HOME | DD

Description

Chapter five
Aboard the Frigate Hydra, En Route to Solos.
The Hydra was more than fifty years old, but she was big, in keeping with her original purpose, which was to transport settlers to colony worlds like the one most of the recruits were born on. But those days were over, and the ship had long since been purchased into S.H.I.E.L.D's service, and was currently being used to support the Frontier's war efforts. Which was why Loki, of Gideon Sarver to his peers, and more then two thousand other 'boots' were camped out into the vessel's cavernous hold.
And 'camped out' was the operative term, since there weren't enough cabins for everyone other than the crew and the three hundred or so uniformed personnel traveling to Solos for a verity of reasons. So, with the exception of a section of deck that the MP's in charge referred to as the 'parade ground,' Hold Six was a no-man's-land of individual encampments, each served as a home for up to fifteen boots.
There would be the occasional arrangement that led into turf wars, which the MPs had far too much fun breaking up. But in spite of their beady-eyed vigilance, and the stunner-armed patrols tasked with keeping things under control, the 'slums,' as many of the inhabitants referred to it, was a dangerous place to live.
All of which had come as a surprise to Loki, who, based on everything he'd seen and heard on the news reports, believed that the human military was highly organized, perfectly integrated, and fully supplied. And that was why their taxes were so high, or everyone had been told, to make sure that the military had everything it needed. While they were highly organized and perfectly integrated with other alien races, they didn't have everything they needed. Including adequate transportation.
That became even more apparent as Loki drew his daily rations - stuff that even Volstagg wouldn't eat - and was carrying them back to his lone squat, where he had a small portable tv that he 'borrowed' for another squat.
"...Of the thousands of new soldiers recruited into the Frontier armed services by S.H.I.E.L.D Director Anthony Stark over the past few months, there have been several dozen complaints filed with the Bureau of Personnel regarding illegal drafting. S.H.I.E.L.D claims that these allegations of unsanctioned conscription are unfounded and based on 'the typical panic and unrest found in civilian population during wartime.' Out of respect to our audience, FNN has chosen to drop this investigation until tension dissipates into peacetime levels."
It was when the newscaster was fading out, when the alarms began to beep. An official announcement followed: "This is Lieutenant Freeman. Due to a security breach, unauthorized personal have gained access to Hull-Six. Military Police are en route. Those individuals assigned to Hold-Six are to avoid contact with the intruders, take up defensive positions with their backs to the port and starboard bulkheads, and await further instructions. I repeat, this is..."
Loki might have listened to the message all over again, but he was too busy trying to be trampled as a mob of people rushed his way. One of them bumped Loki's arm and sent his boxes of rations spinning away. Loki was clambering to retrieve them - it was either that or go hungry - when a scuffle broke out nearby.
"That's right, freaks," he heard a young woman's voice bark, "it's time to go back into your cages."
Loki straightened, peering through the crowd to get a glimpse of the commotion. The voice belonged to a young human women. She was a tall woman with straight chin-length blond hair, full lips, and dark brown skin. She was wearing the kevlar combat dressings, and a knife in each hand.
After breaking out of the forward hold, several hundred violent criminals were on the loose - the hold had been a buzz with rumors that the Hydra was carrying prisoners on their way to some sort of military work camp or reformatory. Now, most of the captives were trying to loose themselves in the large crowd, or steal personal items from the squats, one - a stunning female with long red-hair - remained in her cell reading an old entertainment magazine, but half were circling her like a pack of wild wolves.
Some other recruit, a male - dark brown skin, amber-yellow eyes, and standard military corn rows - materialized himself next to Loki's side. On his side read Damon Scotts. "Uh-oh," he said, almost ominously. "It looks like the lass is about to get hers. Couldn't happen to a nicer girl. A celebrity at that."
A celebrity? "I'm sorry, sir... who is she?"
"You mean you don't know?" the recruit said with a chuckle. "That there is Alexandra Reaver. Her father was the most decorated Sergeant of the Black Sea campaign. I guess being bold just runs in the blood."
Loki slightly scrunched his face with some disgust. He hated brash and wreckless people, because they reminded him of Thor and all of the praise he would get for it. But as he watched her, he quickly learned that she was not being brash. She was testing them. Quick attacks followed by a retreat. Attacking in swift slashes on the leg muscles to limit their movements. He then remembered the only lesson his father taught him in between tongue lashings, " Remember, son... the true measure of a man is whether other people can count on him when it makes a difference."
"Here," Loki said, as he handed his rations off to the recruit. "Take care of those, will you? I'd appreciate it."
"Don't do it," the man said advised ominously. "You'll be sorry."
"Yeah, I probably will." Loki agreed, as he removed his jacket and placed it on top of the rations. "I'll just hold on to your stuff."
"I'll just hold onto your stuff." the recruit said, in a very monotone-controlled voice.
"Thank you."
Some of the recruits had placed their backs against the bulkheads by then, but others were were caught up in the moment and eager for entertainment. The began to chant, 'Blood! Blood! Blood!' as Loki navigated his was between a scattering of encampments and into the open area beyond. The circle was tighter by then, so much so that Alexandra was starting to fend off blows, as a number of whistles blew in the distance.
Loki never preformed noticeable magic in front of anyone, even during his sniper training. So to stop the cons, he had to make his magic look like freak acts of nature. With a snap of his fingers, the lights above them overloaded in a violent flash; just enough time to send a small ball of energy into the prisoners leg, who had wrangled Alexandra into a headlock by now.
Having been freed from one attacker, Alexandra launched a spin kick at another. As she completed the move and sent the con reeling backward, the amber emergency lights came on and she looked at Loki and grinned. "Okay... You aren't a sissy. But you're stupid as hell!"
There was no time to respond, in fact that was the first time some one called him stupid, as Loki took a glancing blow to the side of the head, and brought a fist around by way of response. It struck one of the attackers in the mouth, broke all of his teeth, and knocked him on his ass.
The whistles were blowing louder by then, a three whole squads of MPs began to work their way across the deck, stunning anyone who failed to obey orders. But it was slow going because they had to pause frequently in order to take escaped cons into custody.
So as Loki rammed his fists into a con's gut, he knew it would take three or four minutes for help to arrive. And a lot of things could happen in that time.
Loki was not known for his fighting skills, and the surprise advantage that he had earlier had disappeared. It also hurt that he could not use his magic on these cons due to the large crowd, but not as much as the lead pipe to his right kidney. The pain was intense, and he was starting to fall, when a bloodied Alexandra grabbed him by the belt.
"Stay on your feet!" she shouted. "They'll stomp you if you don't."
Having been stomped by Thor's friends on a daily basis, Loki understood the wisdom of the youth's advice. So he battled to stay vertical, as the two of them fought back-to-back, and bets were placed all around. Then, as Loki landed a roundhouse on a hate-filled face, the MPs arrived.
