). This fanfic could be thought of as a redux version of The Beginning of the End, which I have decided to discontinue as I don't think it was very good. 
Hope this is better.The Death of a Snake
Moderator: LadyTevar
The Death of a Snake
A short fanfic taking place in our alternate Drakaverse timeline, and mostly looking at things from the other side of the fence. Whether or not it becomes part of the "official" Drakafic series is up to Shep & company's discretion (in case this turns out not to be very good ). This fanfic could be thought of as a redux version of The Beginning of the End, which I have decided to discontinue as I don't think it was very good. Hope this is better.
). This fanfic could be thought of as a redux version of The Beginning of the End, which I have decided to discontinue as I don't think it was very good. Hope this is better.Jake Setzer wanted to stop moving, but he knew it would be a death sentence to do so. The storm threw snow and sleet and icy air in his face. The wind howled at him like a wild beast eager for his death and frustrated by his efforts to continue living. He wasn’t walking so much as stumbling forward. The snow was piled treacherously deep beneath him, so much so that there was little distinction between crawling and walking. They blurred into one. It was as if he was advancing into an onrushing swarm of bloodthirsty mosquitoes with stingers made of ice.
It took all Setzer’s strength to keep going. He was small and rather scrawny, with awkwardly cut hair and an extremely youthful, boyish face, but his muscles, while stringy and meager, were strong. A decade and a half of rigorous physical training had burned all spare tissue from him long ago, but he had been far too weak and sickly to ever become the perfect physical specimen the regimens aimed at producing. Setzer was sure that were it not for his training to endure pain and hardship he would long ago have fallen. He had lost track of how much time had passed since he’d become separated from his unit in a skirmish with a pursuing Russian tetrarchy. The Draka had been beating a messy retreat for some time now. Setzer had no choice but to continue that retreat on his own initiative. He didn’t want to think about how far behind the main line of the army he was by now, or how close he might be to the Russian line of advance. He realized dimly that the chance of him ever catching up with any of the fleeing Drakan units was tiny, but he simply refused to consider it. If he did so he’d stop trying to live.
Setzer stumbled and fell again. He tried to heave himself up but found he was unable to.
“How much longer?” he groaned.
Strong hands grabbed his soiled, torn jacket and pulled him up. “How would I know” came the reply. “Keep going until we hit one of own units.”
“We’ll never make it, will we?” Setzer asked in a small, frightened voice.
“Shut up” his companion said as she hitched an arm over his shoulder to support him. She was a dark haired woman with an angular jaw, small mouth, thin eyebrows, and dark brown eyes. Her wavy hair was tied back behind her head, so as not to obscure her vision. She was short and muscular, as Draka women generally tended to be (contrary to propaganda you did not walk out of fifteen years of boot camp looking like a Greek goddess). She wore the heavily abused khaki uniform of a Decurion. “Citizens of The Race do not give up and fall over!”
“The Race can go fuck itself!” Setzer said.
“I should shoot you for that” the woman said.
“Go right ahead!” Setzer said. “You think your rank means anything to me right now?”
The woman turned Setzer around, forcefully. “Now you listen to this Setzer. If you stop moving you’ll either freeze to death or the Russians will catch up with us. And you won’t be better off. Those fuckers will shoot you on sight. Your only chance for survival is to keep moving! Do you understand?”
Setzer nodded limply.
“Do you understand?” she demanded.
“Yes” he said weakly.
“Good” she said. “You can bitch at me all you want when we make it to our own lines.”
Setzer felt a little warmer hearing her reassurance, however hollow it might be. They continued through the snowstorm, but Setzer found himself forced to crawl half the time. He was at the very end of his endurance. He tried not to think of how hopeless his position was, but even so every step and movement was an effort of will.
“You’re slowing us down!” the Decurion yelled over the wind.
“Oh gee I’m so sorry Decurion Kelly!” Setzer spat sarcastically. “I’ve only been moving for the last nine or ten hours straight, through a fucking blizzard, in the fucking Russian winter!”
