Commander Idris Octavia wasted no time, dispatching the team’s medic to Spot and Tark’s side the moment boots hit the roof.
“Alright, let’s have a look,” the gazelle demanded, holding up Tark’s frozen stump of an arm and examining it closely. He clicked his tongue, activating his helmet’s light. “Good enough, I’ll take it from here,” he reported as Spot grabbed the portable cover from the back of the medic’s pack and erected it on the other side of the three of them, ensuring that at least a decent range of fire from neighboring rooftops would be blocked. The roof of the Oro’s main base was fairly secure as far as he could see, with sixteen of his comrades fixing their rappelling gear to the edge of the building under cover of the remainder of the force. The urgency of their work was laid bare as a couple of Oro gang members kicked open the door to the roof, no doubt wondering what all the ruckus was about. Each of them earned a silenced burst of magicite energy to the brain for their troubles, courtesy of Karth’s submachine gun and another Sekhama who was watching the entrance. The Oro tended to wear golden masks, accented with glowing red cybernetics and pronounced morphology, usually batlike. While it was certainly a fashion statement, the masks did nothing to forestall their owners’ demise that night.
The Sekhama moved quickly to stop the falling bodies from alerting more of the mnyama, catching them and dragging them away from the entry point. Those couple of minutes were but a blur for the young wild dog, who was given no time to accept the fact that the killing had begun when Octavia called out to him. “Rookie, you either stay with him or come with me. Choose now,” he growled, hands crossed over his chest as the various breaching teams gave him the all clear, small green dots growing in number on his HUD.
“Go fuck them up, Spot. Wouldn’t want you to miss the fun. I’ll be fine here,” Tark assured him, unholstering his pistol and holding it out to his partner. Spot smiled, activated the magicite heat sink for him, and handed it back.
“I’m sorry, Tark. I should have-”
“Fuck off, man. Chicks dig mechanical arms. Now go get some scars of your own; and fix your damn bayonet!”
“Right!” The rookie yelped, scrambling to his feet as his boots scraped against the rough surface of the roof. Octavia nodded approvingly as he fixed the eighteen inch blade to the underbarrel of his shotgun.
“Stay in formation and watch that thing in tight confines,” was all the Commander had for him in the way of advice before silently giving the all clear to his troops. From his back came the great tower shield he was known for, his revolver already at the ready. Alpha team was prepped to follow him down the stairs and onto the top floor of the structure, with Beta and Gamma teams, eight strong apiece, rappelling one and two floors below that respectively. They all watched silently as Gamma disappeared over the edge of the roof, two per side. A moment later Beta joined them, visors lowered and set to maximum protection.
“Sybela, now would be the time,” Seth advised, watching the proceedings from a secluded vantage point along with Argos.
“It would be my pleasure,” the hacker replied, sending a remote signal to the spikes Seth had planted on the building’s network lines earlier in the day. At her command the various turrets, cameras, and other automated defenses in the building went dark, a discretionary choice on her part. “I left them all alive for you lot. Have fun, Argos!”
“If I know anything about my former brothers, Sybela, they’ll be grateful for a few extra targets and a bit less crossfire.”
“We should move, Argos,” Seth advised. “The Oro rely on their tech, subterfuge, and corporate alliances to keep them safe. Octavia has stripped that all away, and they will flee like roaches from the light. The Trang’aul put up a decent fight at least. This will be a slaughter.”
“Then let’s make sure it’s complete,” the tiger agreed, checking his gear. “Ready when you are, Seth.”
“The Sekhama left rifles on the roof but that doesn’t mean the Oro don’t have other means of escape. Three block perimeter?”
“Sounds good. Talon?” Argos called to their sniper.
“I have the southern approaches from here. You guys take the rest,” the sniper replied, adjusting his scope for heat signatures and calibrating it to dim the ambient heat of the buildings and surrounding environments. “If any of those rats escape, we’ll get ‘em. Damn, I can already taste the beer.”
“Have fun boys!” Sybela chimed in right as Octavia gave the order to attack. Keiko felt her ears twitch nervously, so close and yet so far from the action. The lights in Seth’s ‘shrine’ had faded to ambient night as she sat there, unwilling to miss a moment even with her limited capacity as an electronic observer.
