"Kalashnikov's", Zvezdny Gorodok

[Koolmo]

Eugen Weise strolled into the Pub, eyes searching for his old favorite table. It'd been nine long months since he'd been in here, nine months of horror and excitement, of death and glory. McIntosh and his handpicked crews and pilots had once again returned to Sol, and only a bare few had returned. Even the Terra III was gone, destroyed after- No. It was done, he didn't need to think about it any more. As he snatched a bottle of Vodka from a startled Infantry Captain, he spotted it.

His old table was still there, little brass plaque and everything. Although he couldn't read it, obscured as it was by the elbow of some rookie, he knew the words by heart:

"This Table permanently reserved for Eugen Weise, SCRA Fighter Corps, dedicated on the Occasion of his Third 'Hero of the Revolution' Decoration for Suicidal Bravery against overwelming odds. A braver man has not been born.

-Grand Admiral McIntosh, SCRA"

He wandered casually over to the Jukebox, and pressed the appropriate buttons. As the strange, metallic voice filled the bar, he turned, and shouted:

"Totenkopt, you old b*stard, this is for you, wherever you lie! H*ll will be a better place for you being there! You! Get off my table!"

As the rookies scatter and the bar returns to its normal volume, Eugen sits and swigs at the Vodka. God, what a waste... All those men gone, even for such treasures of technology!

With a roar, a gunshot rips through the air, and the bottle in Eugen's hand shatters, covering him and a dozen others in glass and liquor. As Eugen rises, his hand reaches for the pistol normally mounted low on his hip, but comes back empty, for his pistol is in the hand of the tall, cloaked man at the door.

"Looking for this?" He holds up a massive, .65 calibre pistol, a red star prominent on the grip. "You lent it to me just before we were boarded... I never got a chance to give it back."

Eugen could only stare agape as Totenkopt slid into the seat across from him. It's impossible, I SAW him die, no-one could survive a hit from that... thing! It devoured all the bodies, I saw it! It almost got to m- No! Stop thinking about it!

"What... what're you doing here? You can't be alive! I saw you die!"

Totenkopt leaned back and laughed, laughed as Eugen had never heard it before. His voice still had the metallic buzz, but now there was something... else. Totenkopt leaned across the table and grasped his hand, allowing his sleeve and glove to separate slightly. With horror, Eugen noticed a purple glow coming from within the blackness of Totenkopt's form. I'm not the only one? What if it's all of us!

"Don't worry about me, old son," he grated, "I'll be fine. It's like I said, every year there's a little less of me, and this time, they went for something new... wait'll you see the ship they gave me, it took almost two months to capture one intact."

"What, did... It spit you out? I saw it eat you!"

"Not quite... I sort of, cut myself out, and the electronics got scrambled. They had to use organics to save me, all the bionics were already gone. I hear you got one of those yourself?"

"Yea, my lower left leg, and two fingers on the left hand. Not a man in Hammer Squadron is whole anymore, you know. And, truth be told... I might have a little of That," as he pointed at the glow, "myself. The fingers are normal, but the leg... it's not mechanical at all, and it's not mine. It just works for me."

"I know the feeling. Hopefully they'll keep working for us, and not the other way around..."

---

<span style="color:#FFFF00">&quot;General Solo, is your strike team assembled?&quot;
&quot;Barely, they're pretty drunk.&quot; </span>
SCRA Recruiting--SCRA Feedback--SCRA Message Dump--SCRA Faction Status

I can picture in my mind a world without war, a world without hate. And I can picture us attacking that world, because they'd never expect it.