Episode Six Still Alive?

Z oron

I try to be single-minded in my mission. How do I do that when the male I love is a sitting target on my back? I run faster and fight harder, hoping we get to the shelter of the armory as quickly as possible. Once armed with lasers, we'll easily win the fight.

The sounds of battle are all around us: shouting, curses, laser fire, and death screams. The stench of burned hair assaults my nostrils. Our flesh and bones are no match for their powerful lasers.

The red brick building is up ahead. The doors have already been flung open and half a dozen wolven slaves are waving us forward, two human masters dead on the ground between them.

Other wolven are inside, bashing open crates and lifting the lasers trying to figure out how to turn the things on. Luckily, we appropriated two lasers from downed hovers and have had weeks to figure out how to use them, then trained everyone in our army.

Eldar leaps off my back, shouting instructions before his feet hit the ground.

"The small red buttons. Press them!" He runs to a crate of rifles and tosses one to any of the slaves who haven't grabbed one.

"Listen for the hum. When the noise stops, it's ready to shoot. Grab as many as you can carry. Go out and arm the others. Don't stop until every guard has surrendered or is dead."

My handsome mate, tall and lithe and strong, is usually one for jokes and smiles. Even when we're thieving, he's got a gentle manner and always tries to wheedle people's goods from them instead of threatening.

I've never seen him like this, intent on brutality. I understand it, though. I'm the only person on Earth other than him who knows what was truly done to him when he was a prisoner here. From the things he told me, I want to kill every male in the compound.

The elf, his long white hair waving in the chilly wind, tosses me four rifles. I leave my bow and quiver on the ground, slide three rifles over my left shoulder, and heft the fourth in my right hand. He jumps on my back, similarly armed, and I wheel on my hind legs to race back into the fray in the center of the courtyard.

Much of our job is already done. There is a line of humans on their bellies in the dirt, their palms on the back of their heads. They must have surrendered. A couple of thickly built orcs are standing over them, armed with guns they must have taken from the men on the ground.

There are a few skirmishes flaring at the outskirts of the courtyard, but the fighting has died down.

We hand out our extra rifles to the orcs who ran to us, arms outstretched, wanting the heft of a gun in their hands.

"I want armed pairs to patrol the entire compound," shouts Azael, who looks like he was born to lead this attack. The humanoid monkey is standing tall, chest thrust out in pride as he stalks back and forth as he talks. "Stop at the armory if you need to. I want every single one of you armed."

He points to the red building, then continues, "Because wolven have the best sense of smell, no pair should have two wolven. Spread yourselves around so you can sniff out both our enemies and those we are here to rescue."

We hear children's voices, sounding happy despite the carnage. I allow myself to appreciate this victory. We came here to rescue slaves. Those children's voices are worth whatever sacrifices we had to make.

"Half of you start to the east, half to the west. I want you to look in every building, every cupboard, and every closet. Look in every shipping container, even if they are closed. Anywhere anyone could hide, I want you to investigate."

He strides up and down in front of the hundreds of us who followed him here.

"When we are done here today, everyone in the compound whether from Down Below or Up Above will be accounted for. Humans will be dead or in a row on the ground behind me."

He turns to look at them, his face filled with rage.

"Everyone from Down Below will be brought to this area where they'll be fed, given water and blankets if necessary, and triaged to see if they need medical attention. We'll spend the night here and make sure every one of our people has a place to go and a way to get there.

"Don't forget. There are probably other younglings here. They'll be scared. Possibly hiding from us because they might not understand we're here to rescue them. I don't have to tell you to be calm and kind as you bring them to this area to be tended."

The moment he stops talking, most of our people make a run for the armory. Eldar and I toss our extra rifles to a few who pass nearby. We're about to take off to the east to start our search when something catches my eye.

At first, I'm certain it's a dead proudborn in a cage, but then I think I see movement. When I make my way toward it, Eldar leans forward, perhaps seeing what I already noticed.

"Zoron? Is that proudborn still alive?"