respectfully silent and then Hawk asked the question all of them were wondering.

"What happened in there, Yaz?," Hawk asked, "You look like a quickdeath got hold of you."

Yazin didn't speak for a long time. The look in his eyes showed that he was battling inner demons. "I learned that there is no honor in killing for the corporation," Yazin said finally. The other four exchanged glances; it had always been a danger they had faced on their missions. The team had fought against pirates, against the evil wormlike Sathar, and now against other corporations. There had been killing before, but they had always avoided it when battling other corporations. Sooner or later, however, they all knew this day would come.

"A Yazirian vehicle crewman surprised me in the garage," Yazin said coldly, "it was him or me, and very nearly both." Yazin turned his head away from the others before adding, "I can't do this anymore, I'm finished." Yazin surveyed the stunned looks of his team members and fell silent.

Gerbin the Dralasite waddled slowly down the corridor of the corporate ship. He was the company contact for several different special ops teams working for Streel. His position had brought him great success, sometimes at the expense of those who worked for him, but Gerbin didn't mind. He checked his chronocom noting that his meeting time for team 043 was in two minutes. Gerbin arrived at the door of the small infirmary thirty seconds ahead of schedule. "Anything for my teams," he thought to himself.

As Gerbin opened the infirmary's door, he noticed the members of team 043 were seated in various corners of the room. They seemed to be having a discussion of some kind, no doubt retelling their bravado on the mission. Gerbin decided to make his presence known.

"Well, gentlebeings, congratulations on your success," Gerbin droned, "On behalf of Streel I offer my most sincere thanks to you. I have your new orders and I thought you might like to hear them," Gerbin continued, "Most of you will be transited to the Prenglar system for a new mission. You will be briefed once you arrive," he said. Gerbin looked at the Yazirian in the bed and tried to remember the name. "Yizan will be reassigned after he heals to another team, and your team will be assigned another close combat specialist," Gerbin concluded. As he looked around the room, Gerbin realized that he was missing something.

Hawk was listening to what the other members had to say when their company contact barged in on them. The fat Dralasite was everything he loathed about corporate work. Dressed in his designer cape, Gerbin represented nothing their previous contact had stood for. However, Mr. Eldorn had seen the writing on the wall and had left the company a few months ago. This replacement had none of his style, and Hawk was already tiring of this fat fool. Things just weren't the same now that the frontier had slipped back into the peacetime mindset.

Briefly Hawk thought about the glory days of their first year with the corporation. They had ended up battling the terrorists on New Pale and then everything else on Volturnus; what a year it had been. During the beginning of their second year, things had begun to change. The team had been reassigned to Laco for a brief stay until the team had refused to use deadly force against rival corporate forces. After that it had been these sneak n' snatch missions. Now halfway into the second year it just didn't seem like the same old Streel he had joined. The fat Dralasite paused in his soliloquy for a moment, and Hawk took the initiative.

"Gerbin, Yazin has something he would like to share before you continue," Hawk said.

"Can it not wait," Gerbin said annoyed, "All questions will be answered after I give you your orders." Yazin knew he would not get another chance for a while so he took the initiative.

"It is my duty as team close combat specialist that I inform you I am resigning my position as a Streel employee," Yazin said simply.

"What?" sputtered Gerbin, "Why, you can't!" Hawk did not wait to speak either.

"Gerbin, as team leader it is my duty to inform you that I resign my position as a Streel employee," Hawk said. A very flushed Gerbin looked like he was about to speak before he was cut off.

"It is my duty as team technical specialist to inform you I am resigning my position as a Streel employee," Slim said. Yazin and Hawk looked to Slim and smiled, and then turned to the others. Gerbin looked as if he might fall over.

"It is my duty as team medic to inform you I am resigning my position as a Streel employee," Valence said. She smiled a lovely smile and looked to her other teammates. There was a pause and Gerbin looked hopefully to Skitzi. The Vrusk's expression was unreadable and everyone held their breath.

"It is my duty," he began, "as team computer and robotics specialist to inform you that no members of special ops team 043 will continue employment with the Streel corporation."

"But, But," Gerbin gasped like he was in partial vacuum, the team was enjoying this. "But, what will you do?" he finally managed.

"We intend to form a group whose skills will be used for exploration and operations that ensure the security of the frontier," Hawk answered, "and to do that, we have to break away from our current situation."

Gerbin was outraged; perhaps he was up for review this month. His grey skin took on a darker almost purple hue. Finally he blurted, "Do you really think that a force of five will make any difference at all to the frontier?" The team was silent for a moment, it was as if they were all thinking the same thing.