"Go limp!" she commanded. "They're gonna stun you!"
Loki obeyed, but some of the cons fought back, which earned them a high-voltage clubbing and a presumption of guilt. Once the criminals had been cuffed and led away, Alexandra shuffled over to Loki and punched him several times on the arm.
"You have to be the stupidest recruit on this ship," she stopped her punching and started to laugh. "Or you're the craziest sonofabitch I've ever met!"
"Thanks... I guess."
"I like you, my names Alex Reaver." She stuck out her bloodied bandaged hand.
"Lo... Gideon Sarver."
"Well Gideon Sarver," she said admiringly, as she reached down to give Loki a hand. She was then handed a leather bag filled with coins. There was a jiggling sound as she shook it. "Because of you, I won all of this money! So, to say thank you, lets go get some real food in the mess hall. I'm buying."
Loki made a grab for the bag, but Alex had already spun around and started to leave. The boy named Damon picked him up and gave him a pat on the back, then followed Alex. A few seconds later, she stopped abruptly and looked back. "You comin', Gideon?"
Colony Planet Solos, four years later...
The Mazama province of Solos is considered to be a wasteland. This region is bordered on two sides by mountains. Their relations with the neighboring provinces are unstable at best, most of it is caused by the constant pressure from Stark Industry. The people observe a local variant of a dominant religion. They feel a wry affection for the political leaders. There are two major cities, the largest of which is located in the northwest of the region. They are sometimes troubled by rampant disease, from the small-pox to the black plague.
With a record like this, it is only natural for ARMCORP to be sent in to check the area over for Insurrectionists. At first, things ran smoothly. The citizens cooperated with the troop getting both protection and medicine, in return their local businesses began to prosper. It was not until Dr. Banners discovery of a rare - rarer then the mutant gene - chromosome called, simply enough, Chromosome Z.
It is said that people, mainly children, that are born with it are destined to die from very terrible virus's as they age. People started to line up in drones to help their kids, Mazama province held up the most resistant. All peace broke down, and the wasteland ran red.
"Hey, Gideon!" Alex, covered in dust and dirt, ran up to the young man who was dunking his face in a trough filled with water. "Are you trying to drown yourself again?"
Gideon pulled his head out of the trough, dripping with water. He exchanged clumsy shoulder bumps with Alex, who just chuckled at Gideon's continued struggle to adopt to he basic social customs. For weeks, during their down time, she had been tutoring him in everything from using slang words, to making a bed, to using a sonic mop, to answering when the name Gideon was called, and he'd already made a great deal of progress. She also trained him on how to use his ingenious mind into winning a physical fight. Aiming for what parts of a body that will hurt them the most, how to use the environment to his advantage, and how to make a simple object into the deadliest weapon. She was so proud of him.
Some her little habits Gideon picked up on was that she would naw on her finger nails when she was nervous, thinking, or there was completely nothing else to do. She would also drift in-and-out of sleep at random times. Doctors said it was a metabolism problem, which would explain her habit of eating larger then normal quantities without gaining an ounce. She also seems very uncomfortable about her famous past. When asked, she would just change the topic onto loot or switch to her philosophy on life.
Damon was transfered out of his platoon, probably caused by his constant sarcasm, dry sense of humor, or because he uploaded a virus onto a H.A,M.M.E.R. secured network. It would probably be better to go with the latter. Either way, the active Colonel, Colonel Rogers, was not pleased. So when his contract went up, he got bought right away.
"Back from your kidnapping spree?" Alex asked as she started to wash her face.
"Returned five minutes ago," Gideon said, trying his best to copy Damon. "But somethin' still buggin' me."
"What's wrong?"
"Mazama has been known to have many, terrible, diseases in the past. So why are they now putting up a fight? I mean, we're just trying to help their kids."
"I don't know," she said, blatantly enough. "maybe they don't want their kids taken away. Or, it's just simple paranoia against the government. Easy as that."
"I wish everythin' was as easy as you claim it is." Gideon chuckled.
Alex slid the extra water up and over her hair, putting dirty water into it. She saw Gideon's smile change into trouble. No one like what they had to do, especially Gideon, but they all believe that they were doing the right thing for these kids. So, she figured to cheer him up the way she knew how. "C'mon, lets go find some food."
"Oh, my aching wallet." Gideon sarcastically complained as he followed her.
Over the four years of serving in ARMCORP, Gideon has served in very simple campaigns. Drug and slave rings, illegal organ harvesting, and the occasional fight with minor Kragg forces. He was ranked as among the top ten snipers within the CORP, and promoted to a Lance Corporal. This meant he could boss some people around, that he liked.
They jogged across a airstrip, reaching the bay area of a dropship heading for Coldhaven. The closest city for miles around. The trip there was uneventful, and quite boring. Landing and going through customs with the liberty passes on the side, was just the same.
Even though the town's civilian community complained about the noise and the actions in Mazama, the truth was that they looked forward to the river of money that was flowing through town, even if there was some collateral damage as result.
As Gideon and Alex passed through Alpha Gate and followed a jubilant group of their comrades toward the delights that waited beyond, he felt the same sense of excitement that he had during his last day on Asgard; which seemed more and more like a dream to him. In this case it was because, kidnapping or not, he was now in the army. And that meant doing what G.I.s do when they go on liberty, which is raise hell.
An hour and a half later the two of them were leaving a bar thirty credits poorer, having consumed two beers each, plus an enormous steaks and huge servings of the french fried potatoes that the bar was justifiably famous for.
It would have been completely dark by then on many planets. But thanks to Solos's four small moon, all of which reflected light onto the surface on clear nights such as this one, nights were no more then seven hours long and were preceded by a long, moody twilight.
Music pounded as they walked down the street, and even though melodies changed from bar to bar, the backbeat seemed to remain the same as a man grinned at them from a doorway. Chemicals that had been injected under his skin made it glow bright blue. "We have girls, humans or aliens, take your pick... all young, all nude, all virgin approved, all hot, and all yours."
Alex had to pull Gideon along, at the same time fighting the urge for herself to head over.
"Thirsty?" a tired-looking woman with long, luminescent hair implants from atop a rickety stool. "Every third drink is free - and we got the best band on Solos."
"I'm the guy you've been looking for," a binked-out drug dealer said, as he slid up to Gideon. "Gellix, Rad-Ark, Brink... I have it all."
"Some gellix rad-ark might amp things up a bit," Alex suggested, stopping abruptly in her tracks.
Gideon turned around and used a double spell to scare the dealer off. "Not today, dude." He nudged Alex to keep moving. "Don't worry, Alex - you're amped enough. Hey, let's find the Crimson Nova... I heard the floor show is great."
