Forgotten Prisoner

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

Ploip. Ploip. Ploip. The resonance of the long, thin hall-like room cast steady, rhythmic sounds in every direction. Blackness, complete in its totality, was all that existed. A coolness that seeped into the very veins of the human body permeated and remained constant.

It was into this existence that Balthazar von Kalthus “awoke.” Or, rather, remembered. The mists that had shrouded his purpose, his mission, his will to live slowly parted. Brain cells began to recognize the man within the body.

Then, like a bolt of lightning, everything came flooding back. The chase, the pumping adrenalin, the shock of sudden electrocution; it all returned. With this realization came another moment of clairvoyance: his body was strapped to something, and its cold fingers played over his naked body.

Muscles tensed and screamed in resistance, “What’re you doing to us!” they shouted indignantly. Defiance. It was something Balthazar knew all too well. It was his trademark, his legacy.

The newly awoken man tried to swallow and nearly gagged on plastic piping running all the way down his throat. His face tensed in perturbation, WHERE IN THE SEVEN HELLS AM I! His mind exploded in hatred and contempt for the Federacy, the black devils that he was sure had done this to him.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

Balthazar tried to blink but found that even those muscles were sore and non-responsive. His very body, the sturdy brick it was, seemed to hate his every breath. A thin, gentle sensation around the man’s mouth indicated that not even his breathing was his own. The Federacy now owned him.

I’ll get through this. I’ll. I’ll get through this! His mind was like a broken droid repeating the same phrase over and over. Each time he believed the statement less and less. Finally, his mind quieted. A calm, relaxed hood slipped over his disturbed conscious and Balthazar slipped back into himself.

Falling, falling, gravity’s iron claws clawing, clawing. A dizzy, unfocused sensation came and went.

Color, bright, vivid color broke out.


****************

Balthazar dexterously moved his fingers over the projected interface. Lasers adeptly angled and re-angled to track his movements and translate them into coherent statements to the ship’s systems.

The Deviant’s engines burst to life in blue brillaince. They pushed away the hands of the planet and propelled the craft higher and higher until, viewed from the ground, it was just another star in the dark night sky.

Delteon became a jade and aqua sphere filling the viewports of the black painted craft. The planet and Balthazar’s deeds were behind him. He could relax. The hard part was over now.

“A quick hyperspace jump and I’ll be home free.” The man smiled a perfect grin and began calculating his jaunt out of Federacy space.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

The reflected blues of Delteon cast ambient light on Balthazar’s hard features. His closely shaved goatee and military trimmed mohawk took on a new shade of darkness in the virtually lightless cockpit.

Blue keys hovered in air, projected by the advanced systems of the Deviant. Adroitly the pilot keyed in coordinates and calculations to prepare for the jump. “Rat, check these over.”

Whistles and toots signaled the astromech droid’s approval.

“Great, I’m heading aft. Cover for me.” With that the muscular man strolled along the spartanly lit corridors. Crash cushioning elegantly blended in with the walls in tones of gray and black. Everything was metallic, cold, unreal.

Balthazar stopped at a door with the word “cargo” printed neatly across the bulkhead. With a wave of a hand the security lock clicked open and the door slid aside without a sound.

The cargo hold was full of large, armored crates. Each box had three large letters laser cut into its sides. Balthazar grinned mischievously. “United Imperial Technologies, mmm… it’s my birthday,” his voice was raspy and deep and lacked resonance in the tightly packed hold.

With a confident stride the technology thief walked up to the first container and keyed in a short code. A loud wooshing sounded as the cover slid open and revealed the contents.


*****************

A moan, a horrible, pained moan. Blackness. Eyes opened, eyes closed, it was all the same.

Balthazar strained to hear the direction of the forlorn sound and would have frowned if his face could contort properly. It was his own sad, lost voice. Woe is me, and all that passé, touchy feely, tree hugging bantha fodder.