Kelly said nothing for a moment. This is it, Setzer thought, she’s going to leave me here. He decided he wouldn’t bother to disgrace himself by begging her to stay with him. He was probably dead anyway, and he was holding her back. Nothing he said could change that, or was very likely to make her forget that. He couldn’t blame her for wanting a better chance to live, and it was totally unbecoming a Citizen to beg. Then he felt her grab him and begin picking him up.
“I’ll carry you” she explained.
“I’m, like, way bigger than you!” Setzer protested. “How does that work?”
"I’m strong enough” she said, he thought maybe somewhat defensively. It was true, she was way stronger than him. He was almost dead but she still had the strength to haul him with her. Setzer suppressed a laugh when he realized this was the complete opposite of the heroic model you saw in the movies: the guy was supposed to carry the girl, not the other way around!
“This is humiliating” he complained.
“I’d be able to go faster if I just left you behind” Kelly observed. He prudently shut up, at least for a while. Then he thought he noticed a dim light through the pine trees and swirling snow. He watched it for a little while, wondering if he might be so far gone he was starting to hallucinate. It flickered in the stygian evening, but never disappeared.
“Hey, you see a light up ahead or am I just seeing things?”
“Where?”
Setzer pointed to it. “Right there, just to the right of that little tree.”
“Yeah, I see it.”
A terrible thought crossed Setzer’s mind. “Russians?”
“Could be” Kelly said. “But, ah fuck it, we’re not much worse off that we already are if it is.”
As she slowly trudged toward the light Setzer began to make out details of its source. It came from a small window in what appeared to be a small shack. Much to his relief, there was no sign of anyone else around.
“Looks like a house” Kelly observed.
“Wasn’t the whole civilian population impressed into serfs when we took this area?”
“In the cities and towns yes, but this place is pretty isolated.” Kelly paused. “Or it might be partisans, in which case we’re probably dead.”
“We still have our guns” Setzer pointed out. “If there was only a couple maybe we could surprise them.”
“Maybe” Kelly sighed. “At this point I’ll settle for dying warm anyway. I’ll go around, so they can’t see us coming.”
From close up the shack looked rickety and fragile. It was hard to believe it could stand up to this place’s infernal climate. Making sure to keep well out of the line of sight of the lit window Kelly set Setzer down and took up a position flanking the flimsy-looking wooden door. Setzer forced his legs to support him and held the opposite position, holding his rifle ready.
“OK, on three.” Kelly counted down. “One, two, three.”
They both shot out the door with their rifles, splintering the wood and breaking the crude lock. Kelly pivoted around and smashed the door in with a kick. It imploded with a loud grinding sound. Setzer charged in (actually it was more of a controlled, barely aborted spastic fall than a charge) and swept his rifle in front of him, shouting the only Russian he knew, the word for surrender. Under better circumstances he’d have just shot away, but in the state he was in he doubted he’d survive a firefight.
Standing in the corner, near the kerosene lamp that had first alerted him to the buildings existence, were three human figures. One was a woman of perhaps early middle age, with around face and black hair. Huddled by her were a young boy and a teenage girl.
“Should I shoot them?” Setzer asked.
“Nah, ammunition’s way too valuable with the way things are now. Just tie them up, if they resist then shoot them. We can wait out the storm in here.”
“Wait out the storm?” Setzer said with obvious surprise. “Shouldn’t we be worried about the Russian advance catching up with us?”
Kelly gestured toward one of the windows and its view of wind drive sleet. “They’re way too smart to march under these conditions. As are we. As soon as it starts to lighten up we should get moving again. That way we’ll have the best chance of catching up.”
“But you said if we moved too slowly they might catch us.”
Kelly snickered at him. “Sure got you moving, didn’t it?” Setzer cursed darkly under his breath but didn’t dare talk back to one who outranked him by two grades. “Here” she threw him a length of frayed dirty rope. “Tie them up in that corner. Oh, and search them first, you know what these Ivans are like. They’re as bad as the towelheads; one of them’s bound to have a butcher’s knife or something to cut your throat with.”
