Stranded on a Tiny Planet

Merco wasn’t sure what happened or how long he’d been out but when he opened his blurry eyes he saw a familiar face right next to his left eye.

“Pixie. It’s you.” he managed to say.

He didn’t know where she came from but seeing her made his heart happy. Like seeing a favorite niece who lived far away.

Pixie said his name several times and something else. It wasn’t until she started hitting his cheekbone did he sense her urgency. With great care his prosthesis came up and plucked her off of his face so he could sit up. It was a challenge. His vision still felt wonky, like he’d changed his vision prescription, and everything looked distorted. With a careful roll of his hips and his other arm braced against the ground he pushed himself into a crouch. He stretched his prosthetic arm out and released Pixie away from him so he could gather his wits; didn’t want to accidentally crush her. Positioned on his hands and knees Merco waited for the world to stop warping his reality. Then he heard a whistle and a shout.

He didn’t even have time to react when he felt at least a dozen needles hit him in his shoulder, his back and couple in the side of his face.

“OW! Shit!” he swore, flinching.

The stinging pain made his adrenaline surge which in turn pushed the haziness to clarity. He looked and saw several cuts through his shirt and actually a couple spears that were about the size of plastic cocktail swords stuck in his cheek. He plucked the two out of his cheek and they crackled with what looked like a green blade made of light. He didn’t have much time to observe the weapons when he saw several maroon figures flying past him and into the trees. He jumped to his feet this time. Vertigo made him sway a bit, but the pain was indeed clearing his senses faster. He turned, trying to see what exactly was attacking him. He put his gloved prosthesis up in front of his eyes to shield them as he scanned the area.

Suddenly, several small maroon and green blurs sped past his gloved arm like speedy dragonflies. His eyes followed them carefully as they sped up and away. He hissed with pain when more sharp pokes hit his back and neck. He winced and turned. More fliers arced away from him into the trees.

“Great...thought I was going to avoid a military response.” Merco thought dismally to himself. “Guess not.”

Merco had to resist the urge to swat down the little alien attackers. Truth be told, the cuts smarted, but they wouldn’t kill him. However, if he started swinging he’d definitely kill them and Merco wanted to avoid that if possible. He just had to keep them from spearing his eyes or his throat.

Suddenly a loud [BANG] near his head made his ears ring and his cheek felt like he’d been slapped. He instinctually flinched and ducked, shielding his eyes. His breathing picked up pace as the familiar sensations began to make his body respond.

Then more loud bangs that sounded like a packet of firecrackers hit his legs, chest, and side. A burning sensation stung his skin like he’d run into a sticker bush. The piercing ring slowly dissipated and he looked down at his side and chest, seeing tiny dots of blood soak though his shirt like thousands of needle pricks.

Explosives? Frag grenades? Easy...Easy...you’re not going to die. You don’t want to kill anyone. Keep your mind clear.

His cotton shirt hadn’t given him much protection but thankfully his thicker pants had saved his knees from the shrapnel. They were certainly trying to target his weak points.

Merco growled with frustration, knowing he couldn’t stand there like a big target and keep taking these attacks. A strategic retreat would be more prudent...and the lake seemed a viable option. Keeping his arm up he backed into the water. At about four steps it was over his boots and up to his knees. Four more and it was at his waist. Then he saw them coming, the green flash of their weapons giving them away as they flew over the water. When they got close Merco swung his right arm, hit the water, and sent an aerial wave hurtling toward his assailants. A few of them scattered to avoid the wave but half a dozen were knocked down into the lake by the huge splash.

Merco remembered the attack pattern from before and preemptively ducked under the water like a man avoiding a swarm of bees. He sat at the lake bottom staring up through the water to see several flashes of green flying above the lake’s surface. He was right. They would hit him from the front as a second group flew in from the back when he was distracted. After a few more seconds, Merco surfaced for a breath. He glanced around, wondering if they were waiting for him.

He didn’t see anything but nearby he noticed frantic splashing. The six alien fliers he’d knocked down into the lake seemed to all be struggling. It didn’t look like any of them could swim as they thrashed and bobbed desperately. Merco found that interesting. In fact, he recalled the unfortunate fisherman he yanked into the water by accident. He hadn’t acted like he could swim either.

A weakness of the species perhaps? If that was the case, the lake would make a perfect natural shield.

Despite their attack on him, Merco took pity on the floundering aliens. But he didn’t want to get his eyes gouged by lowering his guard to help them. With his arm poised and eyes set with caution, he strode toward the closest splasher. The poor little guy was struggling so much to keep his head above water that he didn’t even notice the towering man coming closer. With a gentle, cupped hand Merco scooped him up. Gasping and coughing the tiny alien sprawled out across Merco’s palm, trying to recover from his near drowning.

Merco then moved on and one by one lifted each alien out of the water until his hand was full of the downed fliers. As they each recovered and realized what was happening to them they froze, helplessly waiting for the giant to deliver some sort of verdict. They were surprised when the outcome ended up being mercy rather than vengeance. Merco side-stepped to the nearest shore, stretched out his arm, and deposited the fliers on the ground with a tip of his hand. Then he backed away, returning to the deeper portion of the lake.