As one, the Sekhama swung out, down, and forward. Their heavy boots smashed through the windows of the structure, flinging glass everywhere as the attack began in earnest. Flashbang grenades flew and detonated as they tucked and rolled into position, their heavy armor providing much needed protection from the environment. Above them, Idris’ team burst out of the roof access stairwell and onto the top floor, chucking magicite and flashbang detonators as they went. With perfect coordination the entire top half of the building was blinded and deafened. Some species of Oro with particularly sensitive ears were brought low by the non-lethal measures alone, their eardrums ruptured and heads spinning as the entire world was thrown into blurry, blinding disarray. Throughout their training, Idris Octavia instilled in his men the virtues of ammo conservation. Magicite technology was plentiful and it’s lethal byproducts even moreso, but every shot fired still cost the crown, and the people, money. Their opponents being poorly armored, heavily augmented bats rolling on the floor, a bayonet to the heart or a knife to the throat proved more than sufficient. The heavier Sekhama, those of bovine, rhinoceros, or even elephantine stock simply crushed their heads beneath their boots. The Oro tended to take unusual pride in their appearances, a neo-gothic tech vibe complete with plenty of cosmetic augmentations beneath the skin and fur. There was a unique catharsis in grinding that devilry into red paste, the occasional snapping of silicon and plastic accompanying the pulverization of bone and flesh. It also allowed them to keep their gun barrels pointed forward.
“Open fire,” Octavia ordered calmly, though his men needed no additional invitation as the lion fired the first shot, dropping a hostile cheetah with a bullet to the chest. The Oro’s mask clattered to the floor as his blood soaked through his dark robes trimmed in red. Though Idris’ men took grim satisfaction in melee combat, they were professionals; professionals who knew that disabled hostile targets were secondary targets. Crossfire lit the top floors of the building in a dazzling and deadly lightshow, as any Oro left standing following the initial invasion were put down in a hail of fire. The mnyama screamed in pain as shards of fire ripped open and instantly cauterized wounds in their chest. Others fell to the ground in twitching heaps, their implants overloaded by magicite shock rounds as the smell of singed hair and flesh began to fill the building. Those few Sekhama who favored cryo rounds simply shattered their victims fully or partially, depending on the make and caliber of their weapons. Within the chaos, Spot found himself jerking his head around incessantly, trying to take it all in at once as Idris moved calmly through the space, providing a bulwark for his forces and serving as the tip of the spear.
“Gah!” Spot gasped as he fired his weapon in combat for the first time, targeting an Oro net jockey. The flying fox had just struggled to one knee when a blast from the wild dog’s shotgun threw him onto his back, blood and sparks flying from the many small wounds the shot had inflicted. With a cry of rage and the scent of blood permeating his muzzle, Spot leapt upon him, striking true with his bayonet. The Oro did not move again as Spot stared at his grim work, his first kill. A giant paw grabbed him by the back of his armor and pulled him into formation.
“Good. Don’t stop next time,” Octavia ordered in a low, almost fatherly voice, radioing the few men he’d left on the roof before the breach. “Delta, report!”
“We’ve got runners but not many, sir,” a Sekhama reported over the crack of rifle fire. “Be ready.”
“Acknowledged. Radio the final shuttles and get the techs on the ground now. There might even be an intact neural implant or two somewhere in this mess. Be ready for all sorts of dead man switch bullshit, AI worshipping freaks. Beta, Gamma, move on to your secondary objectives and clear the remaining floors,” the lion ordered as the gunfire died down on their own floor. The slaughter had taken less than a minute, and Spot was fairly certain that the blood would not be coming out of the worn down furniture and upholstery that had been torn up in the battle. He hoped the crown might be able to demolish and rebuild the structure as something more constructive in the neighborhood. Octavia marshalled his own troops. “Alpha, basement, now.”
The wild dog barely had time to nod his helmet at two figures cowering in the corner, a couple of literal ladies of the night, he considered. The two fruit bats were crying softly as blood trickled from their ears. Their eyes were shut in pain as they huddled together in the midst of their former clients, now a pile of shredded bodies. His gesture only saw them raise their webbed arms above their heads in a feeble effort to protect themselves. The job wasn’t done, however, and so Spot followed the rest of Alpha squad and Idris Octavia back to the stairwell. On their descent the sounds and smells of combat reached them again as they passed their brothers in hallways and corridors, breaching and clearing various rooms one by one. A few of the mnyama managed to return fire as others yelled in panic that the turrets which oversaw most of the hallways and rooms of the building had been disabled. Spot felt his adrenaline surge as an Oro was thrown into the stairwell just behind him and summarily riddled full of flaming holes. His brothers had assured him as much beforehand, but it was nothing like the training simulations.
