7-11-2013 Snippet

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From my rough draft of the second Talia novel:

Methos watched the door shut behind Talia and bit back the curse that was on the tip of her tongue. It didn’t take an Einstein to figure out what they were taking her sister away for and it brought a flash of anger that she hadn’t experienced since during the Great War. When people didn’t even find the act of assaulting a woman to be a crime, then they’d truly reached the depths of utter depravity.

While their captors might think their plans were foolproof, she’d taken quite a bit of time to analyze them as they escorted small groups of prisoners away to use the facilities. Any battle plan, or force layout, looked good on paper until it encountered and enemy and then it’d fall apart and need to be adjusted. With that thought in mind, if it were her plan, what would she do to crash it?

The smart play would be to wait until they took her out for a trip to the refresher, but that’d be expected. Methos was willing to bet they had the hold under vid surveillance also, which took out the option of taking on the guards while they were the most vulnerable. Perhaps, she thought, it would be better to take the shot at the expected spot instead.

What would it do to Talia, and the other women’s overall safety if she did act? While her sister could, more than likely, take care of herself, the others in the hold couldn’t and Methos needed to take them into account when making a decision. Was one warrior’s life, not matter how skilled she was, worth more than a hold full of innocent women?

The classical moral conflict.

This time, though, she refused to let the conflict hold her back. Someone wanted to rape her sister? Wasn’t going to happen. No, there’d be an action taken-plan be damned. They could find out who the next person in the chain was from the Captain and then it’d be easy to pay a visit to that person.

And he or she will tell me what I want to know.

She settled herself back against the wall and kept an eye on everything around her. Someone in the room, Methos thought, would be working with the slavers because that’s how it always worked. The question, however, would be how to discover, and neutralize, that person before making the move because the mole would be able to warn the guards as to what was coming.

Each clique of women consisted of eight to ten and they huddled together. Fear hung in the air like an invisible cloud and the experienced warrior let her eyes subtly look over each clumping. Then Methos looked over the one’s sitting around her before repeating the action.

There.

The warrior pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes as she looked at a pair or women, perhaps two or three years older than Methos. While their group were huddled together trying to reassure themselves, the two were relaxed in their body language. That smugness, she thought, gave them away to anyone who knew exactly what to look for.

So, you’re the spies, eh? Time to take you down.

She looked up, face an unreadable mask, as the guard’s opened the door and then entered. They started to point, picking the next group to go to the refresher, and it took all of the warrior’s considerable self-control to keep from smiling when they picked those two, three more and then herself. Too bad, Methos thought, they just made a major error and didn’t even know it.

Thoughts raced through her mind as Methos stood up and joined the rest of the group. What would be the best way to take care of the spies? Odds were, they’d get a little privacy while in the facilities, so there’d be an opportunity to take them down, but what then?

The four guards led them down the hall, with two in front and two following, and she took every detail in. Two women lead them down the empty corridor, each person’s footsteps echoing up and down the length of the passageway. The two women guards in front of her, held their rifle in a relaxed posture, which she considered a fatal mistake in her opinion, and had two magazines and a com unit on their belt. From where the idiots carried them, she thought, it wouldn’t take her but a split second to grab either a mag or the radio.

What really interested her, though, was the knife on their belt. The long-handled combat weapon hung on the hip in its sheath, within easy reach of the guard-and her. While the marines might’ve been soldiers before they sold their honor out, the morons obviously hadn’t paid attention during Basic about how to protect themselves. No one, she thought, ever put their knife on the side of their belt and then lead a prisoner or other soldier. To do so begged for someone to grab it and either stab them in the back or slit their throat.

Where in the hell did they find these people??

Methos watched as the two spies kept themselves close to the guards and then raised an eyebrow slightly. If the women in the hold weren’t so scared, they’d’ve spotted the two by now, but that inability to focus was what the slavers counted on when they placed their people onto the liner. How many civilians, in the face of such a crisis, would spot something obvious as that? If fact, if she weren’t an experienced warrior, then it would’ve slipped her attention also.

They approached the refresher and the guards stopped before motioning for them to enter. As Methos expected, the two women stayed outside, which, if a person wanted to keep operational security, was a mistake. Their actions left the spies alone, without support, while surrounded by potential adversaries. However, she thought, they didn’t think anyone would be a big enough threat to do something against them anyway,

That’s a mistake I plan to make them pay for.