“There. You see? I’m not such a bad guy. Want to call off this attack and call a truce?” he asked out across the water.

It was in that moment that Merco heard a shout and looked out toward the shore. His eyes widened when he saw Pixie being held by two of the maroon jumpsuit fliers with a third menacing her with an energy weapon.

...

Traynar was too busy fighting Coroc to see fully what transpired next. All he knew was Merco was up and the EFP were strafing him with energy weapons and explosive attacks from all sides.

He parried another strike from Coroc but shouted, “Call it off Coroc! This is a mistake!”

But the combatant wasn’t hearing his plea as his movements seemed to intensify and become more elaborate. Swirling to the left, rolling around his arm, and thrusting. Feints that morphed into pole strikes across Traynar’s back. Traynar’s pain increased to the point where his flight was starting to become compromised. Strategically he flew closer to the ground to avoid a deadly fall. But as he did Coroc dove at him and slammed the bar of his staff right into Traynar’s sealed wound. Traynar’s eyes popped open and his plumage flared wide as an explosion of pain shot up his torso. Unable to focus he dropped to the forest floor in a heap.

...

Coroc started to follow but saw Merco standing up to his waist in the lake. With a sideways swipe of his massive arm he sent a huge arcing wave of flying water into his frontal attackers. Several fell into the water. His eyes widened, knowing Ansheetans couldn’t swim. It was their fatal flaw. The way they were able to control the magnetism around their body for flight turned out to be their downfall in water since it nullified their ability and therefore made them ill-equipped in that element. Even a wet Ansheetan couldn’t fly.

Then with a huge erupting splash the giant alien disappeared beneath the water and avoided the secondary attack.

Coroc swore. He predicted the maneuver.

Even though the alien’s size was clearly an advantage, using the water made their odds of killing him even worse. Coroc’s mind tried to formulate something when he looked down near the shore and saw the young one from the chrysalis. His original plan that he had scrapped was now reasserting itself as his best option.

He whistled a particular tone and three EFP members flew to his call.

“What are we going to do Combatant Coroc?”

He pointed down to Seraysa who was watching Merco from the shore, “We need her. The giant will come to her if he thinks she’s being threatened. You three hold her, menace her a bit, get his attention.”

Unsure, if not horrified looks came over the three members, “He...he’ll kill us.”

“Not if I kill him first.” He pointed to a large tree bordering the lake, “Bring her close to that tree. I’ll be waiting.”

...

Seraysa watched as Merco disappeared into the lake after using a huge wave to defend himself. However, now there were six EFP members set to drown and she couldn’t help them. Almost a minute later Merco surfaced, taking a resounding breath. He noticed the flailing EFP members too and for a moment, Seraysa wasn’t sure if he would help them considering they had just tried to kill him. But, after a cautious glace around, he began to scoop them up.

Suddenly, Seraysa was subdued from behind and she cried out.

“Do what we tell you young one,” a male EFP member ordered sternly, brandishing his energy weapon.

Seraysa was drug across the edge of the lake and then after a few paces they were in an open spot just in line with Merco. He was back out in the middle of the lake, shouting something in his booming voice.

“HEY! YOU! LOOK OVER HERE!” the EFP member with the energy weapon shouted.

Merco’s gaze snapped over to them and Seraysa knew he could see her. He appeared shocked and then worried when the EFP member put the energy weapon near her. She instinctually pulled back from its crackling promise of a nasty shock.

The giant alien’s gloved fist clenched with a leathery pull. He took a step toward them with menace. Seraysa could feel her captors tense up behind her but they didn’t flee. But then, Merco stopped his advance, eyes locked on something else for a moment. Then he stepped back, ducked down, and slipped beneath the lake’s surface with a tumultuous disturbance. The EFP members as well as Seraysa were confused by the move. They were expecting him to come for her.

None expected what happened next.

The water went calm and then in front of them it suddenly rose and rolled into a huge wave surging toward them. They shouted when the wave broke to the shore, engulfed them, and swept through the trees. Seraysa held her breath as the water overtook her and pushed her back with prevailing force. But instead of slamming into a tree, her back ran into a warm cushion. She felt the water recede from around her and opened her eyes to see Merco’s massive arm stretching out and his hand cupping behind her. His gigantic body was beached on the shore, dripping water in rivers. He exhaled a deep breath that washed over her as he scooped her up and brought her close.

“I’ve gotcha Pixie.” he rumbled in a reassuring tone.

...

When Merco saw Pixie being held hostage, menaced by the three fliers he felt his protective nature rise up and clench through his fist. He took a step forward, yearning to help her but he didn’t want her to get hurt with his attempt. However, a glint in one of the trees above the scene made him pause.

Ambush. Distract me...get me in close...then attack. He knew the tactic. He’d used the tactic. He wasn’t going to fall for it.

