In the distant future, mankind has made technological advances that it never should have achieved...

Powerful spacecraft made possible contact with previously unknown alien races--extraterrestrial civilizations of creatures unlike anything ever imagined in the wildest sci-fi magazine. Showing once again the typically egotistical human nature, military conquests were mounted, and the various alien species all but wiped out, for they lacked the violent tendancies of humans.

Eager scientists, however, saved a select number of specimens and significantly alterred their genetic material, recreating the numerous alien races in humanoid form. But the test subjects did not appreciate this meddling, and--as they rebuilt their civilizations in a galaxy suddenly dominated by genetically improved super-humans--they forever bore a deep grudge against mankind...

It is in this galaxy of the future that renegade sects of both aliens and normal humans struggle to survive in the slums and back alleys of massive planetary cities, ruled with an iron fist by those select few humans who have alterred their own genes as they wish, and greedily snatch up money and power at every opportunity...

Eventually the rulers became arrogant and slothful, depending on their unwilling subjects to keep the routines of society operating. Luxurious housing for the rulers involved dining fit for kings, while the peasants eked out life day to day on what could be stolen from the tables of the rich.

The seeds planted by such behavior in various civilizations in human history have not always survived to be harvested in rebellion. But they are constantly sprouting, and this galaxy was no different. The peasants bided their time, gathering bits of technology as they could, hiding it, learning to use it by observing their cruel rulers. The day would come . . .

Telgik Jordun sat comfortably in a heap of steaming refuse. His dirt coated features revealed only a pair of cold dark eyes and a wicked grin. Standing on either side of his reeking throne were two bodyguards. Both men were armed to the teeth and ready for action. Jordun crossed his arms impatiently.

As the ruler of the Visgel Underground, he had priorities... He had things to do and people to do them to... Waiting was not one of his favorite activities.

"Sigmond!" Jordun shouted.

A short and rather fat man emerged from the shadows, "What can I do for you master?"

"What time is it, Sigmond?" Telgik growled.

"Why it is half past midnight, sir."

Telgik Jordun was no longer frowning. He was fuming. "A HALF HOUR LATE!!!! HOW DARE THEY!!!"

Sigmond cleared his throat, "Pardon me sir, but Mister Cligmore and his men had to pass through enemy territory to arrive... Perhaps they were attacked..."

Jordun nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps." There was a brief silence, "I will give them an additional half hour to get here. If they arrive after that time has run out, shoot them."

"Of course." Sigmond bowed and retreated back into the shadows.

* * *

Jahn Cligmore had indeed met with the enemy. Halfway to Telgik Jordun's palace, Cligmore and his troops had been attacked by a regiment of the local law enforcement brigade. The battle had been quick and messy.

Cligmore's men wielded mere blades, while the enemy troops were armed with pulse rifles and various energy canons. It didn't help that each trooper was safely encased in battle armor, making them impervious to the knives and spears that Cligmore and his men fought with.

Yet Jahn Cligmore had escaped. He crawled desperately toward Telgik's palace, a laser burn in his left ankle and several twisted shards of shrapnel sticking out of his lower back. Attached to his belt, was a microdisk containing invaluable information.

Cligmore had to deliver the disk to Telgik Jordun. Only Jordun had the technology to read the disk and the manpower to utilize the secrets it held. Although Jahn did not particularly like Jordun, he had no choice but to rely on him in this situation. The underground resistance fought for the whole of the population, afterall, even for scum like Telgik...

* * *

Jordun shuffled his feet. "Sigmond!!"

Sigmond appeared, "What is it, master?"

"It has occured to me that Mister Cligmore might be in need of assistance." He paused, scratching his chin methodically. "Send out a small squad of soldiers to investigate."

Sigmond nodded. "And if Mister Cligmore is not found?"

"Then he'd better be dead." Jordun smiled darkly.

As Jahn Cligmore made his way toward Telgik Jordun's palace, the loss of blood weakened him. Twice he fainted and fell to the ground, but each time he managed to revive and continue on his agonizing way. He was determined that his soldiers shall not have suffered and died in vain.