One year later, Yazin was back on his homeworld of Yast. As he sat in the room outside the main council chamber, Yazin's thoughts went back to the efforts of the last year. His wounds had healed well, and the scars were nearly invisible under his thick fur. The team had done what it planned, though it was neither quick nor easy. Getting out of Streel had proved to be easy, the difficult part was leaving with their equipment. Streel had claimed Explorer 1 as a company vehicle, even though it had been a prize captured by the team on Volturnus.

Using the leverage of their many exploits for Streel, however, the team was able to finally get the vehicle, their personal equipment, and their pay, including all contributions to their retirement plan. They had not received much else in the way of ready cash and the permits for the explorer had rapidly expended what they did have. Luckily, the Cassadine Development Corporation had asked them to check out a small problem on a previously unknown world. The funds and stock options received from that operation had gone a long way in financing the team. Then again, they had earned every penny.

The team had been true to their word, and had finally been able to form "Force Five." Actually, it was "Force of Five Incorporated" due to liability concerns, but they left off the Inc. so as not to seem like a faceless megacorp. Yazin snorted at the thought, "Megacorp! We have trouble buying our own transit!" This had been the next hurdle. Without their own ship, the team would not be able to operate independently. Of course, it didn't do any good to have a ship if nobody could fly it. Yazin had proposed a plan to combat this last problem.

Yazin checked his scarlet cape, and made sure his tunic was straightened properly. The proud crest of his clan shone brightly from the highly polished Khad'dan hanging at his waist. As Yazin laid his hand on it, he paused, remembering the demons that still haunted him. Today, however, Yazin might finally be able to put those demons to rest. The room's other occupant saw the look in the simian's eye, and tried to break the dark mood.

"Are you sure you want to join the Clarion militia Yazin?," he asked.

"We have already been over this," Yazin replied, "Its the only way I can get the skills we need. Besides, the Clarion royal marines are an honorable militia force."

"Its not the only way and you know it," the other said, "You should stay here on your homeworld with the Yast militia your family has served for so many generations. The force will understand if you leave them for a time."

"I belong with the force," Yazin answered, "Nothing would please me more than to serve both Yast and the force, but the Yast militia does not need us. In the Clarion militia I will learn what I need to become the spacer that old Fizzan always wanted me to be." Seeing the look this topic brought to Yazin's face, the other paused for a moment and decided to change the subject.

"Are you ready?," he asked, "The council will call on you in a few minutes."

Yazin looked out the room's only window. He could see the tree line of the Forest of Mist where he and his grandfather had hunted kricks. That had been so long ago, but the forest had remained timeless in its beauty. So much had happened since then, that Yazin suddenly felt very old. The weight he bore was too heavy for him to bear it any longer.

"I am ready," Yazin said as he stood. There was a moment of proud silence and then the room's other occupant spoke.

"You will make your family proud today, Yazin," he said. With that, he turned and opened the door that led to the main chamber. As the door opened, the sounds of the great hall echoed into the tiny room.

"... with the increase listed in the data, it is obviously our best choice," a voice said.

"With the options examined I call for a vote," another voice called. Yazin and his companion stepped out into the recesses of the chamber as the vote was called. As the votes echoed from the council, their voices boomed with aweful power above Yazin's head.

Rarely had Yazin been in the Hall of Warriors before, and never had he been so intimidated by the history and tradition it represented. The last time Yazin had been in this room had been when his grandfather's final story had been recorded over a year earlier. He would have traded anything for that to have been his only reason for today's visit. As Yazin thought these brief thoughts, the vote was counted and the council moved on to other business.

"What is the next item on the schedule, sentry?," the council leader asked.

"Warrior Yazin to address the council and tell a story of the fallen," the nearby sentry answered crisply. At the mention of his name, Yazin and his companion stepped to the approachment path. They stopped in front of the two ornate wardens guarding the approach to the council. Heavily armed and dressed head to toe in ceremonial armor, the wardens looked fierce and serious in their duties.

"Are all the parties to be included present, sentry?," the council leader asked.

"Sir, all parties are present, sir," the sentry answered as crisply as the first time.

The council leader looked at Yazin from where he sat elevated on a platform above the floor. "Approach and be recognized," the councilman spoke. With this, the two wardens each took a step back and made room for Yazin and his companion to pass. As they passed between them, the two saluted as was the custom with a story of the fallen. When they had passed, the wardens again stepped forward again to block approach and escape.