She was ready for just about anything at the point, and happily followed Gideon as he took a left off Hannark and led them past a group of bored MPs to the cluster of dives beyond. That was when they saw a spectral image form directly in front of them and both of them groaned. Multiple versions of General Steve Rogers, or at least a network of carefully placed holo-projectors were being used to push his patriotic slander.
"So you're on liberty, having a grand old time," Rogers said. "That's when the Kragg and Insurrectionist agents spots you. They only gave him one grenade, but that was enough to kill three of our comrades in the Tarus Shipyards. The war isn't over just because you dumbasses are still alive! One grenade could kill all of you."
"Come on," Alex said disgustedly. The image shivered as they walked through it. "The new Steve Rogers is full of shit. Now, he just makes up the stuff."
"How do you figure?"
"Call it a well thought-out guess."
Gideon did not think so, but kept that opinion to himself, as the insistent thump, thump, thump of loud music drew them toward a large section of pipe that extended from a two-story building out onto the sidewalk. It was painted black, in keeping with the dark atmosphere, and guarded by two brawny bouncers. They eyed the trio skeptically, but allowed them to pass, as a spiral lightning scheme led the patrons inside.
"What a dump!" Alex shouted over the pounding music, grabbing Gideon by the shoulders as he followed them into the Crimson Nova. Gideon couldn't help but agree - the place was loud, dark, and reeked of stale beer, sweat, and sex. But all was forgiven when the stage at the bottom of the spiraled room came into view.
"Whoa," Gideon uttered. The two troopers stared down at the platform, upon which a young human woman with pink hair was dancing seductively. The mostly male crowd roared with approval as her top came off and sailed through the air.
Alex smiled gleefully and pushed Gideon forward. "First round's on me!"
That was when a scantily clad waitress wearing too much appeared and led the duo down one level to a recently vacated table. As they walked, Gideon noticed that most of the patrons were fellow troopers, along with a scattering bar patrons and MPs.
The latter sat at their own private boxes, getting there own private dances, surrounded by drugs and alcohol that was deemed to be contraband. It appeared that they did not want their lessers' interrupting their party. Must be good at the top.
"What'll it be?" the waitress chirped as they sat down.
"Two boiler houses, and two Jack Blues," Alex answered authoritatively as she patted her rump. If the waitress felt the contact she gave no sign of it and sashayed away.
"What's Jack Blue?" Gideon asked. On his off time, he tried Jack Gold and Red. Both of them seemed mild to him. But Blue? He did not know what to expect. Back on Asgard, his father was very particular about liquor he kept for the feasts - this one apparently did not make the cut.
"Jack Daniel's Blue Grass is the good stuff," Alex said. "Trust me... you'll like it."
"uh-oh," Gideon said ominously. "Look over there..." he indicated with a subtle nod of his head. "See those marines sitting at that table? All of them were in the gang we fought on the Hydra."
"Well, I'd be damned," Alex responded "I believe you're right! Maybe this would be a good time to finish kicking their asses."
"Are you joking? Please tell me your joking?" Gideon replied incredulously. "The way I remember it, they were the ones kicking our asses."
"Well they're waving at us." Alex declared, her eyes widening. "Those bastards are waving at us!"
Gideon peered across the room at the grinning ex-cons. "What the...?" He smiled and skeptically lifted his hand into a hand sign. "You got to hand it to the drill instructors... they did a helluva job with those guys-" He then saw Alex walking over to them, with a small skip in her step and cracking her knuckles.
"Alex! damn it!" Gideon called out as he leaped from his chair. "I'm gonna kill her."
He saw the waitress, and gave the hand sign to double the order.
"I need to sedate this sonofabitch before she gets herself in trouble." Gideon turned and headed straight for Alex.
"Hel-lo, ladies!" Alex hollered as he approached the marines.
"Good evening," one of them responded with a smile, nodding politely. The others followed suit.
"It would seem that you fellas forgot what you did to me and my friend. Let me refresh your memory," Alex said tauntingly as she leaned forward, fist on the table. "I'm the chica that cut up your asses and sent you cryin' back to your mammas!"
Gideon jumped in, throwing his arm around Alex. "Gentlemen, please pardon my friend here. She's had a few too many, and will just be on our way-"
He was ready to use a mind-control spell when one marine freely said, "Nonsense, we're all brothers here, fighting for a common cause. Whatever may have happened in the past... consider it forgotten. Please..." he motioned to two empty seats. "care to join us?"
"Hell no!" Alex snarled.
With one hand, Gideon pinched a pressure point on the back of Alex's neck - a move he had picked up from Alex's training - and steered her away from the table. "Again, sorry for the interruption, and thank you for the offer." he offered over his shoulder.
"Get off me!" Alex shrugged her way out of Gideon's grip. "Those guys are damned freaks. What the hell happened to them?"
"I don't know, Alex," Gideon said as he guided Alex back to her seat. "Either, A, the reformatory is really top-notch, or, B, they got their asses kicked into submission by some hard-core DI or something."
Even as he said it, Gideon couldn't shake the feeling that something weird was going on. The marines he have served along side were legendary for having the cleanest bodies, the filthiest minds, the highest morale, and the lowest morals of any group of animals he had have ever seen. Those marines were too nice.
The waitress set down their drinks, and Gideon nodded his appreciation.
"Anyway," he continued. "I'm glad they were so understanding, because otherwise you'd have just gotten yourself into a shitstorm of trouble, Alex, and I ain't in the mood to bail you out... again. Consider yourself lucky."
Alex offered Gideon one-fingered middle-finger salute by a way of response.
"Ugh!" Gideon cried after taking the first sip of his drink. "This tastes like blue tinted crap! Why, and how, do you drink this stuff?"
"Eh, you get used to it." Alex responded.
Just then the dancer kicked her panties out into the crowd, and five marines fought to take possession of them. A beefy corporal won the contest and jump up onto the table to wave the trophy his head. The crowd roared with laughter, inspiring the marine to pull them onto his head like a hat.
"I'm gonna go see if I can buy those panties off him," Alex said excitedly, leaping out of her seat and jogging over to the corporal. Laughing, Gideon shook his head in disbelief, and watched with quite amusement as Alex offered money, got denied, and strode back to her seat wearing a mischievous.
"No luck?"
"Nope. Looks like I'm gonna have to go commando if I'm wearing white pants."
"Don't you do that regardless?"
"Buy me another drink, and I'll show you here and now." she winked. Gideon carefully pushed her on the shoulder and they both cracked up.
As the dancer waved and the stage sank out of sight, four trapeze artists dropped from above and began a series of death-defying stunts. The fact that they were naked made the performance all the more interesting, some marines were brave enough to preform a living net in case any of the nude-artists decided to let go, and the whole crowd was memorized - even Alex. In the meantime the second round of drinks arrived and went down smoother - followed by another round twenty minutes later.