Ahead he heard the sounds of soldiers making their way through the forest. He didn't know whose forces they were, so he watched and waited behind a large oak's trunk. It felt better to stop moving for a while anyway. God, he was hungry and thirsty, but that must wait. The vital thing was to reach the palace safely with the disk. His hand gently checked the place where the microdisk had been attached to his belt. It was not there! He must have dropped it in one of his fainting spells.

Jahn knew that silence was important until he learned whose side the soldiers were on, but the loss of the disk struck him so hard that he heard himself give out a long scream of despair. The action immediately turned off the voices of the advancing patrol, and Jahn turned to find a new hiding spot if he could. Without the disk his mission was useless, and Jordun would have no qualms about killing him, Jahn knew. Jordun never tolerated failures for any reason.

Maybe Jahn could find the microdisk if only he could elude the soldiers. That thought gave him strength, and he struggled on through the trees, trying to backtrack as well as he could recall where he had come through the forest.

Some drops of blood on the earth told him he had found the last spot where he had fallen. The disk was nowhere in sight. He found the trampled vegetation indicating where he had traveled to reach this place, and set off as fast as he could manage to retrace his steps. The disk must be at the other place he had fallen. He MUST reach it in time, before the soldiers found the disk. They might be hostiles. Everything depended on getting that disk to Jordun.

"Father, look what I've found!"

Byran Weaver turned to see his son, Andrue holding up a tiny disk triumphantly.

"You haven't gone to the forest again, have you son?" Andrue lowered his eye and did not reply. "How many times have I told you, the forest is dangerous. You are to stay in the city." Byran thundered.

"But-"

"That's the way it is, Andrue. There are bad people in the forest. You stay away from there." The forest was far more dangerous than Byran could begin to explain. It lay between the heap of tattered buildings that comprised the city of Moorge, where he and his son lived, and the filthy city of Visgel. Both cities were ruled by the evil tyrant Kurlah Belfask. Yet Belfask could not keep a closed fist around his so-called cities, powerful criminals ruled throughout the Underground, organizing the rebellion against Kurlah.

The forest was a battleground. Soldiers of Kurlah fought, day and night with the forces of the Underground. All in all, the planet was in complete chaos.

"Give that to me." Byran ordered.

Andrue handed his father the disk. "I found it."

"So you said." Byran mumbled. He turned the disk over in his hands, wondering what sort of data could be on it. There was truly no way of knowing. Only Kurlah had access to such technology... Of course, certain leaders of the Underground were said to have technology as well. "Go to bed, Andrue."

The boy frowned and left the room.

Byran stared blankly at the disk, trying to decide what he should do with it.

Idik Roe stood at the edge of the forest, metaled arms folded across his broad, armored chest. His hard eyes narrowed as he scoured each inch of the treeline, his mouth bent in a deep, hanging frown. A casual wind swept his bright red ponytail against his face. The damn things iritated him so! The ponytail was a part of the armor, a part that he still hadn't figured out yet.

Around him thrummed the engines of the MU-4 Warclaw. They were impressive machines--powerful, yet they held a sense of beauty that only a warrior such as he could appreciate. It was a craft built on efficiency. With a top speed of over 110 miles per hour, armor built on repelling ordinance and a holding capacity of 20 personnel, the Warclaw was the fist of an army bent on destroying humanity.

But it wasn't these features that made it the primary striking weapon of his clan, it was the armament it housed. On a 360 degree rotating turret, the Warclaw held two recoiless 5 inch cannons capable of dishing 90 rounds of high explosive ordnance at anything that got in its way. These cannons could pound away a city in less than a day, reducing even the most defiant buildings to simple heaps of dirt. To back up its 5 inch recoiless cannons were two fold out pods of Type IV "Bullpup" missiles, mainly used for anti-tank operations but virtually limitless in applications. With eight devastating rounds, no tank would ever face the Warclaw and live. For personnel, the Warclaw had three ports where its 20 mm chain guns poked out waiting for the first sight of an enemy.

