Stranded on a Tiny Planet

Merco grunted when the massive pressure of the Gret’nal’s heavy body shoved him onto his back into the dirt. Sharp teeth tore through his glove and screeched against the metal of his prosthetic as the humanoid clamped down aggressively. It happened so fast but Merco instantly realized Boroxle was somewhere in the mercenary’s mouth and he had to prevent the Rogashay leader from being swallowed and give him the chance drive his spear into a vital spot.

The Gret’nal stared at the man with his one good eye, breathing heavily through his nostrils. Despite the bite injury to his right shoulder, Merco swung the knife up to stab his attacker. The Gret’nal, however, saw the movement and caught his knife hand, easily halting the stabbing motion. It didn’t take much for the Gret’nal to slam his arm into the ground and jar the knife from his grip.

A surge of brief panic shot down Merco’s body when he felt the weapon leave his hand. It was the only defense he had against this powerful mercenary and his strength alone would not be enough to win. Especially when he became increasingly aware of the hot wetness soaking through the right side of his shirt.

Uttering a deep and dangerous growl through his teeth the Gret’nal crunched down hard on his prosthetic and with predatory violence shook his head. Merco was thrashed from side to side and though his prosthetic didn’t register pain his upper arm and shoulder felt as if they were going to be wrenched from their socket. The man suddenly threw his long legs up, hooked around the back of the Gret’nal’s leg and using the momentum of the shaking, rolled the lizard humanoid to the side. Merco rolled with him, placing his knees into the scaled chest. He then leaned forward, jamming his mechanical forearm back further into the Gret’nal’s mouth until it was up against the juncture of the jaw and his skull, forcing it to remain open. He strained with every ounce of strength he could muster to hold the position.

Merco held his own for several moments until the Gret’nal’s growling stopped and he suddenly made a strange noise. The yellow reptilian eye widened slightly and before Merco could react he was smacked with powerful open-handed swipe. The hollow thud of the hard, scaly arm impacting his side seemed to echo through the man’s body as he was cast aside. He couldn’t breathe easily for several agonizing seconds as he lay sprawled against some trees. His ears began to ring and a swirling dizziness was accompanying. With pained determination, Merco grit his teeth and rolled onto his stomach, trying to get up.

But as he pushed himself, buckling against his shoulder injury, he spotted the Gret’nal in much the same body posture except he was thrashing his head from side to side. At first it looked like he’d caught something and was throttling it but the reptilian began gagging. His forked, pinkish gray tongue lolled out the front of his agape mouth. Dark thick blood drizzled down through his sharp teeth and onto the ground.

Merco knew Boroxle had done something damaging but he was instantly distracted by the glint of his knife laying just beyond the humanoid.

...

The snapping of trees and the thundering titanic bodies slamming to the ground was almost deafening to the Ansheetans and Rogashay whom were watching from the slope of Bent Peak. In a terrifying manner, the Gret’nal was clearly overpowering Merco; tossing him around like we weighed nothing. It was when the monstrous brute took Merco’s entire shoulder in his vicious mouth and began shaking him that Anu felt genuinely afraid for the human’s life. The gathered witnesses cried out in horror upon seeing their defender being torn up by those vicious teeth.

Just when they thought he might be killed, Coroc and his small squadron landed a decisive blow; blinding the monster on his right side; which made him release Merco. But the man’s deep crimson blood flashed with bright wetness on his shoulder and across his shirt; spreading like a red flood. Anu felt the air leave her chest upon seeing the horrible wound.

He was hurt...bad.

The only time she’d seen Merco hurt that badly was when he first arrived on their planet with a head wound that turned septic. Even Coroc and his forces didn’t hurt him that badly. To most he was nearly invulnerable and none but a select few had seen him lain low.

But, even half blind, the Gret’nal was not helpless; far from it. If anything, his next assault bore even more viciousness. His sharp teeth flashed briefly and the lizard creature lunged downward at Merco, clamping onto his arm and pushing him down where the onlookers couldn’t see him through the trees. All that could be seen was the Gret’nal’s spiky, humped back arching monstrously over the trees like a scaly mountain. Horrible rumbling sounds vibrated the air, echoing across the landscape. Again, the Gret’nal lashed his head from side to side with such ferocity the gathered witnesses thought for sure he would wrench Merco’s arm clean off of his torso.

Then suddenly, amid the violent chaos of the fight, Merco resurged. His huge legs shot up, wrapped around his attacker, and managed to roll the Gret’nal underneath him.

A cheer went up, “Get him, Merco! Get him!”

Anu noticed the giant didn’t have the knife as before. She held her breath, knowing that wasn’t a good thing.

“Come on, Merco...” she whispered with a lowered head plume.

