Chapter 2
"A man with sufficient skill with a weapon becomes an extension of that weapon; a master becomes the weapon." Old Gariel Swordmaster Proverb,
3rd century, SGD.
"Any man with enough enemies need never worry about being alone." Nimran Sawheet, "Echoes"
"If there is one thing the Universe will not long tolerate, it is a good plan."
Ohmish Covenant, 12th century, SGD.
It was cold here, on Buran IV. Cold to the point that the atmosphere froze out as fat snowflakes, and settled into a layer of deep white frost, covering nearly every square foot of the rocky little world.
The feeble sun of Buran IV was little help; a wan, reddish ball of pale hydrogen scarcely half the size of old Earths sun, Sol, and only a quarter as brilliant, due to a gas nebula creating an enveloping haze.
Still, it was here in the cold where Humans hunted; Buran IV was a choke point, if it fell, the Enemy would swarm the home systems. So here, in this frozen Hell, Humans came to kill the Enemy. And the Enemy came to die, in countless numbers, for centuries untold.
And the crunch of the frost was a comforting sound; the atmosphere was thin to the point of carrying little sound, but the crunch of thick frost or hard snow traveled through the suited boots, and became a kind of symphony of
snaps and pops, mixed with the occasional jarring crack.
She had been a hunter long enough for the sounds to bring something like a smile; soon snow would muffle the sounds into silence for weeks on end, and she would hunt the icy mountains in awful silence again, haunting the enemy with her sniper rifle and her accuracy.
It was rare for most people to get 100 kills before leaving. At 500 kills, you were awarded a platinum "ring". She had 126 Rings and counting; and each was worth her weight in credits. She didn't do it for the credits though, or even to save humanity from a richly deserved ass-kicking.
She did it because she liked to kill. And she was the best there had ever been.
To view this post on G+, click here
3rd century, SGD.
"Any man with enough enemies need never worry about being alone." Nimran Sawheet, "Echoes"
"If there is one thing the Universe will not long tolerate, it is a good plan."
Ohmish Covenant, 12th century, SGD.
It was cold here, on Buran IV. Cold to the point that the atmosphere froze out as fat snowflakes, and settled into a layer of deep white frost, covering nearly every square foot of the rocky little world.
The feeble sun of Buran IV was little help; a wan, reddish ball of pale hydrogen scarcely half the size of old Earths sun, Sol, and only a quarter as brilliant, due to a gas nebula creating an enveloping haze.
Still, it was here in the cold where Humans hunted; Buran IV was a choke point, if it fell, the Enemy would swarm the home systems. So here, in this frozen Hell, Humans came to kill the Enemy. And the Enemy came to die, in countless numbers, for centuries untold.
And the crunch of the frost was a comforting sound; the atmosphere was thin to the point of carrying little sound, but the crunch of thick frost or hard snow traveled through the suited boots, and became a kind of symphony of
snaps and pops, mixed with the occasional jarring crack.
She had been a hunter long enough for the sounds to bring something like a smile; soon snow would muffle the sounds into silence for weeks on end, and she would hunt the icy mountains in awful silence again, haunting the enemy with her sniper rifle and her accuracy.
It was rare for most people to get 100 kills before leaving. At 500 kills, you were awarded a platinum "ring". She had 126 Rings and counting; and each was worth her weight in credits. She didn't do it for the credits though, or even to save humanity from a richly deserved ass-kicking.
She did it because she liked to kill. And she was the best there had ever been.
To view this post on G+, click here
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