“Yes Decurion” Setzer acknowledged, feeling strangely relieved to be stepping back into the old roles of commander and commanded. It made him feel slightly less isolated, slightly less alone and cut off. He advanced on the three Russians, rope in hand. They backed up, which was annoying but futile as they quickly ran out of floor. Decurion Kelly kept her gun trained on them, alert for any sign of resistance. He reached out and grabbed the one closest to him. It was the girl, who he estimated to be perhaps thirteen or twelve. She twisted ferociously against him, but while Setzer might have been half dead and never very inherently physically impressive in the first place he was still a product of a nearly two decade training program to produce the ultimate warrior, so he should have overpowered her easily. However, he hadn’t counted on how hard a human being can bite when they put a lot of desperation into it. Setzer yelped in agony as she tore out a chunk of his palm, leaving a ragged bleeding wound between thumb and index finger.
“Fuck!” he cursed. “Little bitch took a piece right out of my hand!” Setzer reflected, not for the first time, that even if the Dominate won the war (which was starting to look less and less likely) turning these people into serviceable serfs would be the work of generations. He wondered if the kaffirs could possibly have been this defiant at the outset. Then a rattle of gunfire nearly sent him diving for cover, before he realized it was merely a warning shot from Kelly. The wall above the heads of the three captives was now riddled with bullet holes (and incredibly merciful repercussion, given what would happen to a serf in the Dominate who physically assaulted a Citizen). The Decurion said something in Russian that, even to a non-speaker, was obviously hesitant and heavily broken. The Russian woman said something in return, and although Setzer had no idea what was being said her pleading tone was obvious. Kelly responded with something that sounded snappy, which caused the Russian woman and (he presumed) her daughter to stiffen visibly, like people waiting to be shot.
“What did she say Decurion?” Setzer asked.
“She says she’s heard of what the Draka do to women and begged me to ask you not to rape her daughter.”
“What is it with all these feral races and that anyway?” Setzer asked. “Do they think we’re all rich plantation bums with nothing better to do than fuck their personal attendants all day? Besides, they always act like it’s the worst thing that can possibly happen to somebody. It’s over in five or ten minutes and there’s no actual physical harm whatsoever for fucks sake!”
Decurion Kelly shrugged. “They have some kind of weird phobia of it. I’ve heard that they don’t give their rank and file stimulant drugs like we do with our Janissaries. Instead they make ‘em all watch interviews with girls and boys that got fucked by Draka soldiers and by the time the reel’s over they’ve all worked themselves up into a complete homicidal rage.” Noticing Setzer’s look of open incredulity she added “at least that’s what I’ve heard.”
“No way that could be right ma’am” Setzer said. “That’s just too weird.”
“It’s a cultural thing” Kelly offered. “I do wish they’d get their priorities straight though. If they were half as afraid of our weapons as they were of our genitals they’d all surrender in a week.”
“Yeah” Setzer agreed as he reached out for the girl a second time. This time at least she didn’t bite him, but she shrank back into the mother, who pulled one of her arms tight around her shoulders. Thinking of what he’d just heard Setzer decided it might be easier if he tied started with the boy first.
“Don’t bother.” Kelly said. “They have an even bigger phobia of homosexuals.”
“Uh, Decurion, maybe since you’re a woman this would be easier if-“
“No, it wouldn’t. They consider their mouths as sacred as their cunts and assholes, if you follow my meaning.”
“This is too much Decurion” Setzer groaned in exasperation. “Just tell them that if they don’t do exactly as we say we’ll blow their fucking heads off and to hell with their irrational sex-phobias!”
“Just tie them up together” Kelly said. “It’s the easiest way to go about it.”
Setzer at first wanted to protest. The Decurion was being altogether too lenient on the defiance of these bushmen. Other races should serve and obey the Draka, and if they were a little unclear on the concept… well then, they needed to be straightened out. Of course, she was right, tying them up together would be the easiest thing to do, but this was a matter of principle! The Draka didn’t bow to the desires of others; they went where they wished and took what they wanted! But he was too tired to protest and didn’t want to test the patience of the Decurion, so he frisked them as best he could and lashed all three of the bastards to together, tying their arms and legs to each other’s so that they couldn’t move.
