Eagle X, Mission 15: The Singapore Incident

Part 5: Liam

"So somehow this is my fault?" Liam asked. He fired blindly around the corner, the unique sound of his custom Embrine kinetic pistol a welcome distraction from the distant screams.

"Yes, it's your fault!," Scott growled. The timber of his voice was as intimidating as his massive furred form. "You're the operation commander and you took this suicide mission!"

"Wait, so now I'm operation commander? You seem incapable of acknowledging that unless you need someone to blame."

"Just admit it. The Djinn dangled credits in front of you, and you sold our souls for a bunch of zeros."

Liam knew spirituality was a sore point for Scott. For him to mention souls meant he was pissed, which wasn't that strange, but Liam couldn't blame him this time. The entire mission had gone to hell.

Liam looked over the group huddled behind him. There were eight people: two canamarians, a felarnian, plus five humans, not to mention four constructs. They'd started with double that number when they fled their wing of the ship, but the spiders were already waiting for them in the main hall. A group of stewards had come to their rescue. They were too late to save everyone, but their sacrifice allowed Scott time to cut a path into the maintenance tunnels.

They escaped the main massacre, but the monsters were still on their tail. Eight lives were saved, not even a fraction of the passengers. When the spiders boarded the ship, it was a massacre.

Patricia spoke quietly with the felarnian. His clothes were in tatters and he was covered in blood that wasn't his own. His eyes darted from side to side at the slightest sound. He definitely wasn't labor caste. A felarnian warrior would rather die then show fear before a canamarian, but he did nothing to hide his terror. For their part the canamarian women paid him no mind. One had received a garish wound to her leg in the flight from the killing machines. The other had carried her companion and a human child to safety. The child sat between the two women, his face buried in his savior's lap.

Liam decided to count his blessings. If either woman had been a Canamarian Knight they would have been eager to fight the felarnians. Their animosity ran deep, a knight would have rather died killing her people's sworn enemies than die at the mercy of mindless war machines.

"Passenger, your pass appears to be corrupted," a steward construct said as she returned his pass. "I can not gain access to an appropriate designation for you."

Liam shrugged. His counterfeit boarding pass was the last thing on his mind.

"Thanks," he said as he shoved it into a side pocket. "Wait. I need you to scout around the corner, get us an accurate count of how many of those things are out there."

"Me, passenger? I'm not sure I'm the best equipped to-"

"What's your name."

"Kaite-49..."

"Katie-49, nice. What do you know about Flesh Farmers, Katie-49?"

"We don't have time for this! Get out there, buckethead," growled Scott.

Liam put up his hand, and Scott relented.

"Katie-49?" Liam prompted.

"Flesh Farmers are classified as a hostile species, though there have been no confirmed sightings in more than 54 standard years. They are antagonistic towards all spacefaring people, with the exception of The Va Pu, and The People of The Silent Worlds. The Flesh Farmers attack indiscriminately, collecting the flesh and vital organs of their victims before returning to the depths of space. Home world: unknown."

"Are we done with the history lesson?" Scott shook his head.

Liam had served among felarnians long enough to know Scott wasn't merely aching to fight. He was warrior caste, born and bred to fight at the slightest sign of danger. Patricia channeled that drive into being productive. Scott was prone to lashing out.