A Cobra's Tale... Part 1: The Restless Warrior

Part 7: The Good Samaritan

City Centre, Port Racice, Tukayyid, FRR, December 6th 3066 Laz drove the station wagon along the empty, dimly lit streets, looking for a place to park, when several thunderous explosions shattered the tranquil early morning. He stopped the car, cringing inwardly – that must’ve woken up everyone within a 5-mile radius, he thought. Craning his neck to look out the back window, he could no longer see the warehouse but the orange-tinted clouds and pall of oily black smoke told him there would not be much left of it by dawn. Setting off again, he drove until he found a deserted parking lot next to a run-down looking shopping mall. He got out, clutching a pilfered can of myomer lubricant. He paused for a few moments to look again at the glow in the sky. He could hear in the distance the wail of sirens as fire trucks headed to the scene. He’d have to hurry – no doubt the cops would be in attendance as well. He popped open the can and was about to pour it over the wagon, (he knew he had to ditch the car and the best way to remove any forensic evidence was to torch it), when he heard a banging from the boot. He was startled enough that he dropped the can, spilling its contents. He went round to the back of the car and tentatively rapped on the boot lid. “Hello…someone there?” He was answered with renewed thumping, accompanied by frantic muffled noises – the sounds of someone trying to shout while gagged. “Hang on a minute!” he called, “I’ll try and get you out”. Laz cursed silently – as if things weren’t complicated enough! He attempted to open the boot but found it was locked. A quick search of the car failed to turn up anything that might help him break the lock. His jacket blew against him in the light breeze and he felt the pistol in the inside pocket. He pulled it out and checked the charge indicator – the power pack was almost empty! But he couldn’t just leave whoever was in there. He cursed again and walked back to the car. He rapped on the boot again. “Get as far back as you can – I’m going to try and burn through the lock!” he heard a frightened gurgle, followed by scraping and thumping noises as the occupant tried to comply with his instructions. “Okay – here goes”, he warned. Setting the pistol to minimum power he fired six short bursts at the lock…the seventh time he pulled the trigger nothing happened – the power pack was completely dead. Tucking the useless weapon back in his jacket, he aimed a hard kick at the lock. He heard a metallic clang and the boot lid slowly rose on squeaky hinges. Laz peered inside and saw the owner – bruised, bound and gagged – his face a mask of terror. On seeing Jamal he wriggled and gurgled frantically. Laz hesitated a moment, wondering if he should help the man. He showed no sign of recognition and Laz realised the man had never seen him – only his mech when he had stepped into the road in front of him. He’d been unconscious when Laz had taken the car… He reached in and carefully removed the duct tape from the man’s mouth – the man let out a loud gasp and began breathing heavily. Must’ve been low on air, Laz thought. Using his penknife he quickly cut through the cords that bound the man’s arms and legs and helped him out of the cramped boot. He sat heavily on the car’s rear bumper, massaging his limbs to get the circulation going. “I don’t know how to repay you…I owe you my life”, he said quietly, having had a few minutes to pull himself together. “Don’t worry about it – I could hardly leave you there could I?” Laz replied. “It was you driving the car, wasn’t it?” the man asked, a look of puzzlement clouding his face. “May I ask what you were doing?” For the first time Laz noticed the man’s accent: it sounded Russian – or somewhere from that region of Terra. Laz paused long enough before replying that he thought he might as well tell the truth – part of it anyway. “Yes, it was. My car broke down outside the city. I saw yours just parked there by the road – I thought it had been abandoned. I know I shouldn’t have but I was in a real hurry. Sorry…” “What were you in such a hurry about?” asked the man out of instinctive curiosity. “Uh…I…ah…had to see a man about some mech spares”, Laz said, trying to sound nonchalant. By now the man was walking slowly around to ease the stiffness out of his legs. As he turned to head back towards the car he caught sight of the distant blaze and the partially illuminated pall of smoke rising from the warehouse. He turned to Laz and his peripheral vision took in the can of lubricant his rescuer had dropped earlier. There was the sound of sirens in the distance – probably the local fire department and police on their way to the blaze. His expression turned to one of curiosity and he opened his mouth to speak. Laz cut him off hurriedly, “Say, you don’t by any chance know any good all-day places to eat round here? I’m absolutely famished. I could really go for something Chinese or Mexican”. The man blinked in confusion, “Ah…there is a diner not too far from here. It is open 24 hours a day and serves very good food”. “Er…would you mind giving me a lift?” “For a good Samaritan such as yourself – of course not”, the man replied, his curiosity momentarily forgotten. “Thanks”, said Laz getting in. “By the way, my name’s Laz”, he said by way of introduction. “And I am Anatoliy Shevchenko”, the man replied, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Pleased to meet you”, he added”, extending his hand. “Uh…likewise”, said Laz, reaching out and shaking hands.