She walked around the wall that separated the main room for the door before stopping and stretching. While it felt good to get the kinks out of the muscles, it also gave her the opportunity to let the spies slip past. Neither of the pair paid her any attention and it almost caused the warrior to laugh. They might be skilled at being moles while aboard a liner, but when it came to avoiding detection and protecting themselves, they were rank amateurs,

The first one disappeared into a stall while the second approached the sinks and then looked into the mirror. Methos resisted the urge to shake her head at their actions. How stupid could two people be?? Their safety depended both on being together and staying in some communications with the guards. Why then, she thought, would the idiots proceed to separate themselves??

While the other women were busy relieving themselves, and trying to get their wits back, the warrior approached the sinks. She stopped beside the spy and cut on the water before splashing it over her face and then glanced up at the spy. The other woman continued to examine her black hair, ignoring Methos, as she freshened herself up.

Methos stood up straight and she balled her right hand into a fist as her arm lashed out. It struck the spy in the side, sending the other woman’s breath out in a large whooshing sound and then stumbled backwards. The warrior grabbed the woman’s hair in one hand and pulled her head down while Methos raised her knee.

The spy’s nose crushed inwards with a sickening sound, as blood began to flow. Methos backhanded the woman, sending her spinning, and then grabbed the spy in a head lock. She twisted hard, the woman’s neck snapping like a rifle shot and then went limp in the warriors grasp before being dropped to the floor.

Several of the women gasped and went to cry out before she snapped a bloodied finger up to her face. The slaves nodded and then went silent as they watched her approach the stall the second spy entered. How to pull this one off? To kick the stall in would make too much noise, but to wait too long after the other woman exited would allow for her to call the guards.

She sucked in a deep breath and stepped to the side, hoping the other woman wouldn’t think to look to see if there were legs standing outside the stall. Why would the woman look when the guards, and security systems protected her when necessary? At least that’s what Methos thought as she heard the woman moving about.

I’ll know in about ten seconds.

What happened next moved so fast that it seemed to be in slow motion. The women open the door, spotted her fallen comrade, and sucked in a deep breath to scream. Methos’ hand lashed out, striking the woman in the throat, crushing her trachea. She walked away as the spy fell to her knees, hands clawing at her ruined throat in the attempt to get a breath.

The other women cowered back as she approached, and some began to weep again. Methos sucked in a deep breath and then sighed before shaking her head slightly. Their reaction was understandable and she couldn’t blame them for it, but right now it’d prevent her from accomplishing what she planned on doing. Once again she motioned to them to be silent before walking down and pressing herself against the wall that separated the refresher from the door.

“Help! Someone’s sick in here! I think they’re going to die!!”

Methos tightened up her muscles in preparation for the fight ahead and then sucked in a deep breath as the two women guards poured into the room. As the first one passed, she spun around, left leg snapping upwards in a kick to make contact with the woman’s chin, sending her spinning to the floor.

Momentum carried her towards the second woman as the guard snapped the rifle upwards to fire. The shorter warrior dropped to her knees as flame erupted from the weapons flash suppressor. A sharp burst of wind slapped her in the face as the bullet barely missed her dropping head before it ricocheted off the steel bulkhead and winged one of the women.

The warrior slid across the floor as the guard tried to bring the rifle downwards to fire. Methos grabbed the woman’s knife from its sheath before launching herself upwards. She jammed it her adversaries lower back, and the soldier cried out before going limp. Behind her, the door slid open and she grabbed the corpse before side rolling to her right, keeping it between her and the charging men.

She grabbed the rifle as the first man entered the room and then pulled the trigger. The sound was deafening in the enclosed space as it exploded fire. A metal fist struck the man, punching a hole through his body, blasting his blood across the back wall. Methos yelped as the second man came running around the corner, gun blazing, and the bullets passed by her only inches away.

I’m alive!

A flash of fire lit up the room again as the rifle kicked against her hand, once, twice, three times. Each round struck the man, the force of multiple impacts lifting him up and slamming him into the wall. He slid to the ground, a bloody streak marking his passage.

Movement caught the corner of her eye and Methos turned as the roar of another rifle filled the air and she winced, waiting for the burning pain of the bullets impact. A body slammed into the wall inches away, blood spraying across the warrior’s face, before it hit the floor. The second female guard!

One of the women stood just feet away, rifle in hand, as tears ran down her face. She looked at the weapon and then at the body of the guard several times before dropping the gun to the floor before falling to her knees and sobbing.

Methos shoved the bloody corpse off and side rolled onto her feet, rifle in hand. The women were more panicked then before, but it couldn’t be helped. It was time to end this little pleasure cruise and prevent Talia from being raped.

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