The Crimson Nova was filled to overflowing limits by then, and even though Gideon was feeling light-headed, he did notice that the composition of the crowd had changed. There were more crew-men in the bar by then - all dressed in space-black uniforms and all apparently off the same ship. On the sleeve it read the Midway.
The usual jibes could be heard as the eternal rivalry between the fleet and the grunts continued to play itself out, but things went well until a drunken sailor spilled a drink on a belligerent recruit, and all hell broke loose.
Whoops were yelled as the first fists were thrown, and like a virus, it was spread throughout the club. Alex and Gideon just stayed in their seats, working on their new round of drinks, and knocking out any drunk marine that came within elbow length. Gideon noticed that the ex-cons were still sitting at their table as more people got up to take part in the mayhem.
The proprietors did not want to host a fight, that saying, they did not mind the large loads of money pouring in as bets, so a little property damage was acceptable. It was not long until the distant whistles of MPs arrived. Gideon, who was trading blows with a burly petty officer at the point, threw a right cross. When the petty officer went down, he heard the whistles.
"Shit! Cops! Cops!" he yelled, somehow shouting loud enough so everyone could hear.
As the MPs began bum rushing the scattering crowd, Gideon knew that he and his friend needed to escape or be arrested. He took advantage of the chaos, and momentary victory, to grab her.
And just as she had for the last four months, she obeyed willingly. Unfortunately, a congestion at the doors were blocking the path to the exits. So the only exit left was through the kitchen.
Gideon led the charge, stepping over some foes who were still grappling with each other - and inadvertently slamming the kitchen door into a stunned waitress as they bursted through. Mortified, Gideon glanced down to see that the front of her miniskirt had been plastered with chocolate cake and what looked like cranberry pie on the other.
He opened his mouth to apologize, and was greeted by a bone-crunching closed-fist punch to the nose. He stumbled back into Alex as the cursing woman continued her assault by scooping a gob of chocolate off her apron and smashing it into his face.
"Ow, damn it! Knock it off... we're just tryin' to get outta here!" Gideon said as he battled the pain and gobs of desert.
Two white-clad cooks appeared behind the waitress. One of them lifted her by the armpits as she thrashed about. " Let me go! What are doing!"
"Don't worry, April, we got this," the cook said as he put her down. April stomped off, furiously wiping her dress.
"Hey, chef man," Alex said, as she wrapped a towel around Gideon's head. "let us the hell outta here and no one gets hurt. Otherwise, I'm gonna break you all of yah bones, one by one..."
The cook made use of a meat cleaver to point toward the back of the kitchen. "Get out. And don't you idiots ever come back here I specialize in butchering meat. Get me?" he swung the cleaver around in a shock and imitating fassion.
"Let's cut a deal, then." Gideon said as he adjusted the towel. "Because, you see that crowd out there? They all wanna get out without being in handcuffs. So, if we to - I don't know - let the word slip that there is an exit back here. What do chances does a guy who specializes in 'butchering meat' compared to thirty guys who specializes in killing?"
The chef, either out of fear or lack of it, he started to swing the cleaver around with the intention of killing them. Gideon grabbed to Alex, closed his eyes, and teleported them into the back ally of the Crimson Nova.
"How... the hell did you do that?"
Whistles were coming into the "I'll tell you when we get out of here!"
They split up, searching for means of escape, but found nothing until Gideon spotted an olive cameo Rattlesnake hover-cycle idling next to marine combat car - it probably belonged to one of the MPs who was called to the scene.
How the hell am I supposed to drive this thing? Gideon wondered, his head swirling with improvising, doubt and alcohol. But he knew he had no other choice. "Okay! Here's our ride, Alex... hurry, climb on the back."
Alex chuckled as she approached, getting a clear look at Gideon's face since the chocolate incident. "Gideon, my brother, you really are shit-faced! Literally, you have shit on your face."
She then howled with laughter.
Gideon self-consciously wiped the last of the chocolate off his face with his sleeve and then straightened. "Okay, seriously. We gotta to get outta here now!"
The Rattlesnake rocked slightly as Gideon swung a leg over the seat and eyeballed the controls. With its long streamlined nose, a seat large enough for an armored soldier to sit on, and two powerful engines, the rattlesnake was equipped with standard handlebars, plus some simple instrumentation. What could go wrong?
Thanks to the fact neither Gideon or Alex were wearing the right armor, there was enough room for Alex to swing in behind him. He started up the fission engines, as Alex wrapped her arms around him and an MP called out,
"Halt!" and blew his whistle.
Gideon twisted the left handle, felt the bike jerk forward, and saw the letter 'D' appear on the control panel in front of him. Then, as a couple of MPs pounded across the parking lot, Gideon opened the throttle. That was a mistake because with two nuclear fission engines, and no wheel-generated friction to slow the rattlesnake down, the machine was fast. Alex was nearly ripped from him and thrown back over the engine compartment as the bike took off, she just howled in delight, and Gideon experienced a moment of panic as the nose hit the side of a parked car and glanced off.
Having backed the throttle off, and cranked the handlebars over, Gideon managed to guide the rattlesnake out of the lot and onto the street beyond. Sparks flew as the badly overloaded bike bottomed out, rose two inches, and then accelerated away.
Perhaps Gideon would have been able to drive the rattlesnake down a quiet side street and abandoned it there if it was not for the MP combat cars that were giving chase. Though not nearly as fast as the rattlesnake, the four-seat vehicle was better driven, and therefore able to keep up.
Gideon glanced into a rearview mirror, saw the flashing lights, and turned onto a main street. The sun had set, but thanks to the planet's moons and a clear sky, there was still enough light to see by as Gideon wove in and out between other vehicles. The bottom of the rattlesnake scraped the pavement each time it tilted more than two or three degrees to the left and right and sent sparks arcing away.
"They're gaining on us!" Alex warned, as she shouted into Gideon's right ear. "Go faster!"
So Gideon twisted the throttled and felt the machine accelerated. Signs flashed by, one of thems said something like 'Police,' but they were going so fast that neither of them could make heads or tales of it. They blew through the intersection, saw the T-shaped warning sign, and knew he should turn right or left. But he was going too fast.
A curb rushed at him, and there was a horrible grating sound as the rattlesnake lurched up and over the obstruction before landing on a once perfectly manicured lawn. The grass led up a gentle slope to a low lying sign that read POLICE STATION, which then shattered into a thousand splinters as the rattlesnake plowed through it.
Alex was wedged between Gideon and the engine compartment, and the hover-cycle's onboard computer shut everything down as the hover-bike skidded to a stop only steps from the building's front door.
Gideon struggled to his feet and turned to tell Alex that it was all right to let go.
"I'm driving next time," Alex said calmly as she brushed off her kevlar armor. "And you can hold on."
It wasn't much of a joke, but he still thought it was hilarious, and they both fell down laughing.
The duo were then arrested four minutes later.