Part 8: When Eyes Meet...

Benny's Bar & Grill, Port Racice, Tukayyid, FRR, December 6th 3066 It turned out that the diner was in fact a truck stop that serviced the drivers who maintained the flow of raw materials and goods in and out of the industrial park. As he got out of the car Laz noticed it had started raining: if nothing else it would stop the fire spreading too far, he thought. He glanced up at the red neon sign that read Benny's Bar & Grill. It didn't look like the kind of establishment that served Chinese or Mexican. Anatoliy made to pull away and Laz had to run back and shout, “Hey – don’t you want something too…come on – its my treat”. Anatoliy looked at him questioningly. “Come on…don’t make me eat on my own”, he added, unwilling to let the man just drive away without at least buying him dinner…or breakfast, given the time of day. Anatoliy smiled broadly, pulled the keycard from the dashboard and got out, leaving the vehicle in the parking bay he’d driven into. They went inside and took a table near the front window. The place was nearly empty and it wasn’t long before a waitress came to take their order. As she left Laz slowly gazed around the diner. At the opposite end, through an archway, was a games room, complete with antiquated pool tables. There was a gang of oriental-looking men in there, smartly dressed in dark leather jackets, slacks and shirts. They didn’t look the type to be hanging around a greasy truck stop. Even more out of place were the women who accompanied them. They were also oriental in appearance, dark-haired, olive-skinned and very attractive, their attire and jewellery stood out like a beacon in these surroundings. One in particular caught his eye. She was definitely of asian origin – Capellan or Combine he couldn’t quite tell. She was about medium height and willowy. Her long raven hair framed her delicate features and shone under the fluorescent lights, as did her large, green feline eyes. She wore a black leather jacket, a green, low-cut, figure-hugging top and black leather trousers – Laz couldn’t help but stare. She must have had a sixth sense or something because she suddenly turned and looked directly at him. As their eyes met he felt his face flush. He wanted to turn away but couldn’t. Instead he smiled awkwardly and waved to her. To his amazement she smiled and waved back. A funny feeling started in the pit of his stomach and it wasn’t anything to do with the smell of cooking wafting from the kitchen. One of the men behind her saw her gesture and looked over at Laz. He prodded the guy next to him who was leaning over the table to take his shot, spoke rapidly and pointed at Laz. The man with the cue straightened up and turned to look over at the table where Laz and Anatoliy were seated. The girl, sensing what was about to happen, grabbed his arm but he roughly pushed her away, an ugly scowl contorting his features – the act making Laz’s blood boil. He glanced around at his cronies, jerked his head towards the two diners before striding towards them, cue in hand… Laz quickly looked away but it was too late. Moments later the group had made their way to where Laz and Anatoliy were sat. The leader slammed his cue down on the table. He slowly looked Laz up and down, a sneer creasing his face, “Were you looking at my woman…you little Capellan pig?” he spat. From this close Laz could now see they were from the Draconis Combine, with an obvious antipathy towards Capellans. “So what if I was – I was just looking. Where’s the harm in that?” he replied defiantly. “You’re about to find out”, grinned the man unpleasantly. He pushed the cue tip under Laz’s chin and pulled upwards, forcing Laz to stand or have his throat skewered. Just then Anatoliy elbowed the thug standing next to him in the groin, doubling him over, before landing a solid punch to the side of his head. Total chaos ensued…