Memitim Unleashed
01 Aug 2020Kodeyne
Contains adult content.It’s been the best part of a year since the last Kodeyne episode. So some stuff here may not make a lot of sense…but if you’re interested, her story starts here.
The corridors and hallways of Ray Gateway echoed her footsteps. Only half aware of where she was going, Ophelia drew the cloak around her and concentrated on the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other.
She’d had the ache in the neck, the dull brain-fog of cabin fever pressing down on her for too long. She came to Diaguandri, like so many did, for cheap ship components. She’d arrived, bought what she needed, and run a few missions for EXO, the controlling faction. They seemed to have been wracked with civil unrest for weeks now.
On she walked, instinctively avoiding crowds and people, just needed to stretch her legs, get the fatigue poisons out of her system.
Stuck in a rut. That was the problem. Just the same old thing, day in day out. Trading. Bit of bounty hunting. Not in the mood for exploration or mining, her two usual retreats when the ennui set in.
Lights flickered. She had wandered into a run-down part of the station without realising. The paintwork was faded and grubby. Debris lay in piles. Probably not a good place to be, especially on your own. Still, acoustic sensors linked to the security systems generally provided a deterrent to attack, providing they weren’t broken -
The lights went out.
- or had been disabled -
She gulped, her heart suddenly pounding. It could just be a coincidence. If the lights were faulty, they might well fail. Stay calm, carefully retrace your steps.
A scraping sound…
Panic took over and like an idiot, she started to run. Something tangled her feet and she crashed to the floor. Scrambled along, disorientated in the gloom. Found a wall and managed to get upright.
The lights guttered back to life, and a hand clamped itself over her mouth. A cold metal edge pricked her neck. The smell of stale sweat made her gag.
“Who’s a pretty girl, then?” said a man’s voice, a loud sing-song whisper.
Oh no…
“Nice of you to visit, pretty one. Now you’re going to be good aren’t you? You’re going to open those legs for me and we can have some fun. Or maybe you like it in the bottom? You look like that sort of dirty slut…”
You fool, she thought, you bloody fool. You asked for trouble, sauntering off by yourself.
Her captor pushed her forward, stumbling along the corridor towards a side room.
Focus.
She slumped forward a little, in a submissive manner. The doorway, and whatever horrors awaited her behind it, got closer.
Now.
Wrenched her mouth open wide, sank her teeth into the unwashed hand on her face, tasted blood. Forced the blade at her throat away. The man cried out in pain and the hand was gone. Slammed her head backwards.
Lashed out with one leg, connected with a shin.
She broke free and spun round to face him. Indeterminate age, unshaven, head bald on tip with long, greasy, brown and grey hair hanging down either side. Tattered, filthy clothing. His weapon was a rusty, saw-edged affair. He staggered against the wall, caught himself and stood up.
“Oooh,” he said, “a fighty one, hmm? I like the fighty ones. They seem to taste so much sweeter afterwards…” Lurched towards her, weapon at the ready.
The shinng of a blade unsheathed.
Her Fairbairn-Sykes knife swung through the air, slashing a deep cut across his inner forearm. He screamed and dropped his weapon. A foot slammed into his stomach, knocking the wind out and bending him double. A kick to the head followed. He lurched backwards, collapsing into a heap of refuse on the floor, trying to staunch the carmine flow from his arm.
Ophelia cast her cloak aside and reversed the knife in her hand. There was no thought now, just pure fury. He looked up as her shadow fell over him. Writhing back, trying to get away. Stared into hate-filled eyes, saw her bared teeth and lips stained with his own blood.
“No! No! Please! Have mercy…”
His shrieks echoed down the empty corridors as Death came for him.
She had wiped her knife on her gore-splattered top, not wishing to sully it further on his stinking rags. Grabbed her cloak and wrapped it around her, concealing the patches of blood on her clothing as she followed the station map on her wristerm, hurrying back to her ship as fast as she could.
Rode the ramp lift up into Falling Angel. Stripped her stained clothes and stuffed them into the washer. Only once it was going did she shakily walk to the bathroom and clambered into the shower. Scrubbing at her face where he had touched her skin, where his blood had smeared.
Wrapped a towel around her trembling body and returned to the galley, grabbing the whiskey bottle from a cupboard. Slopped a generous measure into a glass and necked it.
She couldn’t remember anything after she had pulled her knife. The blade lay in its belted sheath on the table. She slowly drew the dagger and stared at it, thinking of all the bounties she had claimed, the pirates taken down. But blowing away another starship was killing made abstract. Now she was a proper killer. Blood on her hands.
Different memories swirled up.
Alison...dear Alison. You couldn’t even defend yourself. Now I start to understand. How it feels to be unclean and ashamed. Great gods below.
Poured another drink, forced herself to drink it slowly. “Oh, Alison...a little bit of revenge for you there, old friend." As the liquor calmed her, she wondered how Monfort, the detective, was doing, in his quest to uncover the identity of Ali’s attacker.
Let out a long breath. Put the bottle away, the glass to the dishwasher. First things first. Get the fuck out of here, girl.
“Welcome back to the Galnet evening news for the Diaguandri system. Police on Ray Gateway are investigating after the body of a man was discovered in a disused section of the station. Initial reports suggest he was stabbed at least twenty-four times. Although the victim’s identity has not been released, it is thought he was a suspected criminal. A nearby room contained a surgical table with restraints, dried blood and human remains. This could very well link the dead man to a number of unsolved disappearances aboard the station over the past few years…”