The Honour of the Knights - Stephen J. Sweeney (mobi reader android .txt) 📗

impression of armour plating. The texture varied in places, most often around where one part of the plates joined to another, as well as around joints.

“What are you doing?” Kelly asked in a suspicious voice.

“I want to see what this bastard looks like,” Dodds said, eager to see what lay beneath that ominous-looking black helmet. It was round in shape and all encompassing, betraying none of the wearer's appearance to the world outside. Two tubes and a thin black cable ran off the back, feeding into the main suit. It looked as though the tubes existed to aid with respiration, although since Dodds had never seen anything like it before, they could have existed for any purpose. He found they were all easily unclipped and, after doing so, slipped the helmet off the soldier's head.

“Wow,” Kelly said, drawing closer.

Dodds could not say what he had been expecting to find beneath the mask, but he had not anticipated this: the peaceful-looking face of the man that he looked upon was - in a word - beautiful. The man's skin was flawless, with no moles, scars or even any signs of stubble present anywhere; not even the tiniest of cuts or imperfections. The skin was so smooth and healthy-looking that the man could well have been wearing make-up. The man was dark-skinned, the hair on the top of his head short and almost unbelievably uniform in length. He looked more like a model than a soldier.

“What's that?” Enrique asked, drawing Dodds and Kelly away from the man's face. On the left breast of the soldier's suit was a white emblem unlike anything they had seen before: contained within a circle was an outline of a man holding a spear in front of him. Both of the man's hands gripped the shaft of the weapon, his left higher up the shaft than the right. The spear was set at a shallow angle, the tip pointing to the top left of the circle. A sash, tied at the top of the shaft just below the point, curled its way around the man's body. The man himself was bald and appeared to be naked, apart from where the sash preserved his modesty; though the man was depicted more or less from the waist up, so it was difficult to tell.

Dodds stared at the emblem for a moment and then ran his fingers over it, feeling the raised outlines of the image.

“That's not an Imperial insignia I recognise,” Enrique said, his own fingers working over the emblem.

“No, I've never seen that one before, either,” Kelly added.

Neither had Dodds. Like most, he was more accustomed to the noisy Imperial Coat of Arms, being a clutter of swords, laurels, felines and just about anything else the designer had been able to cram into the space the design afforded. This symbol by contrast was a lot simpler than that, though not as simple as the designs of the CSN, UNF, or indeed the INF themselves, those being composed of nothing more than the disjunction of a few basic shapes.

“There's another one on his right arm,” Dodds said, comparing it to the first and discovering them to be identical. He looked over at the helmet he had removed from the man, but discovered that it was devoid of any such markings. He peeked inside, unsurprised to discover its main purpose being to serve as protection for the wearer's head. He noted the eye sockets within, the insides being clear unlike the red exterior. Two circular grilles on each side at ear level appeared to aid hearing. What looked like a small inset, unmarked button resided on the left temple. He put the helmet back down, more intrigued with the strange white pictorial image on the suit.

As he and Enrique continued to try and make sense of the emblem, Kelly reached down to the man's right leg and removed the weapon holstered there.

“What you got there?” Enrique asked the small woman.

“Think it's a plasma pistol,” she said, wandering back towards Estelle and Chaz, turning it around in her hand as she examined it. “Looks like a high-power version.” There was a low, high-pitched whine as she switched it on, a small digital counter on the side lighting up to display the number of shots remaining in the energy capsule. “Got a full clip, too.”

“Careful!”

It was Chaz. Dodds looked over to see that the sound had broken his concentration and that he had stopped cutting, turning his attention from Barber's stomach to where Kelly stood holding the gun. The big man's hands were even more blood sodden now, covered up to the wrists. He was looking at Kelly with an irritated expression on his face.

“What are you two doing?” he asked of Dodds and Enrique, who were still knelt over the unmoving body of the invader.

“Just taking a look,” Dodds said.

“Then make sure he's actually dead!” Chaz said.

“Huh?” Enrique said. He met Dodds' eyes.

That was an odd thing to say. Dodds glanced about to see all eyes were on Chaz, the three other Knights, like himself, a little bewildered by his strange comment.

“What did you say?” Kelly said.

Just as Dodds was about to press Chaz further with a question of his own, a strange noise beside him drew him back to the body. Something clattered, bounced and then rolled along the floor. It was followed by another very similar sound and this time the “something” rolled into his fingers. Looking down, he saw a bullet. Dodds picked it up, and discovered it to be wet and sticky as he rolled it around between his fingers. The bullet, just like his fingers now were, was covered in blood. His eyes followed the faint splotches of blood on the floor from where he had retrieved it, tracing them back to the soldier's body.

“What the hell...” Dodds said.

“Oh my God! Dodds!” Enrique cried.

Dodds looked back in time to see the eyes of the soldier fly open. The very next moment, and with incredible speed, a hand shot up and grabbed him tight around the throat. Dodds choked as the soldier easily got to his feet, still maintaining a tight hold on him, even as Dodds tugged against the hand holding him.