A dull feeling, like the resistance from two magnets being pushed together, filled the man’s joints. He could sense his body beginning to take the first baby steps away from his current delirium.

Then, like a restless sea, the colors returned.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

“Rat, what in the seven hells was that!”

A rumble roared through the corridors of the Deviant like the great bellowing of a wounded giant. Without further warning the rapid pace of hyperspace suddenly broke and a spasm ran the length of the ship.

Balthazar’s body flew deeper into the hold and crumbled on a large durasteel container. White conquered his vision and paraded the fact with a brushfire of incendiary pain. The technology thief lay limp, limbs scattered around his body.

Rat sped into the cargo room as his single optical eye coldly calculated the meaning of the scene. The droid cursed rapidly in clicks and whistles and hovered over to its incapacitated owner. The astromech mentioned something about Balthazar’s antics and extended a metallic rod.

A blue bolt of energy zapped the ship’s owner awake. Wide-eyed, Balthazar screamed in shock, “Rat, you little jawa! I’ll sell you for scrap!”

More high-pitched noises flowed from the little droid.

“You rust bucket! Why didn’t you tell me we’ve been interdicted! Get out of the way.” The large man stood, wobbled for a moment, then marched out of the hold with fists clenched.


****************

A gurgle escaped the mechanically imprisoned man as food and nutrients rushed down flimsy piping. Balthazar’s blue-hued skin remained its snowy color as the chamber cooled in response to body temperature vacillations.

On the other side of the transparasteel a small screen read the following:

Patient #742 – Balthazar von Kalthus
Reeducation and integration: Military Service A

Doctor’s notes (dictated): Patient seven-fourty-two has not responded to the normal mind altering processes. Neural implants have failed to properly link with his brain chemistry. Additionally, the patient has displayed an inability to believe induced memories.

As such, this patient is currently undergoing aggressive, long-term treatment.

Time in chamber: 712 Days 14 Hours 27 Minutes 12.456 Seconds

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

Balthazar sprinted down the dimly lit corridor, washes of white light breaking as his long legs disturbed their pools of radiance. “RAT! Get over here! I’m going to need you to re-plot our hyperspace jump!”

The muscular, mohawked man literally jumped into the pilots seat, arms outstretched and ready. “Frelling Federacy!” The cushioned device groaned in repent as Balthazar turned this way and that flipping switches and slamming buttons with his fist. “Common! Common!”

With a sudden burst of acceleration the Deviant shot forward like a tomahawk. The ship banked sharply as Balthazar brought the noble transport underneath the large, looming Federacy vessel.

“This is the Federal Gunship Red Rite, you are in violation of the FBMA’s Trade Act, Section 32, Article 6. We’ve scanned your hold and have identified stolen technologies.

“You will power down your shields, weapons, and prepare to be boarder.”

Balthazar activated the video feed and made a rude gesture, “Tell Imperator Sevon I said hi!” He crushed a button bellow his fist and a second set of engines activated hurling the Deviant away from the gunship.

Instantly space filled with streaks of red. Tongues of energy lapped at the silver shields of the transport as precision weapons withered the military grade shields of the fast craft. Whistles and beeps indicated Rat had arrived.

“’Bout time, I think I can outrun—“

A shrill tweeter erupted from Rat.

“What do you mean we don’t have a chance! Who’s side are you on?”

A looping array of noises responded.

“What? You wouldn’t mind a new owner!”

Rat sent a burst of beeps and clicks.

“Yeah, I hope they scrap you too.”

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

Balthazar dove the Deviant elegantly and brought the transport into a tight spin. Fingers of energy shot by the craft like fiery spears. The engines of the Confessor-class vessel screeched as they reached their normally capped speed.

“Frell that! We need more speed!” The skilled pilot opened a panel underneath the primary console and pulled a wire. “RAT! Kick in the secondary fuel shunt! Overwrite the restrictive script on the engine!” The droid turned towards a general-purpose link and extended its interface.

“Oh, and Rat?”

A series of beats signaled that Balthazar had the droid’s attention.

