First Contact

Chapter 234: (Hesstla)

Dambree had spent two days pouring over the instruction manual for the pistol, learning even how to take it apart to clean it and then put it back together. She had practiced with the different types of sights, learned how to put it on 'safe' and how to change the ammunition types. She'd even used the 'ghost round' feature to practice firing.

She knew it didn't make her an expert. It took her almost two hours to clean it, and she had spent a lot of time figuring out the best type of ammunition to possibly use.

After going over it and talking quietly with Mister Mewmew, she had chosen the one that seemed safest, that wouldn't go clear through a wall, that wouldn't kill six people in a row in a crowd.

Low-V APERS-F-T was her choice.

The letters burned on the side of the pistol with cold dark blue light as she brought the pistol up, the holographic sight, set for a color range she could easily see and her visual acuity, lifted on the top of the heavy black metal weapon.

She had her right foot forward, her left foot back, crouched slightly, her left hand grabbing her right wrist, her left eye closed and her right eye relaxed open. The holographic sight flashed and she tapped the trigger, aiming, as the instructions had advised for multiple targets, at the lower section of 'center mass', moving the pistol to the right and firing as soon as it lined up with 'center mass', her mind empty, clear singing purpose.

You will hurt my littles, went through her mind. She squeezed, not yanked, the firing stud.

From the black warsteel frame of the pistol a tingling burning feeling ran up her arm and she heard it, relived it, flattened her ears at it.

I'M NOT IN HERE WITH YOU, YOU'RE IN HERE WITH ME! the Terran's voice roared out in her head, her shoulder burning from the tingle that tasted like hot copper on her tongue.

The pistol gave two loud THA-WHACK! as the railgun flung it forward and the magnetic coils stabilized the round, imparting a spin on it that used to be accomplished by barrel rifling as well as breaking the magnetic bonds in the round, allowing it to separate according to the data provided by the scope. The round, a two inch long 10mm slice of durachrome, separated along the four lines down the length, turning into sixteen darts spreading out according to the scope's distancer for maximum effectiveness. Each flechette left a streak of light as the tracer, a thin layer of white phosphorous, lit the path of each flechette.

For either of the men, none of that mattered.

All that mattered is sixteen durachrome flechettes, each of them to inches long and 2.5mm thick, some of them tumbling, hit them square. The first one, the one of the left, took it in the lower torso, the tumbling flechettes wreaking havoc.

One exited out his shoulderblade in a spray of gore and bone chips to stick in the door.

The other one took them in the chest, one bouncing off his sternum and ripping away half of his lower jaw.

Both went down in a spray of blood and gore.

Dambree inhaled sharply, having exhaled and stopped herself from inhaling just like she had practiced.

She swallowed thickly then slid the pistol into the holster before picking up her mug and draining half of the thick dark fizzybrew in one long convulsive swallow. She wiped the foam from her upper lip's fur and turned to look at the two men.

One was still moving. The one she'd shot first. He was weakly moving his arms, trying to hold onto his stomach, one leg kicking, and his mouth was opening and closing.

Dambree sighed. She knew what she had to do.

They might be infected with something, that's why they're being disgusting, she thought, taking another drink off her fizzybrew. She looked around until she saw what she needed.

Fishing jumpsuit. Perfect. The dark green cloth would keep blood and water from getting to her clothing.

Work gloves. Perfect, prevent her from nicking her hand and getting blood in it. She'd learned how important that was in health class.

A grav-ski mask. It would protect her face, keep her from getting anything in her mouth, and shield her eyes. Used for high wind and water spray, it was perfect.

She walked over, picking up each item and carrying it back to counter. She got dressed, sealing the fishing jumpsuit and making sure the mask was properly set. She buckled the LawSec belt over the thick jumpsuit, adjusting it for a moment, then added one of the heavy knives the shelf claimed were "wilderness survival hiking knives" and clipped the sheathe to the belt.

Then she turned back to the two men.

Dambree had hoped the man would just die, but he was still moaning and moving around. There was a neural pistol near his hand and Dambree walked over and kicked it out of the way. He looked up at her and squinted his eyes in hate.

"Brat. Stupid brat," he whispered.

Dambree just turned around and walked over, getting what she needed.

She walked back and looked down at him.

"Stupid slut," he whispered.

Dambree hit him in the face with the long handed axe.

The second hit and he stopped moving. She had to put one foot on his chest to yank the axe free, splattering herself and the door. She was breathing heavy, adrenaline spiking through her system, when she heard it.

"What's going on in there?" a man's voice whispered from the other side of the door. "Are you guys OK?"

She stepped back, her stomach twisting for a second as she realized it was an adult.

The door opened to reveal a man dressed in a LawSec uniform, the front dark with old dried blood. He had a neural pistol in his hand, eyeshades on, and heavy boots. He was taller than her, wider than her, and she knew he was stronger than her.