Suddenly a voice inturrupted the song of the Warclaw. Idik snapped from his concentration, facing his soldier as if he was the enemy. "Captain Roe Sir, I have a report from Sector 4 of Isomes detachment."

"What is it?" Idik asked the soldier who visible shrunk in his armor.

"The...there was, were signs of our subject. Sector 4 reports blood loss and several sets of footprints in their area. Currently we are tracking them."

Idik waved the soldier away, and after a quick snap to attention and a brisk salute, he was off in the direction of the reported activity.

Damn these insurgents! These pathetic, ill-fated creatures that he was tasked with destroying! Like maggots on refuse they emerged again and again only delaying the ultimate plan. Delaying! If only they could be smart enough to accept defeat. To hell with them! If a slow, drawn out war is what these maggots desired, then they would get their very wish!

A Warclaw passed close by, kicking up a storm of dust and debris. Idik snapped the face plate of his armor down just in time to avoid the cloud. He didn't like to track through tiny slits on the face plate. What he didn't like more however, was to track with pebbles in his eyes.

He started down the gradual slope that would lead into the dense, green forest. He imagined that at one time this area might have been alive with creatures of all shapes and sizes. Even in the midst of combat he'd seen four legged creatures running in terror. But they were all gone now, at least from here they were. Now only the shredded bodies of the rebels lay spread across the forest floor. Perhaps if birds would brave the area for all of its disturbance, they would find themselves with a pretty hearty meal.

Just over the thrumming Warclaws, Idik heard the sound. It was faint but to his trained ears it might have been a cannon blast in the dead of night. He perked, hand instinctively dropping to his rifle. To the left?...no, right...there it was again! He popped his face plate and looked to the spread off to his right. Just as his eyes found their mark, one of his men slowly dropped to his knees, then face. AMBUSH!!!!

Instantly the men in that sector threw themselves to the ground. Idik sprinted into the treeline, running for the quickest cover. He switched on his communication link and was immediately met by a dozen different voices all shouting in excitement. These were his leaders. Damn them! If they couldn't maintain composure in the sight of war, then how could their subordinates?

"Silence!" Idik spat. His leaders were quick to comply. Without a foothold of knowledge about the ambush, working out the tactics to uproot them would be difficult.

In a calm voice he said, "Claw Leader, Claw leader. Have two tanks set up positions on either flank of the pinned unit. Push the remaining three tanks through the middle. Pound the trees as if they were the enemy but place your rounds high enough to cover the troops advancing. Copy last?"

"Copy Squad Leader. Comply" Idik loved the sound of the mechanical voice coming across the net. He knew his own voice would spread the power of his own authority when heard like this. The low thrum turned into a high pitched whine as the Warclaws crawled into position. There was to be no hesitation when they were set.

Idik raced toward the sound of gunfire. The weapons employed by the enemy were small but upon occasion they had been known to fashion a piece of heavy artillary. Even though the Warclaws could take a hit, he didn't want to take any chances. Over the net each Warclaw pilot signed off in position. When all five had taken their places, Warclaw Leader signaled off and the chaos began.

The forest shook with the heavy pounding of 5 inch rounds. The blasts were so heavy that Idik stumbled and only avoided falling by bracing himself on a thick trunk. Up ahead he could see the trees splintering like toothpicks under the weight of Warclaws' assualt. Idik was still on the outside of the left flank. He had some distance to go before entering the real fight but decided it would be best to wait until the Warclaws had pushed through.

"Don't get caught up in the hole." Warclaw Leader said over the net.

"I'm spotting seven." Said another voice. "Ok, troops advance."

The net became fuzzy with gunfire, then died. Fuzz again - then shouting, not as if frantic though. "Four units down. Left looks weak....You! You! You! Go!!" Shock trooper leader forgot to switch channels before issuing local orders.