“Hurry up or I won’t wait for the Feds to slag your durasteel butt!” The Deviant shuttered violently as long range cannons sapped the final ounce of energy from the noble craft’s shields.

The transport’s engines suddenly burnt white as even more speed was squeezed out of the UIT produced ship. “I’d like to see them catch us now!”

Rat tooted sharply.

“What do you mean ‘uh oh’?”

The droid’s optical sensor turned towards its master and seemed to narrow in condemnation. The little beast released a flat note.

“Fighters? What fighters?” An explosion on one of the ventral stabilizers sent the transport into a tight roll. Inertial dampeners strained to prevent lethal results. “Hull integrity falling! They’ll never take me alive!”

The Deviant began to yaw and pitch randomly as energy talons took their toll on the small craft. A sleek, demonic fighter sped past the cockpit and released a blue orb. “Wake bomb!”

Even a Confessor-class vessel couldn’t withstand the powerful ionizing effects that resulted from the close range detonation of the Federacy weapon. The noble transport gave in to the powerful beating and resigned to its fate.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

“Patient number seven-four-two is experiencing an abnormal heart rate.”

“Oh? Has the stasis chamber attempted to use sedatives?”

”Yes, Doctor. But, well, the patient isn’t responding to them.”

“Must be a twist in the tubing or maybe the injector fell out of the socket? I’ll check on it in a couple minutes. Lunch, Irene? After I deal with patient X?”

“Doctor, I’d love to.”


*************

“They won’t bring Balthazar von Kalthus’ reign to an end so quickly! Rat, you start repairing the drives, I know what to do… they’re going to try and board, they always do!”

Rat’s single optical sensor flickered and the droid mad a motion like a shaking head. It released sharp series of notes then flew off.

The bridge’s lights were out, the circuitry temporarily disabled from the shock of massive ion bombardment. Blue hues flashed to life on Balthazar’s face as a shuttle pulled in front of the cockpit. The mohawked man shot a lopsided smile and broke open a storage locker.

Clicks and whizzes sounded as Balthazar strapped on holsters and clipped on weapons. He adeptly spun his tomahawk and attached it to his belt. Underneath each armpit he placed a large-bore blaster pistol. “If they want me, I’ll give them me!”

The tall man released a snort, sharply vacillated his head, and then sprinted off the bridge.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

Doctor Igman Varnoff walked up to the large security door and waited for the sealed system to recognize him. He checked his chrono for the tenth time that minute and smiled as he thought of Irene. This would be a perfect day.

A sound like a broken gas tube signaled the opening of the reinforced hatch. Through the open portal Igman could see the long stretch of dark corridor. Eerie green monitors cast the only dull light. The Doctor had once spent a particularly long night counting the containers on the lower rack. Of course, he knew the precise number of patients stored away in the facility reminiscent of a military meat locker.

“Patient seven-four-two,” he mumbled to himself, “he shouldn’t be too far away.” Each individual storage cell seemed like a giant gray casket. A large, unlit panel of transparasteel-like material showed the patient’s face and upper body. Intriguing pipes of all colors and shapes fed rainbows into the chambers. The large structures were nearly large enough to comfortably house two patients.

The Doctor began walking down the long corridor and was instantly overwhelmed by the size of the immense containment area. Every time he traveled through this particular part of the reeducation area he couldn’t help but gawk at the titanic proportions the designers had envisioned and carried through.

Row after glowing row of green stars spanned the several hundred-meter height of the enormous holding area. The rows became insignificant when one took into account the hundreds upon hundreds of columns.

The Doctor marched down the long chamber, eyes large and scanning. Each step he took echoed in the artificial cavern’s silence. Only the gentle hum of machines and the occasional liquid sound of life support systems kicking in idly threatened to overtake his footfalls.