Then an idea occurred to him; one that would help him get Pixie without opening himself up to an attack. It was a game he used to play with his brother as a child. When their parents took them to the lake they would set up their bucket of army men on the shore. Then they would take turns pushing waves with their hands to see who could knock the most army men over in one go. A silly game...but the similarities were obvious. Angling his body, he put himself back under the water and sank to the bottom on his stomach. Like a crocodile sneaking up on unsuspecting wildebeest he pulled himself closer to the shore, not betraying his position. He opened both of his hands out in front of him. Then with a forceful push he surged forward, pushing a wave out in front of him as threw himself onto the shore. Just like the army men of his childhood, the wave pushed over the fliers and Pixie, sweeping them back. His hand shot over the sand and blocked Pixie from being swept into danger.

He pulled her back, “I’ve gotcha Pixie.”

For good measure, Merco swung his powerful mechanical arm and smacked the tree he’d spotted the ambusher in, causing the tree to whip violently. As he did a blue clothed flier shot out of the branches like an arrow toward him. He jerked at the movement. A sudden sharp pain bolted up his neck like he’d been poked with a syringe. The man gave quick shout of pain, dropping his head to the ground. Merco’s hand reacted instinctually to the sudden sting by swatting at the offender. It happened so fast and so automatically that Merco didn’t realize what he’d done until he saw a small body spin through the air, hit the ground nearby, and roll in a lifeless heap

“Oh God.”

Merco reached up to his neck and felt the little spear impaled in his neck muscle. It was spasming; not liking the forcible intrusion. A bit more to the front would’ve punctured his carotid artery. His involuntary jerk had made the bold attacker miss the more deadly blow.

“Little bastard knew where to hit me.” He thought.

He pulled on the weapon and hissed with pain when it pulled at his flesh, not wanting to be dislodged. Merco took a couple readying breaths. With a quick tug he removed the glowing light spear and growled in pain. The tip looked rather menacing as it dripped with his blood. He tossed it to the ground before touching his neck. The flow of hot blood trickled down his neck.

Hurts like Hell...not spurting or gushing... not going to bleed out.

“Merco?” the little voice from his right hand sounded worried.

“Think I’m ok, Pixie.” He pushed himself up, looking at the fallen flier, “But I don’t think he is.”

“Walking” on his knees, Merco scooted closer to the tiny, unmoving body. He grimaced, knowing he’d probably killed the little alien. He hadn’t wanted to...he just reacted.

...

Coroc dove straight for the giant’s neck but a split-second jerk from the colossus set him off his intended target. Still his energy spear lodged deeply in its flesh. The giant alien roared with pain, all but deafening him. He had just let go of the weapon when a shadow cast over him. Coroc tried to dart away but a solid force slammed into his lower half, sending him spinning end over end toward the ground. Pain exploded in his legs and he could hear an audible crack shudder through his flesh. Blackness engulfed his vision; a ringing began in his ears as the pain sought to knock him out. He hit the ground, but he barely registered it as he rolled several times before coming to a stop.

The pain didn’t cease as the sharpness began to pulse and throb in his shattered legs.

He’d failed. Try as he might to kill this giant and free Anashee from his threat, he proved to be much more intelligent and cautious than he’d first believed him to be. He expected a lumbering beast, ready to fight and kill every last one of them if provoked. But his behavior had been...strategic. Coroc never underestimated the alien’s power, but his cunning was something he hadn’t expected.

Coroc at once realized something as he lay broken on the ground. That had been just a swat; a flick of a wrist and his legs had been shattered. The giant alien...he’d been holding back. No other members of his force had been killed. The forest floor should have been littered with broken bodies.

Why was he holding back?

It got dark around him and Coroc knew it was the giant’s shadow. He closed his eyes and prepared himself for the vengeance he had wrought upon himself.

“At least the pain will stop.” He thought darkly, hoping it would be quick.

Instead a weight gently settled against his side. Coroc squirmed with discomfort and the weight removed. He rolled over on his back and gazed way up at the colossal alien looming over him. It rumbled something in its basso voice. Coroc waited for the death blow to end him...but nothing happened.

“What are you waiting for? Just do it!” Coroc demanded after a time. “Stop toying with me!”

“He’s not going to kill you Coroc.” a familiar male voice called out nearby, “But he’d have every right to do so.”

Coroc looked and saw that same Ansheetan he’d fought earlier, limping toward the scene.

“To be honest...I’m as surprised as you are. If I were him I wouldn’t be so merciful.”

The fallen combatant grimaced painfully as he tried to sit up but it hurt too badly. He whistled at his forces but there was no reaction to his command. He cursed.

“They see him for what he is Coroc...why don’t you?”

Coroc sighed, “Things always change. Peace never stays peaceful for long. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The giant alien reached over to the limping alien and he gingerly sat in the enormous hand. He turned around and picked up the young one as well, holding them both as he rose to his feet. Coroc could only watch as he strode away.