The outer Warclaws stopped the pounding as they cut through the forest using the metal grates hooked onto their noses. Idik raced to the Warclaw flanking on his side and got there just as it passed. He had to watched the falling wooden towers that the Warclaw was pounding. Dying by getting crushed by a tree was no way to go. By following basic tactics, the driver should cut into the forest no more than 50 yards and then cut over to meet with the right flank.

After barely a minute, the Warclaws in the center stopped firing the 5 inch cannons. A deep path of destruction lay in front of the three MBT's. So much dust was being produced by the hail of cannon fire that it was difficult to see. Even in the forest where Idik stood, the visibility was dropping. There was a strip of saved forest no thicker than 20 yards where the center fire and left flanking Warclaw failed to meet. Idik scaled this quickly, eager to survey the devastaion.

The thrumming slowed from inside the forest, the pilots using caution, being smart. The center tanks dropped from their whine as well, each sitting in position awaiting orders. No gunfire rang out.

Through the sheets of dust emerged shock troopers. They recognized their leader immediately. All about their feet lay burned branches and splinters.

"Sir." a shock trooper called to his leader pointing the end of his rifle to the ground. Idik went to inspect. Blood. Just the slight bit of it that told him they'd scored a hit. And with all the firepower they'd pushed into this sector they had better damned well have scored a hit.

"You push into the forest." Idik said. "Look for other traces. Get a count."

The shock trooper saluted and headed off with the others. Idik went back to the strip of forest that survived the onslaught. "Whats the hook up time?" he asked to the Warclaw leader. The flanking tanks would now only serve the purpose of containing any retreating personnel. They'd probably slowed considerably.

"Shortly Sir," came the human robot's voice over the net. "About 2 minutes." The Warclaws went deeper than he'd thought they would. It didnt matter - it was just the same. The priority was containment.

"Something....er..a...head..." came a voice over the net. It sounded like a Warclaw pilot.

"Too broken. Say again." Warclaw Leader was steady.

"Oh...my...god!"

Idik spun around as the area around him turned to hot fire. A searing blue beam spread what trees were left in the mass devastation and shot out toward the waiting Warclaws. The men unlucky enough to be caught in the path of this beam just melted like candles standing on the sun; they never even had time to scream.

The blue beam punched into the middle Warclaw like an ice pick into a snowball. The turret on the Warclaw erupted in a mass of fire and steel and a loud THRABOOMMM!!! assaulted the ears of those still alive to hear it. The Warclaw's heavy nose tilted groundward, slowly arcing down like some burst zepplin, then fell forward. The engines screamed in an effort to keep the machine hovering but it was futile. The main turret of this weapon was all but gone. The grating dug into the ground like shovels working at its grave, and in a matter of seconds the Warclaw was buried up to its smashed turret in dirt, the engines still singing, however slightly.

Idik could feel the burn of the beam even through his thick armor, which was once crimson but now painted black on its face. The net was going haywire--too many voices shouting here and there to discern who was doing what.

Then, more gunfire from within the forest. The thrum to whine of Warclaws from inside and outside the forest, his men getting into new positions no doubt.

Shock troopers up ahead penetrating the dense cloud of smoke/dust. Idik rushed to join them; they would need direction, after all! He silenced the men on the net with a single word and, coming into view, glanced at the fallen Warclaw. Sad. Such a work of art lay burried and smoking. The pilot had somehow survived the initial blow, but then burned himself while he was trying to climb from the wreck.

As he followed his men deeper into the forest, he could only think of one question - what the hell was that?!?! Even before he'd asked though, he knew the answer. It was the same as the thrumming engines. The same as the cries of the dead and of the rattling of chain guns. It was the sound he loved so much, the pulse in his veins.

It was the song of war. A song he was about sing one more time.

The ground vibrated with the sudden onslaught of Warclaw cannons. By his feet, sticks and rocks bounced angrily. His men had the sense to scatter about the forest, each penetrating toward the mystery beam.