Igman rubbed his arms and blew out a cold breath. The smoke invisibly lingered for a moment before dissipating in the chilled warehouse. With a quick step the small man marched up to the nearest coffin-like device and stood in front of the two and half meter tall machine. The Doctor accessed his neural interface and sent a command to the local receiver. Quickly the chamber turned and was sent into the blackness. Well-oiled actuators performed their job effortlessly. Where the capsule had stood another appeared. The cycling continued until the Doctor’s interface read #742.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

Balthazar stood panting at the main airlock. The red indicator light signaled the absence of pressure. As the muscular man shed his jacked he stretched his arms. Thick, dense muscles flexed, expanded, and tightened.

The waiting warrior kissed the Imperial insignia on his deltoid and cracked his neck. A few hops in place loosened his legs. The fake baron struck imaginary opponents with his tomahawk and then checked and rechecked the charge on his blasters.

“C'mon, c'mon, hurry it up! I have places to be!” Balthazar put on a pair of glasses and activated their lowlight vision and optical filters. They’ll try to flash bang me as soon as they breach, then they’ll move in quick. They’ll probably send in a four-man squad for a ship as small as the Deviant. They’ve already ran the records and know I’m dangerous.

They’re about to find out how true that statement on a monitor somewhere is.

Balthazar wasn’t a complete fool. He made sure that sensor jammers stationed around his ship protected from scanning for organic life forms. The incoming troopers wouldn’t have a clue where he was. He moved back to the turn in the corridor and knelt in the shadows, a blaster in each hand.

“Let’s go boys!”


***************

Igman accessed the neural network and activated the lighting in chamber #742. A pure white light flickered to life with an electrical buzzing sound. The transparasteel segmenting showed the large man’s upper body. “Well, well. Someone’s muscles haven’t experienced atrophy… and if they have.” The Doctor shook his head and accessed the datastream.

“Hmm… what’s this?” He tapped the display and frowned. The monitor displayed an internal temperature well below freezing on the top and a steady, warm body rating on a lower section of the screen. “How can that be? His body is warm in a frozen environment! His cells should be ice cubes!”

The good Doctor pulled up additional information and shook his head heartily. “This can’t be! His brain activity is off the charts! It’s as if… he were dreaming?” The man in the machine’s eyes were covered by a mechanical shutter.

Igman keyed in the open command for the stasis chamber. The door slid up with a gentle woosh.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

Balthazar frowned and looked sharply to either side. “Where the frell are they?” The chiseled features of his face picked up the mild bounced light. He leveled his blasters and took a few steps towards the airlock.

Nothing happened.

The mohawked man frowned and said in a raspy voice, “I guess I was wrong—“ he quieted and backed away from the hull. Crimson painted his face and the surrounding steel. They’re burning through the damn ship!

A circular slab of armor fell from the wall and Balthazar braced for explosive decompression. It never came. Instead a black-armored figure dropped from the hole and leveled a rifle. “Freeze,” came his metallic voice.

“No. You freeze!” Balthazar activated the laser sights on his blasters and crossed the red dots on the trooper’s forehead.

“That won’t do it. I’m giving you five seconds to comply.”

“Go blackmail the universe!” He pulled the triggers rapidly and threw himself towards the corridor. Red devils lashed from his barrels and struck the helm of the demon. Balthazar rolled as he hit the ground and kicked himself to his feet.

The ship’s owner ran down the hallway and skidded to a halt. Is he dead? No armor can… it can’t be! From down the long corridor Balthazar could make out a dark shadow walking towards him.

“Fancy armor, I’ll remember to take it off your corps!” He took a knee and fired off three shots with his blaster. The first two bolts were absorbed by a blue energy screen while the final one dissipated on the armor. “Oh, you’re sooo getting it now,” he threw aside his blasters, rubbed his mohawk, and tested the weight of his tomahawk in his right hand.


**************

Cool air radiated from the now open chamber. Igman shook his head and thought hard, his skin should be blue from the cryo-process… but it looks like he’s thawed completely! How?