He could hurt her.

He stood there, one hand on the handle of the door, the other holding tight to the neural pistol. He hadn't been sure what had happened in there, there were just two loud noises, then nothing. He'd gotten nervous, waiting in front of the LawSec cruiser they'd stolen the day before, so he'd come up to see if they were just in there messing around.

Now he was staring at the figure in front of him. Bulky, with a LawSec belt around their waist, heavy boots, farmer's boots, on their feet. They wore heavy work gloves and dark green coveralls splattered with blood.

With an axe in their hands.

But that wasn't the worst.

They had on a white mask with three thin red stripes, spattered with blood, with dark black holes for eyes.

Dambree let go of the axe, her hand going to the pistol. It took two tugs to get it free, and Dambree was sure the entire time that he was going to raise the neural pistol and shoot her, or pull the knife from his belt and stab her, or knock her down to step on her ears till she did what he wanted her to do.

He watched the figure in front of him cock their head slightly. One hand let go of the axe handle and slowly moved to the pistol, the hand resting there.

His bladder let go.

This wasn't like chasing down fleeing people and having some fun.

He didn't know what this was, but it wasn't fun.

The bulky gloved hand slowly pulled the heavy black pistol free. It wasn't like the neural pistols, it looked heavy, blocky, lethal, and the green light burned with a sullen anger.

He dropped the pistol and turned to run, starting to sob.

This wasn't fun. This wasn't fun at all.

Dambree didn't know if he was running for help or not.

She couldn't take the chance.

The pistol lined up with her eye, the holographic sight flashed, and she tapped the trigger. The ear protection in the grav-skiing mask muted the KA-WHACK of the pistol.

The flechettes threw him off his feet so he slid in the mud, head first, until the thudded against the tire of the LawSec Country Cruiser and came to a stop.

Dambree stepped up and into the doorframe, dragging the axe with one hand, looking around. The grav-ski mask had light enhancement, making the night bright as day, with a color-pallet replacement making everything full color.

Another male was standing beside the second vehicle, his eyes wide.

For nearly three days they'd done what they wanted. The thirst, the never ending thirst, driving them on, the headaches from the screaming hammering their thoughts, making it so they could do whatever they wanted to whomever they wanted.

They'd decided to check the campground, see if anyone was there, and have a little fun with them.

Staring at the figure in the doorway, dragging an axe behind them, staring at him from behind a white mask, he realized something terrible.

Someone else could have fun with him.

He squealed, his ears going straight up, and he started to hold his hands out, unaware he had a neural pistol still held in one hand.

Dambree stepped out into the rain, walking to the side, the pistol heavy in her hand. It felt like it was snarling, angry somehow.

You want to hurt my littles, she thought to herself, her thoughts as cold and sharp as the axe-blade she was dragging through the cold mud.

He was beyond speech, part of him wondering why it was fair that after three days of fun, he had to come across some maniac in a mask. Why was it fair? He'd only been having fun.

The thirst roared up and he licked his lips.

"You don't wanna hurt me," he said.

The figure stopped, staring through the black eye holes of the mask.

"Come on, I didn't do anything to you," he said. He licked his lips. "I mean, if you found a cutie-pie somewhere, I'm not going to try to take it."

The figure raised an arm, something black and blocky he couldn't quite make out held in the fist.

Dambree pulled the trigger again.

Just go away and leave us alone, she thought.

She slumped slightly, slowly holstering the pistol. She heft the axe and walked over to each body, hitting them twice in the face.

Always make sure you finish them off. Nothing is more dangerous than a wounded animal, she heard in her brain.

She put all four bodies in the same LawSec car and drove it to a nearby cabin, parking it. She turned on the lights, including the spotlights, rolled up the windows, turned on the heater, locked the doors, and walked away. The other LawSec vehicle she parked next to the first, repeating it. She used the mag-lock key to check the trunks, but they were empty.

Her backpack was right where she left it. She shrugged into it and stepped out into the rain, carefully closing the door behind her.

Dambree knew she'd need the axe to the cut the wood in the shed but it was heavy in her arms. She pushed up the mask so she could drink the fizzybrew in her off hand, walking through the dark of the night, through the rain, back to the little cabin.

Mister Mewmew was waiting inside and watched as she slowly undressed. He rubbed against her ankles when she took off her boots and socks and sat on the couch wiggling her toes.

"I brought back stuff, Mister Mewmew," she said, cracking open a bottle of fizzybrew.

Mister Mewmew made the :-) sign on his head.

"There were some bad people who wanted to hurt me."

:-(

"I made sure they couldn't hurt Tru, Elu, and Nee," she said softly. She slid the pistol out of the holster and set it on the coffee table. "I made sure they couldn't hurt anyone ever again."

:-(

She took a long drink and looked at the little furry robot. "Do you still love me, Mister Mewmew?"