Idik came to the exit point of the beam and almost stumbled over in amazement. A thick line of trees were burnt leading from the clearing to a massive barrel that lay buried in the woods. It was buried no more. From here he could see the explosion as the the Warclaws rounds jolted this--tank?--from side to side. Men were being thrown from the turret and some just blown apart. The massive barrel started to slowly swing to the right. Idik didn't want to take his eyes from this magnificant weapon, but the rushing Warclaws from behind him made him clear the path.

Anxious to gain sight of it, he sprinted through the toppled trees and thick dust, thankful once again for a face plate. He kept a steady pace with the Warclaws, running beside them but at a safe distance. They proceeded with caution, letting out a thunderous boom! every so often.

"This thing doesn't wanna die!" Screamed a pilot over the net.

"I've got some damage...Superficial maybe." Another voice said.

The Warclaw he was pacing himself with stopped, and fired more rapdily over the heads of the shocktroopers. His ears seemed immune to the cannon fire. Now, up ahead, his men were taking position. Some where kneeling and unloading their weapons at this mechanical beast only to find success in picking off its crew.

The poor crew...when Idik came in full sight of this thing it was covered in blood splotches, burnt here and there where the Warclaws were pounding it. The machine seemed like a building for its size Idik wondered briefly how they managed to get it so deep in the forest. The cannon itself was more than 30 yards long and housed in a machine blue body that reminded Idik of a squared turtle shell. This was the shell that still rocked hard with each jolt as the 5 inch rounds slammed into it - the only effect was dark smoke and sparks. This armor for what ever it was made from, was standing hard against these rounds.

Idik spotted a dozen or so bodies littering the withered forest foilage. Hovercrafts had a tendency to suck the life out of any green, and the dead trees and grass here told Idik that this machine had been here for some time.

And then - that all bone chilling sound followed by the brilliant beam. The barrel was pointed to the right, Idik's side but the blast would be deeper than he and his men were staged. The trees around turned to instant ash. Suddenly trees exploded toward Idik and his men as the Warclaw closing that flank burst in a blinding white light. Even if the blast wasn't enough to knock Idik and his men over it wouldn't have mattered--the splintered trees flying at them finished the job.

A choking cloud of dust and wood and stone hit the men, pellets of death to their seemingly paper thin armor. Over the net men screamed as wood shot through them as if they were naked. Blood splattered across Idik's faceplate. It was the last color he saw before something--a piece of a tree trunk--thunked against his head.

His eyes squeezed against the pain. His body tumbled like a doll through the air for what seemed like eternity. Until he landed--hard against the ragged land his body tumbled and skid. He felt his arm rip open and a brief cool wind touch his exposed and burning flesh. His chest armor peeled like an over ripe tomato and the heat blisters on his skin popped, oozing their juices across his body.

When the eternity ended, he lay face down, covered in thick layers of sod. Over the net his ears dozed to confusion and the song of his Warclaw. He wasn't sure if his eyes were open or shut. His vision was reduced to a single color--white.

As darkness mercifully stole his pain, and unconsciousness beckoned, Idik had but a single thought:

The insurgents would die...

"Excuse me Sir?" came the sweet voice of a small girl.

Against all sense, Jahn opened his swollen eyes. The bright blur that met him struck his brain with a new, dull and throbbing pain. He pressed his palm flat against his forehead, hoping that pressure might ease the tension.

"Are you okay, mister?" Her voice came again.

The dull brightness retreated from the edges of his vision and collected around a solid object, the sun. It was shining bright above him and casting a warm glare. The voice was just a shadow, a shadow that was reaching for him.

Jahn yelped involuntarily and slapped the hand away. Something flew from her fingertips...a weapon probably! Couldn't even trust the kids these days. The sudden action sent a jolt of pain up to his head again. He groaned and, holding his head in both hands, rolled to his side.

Through narrow slits he watched the girl go over to her weapon. It was a sad day when he couldn't best a child in combat. But his day had come.

She stood, still an ominous black shadow, and wiped her weapon on her dress. "I thought you might want this." she said again, her voice so young.