They looked over house for anything that might be of value. Setzer found very little aside from some foul-tasting food. They scooped snow into a bucket and melted it over the black metal furnace. They both gulped down the water greedily. Thirst wasn’t something Setzer had ever associated with Russia, but it had been many hours since he’d last had a sip of water and the desiccating wind had ripped the moisture from his throat and lungs. His throat burned so badly it was impossible to force the gruel-like food down his throat despite how hungry he was. The Russians watched the Draka eat with clear and utter loathing. Setzer fed them some of the unpalatable crap. They spat it back out at him, unable to bring themselves to take food from the hand of a vile Draka. Setzer shrugged mentally. Fine, if they wanted to go hungry then let them.
The sun had fallen and it was pitch dark outside. The only light was the kerosene lamp and they flickering flow of the furnace that provided life-restoring warmth. As the junior member of the party of two Setzer had to watch the Russians while the Decurion slept. She slept sitting up in his lap, leaning against him so that they might share warmth. They found a thick, greasy blanket and threw it over themselves. There was nothing passionate in her embrace, simply an attempt to pool the heat of their bodies against the lethal cold but Setzer hadn’t been this physically close to a woman since he was a child and the feel of her body through her uniform made him light headed. He felt a surge of panic as he realized he was getting a hard-on, but thankfully if she noticed it she gave no sign. He realized he was very tired, and that the rhythmic expansion and contraction of her chest was hypnotic in its peaceful monotony. It was hard not to feel safe, despite the situation. The war had gotten ugly, especially now that the armed might of America had come down on the side of the Russians. He remembered the hopelessly optimistic projections he’d heard when the war had started and he’d still been finishing off boarding school and waiting with a mixture of fear and determination for the day he would be called forth to advance the borders of the Dominate. Russia would cave in a month and America would surrender after being worn down and bled dry, its people far too soft and decadent to stomach a prolonged war. That had been the good days, when everybody knew there were two kinds of people in the world. The Draka, strong and determined and destined to one day organize the entire world under their hegemony, and everyone else; the weak, the afraid. Unfortunately, many now realized that there was a third type: those inferiors who were not equal to The Race by any stretch of the imagination but nonetheless possessed sufficient courage and heart to stand up to them. Sometimes, on those terrible nights when the mind grows sick and searches for things to deepen despair, Setzer wondered if it was possible that the Draka would not survive this war. That they would meet the same fate to which they had condemned dozens of other nations in their drive for ultimate dominion. But for some reason that seemed very distant now. It was amazing how much safer things felt when you had someone sleeping next to you.
Slowly, and despite himself, he gave in to the screaming need for rest that had assaulted him for many hours now and slid into the soft waiting arms of unconsciousness.
It took all Setzer’s strength to keep going. He was small and rather scrawny, with awkwardly cut hair and an extremely youthful, boyish face, but his muscles, while stringy and meager, were strong. A decade and a half of rigorous physical training had burned all spare tissue from him long ago, but he had been far too weak and sickly to ever become the perfect physical specimen the regimens aimed at producing. Setzer was sure that were it not for his training to endure pain and hardship he would long ago have fallen. He had lost track of how much time had passed since he’d become separated from his unit in a skirmish with a pursuing Russian tetrarchy. The Draka had been beating a messy retreat for some time now. Setzer had no choice but to continue that retreat on his own initiative. He didn’t want to think about how far behind the main line of the army he was by now, or how close he might be to the Russian line of advance. He realized dimly that the chance of him ever catching up with any of the fleeing Drakan units was tiny, but he simply refused to consider it. If he did so he’d stop trying to live.
Setzer stumbled and fell again. He tried to heave himself up but found he was unable to.
“How much longer?” he groaned.
Strong hands grabbed his soiled, torn jacket and pulled him up. “How would I know” came the reply. “Keep going until we hit one of own units.”
“We’ll never make it, will we?” Setzer asked in a small, frightened voice.