The Doctor put his hand in the mist rolling from the containment system and instantly pulled it back. Frost covered his numb skin. “Mystery number one… Time to see if there’s a number two.”

Igman keyed in a few commands and the shutters over the man’s eyes slid out of the way.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

Balthazar forced his arm to remain relaxed as the muscles rapidly moved and performed his desired action. From an overhead position the raging man brought his appendage down with elegance and skill forged from repetition. The carbon shaft of his tomahawk became an extension of his hand until it finally broke away like a spaceship from a planet’s gravity.

The weapon swirled through the calm, recycled air and made a woosh, woosh sound as it spun. Like a turbolaser bold the tomahawk collided with the armored figure and sent him flying to the ground. “YES! Shows you!” Balthazar smiled, retrieved a blaster, and walked towards the guardsman.

“Not as hot as you—“ the shadowy soldier rose, axe-like weapon stuck firm in his black combat gear. “That’s just not fair.”

“Let’s have a look,” the voice was unfiltered. Human. Light flooded the darkness of the corridor. The warrior leveled a blaster and fired a bolt directly into Balthazar’s face.

“Hmm, he appears to be undergoing rapid eye movement, interesting.” The Doctor looked closer at the man’s face and narrowed his eyes in concentration. A flinch caught his attention and he looked over the man’s dense arms.

A hand shot to Igman’s throat and held him steady. Gurgling sounds were all that escaped his mouth. Patient #742’s eyes opened. Blue lasers locked on to the Doctor’s visage. All he could see was hatred.

Balthazar’s free hand pulled the feed tube from his dry mouth and jabbed the rigid, disgusting thing into the Doctor’s eye socket. He tiled his head, still stoic, and examined his handy work. The patient licked his dry, cracked lips and blinked his eyes furiously.

The limp body of Doctor Igman Varnoff fell to the ground with a dull thump.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

In confusion Balthazar tried to pull forward. Hundreds of pricks all around his skin signaled the wires still connected to his cold flesh. He mutely screamed in pain as he forced himself out of the containment chamber. Blood trickled down his arms, legs, and chest from small wounds.

As the naked man stepped onto the cool, durasteel floor he fell with a wet, organic sound. Wires still hung from his body. His skin was white as snow from not having seen light in two years. Long, black, dirty hair fell into his face and he shook his head furiously.

The darkness seemed friendlier than the light to Balthazar’s sensitive eyes. He got up on his knees and plucked out the last few metallic needles in his arms. A sound, like that of bubbles in a well, caught the attention of the man who hadn’t heard anything in so long.

Blue eyes looked over the dying form of the man in the white lab coat. “Where,” Balthazar whispered to the nearly dead man, “am I?”

A bloody hand groped the muscular man’s shoulder and smeared crimson liquid all over the Imperial tattoo on Balthazar’s deltoid. A frown formed on the pale man’s face and he stood with a tremor. The man balanced on one leg for a moment, then the other. He moved his arms in circles and flexed his various muscle groups. Alright, what do I do now? When in doubt, fall on military training. Okay, so, what rules have I broken? Witnesses.

Balthazar flexed his calf muscle and brought the leg back. He looked at the gurgling doctor and stiffly kicked the man squarely in the head. A loud snapping sound signaled the final moment of life in that battered body. One problem down.

It took only a few minutes for Balthazar to lift the body and securely stash it in his crio-chamber. After that he took the doctor’s clothing and left the man as naked as he had been. With a few punches and some key smashing the storage device’s light turned off and it cycled away.

Now, which way to go? When in doubt, make a left. The man in Doctor Igman Varnoff’s clothing marched off into the darkness.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

A hiss and sharp shout. Dazzling whiteness. Noise.

“GUARDS!”

Balthazar blinked and rubbed his eyes furious. Finally, after several seconds of confusion, the images began to convalesce. Shapes took on outlines and colors contrast. “Guess this is the wrong suit, eh, Brown Eyes?”