It was through that controlled chaos that he, Idris, and Alpha team reached the basement of the structure, encountering a fortified metal door that had not been in the blueprints. It proved no impediment to the Sekhama, who placed two demolition charges on the hinges and unceremoniously blew the barrier open. Idris took point as always, smashing the metal door to the ground and leading the way into a structure unlike any other that they had seen during the raid. Above them were tech hubs and living quarters, a setup more befitting a part time street gang full of net goons than one of the more devious mnyama in the city. Spot and the others quickly realized that to all be a ruse as the true purpose of the Oro was laid bare before them. It wasn’t only the rookie who momentarily lowered their weapons in awe and disgust as they beheld the underground laboratory where Eina had been changed.
“Humanity preserve us,” Spot muttered in a horrified whisper as Octavia dropped two heavily armed guards in a most businesslike manner. They’d been protecting a faunum in a white and bloodstained lab coat, three individuals out of place among the hive of bats, meerkat, ocelot, and other smaller species that made up the Oro. With the tiger and buffalo laid low, Idris advanced on the shaking baboon who seemed torn between stuffing something into a cooler at his feet and fleeing for the hills. Both options proved useless as the Sekhama fanned out and surrounded him, their eyes flicking from one horror to the next, trying to separate medical monstrosity from threat. Before them on a grimy operating table was the corpse of a female panther, her chest cavity and ribs sawed open to get at the organs underneath. In their place, ice had been dumped in an effort to preserve the tissue for emergency transport. Azure injection tech hung from the ceiling, the swirling blue liquid casting the majority of the light in the room. The rest of the illumination came from the side of the room Spot occupied. Behind him a variety of Alhamkara citizens were found suspended in bubbling blue vats of azure-infused liquid. His mouth went dry as he searched frantically for anything resembling an air supply. He found none.
“Y-You’re Octavia! You can’t do this! Psygenics and the Crown have been partners for decades!” The monkey gasped.
“You appear to have found new… partners,” Octavia drawled, returning the shield to his back and spinning the chamber of his revolver. He loaded a fresh round. “Talk if you value your life more than that of your protectors,” the lion demanded.
Around the room Sekhama gripped their weapons tightly and fingered their triggers nervously. They were all animals, and while the smell of blood had gotten them ready to fight and kill, there was only antiseptic, death, decay, and the scent of industrial plastics in that room full of vats, vials, syringes, and corpses. It was no place for any faunum or human who valued the sanctity of life. Against his better judgment, Spot stepped forward to examine another black body bag on a gurney. He reached out his gloved hand and pulled on the zipper. The sound was like machine gun fire as the face of a young cheetah was revealed under a covering of ice. Her eyes were open and dead, set upon by a combination of necrosis and frostbite. She couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Eina’s daughter, no doubt chosen due to the resilience of younger bodies to tampering and stress.
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“I am fulfilling our birthright, our destiny!” The baboon insisted as Spot felt his feet moving, walking, then running. “The humans left us so that we might ascend in their wake, that we might shape ourselves in their image! These sacrifices are… wait. Wait. Wait!” The scientist screamed at Idris. The commander stood by stoically as the full force of Spot’s body slammed into the monkey. The rookie snarled and barked, forgetting all semblance of his nature as a faunum and indulging fully in his inner animal. The room wasn’t blue anymore, it was red, the same color as the bloody wounds he was opening on the monkey’s face with the butt of his shotgun. Alpha squad watched silently as their newest member slammed his weapon into the scientist again and again until the clack of the weapon’s stock against the concrete floor of the facility could be heard. Only then did Octavia step forward, snatching the gun away from him before resting a firm hand on his shoulder and hauling him to his feet.
“That’s enough, Sekhama,” Idris commanded, intentionally foregoing the use of the word ‘rookie’. His massive paw was more than enough to hold Spot still, even in his armor. The wild dog slowly became aware of his breathing again, of the heat inside his gear and the tears in his eyes.
“S-Sir, I didn’t-”
“The bayonet is faster,” his commander advised, returning his weapon to him as he holstered his own and radioed his other squads. “Beta, Gamma, Delta, status? Did we get Oro?”
