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Creative Writing: Jorgan's Fight

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The fighting had been brutal. Captain Lesher had reported the loss of two walkers and roughly a dozen men in their wake. Fynta had kept her comms on receive only, listening to the battle that raged above. While they fought with blasters, she and Jorgan worked through a maze of automated turrets and oil slicks positioned over pipes that ignited if a sensor was tripped. Fynta’s boot had caught on fire once, and it had taken both of them to put the thing out. After four hours of hard combat, things were beginning to wind down, which meant Fynta’s job had just begun. The two Havoc commandos were just entering the Command Center when Coria came on the line. “Cleanup is done, heading to the rendezvous.” Fynta and Jorgan stood in the midst of scrapped …show more content…

“Are you in position?” Her chosen cover was a small computer terminal, probably belonging to some tech who only saw the light of the sun when he crawled away from his desk. The surface was cluttered with wrappers and half empty mugs of ‘caf. “Sighting up. I assume you want the honors of taking Rakton out yourself?” The hint of a smirk in Jorgan’s voice made Fynta smile. “You know me so well, riduur.” Fynta took a deep breath, held it, and then let it slide from her lungs. “On my count, I’ll break cover, and you drop the guards.” Despite her desire for revenge, Fynta wanted this over quickly. For all her recklessness, she trusted her gut, and it warned her that something was off about this situation. “Got it.” Fynta counted back from five, then swung from behind the console to open fire on the guards in time with Jorgan. The two men stumbled back, one of them hit the ground, then got back up. “Shab,” Fynta hissed. “That better not be …show more content…

Fynta tried to shy away from the light, then decided it was too much effort to argue with the stubborn medic and let her eyes drift shut again. She submitted to the woman’s bony fingers that pressed against her neck, then into her hip between the joints of her armor. “How is she?” Jorgan asked. His voice jarred Fynta back to consciousness, and she fought to locate him. The Cathar sat on a bench across from her, leaning forward. Every detail snapped into sharp clarity, from the furrowed brows, to the way his facial patterns shifted in concern. His eyes swept over her, never lingering in one place, until he sucked in a breath and turned away completely. A shadow passed over Fynta, her chest plate, as Elara handed it off to Cormac. That was when she finally realized something was terribly wrong. She no longer felt Elara’s hands probing her torso, she couldn’t feel anything, except lethargy and cold. Elara and Cormac’s voices faded, while darkness crowded Fynta’s vision. She watched Aric, willing him to meet her eyes. When he turned back, relief washed over her despite the light blue orbs drifting further away. She'd always loved his eyes, and wished she could erase the pain she saw in them now. We always knew. . . . Fynta began as the darkness took

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