Description

Chapter five
Aboard the Frigate Hydra, En Route to Solos.
The Hydra was more than fifty years old, but she was big, in keeping with her original purpose, which was to transport settlers to colony worlds like the one most of the recruits were born on. But those days were over, and the ship had long since been purchased into S.H.I.E.L.D's service, and was currently being used to support the Frontier's war efforts. Which was why Loki, of Gideon Sarver to his peers, and more then two thousand other 'boots' were camped out into the vessel's cavernous hold.
And 'camped out' was the operative term, since there weren't enough cabins for everyone other than the crew and the three hundred or so uniformed personnel traveling to Solos for a verity of reasons. So, with the exception of a section of deck that the MP's in charge referred to as the 'parade ground,' Hold Six was a no-man's-land of individual encampments, each served as a home for up to fifteen boots.
There would be the occasional arrangement that led into turf wars, which the MPs had far too much fun breaking up. But in spite of their beady-eyed vigilance, and the stunner-armed patrols tasked with keeping things under control, the 'slums,' as many of the inhabitants referred to it, was a dangerous place to live.
All of which had come as a surprise to Loki, who, based on everything he'd seen and heard on the news reports, believed that the human military was highly organized, perfectly integrated, and fully supplied. And that was why their taxes were so high, or everyone had been told, to make sure that the military had everything it needed. While they were highly organized and perfectly integrated with other alien races, they didn't have everything they needed. Including adequate transportation.
That became even more apparent as Loki drew his daily rations - stuff that even Volstagg wouldn't eat - and was carrying them back to his lone squat, where he had a small portable tv that he 'borrowed' for another squat.
"...Of the thousands of new soldiers recruited into the Frontier armed services by S.H.I.E.L.D Director Anthony Stark over the past few months, there have been several dozen complaints filed with the Bureau of Personnel regarding illegal drafting. S.H.I.E.L.D claims that these allegations of unsanctioned conscription are unfounded and based on 'the typical panic and unrest found in civilian population during wartime.' Out of respect to our audience, FNN has chosen to drop this investigation until tension dissipates into peacetime levels."
It was when the newscaster was fading out, when the alarms began to beep. An official announcement followed: "This is Lieutenant Freeman. Due to a security breach, unauthorized personal have gained access to Hull-Six. Military Police are en route. Those individuals assigned to Hold-Six are to avoid contact with the intruders, take up defensive positions with their backs to the port and starboard bulkheads, and await further instructions. I repeat, this is..."
Loki might have listened to the message all over again, but he was too busy trying to be trampled as a mob of people rushed his way. One of them bumped Loki's arm and sent his boxes of rations spinning away. Loki was clambering to retrieve them - it was either that or go hungry - when a scuffle broke out nearby.
"That's right, freaks," he heard a young woman's voice bark, "it's time to go back into your cages."
Loki straightened, peering through the crowd to get a glimpse of the commotion. The voice belonged to a young human women. She was a tall woman with straight chin-length blond hair, full lips, and dark brown skin. She was wearing the kevlar combat dressings, and a knife in each hand.
After breaking out of the forward hold, several hundred violent criminals were on the loose - the hold had been a buzz with rumors that the Hydra was carrying prisoners on their way to some sort of military work camp or reformatory. Now, most of the captives were trying to loose themselves in the large crowd, or steal personal items from the squats, one - a stunning female with long red-hair - remained in her cell reading an old entertainment magazine, but half were circling her like a pack of wild wolves.
Some other recruit, a male - dark brown skin, amber-yellow eyes, and standard military corn rows - materialized himself next to Loki's side. On his side read Damon Scotts. "Uh-oh," he said, almost ominously. "It looks like the lass is about to get hers. Couldn't happen to a nicer girl. A celebrity at that."
A celebrity? "I'm sorry, sir... who is she?"
"You mean you don't know?" the recruit said with a chuckle. "That there is Alexandra Reaver. Her father was the most decorated Sergeant of the Black Sea campaign. I guess being bold just runs in the blood."
Loki slightly scrunched his face with some disgust. He hated brash and wreckless people, because they reminded him of Thor and all of the praise he would get for it. But as he watched her, he quickly learned that she was not being brash. She was testing them. Quick attacks followed by a retreat. Attacking in swift slashes on the leg muscles to limit their movements. He then remembered the only lesson his father taught him in between tongue lashings, " Remember, son... the true measure of a man is whether other people can count on him when it makes a difference."
"Here," Loki said, as he handed his rations off to the recruit. "Take care of those, will you? I'd appreciate it."
"Don't do it," the man said advised ominously. "You'll be sorry."
"Yeah, I probably will." Loki agreed, as he removed his jacket and placed it on top of the rations. "I'll just hold on to your stuff."
"I'll just hold onto your stuff." the recruit said, in a very monotone-controlled voice.
"Thank you."
Some of the recruits had placed their backs against the bulkheads by then, but others were were caught up in the moment and eager for entertainment. The began to chant, 'Blood! Blood! Blood!' as Loki navigated his was between a scattering of encampments and into the open area beyond. The circle was tighter by then, so much so that Alexandra was starting to fend off blows, as a number of whistles blew in the distance.
Loki never preformed noticeable magic in front of anyone, even during his sniper training. So to stop the cons, he had to make his magic look like freak acts of nature. With a snap of his fingers, the lights above them overloaded in a violent flash; just enough time to send a small ball of energy into the prisoners leg, who had wrangled Alexandra into a headlock by now.
Having been freed from one attacker, Alexandra launched a spin kick at another. As she completed the move and sent the con reeling backward, the amber emergency lights came on and she looked at Loki and grinned. "Okay... You aren't a sissy. But you're stupid as hell!"
There was no time to respond, in fact that was the first time some one called him stupid, as Loki took a glancing blow to the side of the head, and brought a fist around by way of response. It struck one of the attackers in the mouth, broke all of his teeth, and knocked him on his ass.
The whistles were blowing louder by then, a three whole squads of MPs began to work their way across the deck, stunning anyone who failed to obey orders. But it was slow going because they had to pause frequently in order to take escaped cons into custody.
So as Loki rammed his fists into a con's gut, he knew it would take three or four minutes for help to arrive. And a lot of things could happen in that time.
Loki was not known for his fighting skills, and the surprise advantage that he had earlier had disappeared. It also hurt that he could not use his magic on these cons due to the large crowd, but not as much as the lead pipe to his right kidney. The pain was intense, and he was starting to fall, when a bloodied Alexandra grabbed him by the belt.
"Stay on your feet!" she shouted. "They'll stomp you if you don't."
Having been stomped by Thor's friends on a daily basis, Loki understood the wisdom of the youth's advice. So he battled to stay vertical, as the two of them fought back-to-back, and bets were placed all around. Then, as Loki landed a roundhouse on a hate-filled face, the MPs arrived.