Jahn forced his eyes open, he could feel the blood cracking and even that pain, the pain of his skin being ripped slightly, seemed magnified. When his eyes opened fully and his sight was adjusted, Jahn almost laughed at the warrior woman he thought would slay him.

She couldnt have been older than 9. Her child features were still soft and young, though her face was covered in a mask of dirt and grime. She reminded him of a clown he'd seen in a photo once. She was a clown of dirt. No...they didn't exist anymore. The little girl had long hair that hung tattered and knotted to her back. She wore what once might have been a sky blue dress but was now different shades of brown and gray. Her little white legs--turned powder brown--were half covered in knee high socks that were ripped and sagging. One sock was blue striped, the other red.

More than the pain that he felt from the laser burn, Jahn felt pangs of bitter disgust. This is what society had been turned into. This was the product of a wasteful and careless leadership. This was the true victim of alien aggression.

Somehow this raggedy little girl managed a smile, her teeth still a dull white. "Have an apple for you."

With an unsteady hand Jahn reached for the food. He didn't realize through his pain that he was hungry. He didn't even like apples, but today this would be a feast.

Her grin widened as he took a bite of his apple. It made Jahn feel good to see this little girl smile, and indeed she had reason too. The apple was good. Fairly out of season but juicy! "Where am I?" he asked between chewing. Looking around it was hard to figure his location. He was leaning against a wall on side street. The hustle and bustle of city activity was heard all around but he had no recollection of going city-side. How did he get here?

"You're at my home mister." She said, as if that answered all his questions.

Jahn wrapped his hand around his bloodied side, feeling for the shrapnel that once decorated him there. To his surprise, it had been removed. Once again..the girl? "Who are you?" he asked.

"I am Sarah." Her innocence in answering these questions, like the answers were obvious to her so everyone should know them, made Jahn laugh a little.

"Whats so funny?" She asked with a tiny frown.

"Nothing." He hid further smiles behind another bite. "Do you live here alone?"

"I'm a young girl! Do you think I would live alone?" She planted her fists on her hips.

"No..Of course not. Then who...?"

"My daddy and brother live here with me. They live up there." She pointed up the building which he leaned on. He didn't bother looking but figured it was the third or fourth floor.

"Did he bring me here?"

"He did...but he wouldn't let you inside."

"Why not?"

"Daddy says you spell trouble. I'm not even supposed to be out here."

Jahn looked at himself. Bandaged wounds. Ripped clothes. He did spell trouble. "Why did he bring me here then?"

"He wanted to fix you up. He says he didn't want to leave you out there." She leaned closer and whispered, "not with the tanks coming."

Tanks...they must have sent a party looking for him. He had to get back soon. But he was in no shape to travel.

"He says that me and my brother had to stay inside while he fixed you up. But I came out here because i wanted to see what he was talking about. It's not everyday I get to see someone else in trouble who isn't me."

Jahn took the last bite of apple and set it aside. Jordun would be angry with him. He didn't even know how long he'd been away. And the disk...good lord the disk. Lost. His whole mission pointless. What would he tell that demanding bastard? Perhap he wouldn't have to tell him anything. He could just not go back.

"Daddy said something else about you too, mister." Jahn looked at her curiously.

"He said he had something that we'd better not touch. It was...it might be for you."

Jahn's heart skipped a beat. Trying to contain his excitement he asked. "Do you know what it was?" She frowned hard, thinking. "It was in a little case."

"A disk!" Jahn shouted so hard the girl jumped.

"I think that's what he said."

"And he still has it?"

"I think THAT'S what he said too! Didn't know what to do with it though." She shrugged her shoulders as if she didn't know either.

Jahn relaxed in all of his soreness and pain. He closed his eyes to the blinding sunlight and allowed himself a bit of a respite. Things, providing he healed properly, could be getting better. Jordun would still be angered at the delay, but he would get what he wanted. Maybe Jahn would still tell him off.

"Mister?" Sarah asked seeing, Jahn,s eyes close. "Are you ok?"

