Mercs! by Dorian Dawes

Author:Dorian Dawes [Dawes, Dorian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: NineStar Press, LGBT, sci-fi, military, gay, trans, aliens, space
Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
Published: 2018-11-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

NERGAL DROVE THE tank far into the desert. He did his best to bandage his wounded body along the way, hoping the serum would begin to heal him. It seemed that over the years he’d developed a resistance to its curative properties. He could feel the wounds closing, but they were agonizingly slow, and the process torturous.

Eventually the tank ran out of fuel, coming to a creaking halt. He swore loudly, banging his fist against the controls. It’d all gone to shit. Sometimes it felt like the universe itself were conspiring against him, making a mess of all his plans. All he wanted was a place off this barren hellhole. Was that so difficult?

Clutching at his wounds, he clamored out of the tank and stumbled into the frigid winds. He’d been forced to discard most of his protective suit in order to bandage himself with tattered fragments of his shirt. He kept the coat he’d stolen from the tavern wrapped about his skinny shoulders as meager protection from the harsh atmosphere.

He’d tried to carry the rest of his weapons and chemical apparatus, but they proved burdensome, and were soon abandoned. All he had left was a vial of his precious serum. It’d be the last till he could find a working laboratory again.

The serum had kept him alive, but only just. The disease still churned and grew and multiplied within him. His lips cracked and peeled, and his gums bled fiercely if he gritted his teeth too tight. His thin gangrenous limbs protested this desert trek. He suffered every moment he was alive.

It would be so easy to collapse into the dust and rot here, leaving a vengeful corpse for some unlucky bandit to loot. His nest of diseases would live on infecting others long past his death. His suffering would at last be at an end. If there was an afterlife, he might see Dalton again.

Yet Nergal fought against extinction. He was still alive, after everything he’d been through and all he’d suffered. A withered husk of a man to be sure, but somehow still breathing, still capable of wreaking havoc to any who crossed him. He swore under his breath that if he died here and now, he’d find the high courts of the universe and sue.

For Doctor Isaac Nergal, death was always a possibility, but never an option. He was a festering sack of pestilence and death living an unlife full of torture and regret. More than that he was pissed. Anger and hatred are unpleasant emotions, but they provided the fires that sustained him, and kept propelling him forward through the darkness.

When he finally collapsed three hours later, it was with his fists clenched, still struggling to pull himself forward. He’d managed to crawl several paces, even after his legs had stopped carrying him. He kept his eyes open until weariness forced them closed. The last he saw before surrendering to unconsciousness were hands white as a corpse reaching down to grab him.

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