When his squads all reported green status with no casualties save Tark’s shattered arm, Octavia nodded with partial satisfaction. There were no further hostile contacts, but none of his men had a confirmation on the Oro’s founder. “Karth, send the intelligence guys straight to the basement. They’ve been doing some sick shit down here. Centrifuges and hacksaw level sick. Alpha, remain here and secure this room. No one but our net techs and intelligence personnel get in here until I order otherwise, that includes the police. I’m going for a walk with the rookie. Oh, and Pteris?” Octavia called for the medic.
“Yes sir?” The gazelle replied promptly. “Tark is stable and I’ve prepped the limb for cybernetic integration. He’ll be ready to go as soon as we’re back.”
“Good. There were two whores who took full flashbangs on the top floor, and there may be civilians on other floors. Triage them and prepare a report for the medical shuttle crews. All of them will be treated at the palace under Doc Oz’s care. Is that clear?”
“Sir, yes sir,” the gazelle confirmed as Octavia eyed a secondary exit in the basement that the now quite deceased Psygenics researcher was likely planning on for his escape. Spot was hyperventilating, retching and shaking.
“Sekhama, our rookie needs some fresh air. You fought like animals tonight, and sent a very important message to our Lady’s enemies. Even in this hellhole, the light still dawns.”
“The light still dawns!” His men cried in reply, moving to begin standard post-op procedures. That included securing an air corridor for shuttles carrying non-combat Sekhama personnel, and the establishment of a perimeter to keep curious civilians and potential ne'er do wells away from the structure. Quite often, as Octavia mentioned, that included police who cut under the table deals with ‘locals’. The crown was not capable of matching every unscrupulous deal offered by the city’s underbelly. Unseen by both civilians and Sekhama, forgotten in the chaos, two men dropped from a nearby building into an alley, sighting a most important target.
“I’ll give you this, mnyama, you’re accommodatingly predictable,” Argos taunted, causing the cloaked vampire bat to jump frightfully and draw a pistol from within his cloak. Seth was more than quick enough to prevent any last minute stupidity, grabbing the Oro’s hand from behind.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he growled, knowing his mask would amplify the unnatural tone of his voice.
“Y-you?! What are you mercenaries doing here? Markhan has no business with us. Get out of my way! Are you blind? The Sekhama are tearing up this entire block!”
“Ah yes, so they are,” Argos agreed as though he’d only just considered that fact. “But you’re the blind one, bat, if you think we’re here by chance.”
A grim realization hit the leader of the Oro, his face contorting in fear as he tried to wrest his hand away from Seth’s iron grip. He was no fighter, a man who had earned his way to the top through cruel ambition, a sharp mind, schemes, and dirty tricks. “W-Whatever they’re paying you for this I’ll double it, no, triple! Whatever you want!”
“So predictable yet again,” Argos spat, cracking his knuckles. “Tell me, coward, did you flee the moment my brothers hit your roof, or did you wait until the battle was clearly lost?”
“I think you’ll find it impossible to match her price, all things considered. And Argos, why are you monologuing?” Seth wondered calmly as the Oro continued to struggle futilely. The human’s eyes narrowed as a towering silhouette that definitely was not supposed to be there emerged into the alley from around the corner of a nearby building, the occasional gritty street light glinting off the figure’s bold and brash armor.
“Isn’t that what the heroes do? Or are we the villains in this story?” the tiger wondered humorously. Said humor was wiped from his face as Seth drew his knife and unceremoniously slit the bat’s throat in an instant, delivering the deathblow set up by the Sekhama that night. “Seth, what the-”
Keiko could not help but shriek in surprise and fear as the final gurgles of Oro’s life could be heard over the connection, followed by the thump of the body abruptly dropping to the street. “Rookie, get behind me and stay there,” Idris Octavia warned, pulling his gun and pointing it between Argos’ shoulderblades. The mercenary heaved a deep breath and spoke to Seth, slowly raising his hands into the air. The tiger couldn’t help but feel a pang of excitement.
“He’s pointing his gun at me, isn’t he? Never thought this day would come.”
“He is, so maybe you should shut it, you sentimental furball,” Seth warned, stepping over the Oro’s corpse and walking slowly and deliberately towards Argos. He kept his hands in sight, making no move to stow his knife or retrieve his pistol. After the slaughter of the Oro, all involved would later admit they had been itching for an ‘even fight’.
“I was under the impression you worked alone, Wolf,” Octavia growled. “Given me one reason I shouldn’t kill you both right here? That was the crown’s bounty you just stole.”