“Shut up” his companion said as she hitched an arm over his shoulder to support him. She was a dark haired woman with an angular jaw, small mouth, thin eyebrows, and dark brown eyes. Her wavy hair was tied back behind her head, so as not to obscure her vision. She was short and muscular, as Draka women generally tended to be (contrary to propaganda you did not walk out of fifteen years of boot camp looking like a Greek goddess). She wore the heavily abused khaki uniform of a Decurion. “Citizens of The Race do not give up and fall over!”
“The Race can go fuck itself!” Setzer said.
“I should shoot you for that” the woman said.
“Go right ahead!” Setzer said. “You think your rank means anything to me right now?”
The woman turned Setzer around, forcefully. “Now you listen to this Setzer. If you stop moving you’ll either freeze to death or the Russians will catch up with us. And you won’t be better off. Those fuckers will shoot you on sight. Your only chance for survival is to keep moving! Do you understand?”
Setzer nodded limply.
“Do you understand?” she demanded.
“Yes” he said weakly.
“Good” she said. “You can bitch at me all you want when we make it to our own lines.”
Setzer felt a little warmer hearing her reassurance, however hollow it might be. They continued through the snowstorm, but Setzer found himself forced to crawl half the time. He was at the very end of his endurance. He tried not to think of how hopeless his position was, but even so every step and movement was an effort of will.
“You’re slowing us down!” the Decurion yelled over the wind.
“Oh gee I’m so sorry Decurion Kelly!” Setzer spat sarcastically. “I’ve only been moving for the last nine or ten hours straight, through a fucking blizzard, in the fucking Russian winter!”
Kelly said nothing for a moment. This is it, Setzer thought, she’s going to leave me here. He decided he wouldn’t bother to disgrace himself by begging her to stay with him. He was probably dead anyway, and he was holding her back. Nothing he said could change that, or was very likely to make her forget that. He couldn’t blame her for wanting a better chance to live, and it was totally unbecoming a Citizen to beg. Then he felt her grab him and begin picking him up.
“I’ll carry you” she explained.
“I’m, like, way bigger than you!” Setzer protested. “How does that work?”
"I’m strong enough” she said, he thought maybe somewhat defensively. It was true, she was way stronger than him. He was almost dead but she still had the strength to haul him with her. Setzer suppressed a laugh when he realized this was the complete opposite of the heroic model you saw in the movies: the guy was supposed to carry the girl, not the other way around!
“This is humiliating” he complained.
“I’d be able to go faster if I just left you behind” Kelly observed. He prudently shut up, at least for a while. Then he thought he noticed a dim light through the pine trees and swirling snow. He watched it for a little while, wondering if he might be so far gone he was starting to hallucinate. It flickered in the stygian evening, but never disappeared.
“Hey, you see a light up ahead or am I just seeing things?”
“Where?”
Setzer pointed to it. “Right there, just to the right of that little tree.”
“Yeah, I see it.”
A terrible thought crossed Setzer’s mind. “Russians?”
“Could be” Kelly said. “But, ah fuck it, we’re not much worse off that we already are if it is.”
As she slowly trudged toward the light Setzer began to make out details of its source. It came from a small window in what appeared to be a small shack. Much to his relief, there was no sign of anyone else around.
“Looks like a house” Kelly observed.
“Wasn’t the whole civilian population impressed into serfs when we took this area?”
“In the cities and towns yes, but this place is pretty isolated.” Kelly paused. “Or it might be partisans, in which case we’re probably dead.”
“We still have our guns” Setzer pointed out. “If there was only a couple maybe we could surprise them.”
“Maybe” Kelly sighed. “At this point I’ll settle for dying warm anyway. I’ll go around, so they can’t see us coming.”
From close up the shack looked rickety and fragile. It was hard to believe it could stand up to this place’s infernal climate. Making sure to keep well out of the line of sight of the lit window Kelly set Setzer down and took up a position flanking the flimsy-looking wooden door. Setzer forced his legs to support him and held the opposite position, holding his rifle ready.
“OK, on three.” Kelly counted down. “One, two, three.”
They both shot out the door with their rifles, splintering the wood and breaking the crude lock. Kelly pivoted around and smashed the door in with a kick. It imploded with a loud grinding sound. Setzer charged in (actually it was more of a controlled, barely aborted spastic fall than a charge) and swept his rifle in front of him, shouting the only Russian he knew, the word for surrender. Under better circumstances he’d have just shot away, but in the state he was in he doubted he’d survive a firefight.