The woman who had shrieked stared at him with a dead gaze. She was breathing hard and frantically and repeatedly smashed her hand against a red button. The room was small and lined with reinforced doors. The lighting was bright and crisp—like a lab room.

Balthazar took a few steps forward and the screaming resumed, “GUARDS! GUARDS!” He frowned and ran a hand through his shaggy hair and over his bearded face.

“Yeah, you’re not the picture of beauty, either, honey. Don’t worry,” she slinked away from him, “I wouldn’t think of honoring you. I just want a way out.”

“GUARDS!”

“At least you stick to your guns.” He looked over her tight Federacy uniform. Its gray material offended him. Every aspect of it shouted Empire. The Empire was dead. Viscera was probably dead. The galaxy was worthless. Why try? These foolish warlords were worse than the moffs.

The recently awoken patient walked passed the woman and her desk and tried the first door. “Are these all locked, Brown Eyes?” He went to the next and pulled hard on the handle, it wouldn’t budge. “Maybe wanna’ open one of these so I ca—“ The door he was trying to open slid to the side.

Three men in Imperial uniforms with blasters out stared into Balthazar’s cool blue eyes. He cracked a wicked smile. "You've brought me weapons, how nice."

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

Balthazar’s face instantly changed. His smile turned to a demon’s snarl. The warrior’s body came to life. Years of inactivity should have stripped the strength from his muscles, but something somewhere had kept his body ready for action.

Like a serpent he struck. As the first soldier brought his blaster up Balthazar grabbed the barely and twisted hard. The weapon spun free of its owner’s hand and found a new master gripping it tightly. One squeeze, two squeezes.

The energy barely had time to become visible as it went from being created to incinerating the man’s chest. Ribs and charred flesh were quickly put out of mind as Balthazar dodged to the side of the doorframe.

Red devils screeched through the empty space left by the man’s deft movement and slammed heavily into the opposite wall. The former Imperial snapped a few shots off from safety then jumped the stretch of the doorframe.

As Balthazar’s body hit the floor he fired the weapon several times in rapid succession. His own form hit the ground first followed by the loud thumps of two others. “Three, what a perfect number.” He stood and stripped the military harness from one of the fallen guards along with power packs and another blaster. “Oh, today will be fun! Bye, bye, Brown Eyes!” He strolled through the open door, a blaster in each hand.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

The short hallway led into a series of corridors that reminded Balthazar of a hospital. In fact, the scent of formaldehyde and disinfectant stung his eyes with every step. His senses adeptly read every piece of information he was given and sliced down the basic composition. Lighting was scrutinized, shadows mentally checked, scents processed until the warrior recalled the probably chemical equation or source of the smell.

Balthazar wasn’t a fool; if the Federacy thought their facility was compromised they might release a nerve agent. He would have to act quickly, very quickly.

The soldier began a trot that slowly evolved into an all out sprint. He could feel his heart contract as his striated muscles were filled with calcium then flushed. Oxygen traveled through his arteries and CO2 was brought back through his veins. The tall man’s capillaries sent blood to his muscles at hyperspace speeds. He was a machine.

With hands gripping his outstretched blasters, Balthazar broke through the first door. Attendants were meeting in the room. A few stood at the outburst, others shrieked, they all locked eyes with the blood-lusted-murder.

Energy sounds filled the room as waves of plasma struck doctors and nurses. Graphic, gruesome sights met Balthazar’s eyes. He was no virgin to gore. He fired on.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

Spatter patterns of crimson starkly contrasted the steel walls. The lighting of the room had been dimmed and a haze of bluish smoke lulled in long swirls. Balthazar leaned back in a tall leather chair, legs crossed on the center table. He puffed on a cigar taken from one of the slouching bodies.

“Not too bad of a conference, if you ask me.” He chuckled to himself and set a blaster on the metallic table with a click of steel on steel. A moan interrupted his cheerful moment.

Balthazar stood, teeth clenching his stimulant, and walked towards one of the hunched over doctors. He slid his blaster along the sheen surface as he approached. Another bloodcurdling moan of impending death cut the silence.