“Because we’re the only reason your landing force lived to have their fun this evening, and I think you know that. You’d have shot and killed us already otherwise… well at least you would be dead, Argos,” Seth agreed as Keiko felt ready to expire on the spot. Her captor was having a verbal sparring match with Commander Octavia in a dingy alley over a mnyama corpse. Not even her most devious handmaidens had regaled her with such heartstopping tales.
“All the more reason for me to kill you,” Octavia replied threateningly. “Where is she? Lady Keiko, where is she?!”
“Commander?” Spot couldn’t help but speak, his blood still hammering in his veins. The lion looked at him out of the corner of his eye, a glance so terrifying it made his nerves run cold and drained every ounce of bloodlust from him in an instant. As if the blood red armor across the alley wasn’t enough.
“Be silent, Spot. You’re playing with the big boys now. Wolf, one chance before I give you the death you so richly deserve. Where is Lady Keiko?!”
“By humanity… Seth!” Keiko whispered nervously, biting her claws for the first time since she was young.
“Seth,” Argos spoke warily, slowly turning around to face Octavia. He was smart enough to not make any sudden moves of his own. “Why the hell does he know about that? And if he does, why aren’t we super dead?”
“I believe he just told you,” Seth answered, stepping fully in front of Argos to shield the bulky tiger with his own body.
“A noble gesture, Wolf, but I’m confident my iron is good enough to take you down even with that fancy blood armor of yours. Besides, all I need to do is aim higher and your companion will be missing quite a bit of his gray matter. Now answer me!”
“Lady Keiko is watching us right now,” Seth assured him. “And we are here at her behest.”
“What the fuck did you just say?!” Argos shouted, throwing off his helmet and shaking Seth by both his shoulders. “Are you telling me that Sunburst is actually Keiko?! What the fuck are you-”
“Nope, nope nope nope!” Talon suddenly squawked over the comms. “Seth are you fucking… by humanity Bunns, you knew about this and agreed to it?! Markhan is going to pluck me like a spring chicken and turn you into a pair of slippers! Seth, please tell me you’re joking. Please tell me we didn’t just throw in with the Princess against every armed goon in this entire city!”
“Well?!” Argos demanded of Seth, his sudden fury holding Octavia’s fire as the lion couldn’t help but observe the intrigue with the barest restraint. His enemies were speaking and fighting. He was in a favorable position.
“That… does just about sum it up,” Seth admitted.
Octavia continued to watch with unvarnished interest as Argos slugged Seth so hard his mask flew off, clattering against a couple of dumpsters nearby. “You goddamn hairless monkey! You know I don’t give a fuck about my own life, but you have no right to put my family at risk in your stupid games,” Argos roared.
“Argos, it’s ok! I double and triple checked everything and-”
“You are not better than the entire Wildfire, Sybela! When this gets back to Markhan he’s going to… Commander, requesting permission to kill this man myself,” the tiger snarled.
“I thought I recognized that face,” Octavia said deftly, guardedly lowering his weapon as he did his best to keep his shock regarding both mercenaries' identities in check. The time for questions would be later, or never. “You’ve already blown up most of a city block, what’s the death of what I suppose is the last human on this planet compared to that?”
“He’s a what?!” Spot yelped, peeking out from around Idris’ shield only to be shoved back into cover by the lion.
“Well, Seth?” Argos demanded furiously. “Magitech immunity won’t stop me from ripping that pale, squishy throat of yours out!”
“All of you, stop this!” Keiko demanded. “Stop this at once! The last thing I need is my own soldiers killing one another! Seth, let me speak to Octavia, please!”
“Impossible, my Lady. We cannot risk you being found by anyone. We cannot risk a link to the Sekhama’s network,” Seth grunted as Argos lifted and threw him against the building on the other side of the alley, knocking the wind out of him. “I suppose… I may have deserved that one.”
“Argos, please!” Keiko implored, drawing as close to Seth’s terminal as she could. “We can help your family, protect them! Seth isn’t your enemy…”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know what he is. And you don’t either, Sunburst,” Argos growled as the human gathered himself to his feet and replaced his mask.
“So you really are Argos Entana? I always wondered what you’d done with the life I gave you,” Octavia interjected. “I’m not sure if I should be disappointed or impressed to find you working with him. You used to be one of us, Argos. Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” the tiger replied in a partial lie. “But I do know that she is safe. Seems those pretty little paws of hers are actually pulling quite a few strings… so what will you do, Commander? Kill me? Arrest me? Who’s the fresh meat? First mission?”