Standing in the corner, near the kerosene lamp that had first alerted him to the buildings existence, were three human figures. One was a woman of perhaps early middle age, with around face and black hair. Huddled by her were a young boy and a teenage girl.
“Should I shoot them?” Setzer asked.
“Nah, ammunition’s way too valuable with the way things are now. Just tie them up, if they resist then shoot them. We can wait out the storm in here.”
“Wait out the storm?” Setzer said with obvious surprise. “Shouldn’t we be worried about the Russian advance catching up with us?”
Kelly gestured toward one of the windows and its view of wind drive sleet. “They’re way too smart to march under these conditions. As are we. As soon as it starts to lighten up we should get moving again. That way we’ll have the best chance of catching up.”
“But you said if we moved too slowly they might catch us.”
Kelly snickered at him. “Sure got you moving, didn’t it?” Setzer cursed darkly under his breath but didn’t dare talk back to one who outranked him by two grades. “Here” she threw him a length of frayed dirty rope. “Tie them up in that corner. Oh, and search them first, you know what these Ivans are like. They’re as bad as the towelheads; one of them’s bound to have a butcher’s knife or something to cut your throat with.”
“Yes Decurion” Setzer acknowledged, feeling strangely relieved to be stepping back into the old roles of commander and commanded. It made him feel slightly less isolated, slightly less alone and cut off. He advanced on the three Russians, rope in hand. They backed up, which was annoying but futile as they quickly ran out of floor. Decurion Kelly kept her gun trained on them, alert for any sign of resistance. He reached out and grabbed the one closest to him. It was the girl, who he estimated to be perhaps thirteen or twelve. She twisted ferociously against him, but while Setzer might have been half dead and never very inherently physically impressive in the first place he was still a product of a nearly two decade training program to produce the ultimate warrior, so he should have overpowered her easily. However, he hadn’t counted on how hard a human being can bite when they put a lot of desperation into it. Setzer yelped in agony as she tore out a chunk of his palm, leaving a ragged bleeding wound between thumb and index finger.
“Fuck!” he cursed. “Little bitch took a piece right out of my hand!” Setzer reflected, not for the first time, that even if the Dominate won the war (which was starting to look less and less likely) turning these people into serviceable serfs would be the work of generations. He wondered if the kaffirs could possibly have been this defiant at the outset. Then a rattle of gunfire nearly sent him diving for cover, before he realized it was merely a warning shot from Kelly. The wall above the heads of the three captives was now riddled with bullet holes (and incredibly merciful repercussion, given what would happen to a serf in the Dominate who physically assaulted a Citizen). The Decurion said something in Russian that, even to a non-speaker, was obviously hesitant and heavily broken. The Russian woman said something in return, and although Setzer had no idea what was being said her pleading tone was obvious. Kelly responded with something that sounded snappy, which caused the Russian woman and (he presumed) her daughter to stiffen visibly, like people waiting to be shot.
“What did she say Decurion?” Setzer asked.
“She says she’s heard of what the Draka do to women and begged me to ask you not to rape her daughter.”
“What is it with all these feral races and that anyway?” Setzer asked. “Do they think we’re all rich plantation bums with nothing better to do than fuck their personal attendants all day? Besides, they always act like it’s the worst thing that can possibly happen to somebody. It’s over in five or ten minutes and there’s no actual physical harm whatsoever for fucks sake!”
Decurion Kelly shrugged. “They have some kind of weird phobia of it. I’ve heard that they don’t give their rank and file stimulant drugs like we do with our Janissaries. Instead they make ‘em all watch interviews with girls and boys that got fucked by Draka soldiers and by the time the reel’s over they’ve all worked themselves up into a complete homicidal rage.” Noticing Setzer’s look of open incredulity she added “at least that’s what I’ve heard.”
“No way that could be right ma’am” Setzer said. “That’s just too weird.”
“It’s a cultural thing” Kelly offered. “I do wish they’d get their priorities straight though. If they were half as afraid of our weapons as they were of our genitals they’d all surrender in a week.”