With a sudden, extremely rapid movement he pulled the dying man’s hair and jerked the soon-to-be corpse’s head up. Balthazar gazed into brown eyes and frowned heavily. He placed the warm barrel of his blaster against the man’s forehead. “Click, click.”

With an overhead strike Balthazar brought the back of his weapon into the man’s face. Unconsciousness gripped the doctor and silenced his voice’s woe. The soldier puffed out a great bellow of smoke and took his other blaster from the table. With a Sevon Rifle, Co. weapon outstretched in either hand and cigar clenched between his pearly teeth Balthazar kicked open the far door.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

The door screeched on its hinges as it slammed into the wall. A metallic, gritty sound reverberated through the now exposed room. “Oh, I like this place.” The soldier gently blew a cloud of gray and blue smoke through the opening.

High cathedral windows let in an eerie green-gray light. The doorway led to an overhanging, circular catwalk that looked onto a reception room below. On the far side of the room an elegant hoverlift waited.

Everything was bathed in somber darkness. The only tones of mild coloration came from the immense, thin portals that cut equidistant claw marks across the dome-like ceiling.

Silence gripped the scene by its throat and held even Balthazar’s breath.

A shadow twitched then jumped to the catwalk in a disturbingly paranormal movement. The blackness walked towards the soldier like a predatory feline. It stopped a few meters from him and a single red eye lashed out in the artificial night.

“A Guardsman,” spat Balthazar as he leveled his blasters.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

Balthazar’s fingers twitched and his blasters roared. Red energy sped towards the crimson eye with deadly precision. The twisting lines of plasma and electricity collided with the dark figure and shattered the darkness of the room.

Everything was bathed in sharp scarlet light. The soldier continued to fire from both pistols as he ran towards the Federacy warrior.

With the nimbleness of a cat, the Stormguardsman jumped onto the wall using all of his appendages. He then kicked off and landed on the railing of the overhanging, rifle ready and laser sight locked on Balthazar’s chest.

Not to be out done, the former colonel rolled away from a spasm of energy and jumped to the air. He closed the distance to the guardsman rapidly and unleashed rivers of destruction at the Federacy soldier.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

Balthazar moved within a hands span of his opponent and threw aside is blasters. Time to get down and dirty. The bearded, long-haired man threw a deft palm strike to the softer material of the guardsman’s neck.

In a blur of motion the dark trooper dropped his rifle and blocked the incoming strike. With equal speed the guardsman twisted Balthazar’s arm and brought the muscled warrior to his knees. A free hand shook a finger in condemnation at the “patient.”

“Frell off,” Balthazar spit at the steel face. The ex-special forces officer’s chest exploded in pain and his inner ear told him he was airborne. The stormguardsman had, with super human strength, palm struck the bearded man in the solar plexus.

Balthazar hit the wall hard and slid down to the floor. His body lay motionless, a pile of weak limbs. As his senses came to him, the dark haired man spit a small pool of blood on the metallic floor. “Cheater,” he coughed as oxygen reentered his lungs.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

Balthazar motioned for the guardsman with his palms, “Come on.”

The dark warrior rushed forward with astounding speed and leapt into a flying sidekick. The ex-soldier adroitly moved to the side and grabbed the guardian’s leg. With rippling muscles and a tense scream, Balthazar brought the armored beast to the ground.

A stiff kick found the side of the guardsman’s head and sent a sharp tang of razor pain up the unkempt man’s leg. He clenched his teeth and brought a heel towards the downed warrior’s face.

In a swift motion the stormguardsman arched his back and windmilled his legs. The attack caught Balthazar behind his weight supporting leg and sent him to his knees. “I don’t think so,” crackled a filtered voice.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

A blade was out and moving towards Balthazar’s head before he even hit the ground. To counter, the ex-soldier shifted his body weight and landed on his shoulder with a grunt. A quick roll followed the fall and brought the patient away from the guardsman’s gauntlet knife.