“You stay behind me, Spot. That man killed dozens to save three people. You are nothing to him,” Idris whispered before raising his voice. “That’s none of your concern, mercenary. And do not speak to me as though you still wear the badge. You made your choice. Lady Keiko, if you are listening to me… I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
“Idris,” Keiko whispered, easily conjuring an image of his face in her mind’s eye. She was sure she got all the lines and furrows correct, a picture of duty assaulted by the need for dirty compromise with reality. How she desperately wished to reach out to him, to speak with him directly, to let him know she was hale and healthy. But whatever else Seth was, he did not seem to her a liar. If he was concerned about her safety in the event the Sekhama got a lead on her whereabouts, she was willing to believe there was a risk. And so she was forced to wait, trusting her fate to the Commander, Seth, and the still relative unknown that was Argos Entana.
“Our Lady wishes for us to fight on the same side. That is why we came here tonight,” Seth clarified. “She gave us all this… opportunity.”
“And no doubt risked her life to do it. I spoke with the whore,” Octavia countered dangerously, raising his revolver again.
“It was her choice,” the human insisted.
“Forgive me if I don’t believe that.” Idris cocked his weapon’s hammer. “That the boss?”
“Yeah. Peace offering?” Argos suggested, pointing to the corpse that had since bled out into a crimson pool in the darkness. Octavia narrowed his eyes at them, his regal mane more than enough to prove his status as the alpha among the four of them. And yet he found himself in the position of a bargainer.
“If I do not hear from my Lady in a week’s time I will upend this entire city until she is found. You will be hunted to the ends of the nation and beyond. And I will never cease your pursuit until she is safe and you are dead. Do not think my reach ends at the borders of our country. Until then… I look forward to our next target. Spot, move. Now.”
“We’ve been here too long as well, Seth,” Argos insisted, not wanting to let the opportunity to drink another day go to waste. “You owe me an entire fucking case of beer.”
“You owe me one for knocking my mask off and showing some Sekhama rookie I’m a human,” he groused as Argos activated his jump boots.
“I already factored that in. You still owe us all big, you goddamn monkey,” he finished, leaping and pushing off one wall then another until he had cleared the rooftops. As Octavia and Spot watched, Seth took the opportunity to meld into the shadows and begin his journey back to his safehouse. Spot couldn’t help but speak again.
“I gotta get me some of those…”
-----
“I’m sorry, Spot,” Octavia murmured. The two of them were looking over the wild dog’s partner. Tark had been sedated in one of the transport aircraft while Sekhama medics prepared his wounded arm for the implantation of a prosthetic. Doc Oz had already been contacted and, as always, he had insisted that the work proceed at all haste. The ostrich had threatened to cite the entire body of literature on modern prosthetics and amputation if anyone dared contest his orders to begin implantation immediately. No one had, and so Spot got to hitch a ride home on a medical shuttle. It was not the trip he’d expected.
“For what, sir? If anything I should be the one apologizing for not keeping it together.”
“You think I don’t see that nervous tic in your eye? Load of good that breath of fresh air was…” Octavia cursed under his breath. Spot could not help but nod. It had helped to be out of the eerie blue light of the laboratory underneath the Oro headquarters, but any relief had been squandered immediately as he found himself caught between three of the most deadly individuals in Alhamkara.
“I’m just glad I didn’t soil my armor, sir. To think the Wolf is a-” Spot snapped his mouth shut immediately at Idris’ scolding look. If anyone could convey the phrase ‘it’s classified so far up your ass you can taste it’ with a glance, it was Octavia.
“Let’s just stick with being thankful for clean armor,” the Commander agreed. “I usually don’t advocate for rookies, don’t want them to get too full of themselves after their first mission but… this is no doubt a reasonable exception.”
“Sir?” Spot cocked his head, finally removing his helmet and freeing his ears.
“Word of advice, Spot, don’t shower before you go to the harem. Don’t change either.”
“Uh, come again, sir?” The wild dog asked, completely taken aback. He knew Tark had been excited about the Mecca of flesh and sensuality deep within the palace, but given his status as a rookie Spot hadn’t planned on seeing it at least until he earned another chevron. Octavia seemed content tossing those plans into the bin.
“Let’s just say the maidens of the palace tend to enjoy a man in armor who smells like victory. I believe you’ll find the baths to be… soothing.”
Spot knew that if Tark weren’t under anesthesia, the cheetah would be grinning ear to ear.