Road to the Coalition

[arvg]

***Warning, violence, this is the SCRA after all***

Katz drew up short. He was staring straight into Radeks eyes who was blocking his way through the corridor towards his locker, a couple of the younger men wearing orange jumpsuits clustered around him. And as usual, Jensen was standing just behind Radek, smiling in anticipation.

Guys, Katz nodded, taking a step forward.

Radek barred his way, the lead mechanics jaw set angrily as he squared his shoulders.

Katz met Radeks cold eyes with a firm look of his own. He wasnt about to be intimidated by his former friend. It seemed all their history together had been buried beneath ancient hatreds. Radek was looking for someone to blame for everything that had happened to his men, all the abuse they took from the Fighter Corps. And instead of just taking it, or dishing it back to the ones that dealt the abuse, it was easier to blame the Libertonian.

If that was the way it was going to go down, then that was the way it had to be. Katz pulled a foot back, readying himself for

Radeks first swing was lazy, trying to take Katz by surprise. He was skipping the formalities of a challenge, bypassing the usual shouting match. He wasnt after words, he was after blood.

Katz swept Radeks hands aside with no effort at all, allowing Radek to carry forward on his own momentum, as Katz cut his legs out from under him and propelled Radek to the ground.

Radek sprawled, and came up, furious, as Katz turned years of martial arts training to good account. Years had taught him where to set his feet, and what to look for. Radek came in again, as Katz demonstrated another perfect block, his hands pushing Radeks clumsy swings aside with well-timed arm sweeps. Again Radek sailed to the floor as Katz turned.

First thing my mom did after I told her the LPI came and hauled me off for having Coalition propaganda on Denver He dodged another clumsy blow. Was sign me up for a self-defense class. Katz relaxed his shoulders and lifted his hands again, She figured Id run into people like you; I just didnt think itd actually be another Communist, Comrade.

Radek picked himself up off of the floor again; he wasnt hurt, just humiliated, and his eyes showed the hate he felt as he looked back towards the others with him. Dont just stand there! he yelled.

Katz took a step back, the four of Radeks cronies edging in on him cautiously as Radek balled up his fists, and Katz knew that he was in trouble.

***

Pasha was bouncing on his heels looking up at the Storm Class gunboat that he was just itching to have a chance to fly in someday. Maybe hed be lucky and get a chance to fly with old Trotter on another of his infamous raids that would be fun, like the stuff hed heard about Waterloo.

Which reminded him, where the hell was Katz? The young Sub-Lieutenant was always bumbling around somewhere. And Pasha wondered why the hell he bothered, but someone had to keep an eye on the soft Libertonian, and the Commissar had given that job.

In the SCRA the men didnt belong to their commanding officer, in the Coalition, the officers belonged to their men.

Pasha wasnt about to let his officer fail at anything. It was his duty. If the Officer failed, then his men failed, and Pasha didnt like failing. Hed worked too hard to become a Petty Officer, and his family were proud of him.

He noticed that the flight hangar was notably empty, the men that normally serviced the Storm were conspicuously absent. And something about that tickled a warning in the Petty Officers mind.

Uh oh, he murmured marching towards a weapons locker and using his master key to unlock it, choosing an 8-guage deck-sweeper shotgun and loading it with shells.

***

The blow sent Katz reeling. He couldnt keep up with five guys; if he didnt stop playing defense and start giving back he would his head snapped back again as he tasted blood, his own blood, and he saw a burst of stars. His even calm collapsed into desperation as he lashed out with his own fists.

Katz collapsed to a knee, as the boot drove itself into his ribs; he choked and coughed as he landed against a bank of storage lockers, trying to get back to his feet as the back hand propelled him backwards.

He pushed upwards, grabbing onto the first person he could, both of them crashing back to the ground, tearing and punching each other frantically. But it wasnt enough; Katz was dragged back, up and off. Another blow landed in his stomach as he fell again to his knees.

He tried to open his eye as he fell back against the lockers; he needed to see their faces, to understand to at least

The heel connecting with his chest caused him to double over again. He couldnt get back up, every muscle in him screamed out in pain. But he knew that if he didnt get up and try to get away he would only be beaten worse.

He tried to find the will to work his legs, drawing on that reserve of character that kept him defiant. That which ensured he was still him, no matter how many times they hit him. No matter how much pain he was in, so long as he was still himself they couldnt beat him

He stood cradling his arm, his shoulder had separated, he was sure of it. He swallowed, still tasting the coppery taste of blood, willing himself to take a shaky step forward.

Radek drove the heel of his palm into his face and Katz went over backwards, crashing to the ground a final time.

***

Sasha sprinted down the hall, his shotgun held in perfect form, rushing past a collection of Fighter Corps Officers, who spotted him, and followed behind. They knew something was up, dragging their tacheyon pistols from their holsters as they closed in towards a service corridor, where the sound of a fight could be heard.

***

Katz was barely aware; the fists had stopped, a moment stretching into an eternity as he lay there staring up at the faces leaning over him. He felt Radek kneel down beside him, Radeks fist grabbing ahold of Katzs hair and lifting his head.

Katz swam in a muddle of pain and waves of dizziness, looking up into Radeks eyes as he tried to find his voice trying to find words his voice bubbled, but the words wouldnt couldnt form.

Thats for every one of my boys you ***** fighter pilots shoot because you feel like it, Radek hissed, hauling back and spitting fully into Katzs face. Libertonian

There was a roar, an explosion of noise

Run! Katz heard someone cry, then the thumping of footsteps as he turned his head weakly to watch feet running away from him. The booted feet of a group of Fighter Corps finest chasing after the mutinous engineers stupid enough to pick on one of their own.