The soldier's other hand fumbled about his right leg, closing several times around nothing as he tried to locate his missing gun. Realising it had been taken from him, he looked about until he spotted it in the hands of Kelly. He also caught sight of his shotgun, hidden beneath a gurney where Dodds had kicked it.

With minimal effort, he threw Dodds from him, attempting to knock down the small woman that was staring open-mouthed at the unfolding scene. The woman reacted much faster to the incoming body than she had to the incoming Imperial fighter earlier that day, and Dodds crashed to the floor, skidding along past where Estelle and Chaz stood over Barber's gurney, still trying to discover the whereabouts of the data card.

* * *

Enrique saw Dodds land, roll and then remain still, before he turned back to face the man who had just got back on his feet. He raised his guard.

With one of his opponents out of the way, the soldier turned his attention to Enrique, the blonde-haired man now the only thing that stood between him and his armaments. Weaponless, but not altogether outnumbered, the soldier fell back on his fists.

Enrique avoided the first blow, as well as the follow-up, before returning three of his own into his opponent's face. He held back none of his power as he struck the man, the blows he dealt enough to floor many of those he had sparred against in the past few years, almost certainly knocking them out.

The combination over, he hopped back, only to see that his opponent was still standing, the strikes not having had the effect that he desired. No blood, no sweat, not so much as even a grunt. Nothing. The soldier had not so much as even reeled from the blows. Enrique suddenly felt as though he were a featherweight boxer, pitched against a super-heavyweight.

It was then that he noticed just how big and tall the soldier actually was. It seemed that even Dodds, who had tackled him earlier, had not found the time to appreciate the height of the man. He was just as big as Chaz and also as stocky, but with something else added. Enrique had sparred with Chaz many times and, on more than one occasion, the big man had called time outs when Enrique took it too far. Enrique knew there would be no such call here, however; not because the pair were fighting for their lives, but simply because the soldier did not need one.

The soldier once again swung at him, as if nothing had happened. He managed to parry the attack, but failed to land his own counterattack. The two then engaged in a more serious fight, fists flying, legs attempting to connect kicks, grapples made and broken. Enrique's face betrayed his situation, stunned at the fact that the soldier was still standing. He knew he was not going to be able to hold off the soldier for very long.

“Estelle, shoot him!” he called, ducking under a swing and looking to his wing commander for assistance.

“I can't, it's empty!” Estelle shouted back. She looked back at the clutter of items next to the gurney, unable to recall seeing any more magazines; although they might be in there, somewhere. She did the only thing she could think of, and with all her might, she threw the pistol at the soldier's head. It missed.

“Thanks!” Enrique said as the gun bounced off the wall and clattered to the floor.

The soldier caught Enrique's leg as he attempted to deliver a kick to him, tipping Enrique backward. He crashed into the gurney behind him, overturning the metal trolley and causing it to smash onto its side.

Estelle ran, seeing the shotgun exposed and anticipating the soldier's next move. Reaching it first, she kicked it further back up the room before then attempting to take the man on, herself, hoping to give Enrique a chance to get back to his feet.

* * *

Their plight had not gone unnoticed by Chaz, who was working faster than ever now that the urgency of the situation had reached new heights. Just as he thought he wasn't going to find anything, his fingers closed around something small, solid and cylindrical. Drawing it out and wiping away blood, he discovered it to be some sort of tiny plastic capsule. Inside was something thin and blue. That was good enough for him.

Stepping back from Barber's body, he saw that the soldier was starting to overcome Enrique, the black-clad invader landing two successive punches across the man's face. Enrique cried out with the blows and stumbled backward. Estelle was lying on the floor behind him, the wind knocked out of her from a boot to the stomach, her reward for coming to Enrique's aid.

“What are you standing there for?” he shouted at Kelly, who had remained rooted to the spot following the soldier's miraculous resurrection. She did not seem to even hear Chaz or be aware of anything, until he wrenched the plasma pistol from her hands and shoved her aside, lining himself up with the soldier.

“Enrique, get down!” he barked at the man up front. Enrique did not need to be told twice and fell backward, away from his enemy.

Chaz proceeded to fire the pistol three times: the first bolt struck the soldier square in the face; the second tore straight through his right temple; the third shot struck the soldier in the forehead, almost taking the top of his skull off. The man's lifeless body tottered for a fraction of a second before it slumped down onto the floor.

Chaz strode forward, ignoring everyone else and knelt over the body, keeping the pistol trained on it the whole time. After some inspection, he was satisfied that the soldier was now dead. He then started looting the man's suit, pulling out all of the various items that were contained within and about it.

* * *

Dodds pulled himself to his feet once more, his back sore from the landing. Enrique flipped over and started to stand, moving to help Estelle who was still trying to draw breath. He caught Dodds' eye as he did so, glancing at Chaz and then back again, wanting to know, as Dodds, the same thing: Where the hell did he learn to fire a gun like that?

His short-known team mate had handled the firearm as if it was second nature to him; as though he had used it every single day for years and years. Whilst Estelle had held Barber's pistol as though it burned her hand, Chaz had wielded the gun with total confidence. And