"Go limp!" she commanded. "They're gonna stun you!"
Loki obeyed, but some of the cons fought back, which earned them a high-voltage clubbing and a presumption of guilt. Once the criminals had been cuffed and led away, Alexandra shuffled over to Loki and punched him several times on the arm.
"You have to be the stupidest recruit on this ship," she stopped her punching and started to laugh. "Or you're the craziest sonofabitch I've ever met!"
"Thanks... I guess."
"I like you, my names Alex Reaver." She stuck out her bloodied bandaged hand.
"Lo... Gideon Sarver."
"Well Gideon Sarver," she said admiringly, as she reached down to give Loki a hand. She was then handed a leather bag filled with coins. There was a jiggling sound as she shook it. "Because of you, I won all of this money! So, to say thank you, lets go get some real food in the mess hall. I'm buying."
Loki made a grab for the bag, but Alex had already spun around and started to leave. The boy named Damon picked him up and gave him a pat on the back, then followed Alex. A few seconds later, she stopped abruptly and looked back. "You comin', Gideon?"
Colony Planet Solos, four years later...
The Mazama province of Solos is considered to be a wasteland. This region is bordered on two sides by mountains. Their relations with the neighboring provinces are unstable at best, most of it is caused by the constant pressure from Stark Industry. The people observe a local variant of a dominant religion. They feel a wry affection for the political leaders. There are two major cities, the largest of which is located in the northwest of the region. They are sometimes troubled by rampant disease, from the small-pox to the black plague.
With a record like this, it is only natural for ARMCORP to be sent in to check the area over for Insurrectionists. At first, things ran smoothly. The citizens cooperated with the troop getting both protection and medicine, in return their local businesses began to prosper. It was not until Dr. Banners discovery of a rare - rarer then the mutant gene - chromosome called, simply enough, Chromosome Z.
It is said that people, mainly children, that are born with it are destined to die from very terrible virus's as they age. People started to line up in drones to help their kids, Mazama province held up the most resistant. All peace broke down, and the wasteland ran red.
"Hey, Gideon!" Alex, covered in dust and dirt, ran up to the young man who was dunking his face in a trough filled with water. "Are you trying to drown yourself again?"
Gideon pulled his head out of the trough, dripping with water. He exchanged clumsy shoulder bumps with Alex, who just chuckled at Gideon's continued struggle to adopt to he basic social customs. For weeks, during their down time, she had been tutoring him in everything from using slang words, to making a bed, to using a sonic mop, to answering when the name Gideon was called, and he'd already made a great deal of progress. She also trained him on how to use his ingenious mind into winning a physical fight. Aiming for what parts of a body that will hurt them the most, how to use the environment to his advantage, and how to make a simple object into the deadliest weapon. She was so proud of him.
Some her little habits Gideon picked up on was that she would naw on her finger nails when she was nervous, thinking, or there was completely nothing else to do. She would also drift in-and-out of sleep at random times. Doctors said it was a metabolism problem, which would explain her habit of eating larger then normal quantities without gaining an ounce. She also seems very uncomfortable about her famous past. When asked, she would just change the topic onto loot or switch to her philosophy on life.
Damon was transfered out of his platoon, probably caused by his constant sarcasm, dry sense of humor, or because he uploaded a virus onto a H.A,M.M.E.R. secured network. It would probably be better to go with the latter. Either way, the active Colonel, Colonel Rogers, was not pleased. So when his contract went up, he got bought right away.
"Back from your kidnapping spree?" Alex asked as she started to wash her face.
"Returned five minutes ago," Gideon said, trying his best to copy Damon. "But somethin' still buggin' me."
"What's wrong?"
"Mazama has been known to have many, terrible, diseases in the past. So why are they now putting up a fight? I mean, we're just trying to help their kids."
"I don't know," she said, blatantly enough. "maybe they don't want their kids taken away. Or, it's just simple paranoia against the government. Easy as that."
"I wish everythin' was as easy as you claim it is." Gideon chuckled.
Alex slid the extra water up and over her hair, putting dirty water into it. She saw Gideon's smile change into trouble. No one like what they had to do, especially Gideon, but they all believe that they were doing the right thing for these kids. So, she figured to cheer him up the way she knew how. "C'mon, lets go find some food."
"Oh, my aching wallet." Gideon sarcastically complained as he followed her.
Over the four years of serving in ARMCORP, Gideon has served in very simple campaigns. Drug and slave rings, illegal organ harvesting, and the occasional fight with minor Kragg forces. He was ranked as among the top ten snipers within the CORP, and promoted to a Lance Corporal. This meant he could boss some people around, that he liked.
They jogged across a airstrip, reaching the bay area of a dropship heading for Coldhaven. The closest city for miles around. The trip there was uneventful, and quite boring. Landing and going through customs with the liberty passes on the side, was just the same.
Even though the town's civilian community complained about the noise and the actions in Mazama, the truth was that they looked forward to the river of money that was flowing through town, even if there was some collateral damage as result.
As Gideon and Alex passed through Alpha Gate and followed a jubilant group of their comrades toward the delights that waited beyond, he felt the same sense of excitement that he had during his last day on Asgard; which seemed more and more like a dream to him. In this case it was because, kidnapping or not, he was now in the army. And that meant doing what G.I.s do when they go on liberty, which is raise hell.
An hour and a half later the two of them were leaving a bar thirty credits poorer, having consumed two beers each, plus an enormous steaks and huge servings of the french fried potatoes that the bar was justifiably famous for.
It would have been completely dark by then on many planets. But thanks to Solos's four small moon, all of which reflected light onto the surface on clear nights such as this one, nights were no more then seven hours long and were preceded by a long, moody twilight.
Music pounded as they walked down the street, and even though melodies changed from bar to bar, the backbeat seemed to remain the same as a man grinned at them from a doorway. Chemicals that had been injected under his skin made it glow bright blue. "We have girls, humans or aliens, take your pick... all young, all nude, all virgin approved, all hot, and all yours."
Alex had to pull Gideon along, at the same time fighting the urge for herself to head over.
"Thirsty?" a tired-looking woman with long, luminescent hair implants from atop a rickety stool. "Every third drink is free - and we got the best band on Solos."
"I'm the guy you've been looking for," a binked-out drug dealer said, as he slid up to Gideon. "Gellix, Rad-Ark, Brink... I have it all."
"Some gellix rad-ark might amp things up a bit," Alex suggested, stopping abruptly in her tracks.
Gideon turned around and used a double spell to scare the dealer off. "Not today, dude." He nudged Alex to keep moving. "Don't worry, Alex - you're amped enough. Hey, let's find the Crimson Nova... I heard the floor show is great."