Jahn didn't say a word. He just sat there listening to the voice of his saviour.

* * *

Beep...Beep.....Beep....."How many miles?" The shocktrooper captain asked.

"In that city, Sir. On the outskirts. Not far."

"Let's hope the beacon stays active then."

Behind him a single Warclaw and twenty men awaited for the word form their captain. The word that would send them into the city to find the disk and end this silly game of cat and mouse.

The captain looked around. He waved his men forward. "Let's go," he said. "It's about time we got what was ours."

"GOOD GOD SARAH!!! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" The surprised and angry look on the man's stout face gave Jahn an alarm that maybe he shouldn't have come up. But he had to find out more about what was going on.

Inside this third level, tiny little box they called an apartment, the conditions of Sarah began to explain themselves. The walls were no more than 12 feet apart in width and 15 by length. Dingy shreds of curtain hung lazily in front of a window just opposite the door. A small love seat that might have once been rose and teal sat against one wall, from which both cushions were missing; in the back was a single burner stove that barely came to Jahn's knees and a cold box for food. The walls here had been painted a depressing shade of yellow, probably years ago, but age was drawing any last bit of life out of this color and it appeared more gray. In the corner was a neat stack of warm looking wool blankets. There was only one other door which hung crooked but closed. Jahn hoped this was the bathroom.

Here was another example of alien supremecy--stack the humans in cells like this and watch them rot. He hated to see his people live like this, but it was necessary. Seeing this fueled his hatred for the aliens, rekindling his spirit for the future.

"It's not her...Don't blame.." Jahn wanted to explain before he was cut short.

"I told you he was trouble!" Her father was a stout, balding man. Weary eyes darted between his daughter and Jahn as if either of them might attack if he looked away long enough.

"No. It was me. ME! I had to speak to you."

"Sarah." His voice, deepened by the black smoke he inhaled daily, lost some edge. "Come here honey."

Jahn hated being ignored. "Sir!"

Sarah went to her daddy's side, her face downcast. A streak of tear cleared a path down her sodden face. Her father kneeled down beside her, grabbing each arm gently in his hands. He met her innocuous, green eyes - eyes of her mother.

"I have been telling both you and your brother that you need to listen to me. Things can be dangerous out there. Honey, you NEED to listen, please."

"I'm sorry daddy..." Sarah murmured, sniffling.

He pulled his little girl close and hugged her tight. "It's ok. Just next time..."

"Ok..."

"Now go find your brother. I think he's next door." Sarah turned and, as if having forgotten everything that just happened, ran past Jahn and out the door, slamming it as she left.

Bryans face, which softened as he talked to his girl, became stone when the door slammed. His thick brow wrinkled and his focus became Jahn.

"I'm sorry Sir." He said again, hoping for a moment to explain.

"Did you think? I saved your life out there dammit! I left you outside for a reason. I can't.." he faltered, "do you know what would happen if...if..."

Bryan waved his hand toward the door...his little girl.

"I think I do."

"Then leave. I took chances just bringing you here!" Bryan swept one of the few remaining strands of auburn hair he had away from his face.

"I will. And I thank you for what you did and I apologize for this. But part of the reason I am here is to make sure that you are safe. I need to know what happened. How you found me."

Bryan's mouth dropped in a deep, thoughtful frown. A stiff wind blew the stench of the city inside the window. "Sit down." Bryan said with no amount of hospitality.

"It's ok. I'm better standing."

"Fine." Bryan plopped down on the couch, which squeeked in resistance. A curly metal spring poked through right by his behind. "My son found a...something...not too far from here. He brought it back to me and i had a look. First I was pissed at the boy but i know how curiousity can kill. So I sent him to sleep and looked at the container thing some more. Like him, curiousity started to get to me. I hate that not knowing thing, ya know. So him and his sister fell asleep and I figure, why not check things out. The forest isn't too far away right. So I dress warm and head off. I know where the boy likes to play so I head there first. It's strange, these kids, you can tell 'em and tell 'em but they never listen."