<>

"I'm glad. I don't know if I do any more," Dambree looked down at her bare feet, the fur looking crinkled and rough. "I love you too, Mister Mewmew."

Mister Mewmew sat and watched Dambree as she slowly worked her way through the fizzybrew, her eyes getting heavier and heavier, until she finally went to sleep.

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

"Bree, Nee ate another bug," Elu said from the other side of the sheet that Dambree had hung up.

Dambree didn't look away from where she was rubbing shampoo into Tru's fur while Tru sat in the steaming hot water in the large plasteel tub.

"She'll be fine," Dambree said.

"Eww, I can see the legs poking out of her mouth," Elu said.

"She'll be fine," Dambree said, scrubbing a particularly stubborn patch of grime. Two days of being in the basement had left grime all over her siblings.

"When we're done I get to keep one of the new dataslates for just me?" Tru asked.

"Yup. But you have to play games with Mister Mewmew for at least three hours each day," Dambree said. "And do your chores."

"I don't like chores," Tru said.

"I know," Dambree said, pulling Tru's ear against her head so she could wipe down the long interior.

"Do I have to do them?" Tru asked.

"Do you want to eat?" Dambree said, moving to the other ear.

"Yeah."

"Then you have to do your chores or nobody eats. Close your eyes," Dambree said. She scooped out hot water with the big measuring cup and poured it over her little sister's head, making sure to rinse her ears.

"All right, all done. Wrap up in the towel, go in the bedroom and dry off then get dressed," Dambree said.

Tru got out, grabbing the swimming towel and wrapping it around herself. Dambree took a second to realize that the pictures on the towel were of a popular Hesstlin singer that she'd been nearly obsessed by.

But that was before the Slorpys came.

"Come on, Elu, time for your bath," Dambree said.

"But you're a girl," Elu protested.

"I know," Dambree said. "Did momma bathe you?"

"Well, not often. I'm too old," Elu said.

"That was before the Slorpys came and the rain turned black. Mister Mewmew wants me to rub this shampoo all over, it's medicine," Dambree sighed.

"Promise you won't peek?" Elu said.

"Loo, I have to make sure you don't have any hurties from the black rain or the big explosions from the fighting. Do you want your peepee to shrivel up and fall off?" Dambree asked, falling back on a half-threat.

"No!"

"Then you have to have me make sure you're all right and rub this shampoo into you," she sighed. "You can do your own peepee when I'm done like Tru did hers before I came in. I'll leave so you can."

"OK," Elu said. "It's embarrassing for girls to see me naked."

"I know. I'm not a girl any more," she said the last part softly as Mister Mewmew horked up more shampoo into the dish.

"Ew! Nee ate another bug!"

"She's fine."

She knew why her mom sometimes seemed so tired.

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

"Do we have to stay here?" Tru asked as she helped carry the last of the supplies they taken from the store out of the trunk and into the cabin. They'd taken everything, right down to the last fishing lure and roll of toilet paper in the bathroom.

A group of Terran jets roared by, almost touching the trees, right after she finished speaking.

"Yes. As long as have to, unitl we don't hear..." Dambree waiting a moment.

Explosions echoed off the granite ridges of the mountain on the other side of the lake, slapping against the water of the lake, then booming around them.

"...that any more," Dambree finished.

"I'm scared," Tru said.

"I know," Dambree said.

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

"Momma and daddy wouldn't like me shooting a gun," Elu said, looking nervously at the long gun in his hands. Dambree had looked it up, it was called a shotgun according to the file Mister Mewmew had put in the dataslate.

"Well, they're dead," Dambree said harshly.

Elu's lower lip and his nose twitched, his ears trembled, and his eyes glittered.

But he didn't cry.

Dambree looked over at Tru, just to check on her youngest siblings. Punee was sitting on Tru's lap, chewing on a sucky, glaring at everyone with her amber eyes. She'd been grouchy since she'd managed to pull herself up on her feet and reach for the pistol only for Dambree to pick it up and move it over to the counter.

Off in the distance the roar of artillery fire slamming into the ground echoed off the mountain.

-----------

Dambree watched Tru identify which plants were poisonous, which plants were edible, and which plants were just plants. Elu was following the instructions on his dataslate for cleaning the shotgun, making sure the barrel was pointed away from everyone.

Dambree had already smacked him hard for not paying attention.

It's not fair. They should be in school, playing with friends, not having their crazy older sister make them take tests from a Camping 4 N00bz book, she thought to herself.

Some kind of sixth sense she'd developed warned her and she turned in time to see Punee pulled herself up, her little knees and hocks trembling, and slap her hand on the coffee table by the couch. When she realized what she wanted wasn't there she glared at Dambree.

"I know," Dambree chuckled, patting where the pistol rode in the holster. "Good try, though. Good girl."

Punee just glared.

Outside aircraft roared overhead.