It was like he was watching from a haze, detached yet still aware. There was no pain where he was; he was beyond pain for the moment. He knew he was hurt, but he felt nothing.

He heard the other feet running towards him, as he rolled his head to look at the leather shoes; no mechanic wore shoes like that they were too sturdy, designed for combat. He saw a beige khaki-covered knee, and a pair of hands on him, gentle, shaking him.

He reached out to grab the white shirt, firmly gripping hold of it, trying to speak again as he looked up into his Petty Officer Pavels eyes.

***

Katz opened his eyes, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, the fluorescent lights over his head. The smell of bleach and industrial cleaner tickled his nose as he lay there, feeling the coarse sheets, and that was when the pain returned.

He ached, everywhere. He felt like he had gone ten rounds with a Zoner Whale and had lost; he couldnt even manage to lift his head, only continue to lay there, feeling the cool air of the air-conditioned infirmary room blow over him gently as he mustered his strength.

He started with his toes--they moved, which was a good sign in his opinion; his ankle rolledagain, this was progress. But he didnt have the strength to lift his leg, his fingers could move, barely, but the second he tried his arm, he let out a gasp as pain shot up the entire right side of his body.

You should lie still, the nurse admonished, as she fiddled with the bandages wrapped around his head to make him feel more comfortable. He hadnt been able to turn his head fully to see her standing there, but he smiled up at her as best he could.

She was huge, the kind of barrel of a woman extremely well suited to hospital work. The kind of bear-ish Russian woman named Olga or something equally appropriate. The nurses hat pinned to her hair, if it wasnt for the fact she wore a skirt Katz would have sworn it was a linebacker

Where am I? he croaked, his voice dry and cracked.

Youre in hospital, the nurse said, pouring him a glass of a clear liquid. You got into fight with Mechanics... Mechanics won.

Katz would have nodded, but that would have hurt; he just chose to offer her a weak smile of thanks as she helped him to take a drink. The vodka burned its way down and he had never appreciated a simple drink the way he did that one.

He sank back to the pillow again as his eyes drooped a little.

When he opened them again, Pasha was standing over him. He had a stony expression on his face, but his eyes showed the relief that Katz was awake.

Katz smiled upwards in thanks as the pain subsided back to a dull ache. And he swallowed back the lump in his throat as he blinked. Wh-hat happened? he murmured.

There are Officers outside, theyre going to have to ask you that, Katzs Petty Officer continued, an edge to his voice. Youre going to have to do your best to remember and tell them.

Katz nodded a little, feeling so much like a little boy--helpless. The shock of what had happened to him still lingered with him, the memory of he swallowed feeling his anger begin to rise. Yes, he snarled.

Another lifetime ago he would have said it was his fault He stopped; his fault? Anger seeped through the guilt; his fault? Why the hell was it his fault? Just because he was younger they thought he was weak and vulnerable, and that was his fault. That he was in a hospital bed because they decided that he wasnt worth their respect? That was his fault?

He seethed, his hands balling up into fists as he lay there, staring up into his Pashas eyes, trying to deal with the waves of anger that were flowing through him.

The door opened, and an aged man walked in, he wore an officers uniform, the rank insignia placed him as a senior one. He stared at the young man in the bed, a look of disgust flickering across his face as he drew a .65 calibre hand gun, the kind of gun that could have doubled as a ship cannon. He dropped it on the bed sheets in Katzs lap, turning his back.

Pasha was staring at the gun, then at the officer, before turning away as well.

***

You will be made an example of, the officer continued, pacing the length of the cage, looking at the collection of mutinous scum that had dared lay their hands on a Coalition Officer.

Radek sneered as he stood up, yeah? You dont think something like this was going to happen? You want to shoot us, go ahead. Youll only make us martyrs Comrade. Just more flyboys like you, butchering defenseless engineers for no reason he spat out of the cage.

No, Katz said, limping into the room clutching his broken ribs, still wearing the hospital gown. The large bored weapon dangling in his right hand. Not for without reason

The penal officer looked surprised, stepping back as Katz shuffled forward, his eyes red, face puffy and swollen.

We are all links in a steel chain that is surrounding our enemies. Workers, soldiers, brothers and our leaders all of us need to find our strength.

Katz said, swinging the gun about and firing, felling the first of his assailants.

The military must inspire the revolution. So that we can strike our well aimed blows upon our enemies

He winced in pain as he fired a second time. Turning the gun, finally on Radek, the leader of the insurrection.

Without the workers loyalty, we are all weakened. And I, for one, wont be the weak link in the chain.

***

As the final mechanic dropped to the deck, the ranking Coalition officer that had provided Katz with the gun looks surprised. I had intended for him to shoot himself he said, sounding slightly impressed. Looking at the cold, hard look affixed upon Katzs face. I thought, maybe he was too soft

He glanced over at Pasha. Ensure he doesnt loose this new found edge Petty Officer. It is what keeps the Fighter Corps alive; he is right, there is no quarter for the weak here. Only tempered steel can be used in war.

Pasha blinked, looking at the psychotically cold look affixed over Katzs once friendly face. Da, Comrade-Colonel. For the Revolution!

The Colonel nodded, get him bandaged up, then strap him into his Partisan and have him fly a full two hour Guard Patrol inside the Omega-52 system. Teach him that: Though we are wounded, we are not slain. We may lay down to bleed awhile, but we always rise and fight again!

Forged from steel and set in stone, Pasha nodded. Moving in to take Katz by the arm, guiding him away from the cell.

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