She was ready for just about anything at the point, and happily followed Gideon as he took a left off Hannark and led them past a group of bored MPs to the cluster of dives beyond. That was when they saw a spectral image form directly in front of them and both of them groaned. Multiple versions of General Steve Rogers, or at least a network of carefully placed holo-projectors were being used to push his patriotic slander.
"So you're on liberty, having a grand old time," Rogers said. "That's when the Kragg and Insurrectionist agents spots you. They only gave him one grenade, but that was enough to kill three of our comrades in the Tarus Shipyards. The war isn't over just because you dumbasses are still alive! One grenade could kill all of you."
"Come on," Alex said disgustedly. The image shivered as they walked through it. "The new Steve Rogers is full of shit. Now, he just makes up the stuff."
"How do you figure?"
"Call it a well thought-out guess."
Gideon did not think so, but kept that opinion to himself, as the insistent thump, thump, thump of loud music drew them toward a large section of pipe that extended from a two-story building out onto the sidewalk. It was painted black, in keeping with the dark atmosphere, and guarded by two brawny bouncers. They eyed the trio skeptically, but allowed them to pass, as a spiral lightning scheme led the patrons inside.
"What a dump!" Alex shouted over the pounding music, grabbing Gideon by the shoulders as he followed them into the Crimson Nova. Gideon couldn't help but agree - the place was loud, dark, and reeked of stale beer, sweat, and sex. But all was forgiven when the stage at the bottom of the spiraled room came into view.
"Whoa," Gideon uttered. The two troopers stared down at the platform, upon which a young human woman with pink hair was dancing seductively. The mostly male crowd roared with approval as her top came off and sailed through the air.
Alex smiled gleefully and pushed Gideon forward. "First round's on me!"
That was when a scantily clad waitress wearing too much appeared and led the duo down one level to a recently vacated table. As they walked, Gideon noticed that most of the patrons were fellow troopers, along with a scattering bar patrons and MPs.
The latter sat at their own private boxes, getting there own private dances, surrounded by drugs and alcohol that was deemed to be contraband. It appeared that they did not want their lessers' interrupting their party. Must be good at the top.
"What'll it be?" the waitress chirped as they sat down.
"Two boiler houses, and two Jack Blues," Alex answered authoritatively as she patted her rump. If the waitress felt the contact she gave no sign of it and sashayed away.
"What's Jack Blue?" Gideon asked. On his off time, he tried Jack Gold and Red. Both of them seemed mild to him. But Blue? He did not know what to expect. Back on Asgard, his father was very particular about liquor he kept for the feasts - this one apparently did not make the cut.
"Jack Daniel's Blue Grass is the good stuff," Alex said. "Trust me... you'll like it."
"uh-oh," Gideon said ominously. "Look over there..." he indicated with a subtle nod of his head. "See those marines sitting at that table? All of them were in the gang we fought on the Hydra."
"Well, I'd be damned," Alex responded "I believe you're right! Maybe this would be a good time to finish kicking their asses."
"Are you joking? Please tell me your joking?" Gideon replied incredulously. "The way I remember it, they were the ones kicking our asses."
"Well they're waving at us." Alex declared, her eyes widening. "Those bastards are waving at us!"
Gideon peered across the room at the grinning ex-cons. "What the...?" He smiled and skeptically lifted his hand into a hand sign. "You got to hand it to the drill instructors... they did a helluva job with those guys-" He then saw Alex walking over to them, with a small skip in her step and cracking her knuckles.
"Alex! damn it!" Gideon called out as he leaped from his chair. "I'm gonna kill her."
He saw the waitress, and gave the hand sign to double the order.
"I need to sedate this sonofabitch before she gets herself in trouble." Gideon turned and headed straight for Alex.
"Hel-lo, ladies!" Alex hollered as he approached the marines.
"Good evening," one of them responded with a smile, nodding politely. The others followed suit.
"It would seem that you fellas forgot what you did to me and my friend. Let me refresh your memory," Alex said tauntingly as she leaned forward, fist on the table. "I'm the chica that cut up your asses and sent you cryin' back to your mammas!"
Gideon jumped in, throwing his arm around Alex. "Gentlemen, please pardon my friend here. She's had a few too many, and will just be on our way-"
He was ready to use a mind-control spell when one marine freely said, "Nonsense, we're all brothers here, fighting for a common cause. Whatever may have happened in the past... consider it forgotten. Please..." he motioned to two empty seats. "care to join us?"
"Hell no!" Alex snarled.
With one hand, Gideon pinched a pressure point on the back of Alex's neck - a move he had picked up from Alex's training - and steered her away from the table. "Again, sorry for the interruption, and thank you for the offer." he offered over his shoulder.
"Get off me!" Alex shrugged her way out of Gideon's grip. "Those guys are damned freaks. What the hell happened to them?"
"I don't know, Alex," Gideon said as he guided Alex back to her seat. "Either, A, the reformatory is really top-notch, or, B, they got their asses kicked into submission by some hard-core DI or something."
Even as he said it, Gideon couldn't shake the feeling that something weird was going on. The marines he have served along side were legendary for having the cleanest bodies, the filthiest minds, the highest morale, and the lowest morals of any group of animals he had have ever seen. Those marines were too nice.
The waitress set down their drinks, and Gideon nodded his appreciation.
"Anyway," he continued. "I'm glad they were so understanding, because otherwise you'd have just gotten yourself into a shitstorm of trouble, Alex, and I ain't in the mood to bail you out... again. Consider yourself lucky."
Alex offered Gideon one-fingered middle-finger salute by a way of response.
"Ugh!" Gideon cried after taking the first sip of his drink. "This tastes like blue tinted crap! Why, and how, do you drink this stuff?"
"Eh, you get used to it." Alex responded.
Just then the dancer kicked her panties out into the crowd, and five marines fought to take possession of them. A beefy corporal won the contest and jump up onto the table to wave the trophy his head. The crowd roared with laughter, inspiring the marine to pull them onto his head like a hat.
"I'm gonna go see if I can buy those panties off him," Alex said excitedly, leaping out of her seat and jogging over to the corporal. Laughing, Gideon shook his head in disbelief, and watched with quite amusement as Alex offered money, got denied, and strode back to her seat wearing a mischievous.
"No luck?"
"Nope. Looks like I'm gonna have to go commando if I'm wearing white pants."
"Don't you do that regardless?"
"Buy me another drink, and I'll show you here and now." she winked. Gideon carefully pushed her on the shoulder and they both cracked up.
As the dancer waved and the stage sank out of sight, four trapeze artists dropped from above and began a series of death-defying stunts. The fact that they were naked made the performance all the more interesting, some marines were brave enough to preform a living net in case any of the nude-artists decided to let go, and the whole crowd was memorized - even Alex. In the meantime the second round of drinks arrived and went down smoother - followed by another round twenty minutes later.