Just as it seemed the battle had turned, the Gret’nal swung his arm and all but slapped Merco off of him. Trees cracked and were flattened to the ground beneath the huge falling body.

“NO!” Anu cried out.

Several tense seconds passed by with both combatants seeming to be in a similar hands and knees posture. It seemed strange because to the onlookers Merco hadn’t landed a decisive blow that would warrant the Gret’nal being in that pained posture.

And then Merco moved with a quick lunge to the left of the Gret’nal. When he stood up they could see the knife clenched firmly in his prosthetic hand. He all but fell on top of the lizard’s back and plunged the knife into his other eye. The Gret’nal reared up fast, thrashing his head around until Merco twisted the blade hard. All movement seemed to cease in the great beast as it froze, mouth agape. Dark, purplish red blood poured in thick hot falls from the bottom jaw. Merco was breathing very hard, gritting his teeth as he forcibly retracted the knife and plunged it again and again. Finally, a cringing convulsion undulated through the reptilian’s thick neck and it collapsed, shaking the forest. Merco’s whole huge frame was trembling until he too collapsed.

No one could believe it. It was so visceral and violent. From the Gret’nal the onlookers expected it but seeing Merco their gentle giant act in such a violent manner disturbed them. But very quickly they overcame that initial shock and an elated whistle rang out from the watchers. He had done it!

However, Anu knew Merco was hurt and she immediately signaled, “Medics! To me!”

With urgency she flew from Bent Peak to the place where she’d seen him collapse.

...

Once Merco had his hand around the knife handle he could hear only his heart booming in his ears accompanied by his hollow breathing. He switched it to his prosthetic, which despite the Gret’nal’s attack, still functioned. The Gret’nal still was hunched over, appearing to choke, when Merco seized the moment. His heart raced as he charged forward and aimed the blade for the Gret’nal’s remaining eye. This time he found his mark as the blade slid into the lizard’s eye socket, exploding the organ in a viscous spray. His prosthetic knew no pain as he used its formidable strength to drive the blade in all the way to the hilt. A crunching of bone signaled the blade’s entrance into the skull. The Gret’nal reared up hard like a bucking bull, trying to throw him off.

His heart was so loud...his killer instinct screamed even louder.

“Kill...kill or be killed...KILL OR BE KILLED!”

He hadn’t heard that command in years...he hoped he’d never have to hear it again. But he obeyed, nevertheless.

“Twist the knife...twist it! More damage...he won’t get up again.” It hissed morbidly.

A crunching sounded as the blade was twisted and jerked. Merco felt the Gret’nal’s entire body go ridged and then convulse. He knew that feeling.

Brain trauma...nerve severance...death.

Even so he stabbed again, wrenching the knife hard to ensure maximum damage. His vision was starting to tunnel when the Gret’nal finally succumbed and slumped beneath him. Merco wasn’t sure if it was the blood loss or exhaustion that hit him first but he released the knife and collapsed right beside the mercenary. He gasped heavily and repeatedly as if his lungs had forgotten to work during the whole ordeal.

As the man lay on the ground he stared across at the now dead Gret’nal; chest still and agape mouth slathered in blood.

“Boroxle...” he stated in a raspy voice, grasping for the knife.

He didn’t know if the Rogashay leader was even still alive. Had he been swallowed and needed to be cut out? Was he crushed?

Merco barely had touched the knife to find out when a thick clot of blood slid out along the Gret’nal’s forked serpentine tongue and oozed onto the ground. It wasn’t until the clot rose up, moved forward a bit, and then splatted back into the dirt that Merco realized what it truly was. He soldier-crawled on his belly to get closer, reached out, and lifted up Boroxle, absolutely slathered in blood and saliva. His features were barely recognizable until Merco rubbed him gently against his shirt. An eager gasp escaped the exhausted Rogashay as he lay sprawled over Merco’s hand.

“You crazy son of a bitch...” Merco whispered to the gasping warrior, “...you did it.”

Boroxle wiped his face with one weary hand and only nodded as his little chest heaved rapidly.

Merco was breathing just as hard and was gradually feeling weaker as the hot wetness of his shoulder was more noticeable. The Gret’nal had torn him up pretty badly and he needed to stop whatever bleeding was soaking his shirt.

As he laid there, trying to keep himself from passing out he heard Anu nearby and suddenly she was on the ground in front of his face, “Merco! Merco, where are you hurt?”

He managed a pained smile, “Where doesn’t it hurt would be an easier question.”

Anu’s sharp blue eyes darted across Merco’s massive body as she flew over him, “Merco...I need you to take off your shirt and press it to your shoulder. You’re bleeding too much.”