Jahn shifted his weight, careful of his wound. He wished he'd taken the offer to sit.

"So anyway, after a little while I find some bodies. Only two and one of 'em is still breathing." Bryan nodded his head, indicating Jahn. "My mom always told me about doing good things an' all. So, against my better common sense...."

"You brought me here."

"Yeah. Now maybe i shouldn't have. But someone was searching for you. Maybe not you...maybe that thing."

Jahn shoved his hand in his pocket grabbing the disk container reassuringly.

"Maybe. The people looking for me...what did they look like?"

"Not people. A tank. It had that horrible red and orange tiger stripe paint. Damn ugly paint if you ask me."

"Couldn't agree more. How did you get back here though. You didn't carry me did you?"

"No. I'm one of the few here who is allowed a vehicle. Rusted piece of crap but it gets me where I'm going."

Jahn limped over to the arm of the couch and sat down, relieved momentarily. It seemed that his leg would find some other way to ache once he figured out a way to ease the initial pain.

"Get caught in a fight did ya?" Bryan asked seeing the discomfort creep across Jahn's face.

"Kind of. Damned locals of all things. I'm not sure how or why but it was an ambush. I thought it was Idik's men at first but they don't use lasers."

"Idik?" Bryan scratched the growth of sand-paper whiskers he had on his chin.

"Yeah. Idik. He's like, geeez I wouldn't even know how to explain him." Many choice words came easily to Jahn's mind. He didn't repeat any of them. "He's a warrior, a leader. He doesn't really like me because I am the one that got away. I'm not even sure if they sent him after me but I knew they'd send someone. If you saw only one tank then it wasn't Idik. Not traveling like that."

"Is that what you meant?"

"By what?"

"About having to come up here?"

"Yeah. I needed to make sure he didn't follow. The others are probably lost by now. For being "super-human" they sure as hell don't have many tracking skills. Not without technology anyway."

"Sometimes that's all it takes though." Bryan sighed, rubbbing his belly through his white, food stained shirt. "Are you thirsty?"

"Actually...very."

* * *

"You know, I'm not even sure what your name is." Bryan's voice was not the deep, fatherly voice anymore. To them it was like iron, a mechanical noise. Bryan wasn't a person either. He was color. He was swirling red's and oranges and greens. On the end he was light blue.

The color was matched by a not so wide version standing, or leaning (it was hard to tell) on a desk or chair or maybe even a table. This was the color they concerned themselves with. The other was just an unfortunate victim.

"Jahn." Came the other iron voice.

The shocktrooper captain motioned his men forward. They were staged in an adjacent building, an apartment room whose inhabitants were piled in a corner. All of them were staged in the area, some making their way along the roof. It was a five story building so the drop wouldn't be too bad. Only two men were left with the Warclaw, which was waiting outside the city, ready to come at a moments notice.

"Jahn huh...I'm Bryan. Sorry about earlier...I was..."

It was times like this the captain was glad that Belfask was afraid of his shocktroopers. That fear enabled him to stage as he was doing and not worry about city interference.

"Supressors." Six men screwed on metal attachments that would silence the rounds they were about to release. While he had the approval of Belfask, he didn't want to bring too many spectators to the site. Too much confusion could give Jahn an escape route.

"...It's ok Bryan. I understand completely."

Three men aimed for the standing figure, Bryan. He was moving but that wouldn't cause a problem. The other three had Jahn dead in their sites.

"Harvester Five in position." A shocktrooper over the net.

"Roger."

"Metalhammer ready to go."

"Roger."

Everything was set. Men in stand-by on the roof. Tank standing by waiting for guidance.

"Snipers, manned?"

"Manned by three, primary target."

"Manned by three, secondary target."

"Good." The captain looked through his own rifle. The crosshair generated by his helmet lined up on Jahn when the barrel of his rifle was true. He brought his crosshair to the head of his primary heat source. Whispering loudly in the net, he said. "On my mark....."

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