Sparks flew as a vibroblade encountered the tough durasteel floor and bit at the material. Balthazar capitalized and jumped on the man’s back. He wrapped an arm through the man’s armpit and brought his other across the warrior’s chin.

With his leg he began to send knee after knee into the soldier’s midsection. “You like that! Huh! You like that!” His knee felt like it was hitting duracreet. Trickles of blood splashed to the floor from new wounds. He tightened his hold and continued his assault to the stormguardsman’s stomach.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

The guardsman tried to jab with his arm but Balthazar’s neck-cranker prevented the motion. The young warrior’s knees did little against the trooper’s armor, yet he persisted. Each strike drew fresh blood from the tattered clothing collected from killed guards and doctors.

Balthazar began to pant heavily. His heart hadn’t been stimulated for so long and each beat rattled his head with the force of a neutron bomb. His assault finally stopped and he began flexing his arms to twist the guardsman’s head.

Within seconds of applying his full power, Balthazar heard a stomach-churning crack followed by a loud, wet pop. He had successfully snapped the man’s neck.

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

Balthazar kept the pressure on for a few moments longer. His lips were tight and the whites of his eyes shone in the dim light. Breath after breath rolled over him like crashing waves. His chest filled then emptied in painful, sore, lapping motions.

The disheveled man finally let go of the corpse and, as if shocked by the sudden death, crawled backwards and hit the wall with a thud. His head bounced against the durasteel and he closed an eye and knotted his brows in pain. Pain, so much pain. His knee felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it.

It had been a long time since he’d killed a man that way. A very, very long time. “What is this place,” he finally asked the question that had been echoing in his head for so long. “What has the Federacy done to me!” He clenched his jaw to stifle the anger growing like a tainted flower in his stomach. “First you become emotional, then you become dead. Come on, Balthazar, you know this business. Professional. You’re a pro. ACT IT!” He took a calming breath and stood up.

Balthazar von Kalthus picked up the guardsman’s rifle. He opened the vent valve and checked the barrel’s cleanliness. “Looks good, plenty of rounds. If he had it, it must be an awesome weapon.” He cocked an eyebrow, “Why am I talking to myself so much?” He frowned then shook his head with a lopsided smile, “The solitude has finally gotten to me. All that time in that, that tank.”

He jumped the rail and landed on the lower level. The nova rifle matched the movements of Balthazar’s eyes as he scanned the circular room. Two doors opposed one another. “Left or right? Left or right? Right.”

[Balthazar von Kalthus]

A stairwell that descended into shadow greeted Balthazar’s decision. Maybe this isn’t the right way? His heart pounded in his head, a steady drum offsetting the noiseless descent.

The rectangular fore-section of the nova rifle gently bobbed as the former soldier sidestepped down the deep, winding staircase. He was enjoying this in a way. It was like his special operations days. The only real difference was extremely exciting. He was working for himself now. That changed how he went about everything. Escape was his only goal, no sub objectives, no hostages, decom. targets, bomb sites, technology to steal, or targets to axe. Everything was on his shoulders and his alone.

Balthazar finally reached the bottom of the well and walked into the spacious hangar. The area housed two old lambda shuttles. The right one was already warming up its engines, soon its mouth would yawn closed. This will have to be fast and silent. I can’t let anyone alert Federacy forces.

He walked forward, weapon and eye mechanically looking for targets. A technician looked up from his work and cocked his head at Balthazar. Without even a thought, the disheveled man unleashed a powerful shot from his rifle.

A ball of blue energy fled from the barrel of the weapon and smashed into the chest of the grease monkey. The destructive mixture of cubatom technology incinerated the layers of flesh, muscle, and bone protecting the man’s heart and continued their shredding until a great plume of red escaped the technician’s back. The blast continued into the wall and burnt through.

No time to think. Balthazar sprinted for the closing hatch of the lambda shuttle and managed to jump in just as it was sealing.