As Yazin padded down the short walk to the circle of addressment, he felt about as big as a micron. All eyes were on him and his companion as the two strode foreword. While Yazin tried to walk tall and proud, he hoped he looked better than he felt. Finally, as he came to the circle, the sentry announced him.

"Yazin of the clan Delmire, son of Mirzan, blood of Fizzan the fierce, and warrior of the first order," the sentry called precisely on cue. The councilman's eyes lighted at the mention of Fizzan's name, Yazin noticed. He wondered if they had known each other.

The council leader looked down at Yazin for a long moment and then asked, "What business have you in this hall, Yazin?"

"I seek to tell the tale of a fallen warrior," Yazin answered as firmly as he could. It came out strong enough, to his relief. It was noticed by the crowd watching the affair that Yazin had said "warrior" and not "companion" or "ally" as was usually done. As the whispers grew to an audible murmur, Yazin searched the stands for familiar faces. Seated to the right of the council's dais were Yazin's mother and several family members all dressed proudly in their best clan colors. Also with them was Hawk, sitting next to Darzin, Yazin's brother. Slim, Valence, and Skitzi were sitting to Hawk's left, all of them out of place amid the simian faces. The charcoal grey skeinsuits of the members of Force of Five each proudly bore the emblem that was on Yazin's own tunic, next to his clan's standard.

One the left side of the council's dais, the clan of the fallen warrior Yazin had killed sat in their best mourning colors. Yazin had received their permission to do this before petitioning the council, so they were well aware of today's bearing. Yazin had used the patch cut from the warrior's tunic to identify the clan, and had been surprised to learn that it was a clan rooted on Yast. Although they had been understandably less than forgiving to Yazin, they had agreed to allow their kinsman's final story to be told. The whispers died at a look from the council leader, and he continued.

"Yazin, it is known you have served in no official capacity for this world of your birth," he said, "and therefore you do not have the right to speak before this council." The murmurs once again grew in intensity and the councilman had to wait for them to die down. "However," he said, "you carry the blood of a recognized clan in you and you may speak if one of this world who has served it stands with you as your second. I can see you have chosen wisely in this matter. So I now ask who stands with you while you address the council?"

"I will," came the answer from behind Yazin. The council leader looked at Yazin's companion, and then to the sentry who quickly spoke up.

"Mirzan of the clan Delmire, son of Fizzan, blood of Kaizen, and major in the Yast militia forces," he said.

"I am only Yazin's father in these matters," Mirzan said, "and will stand with my son before this council to give testament to his fact." This slight breach of etiquette made Yazin's head turn to face his father. As he did so, their eyes met in a look of understanding that made Yazin's knees tremble.

"Welcome, honored warriors," the council leader said. He then turned to the sentry and asked, "has their wish been approved by the warrior's clan?"

"Sir, it has been so approved sir," the sentry answered.

"Then let the scribe come forth," the councilman said, "and the story begin." With that, a door opened and an older Yazirian in flowing robes came into the chamber with a large and heavy book. After he situated himself at a podium, the scribe opened the book of honor and prepared to write.

As all eyes turned back to Yazin, he stood as straight as he could and took a deep breath. Yazin turned to look back at his father, who beamed at him with a look of support. Today Yazin would fulfil the demands of honor placed upon him by his actions, and his warrior's code. He would also help to ease the burden he would carry for the rest of his many days. With that thought in mind, Yazin recounted this tale of a warrior's blood from the beginning. Somewhere in the universe an old Yazirian smiled.

As he came to the end of the telling of his tale, Yazin stood in the stunned silence of the great hall. Honor had been satisfied, and Yazin's heavy heart became a little more bearable. For many years the telling and retelling of this story would give young warriors pause to think before acting on their rage. As he stood in humble honor, Yazin turned and looked at his companions in the stands. He wondered what tales they might help write for him for when his time came. But that, is another story...

• The Star Frontiers creation team at TSR
• Layne K. Saltern for the posting of the story and its conversion to HTML
• Dr. L. Riley for her excellent editing job
• All the participants of the SF mailer, without whom the story would never have been inspired be written
• S. Crymble for feedback and style tips
• D. Feagins for his help in the original character development
• K. Brackett for writing inspiration, and solving continuity problems
• Sean Reynolds for his efforts with Star Frontiers in cyberspace
• Roy Crisman for his efforts with the Star Frontiers cd rom
• And you... for reading this story and giving its author constructive feedback