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Soshika's claws gripped the katana loosely, relying on merely its own weight to defend her. There, about to leap into battle and about to kill, Soshika wished she were someplace else. The obsidian pendant of a dragon with gray wings thumped against her chest as her heart beat. A fast beat it was, too. The stress was maddening, and there, about to gamble with and perhaps lose the lives of twenty-four different beings all with the same goal…Soshika wished she hadn't agreed to this.
Guns chattered and shells screamed to the ground before her, Soshika wishing she hadn't been born with such a hatred of injustice. It wasn't as if she was the only human hater in the small band. The Rulerists -the humans- had been quick to declare themselves the one true religion, the one true path. Clawing their way into the Universal Council, the quickly multiplying and rapidly spreading Rulerist humans forced most of the old, alien, Pagan members from the council. Already the dominant species, most Pagan humans quickly converted to Rulerism for their own sakes, making it also the dominant religion.
Of course, being the one true path meant that the Rulerist must show those taking other paths the error of their ways. This meant, for the Rulerists, destroying all others. Humans, being born with a fear of anything different from themselves, chose aliens as their special targets. Aliens were bad, in human thinking. Likewise, Pagans were bad. Ergo, all aliens must be Pagan. That meant they had to go, no matter what they said.
Small bands formed, creating the disorganized, disconnected and undersupplied Pagan army in a hope to fight back the Rulerists. Unfortunately, though valiant as their spirit was, it was the fight of a flea against a dog. No way it could win.
And yet, Soshika had joined that flea in a hope that perhaps, with enough fleas, they could drive the dog mad and to its own destruction.
But why? She demanded of herself. She had been born a philosopher, not a fighter. And yet, here she was, ready to plunge into enemy lines in what could turn out to be a suicide mission. I shouldn't be here; I should be in my junior year at school, having parties with friends and a nice looking male at my side, not fighting a war! Not hefting an ancient katana and charging into a battle already lost!
But you have to, came a mental voice quite unlike her own. Soshika shook her head and forced it away. It was hard, whatever had spoken was stronger then she was. She whispered softly to her katana begging it to protect her from harm and silence danger. Raising the polished blade to her face, she kissed the weapon and muttered a prayer. Dropping her hands, she got ready to run. "At two o'clock," she muttered to Miron and Bok, "Behind that tripod repeater. See it? It should give me a place to start if I want to slip though. Don't fire until you see them tighten their hands on the triggers."
"And you are going straight across open space like that?" Bok growled, motioning to the bleak and stoneless strip of land between the bunker and the Rulerist lines.
"I'll take cover behind the invisible rock over there," snarled the Cat sarcastically. "Have you a better idea? I can keep some shots off myself; the rest are for you to handle. Have a nice day, Boys. I'll send you a post card when I reach the other side."
"Good luck, Lypha." Miron smiled, shaggy hair falling across his face. The sniper looked nearly human, but two slitted pupils betrayed his bloodlines. "Don't get killed out there. We've got a pool going to see if you get any shoes ever. Don't die before I can win."
The felinoid afforded a small smile and prepared to run.