The Crimson Nova was filled to overflowing limits by then, and even though Gideon was feeling light-headed, he did notice that the composition of the crowd had changed. There were more crew-men in the bar by then - all dressed in space-black uniforms and all apparently off the same ship. On the sleeve it read the Midway.
The usual jibes could be heard as the eternal rivalry between the fleet and the grunts continued to play itself out, but things went well until a drunken sailor spilled a drink on a belligerent recruit, and all hell broke loose.
Whoops were yelled as the first fists were thrown, and like a virus, it was spread throughout the club. Alex and Gideon just stayed in their seats, working on their new round of drinks, and knocking out any drunk marine that came within elbow length. Gideon noticed that the ex-cons were still sitting at their table as more people got up to take part in the mayhem.
The proprietors did not want to host a fight, that saying, they did not mind the large loads of money pouring in as bets, so a little property damage was acceptable. It was not long until the distant whistles of MPs arrived. Gideon, who was trading blows with a burly petty officer at the point, threw a right cross. When the petty officer went down, he heard the whistles.
"Shit! Cops! Cops!" he yelled, somehow shouting loud enough so everyone could hear.
As the MPs began bum rushing the scattering crowd, Gideon knew that he and his friend needed to escape or be arrested. He took advantage of the chaos, and momentary victory, to grab her.
And just as she had for the last four months, she obeyed willingly. Unfortunately, a congestion at the doors were blocking the path to the exits. So the only exit left was through the kitchen.
Gideon led the charge, stepping over some foes who were still grappling with each other - and inadvertently slamming the kitchen door into a stunned waitress as they bursted through. Mortified, Gideon glanced down to see that the front of her miniskirt had been plastered with chocolate cake and what looked like cranberry pie on the other.
He opened his mouth to apologize, and was greeted by a bone-crunching closed-fist punch to the nose. He stumbled back into Alex as the cursing woman continued her assault by scooping a gob of chocolate off her apron and smashing it into his face.
"Ow, damn it! Knock it off... we're just tryin' to get outta here!" Gideon said as he battled the pain and gobs of desert.
Two white-clad cooks appeared behind the waitress. One of them lifted her by the armpits as she thrashed about. " Let me go! What are doing!"
"Don't worry, April, we got this," the cook said as he put her down. April stomped off, furiously wiping her dress.
"Hey, chef man," Alex said, as she wrapped a towel around Gideon's head. "let us the hell outta here and no one gets hurt. Otherwise, I'm gonna break you all of yah bones, one by one..."
The cook made use of a meat cleaver to point toward the back of the kitchen. "Get out. And don't you idiots ever come back here I specialize in butchering meat. Get me?" he swung the cleaver around in a shock and imitating fassion.
"Let's cut a deal, then." Gideon said as he adjusted the towel. "Because, you see that crowd out there? They all wanna get out without being in handcuffs. So, if we to - I don't know - let the word slip that there is an exit back here. What do chances does a guy who specializes in 'butchering meat' compared to thirty guys who specializes in killing?"
The chef, either out of fear or lack of it, he started to swing the cleaver around with the intention of killing them. Gideon grabbed to Alex, closed his eyes, and teleported them into the back ally of the Crimson Nova.
"How... the hell did you do that?"
Whistles were coming into the "I'll tell you when we get out of here!"
They split up, searching for means of escape, but found nothing until Gideon spotted an olive cameo Rattlesnake hover-cycle idling next to marine combat car - it probably belonged to one of the MPs who was called to the scene.
How the hell am I supposed to drive this thing? Gideon wondered, his head swirling with improvising, doubt and alcohol. But he knew he had no other choice. "Okay! Here's our ride, Alex... hurry, climb on the back."
Alex chuckled as she approached, getting a clear look at Gideon's face since the chocolate incident. "Gideon, my brother, you really are shit-faced! Literally, you have shit on your face."
She then howled with laughter.
Gideon self-consciously wiped the last of the chocolate off his face with his sleeve and then straightened. "Okay, seriously. We gotta to get outta here now!"
The Rattlesnake rocked slightly as Gideon swung a leg over the seat and eyeballed the controls. With its long streamlined nose, a seat large enough for an armored soldier to sit on, and two powerful engines, the rattlesnake was equipped with standard handlebars, plus some simple instrumentation. What could go wrong?
Thanks to the fact neither Gideon or Alex were wearing the right armor, there was enough room for Alex to swing in behind him. He started up the fission engines, as Alex wrapped her arms around him and an MP called out,
"Halt!" and blew his whistle.
Gideon twisted the left handle, felt the bike jerk forward, and saw the letter 'D' appear on the control panel in front of him. Then, as a couple of MPs pounded across the parking lot, Gideon opened the throttle. That was a mistake because with two nuclear fission engines, and no wheel-generated friction to slow the rattlesnake down, the machine was fast. Alex was nearly ripped from him and thrown back over the engine compartment as the bike took off, she just howled in delight, and Gideon experienced a moment of panic as the nose hit the side of a parked car and glanced off.
Having backed the throttle off, and cranked the handlebars over, Gideon managed to guide the rattlesnake out of the lot and onto the street beyond. Sparks flew as the badly overloaded bike bottomed out, rose two inches, and then accelerated away.
Perhaps Gideon would have been able to drive the rattlesnake down a quiet side street and abandoned it there if it was not for the MP combat cars that were giving chase. Though not nearly as fast as the rattlesnake, the four-seat vehicle was better driven, and therefore able to keep up.
Gideon glanced into a rearview mirror, saw the flashing lights, and turned onto a main street. The sun had set, but thanks to the planet's moons and a clear sky, there was still enough light to see by as Gideon wove in and out between other vehicles. The bottom of the rattlesnake scraped the pavement each time it tilted more than two or three degrees to the left and right and sent sparks arcing away.
"They're gaining on us!" Alex warned, as she shouted into Gideon's right ear. "Go faster!"
So Gideon twisted the throttled and felt the machine accelerated. Signs flashed by, one of thems said something like 'Police,' but they were going so fast that neither of them could make heads or tales of it. They blew through the intersection, saw the T-shaped warning sign, and knew he should turn right or left. But he was going too fast.
A curb rushed at him, and there was a horrible grating sound as the rattlesnake lurched up and over the obstruction before landing on a once perfectly manicured lawn. The grass led up a gentle slope to a low lying sign that read POLICE STATION, which then shattered into a thousand splinters as the rattlesnake plowed through it.
Alex was wedged between Gideon and the engine compartment, and the hover-cycle's onboard computer shut everything down as the hover-bike skidded to a stop only steps from the building's front door.
Gideon struggled to his feet and turned to tell Alex that it was all right to let go.
"I'm driving next time," Alex said calmly as she brushed off her kevlar armor. "And you can hold on."
It wasn't much of a joke, but he still thought it was hilarious, and they both fell down laughing.
The duo were then arrested four minutes later.