The Pugilist

By | December 5, 2019

Blood swells in in her mouth, swilled about with sweat and tears. Her back straightens her resolve does not waver. She clears her mouth as he lumbers in, unrefined, full of anger. A sloppy right hook, she easily ducks under. She flicks out two quick jabs and then out of reach. Her opponent does not feel the bites. He is a giant of a being with three hands of height over her. His size makes him strong. The drugs they pump through his system make him reckless. He is a beast of a being, a deadly fighter to not be underestimated.

He is outmatched.

A smile plays in her eyes. He lunges in once more, enraged at his misses and her endless biting. A heavy right hook meets with air. An upper cut fueled by drug induced rage finds itself a half a second too late. A sloppy back fist wildly thrown where she once was. He will never tire, the drugs see to that. His side is open from the wild swing. She steps in, two jabs followed by a front kick. The blow propels her back out of his reach. He turns to grab her but she’s already away.

The blow comes not from his wild blows but from the drugs that course through her system. Her blood burns as the hit comes. It pulses like a raw nerve being held to coal. Control is replaced with rage. Her opponent does not care. Snatched by her collar, hefted from her feet. With a cry he slams his head into hers, braking nose and mandible. His rage is endless, the pain not felt. He tosses her aside like rubbish. The crowds roars, its energy intoxicating.

On hands and knees, eye swollen, her vision blurring. She will not be defeated like this. She is better than this. Her family has been the power behind the Hierarchy. The drugs are hers to move. The muscle hers to control. She will concur this. It will be hers to control. She bottles the rage, her vision straightens. Clenching down with broken mandible she stands. A crowd feeds on a blood bath. This one is just beginning.

Rage in check she clears the blood from her mouth and steps back in. Her opponent lets out a roar. His anger not yet sated. There is no hesitation. She will not play with her food. She is no one’s entertainment. A low kick breaks a knee. A cross concusses. Two jabs to the throat and he is done.

The crowd is silent. Blood spilt without suffering.

She stands tall and proud. The overseers entertainment ruined. His reeducation ruined.

For today.

The guards approach, for she has been unruly. The punishment will be severe. She will endure, and tomorrow will disappoint once more.



Agamemnon CIC

“The problem here is logistics. I don’t want to abandon our people any more then you but we don’t have the provisions to sit here and search. We’ve been here for over a week and only have three weeks left. “

Oleg brings up a star chart of the region. “The closest system with a planet in a garden belt is four weeks out, assuming we don’t hit any other complications. That’s also assuming it is a garden planet and has something we can use to provision.”

Captain Davidson looks across the table at Oleg. “Ensign, we cannot simply leave our people stranded in an unknown part of space. They are also our life line. As you point out we don’t have the provision needed to get back to Citadel Space. We don’t have the means to produce those provisions either not to mention fuel. If the IV is lost, the Agamemnon is lost. That is an unacceptable outcome.”

Admiral Jeem looks across the command display which currently displays a raging storm several hundred kilometers away from the ship. “What do we know about the phenomenon?”

Engineer McLaren pulls up his report on his local datapad and transfers it over to the command display. “From what we have been able to gather from sensors and that failed probe experiment, its highly charged electromagnetic radiation, much like what is found in a pulsar. In this case it’s actually being generated from four nearby stars in which they are feeding from one another. We’ve seen this before in bi-star systems but normally one star eventually consumes the other and the whole things collapses. In this case the system feeds each other and what we see is the cyclonic flow between the systems. A byproduct to the massive amounts of electromagnetic radiation flowing in the system is the radiation pressure being generated outwards. It creates the wind in this storm which prevents us from pushing through.”

Jeem looks across the command display now playing out various elements of McLaren’s report, her eyes slightly unfocused. “So, we have a big raging storm. How do we get through it?”

“Simplistic way of looking at the situation Ma’am, but accurate. We don’t have a solution to get through yet.”

Standing up Jeem looks across her command room. “Well then no reason for us to sit around then, go find me a solution before we all starve to death. Dismissed.”

As her command staff filed out of the room the message light on her datapad started to blink. She sighs and opens the message. It has a single line and an attachment.

“If you want through, be at the attached coordinates at this time.”




Agamemnon Crew

Citadel Defense Navy Personal

  • 7 Command Staff
    • Executive Officer – Captain Davidson (Human)
    • Communications Specialist 4 – Oleg Karpinsky (Human)
    • Engineering Ensign – McLaren (Human)
  • 3 Fire Control Technicians
  • 2 Engineering Technicians
  • 3 SeaBee
  • 1 Ship Steward
  • 2 Galley Personal
    • DECEASED – Crewman – Chloe (Human)

Citadel Marine Corp

  • First Sargent Asari Commandos – Lily (Asari)
  • 8 Security Officers
    • DECEASED – Corporal – Ed (Human)
    • First Lieutenant – Cyphon (Xan)

162 Civilians

  • 36 Citadel Citizens
  • 54 Xans
  • 72 Terrans

Population Losses

Battle of Hell’s Perch

  • 234 Civilians
  • 3 Biotic Commandos


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