The man managed a nod and very gently he laid Boroxle down up against a tree to rest whilst he set to removing his shirt. His prosthetic gripped the bottom of his shirt and peeled it off uncomfortably over his head. He cried out painfully when he tried to raise his injured arm. Once the torn cloth peeled off the damage was clear. Open gashes from each of the Gret’nal’s teeth made small crimson flaps peeled up off of his shoulder. It looked like he fell on a running hedge trimmer. Blood poured down his chest. With hissing breaths of pain, he pressed his shirt into his shoulder.

Anu nodded, her head plume alert, “Good, good. Just hold it there until our medics arrive. They’ll get you fixed up.”

Merco’s massive chest rose out and then shuddered painfully with a cough that shook the air. His face scrunched with pain. It wasn’t long before dozens of medics arrived and began their fast assessment of Merco’s injuries.

As he was getting looked over, Merco exhaled deeply with a wince, “What about Boroxle? Did you medics look at him?”

“I have him.” Kriees piped up.

She was kneeling beside her battle gored mate, cleaning his face with a piece of cloth and water from a canteen.

After a few moments the head field medic of the EFP flew before Merco’s face, “We need you to get to Anashee Lake. We’re going to need a lot of water to help close and clean those wounds.”

Anu shook her head, “Anashee Lake? But that’s too far! He won’t make it with that wound bleeding like it is.”

“We have to have water to help him. Those are bite wounds and they’ll need washed before we stop the bleeding or else they’ll go septic when we go to close them.” The medic insisted.

“Not if he bleeds out first.” Anu argued.

“Kriees,” Merco asked wearily, “Isn’t there a water source by your settlement?”

The Emissary nodded, “Yes. We trenched it from a part of Anashee Lake with our sand dragons.”

Merco nodded, “I’m going there then...it’s closer.”

The gathered Ansheetans floated and moved backward when Merco shakily rose to his feet. He staggered briefly to regain his balance as he held his shirt to his bleeding shoulder and the knife in his other hand. Anashee Lake was more than an thirty-minute walk from Bent Peak but the Rogashay settlement was half the distance. Given how shaky he felt, he wasn’t sure if that was even close enough.

He knew the feeling of blood loss. When he lost his left arm he’d nearly succumbed to that dark tunnel that threatened to swallow his vision and rip him from consciousness. This feeling was similar in feeling but not as quick as that first time. Either way he knew he had to get moving before he lost the battle of keeping cognizant. As he limped through the woods, the Ansheetans of the EFP guided him, flying and flitting before his vision to keep him on the path to the water.

The adrenaline that had been roaring through his body since the first attack was slowly beginning to ebb and with it the painful reality of what he’d just endured. His back hurt from the numerous tree scrapes, his chest felt tight and painful from the Gret’nal’s fierce blows, and of course his shoulder felt like it was burning with a fiery pulse. Each step he took became harder and harder, as if cement had begun to harden around his legs.

A cold sweat was beginning to chill his body. Neither were hopeful signs.

Fifteen minutes may as well have been fifteen hours. But miraculously, Merco made it to the Rogashay settlement and to the water source that was there. He collapsed thunderously, feeling the weakness and fatigue shake his body.

Anu was praising him, “Good work Merco! You made it! Just hang on. We’ll help you.”

The dozens of medics were flying about furiously to gather their supplies and begin their triage of Merco’s wounds; the first being his bleeding bite wounds. A pair of medics were mixing some knockout powder into one of the Rogashay cooking pots with water. When it was finished they brought it over to him.

“Merco, you need to take this so we don’t hurt you so much when we close the wounds.” One of the medics explained.

Merco winced but took the pot in his fingers to shoot back the bitter drug. It didn’t take long for the weary feeling to consume him and finally he was out.

...

Meanwhile...

Cresh was pursuing a small group of the little flying aliens and had managed to stun and capture four for his efforts. Not exactly the number he was hoping for but he hoped his partner had caught a few more. Then again...he probably ate more than he caught.

As the white-skinned mercenary walked further through the woods he was about to turn back and call it a day when his goggles began showing an indicator in the left menu. He activated it to see what it was and much to his surprise his goggles were picking up a communication signal. Unless it was part of their job locating a particular individual, he rarely scanned communication signals due to the fact that it could get them discovered. That didn’t bode well for a profession of stealth and anonymity.

It wouldn’t surprise him that the little aliens might be sending an SOS upon their arrival...but, this signal was aimed off world. Who were they trying to signal off world? Normally he would ignore such a thing but the whole point of them coming to this backwater planet was hiding from the law. If this signal was broadcasting an SOS then that could draw in other ships...and that was something he didn’t want.

He changed course slightly and began pinpointing the signal that seemed to be coming from a nearby mountain chain at the edge of the forest.