“Yeah” Setzer agreed as he reached out for the girl a second time. This time at least she didn’t bite him, but she shrank back into the mother, who pulled one of her arms tight around her shoulders. Thinking of what he’d just heard Setzer decided it might be easier if he tied started with the boy first.
“Don’t bother.” Kelly said. “They have an even bigger phobia of homosexuals.”
“Uh, Decurion, maybe since you’re a woman this would be easier if-“
“No, it wouldn’t. They consider their mouths as sacred as their cunts and assholes, if you follow my meaning.”
“This is too much Decurion” Setzer groaned in exasperation. “Just tell them that if they don’t do exactly as we say we’ll blow their fucking heads off and to hell with their irrational sex-phobias!”
“Just tie them up together” Kelly said. “It’s the easiest way to go about it.”
Setzer at first wanted to protest. The Decurion was being altogether too lenient on the defiance of these bushmen. Other races should serve and obey the Draka, and if they were a little unclear on the concept… well then, they needed to be straightened out. Of course, she was right, tying them up together would be the easiest thing to do, but this was a matter of principle! The Draka didn’t bow to the desires of others; they went where they wished and took what they wanted! But he was too tired to protest and didn’t want to test the patience of the Decurion, so he frisked them as best he could and lashed all three of the bastards to together, tying their arms and legs to each other’s so that they couldn’t move.
They looked over house for anything that might be of value. Setzer found very little aside from some foul-tasting food. They scooped snow into a bucket and melted it over the black metal furnace. They both gulped down the water greedily. Thirst wasn’t something Setzer had ever associated with Russia, but it had been many hours since he’d last had a sip of water and the desiccating wind had ripped the moisture from his throat and lungs. His throat burned so badly it was impossible to force the gruel-like food down his throat despite how hungry he was. The Russians watched the Draka eat with clear and utter loathing. Setzer fed them some of the unpalatable crap. They spat it back out at him, unable to bring themselves to take food from the hand of a vile Draka. Setzer shrugged mentally. Fine, if they wanted to go hungry then let them.
The sun had fallen and it was pitch dark outside. The only light was the kerosene lamp and they flickering flow of the furnace that provided life-restoring warmth. As the junior member of the party of two Setzer had to watch the Russians while the Decurion slept. She slept sitting up in his lap, leaning against him so that they might share warmth. They found a thick, greasy blanket and threw it over themselves. There was nothing passionate in her embrace, simply an attempt to pool the heat of their bodies against the lethal cold but Setzer hadn’t been this physically close to a woman since he was a child and the feel of her body through her uniform made him light headed. He felt a surge of panic as he realized he was getting a hard-on, but thankfully if she noticed it she gave no sign. He realized he was very tired, and that the rhythmic expansion and contraction of her chest was hypnotic in its peaceful monotony. It was hard not to feel safe, despite the situation. The war had gotten ugly, especially now that the armed might of America had come down on the side of the Russians. He remembered the hopelessly optimistic projections he’d heard when the war had started and he’d still been finishing off boarding school and waiting with a mixture of fear and determination for the day he would be called forth to advance the borders of the Dominate. Russia would cave in a month and America would surrender after being worn down and bled dry, its people far too soft and decadent to stomach a prolonged war. That had been the good days, when everybody knew there were two kinds of people in the world. The Draka, strong and determined and destined to one day organize the entire world under their hegemony, and everyone else; the weak, the afraid. Unfortunately, many now realized that there was a third type: those inferiors who were not equal to The Race by any stretch of the imagination but nonetheless possessed sufficient courage and heart to stand up to them. Sometimes, on those terrible nights when the mind grows sick and searches for things to deepen despair, Setzer wondered if it was possible that the Draka would not survive this war. That they would meet the same fate to which they had condemned dozens of other nations in their drive for ultimate dominion. But for some reason that seemed very distant now. It was amazing how much safer things felt when you had someone sleeping next to you.
Slowly, and despite himself, he gave in to the screaming need for rest that had assaulted him for many hours now and slid into the soft waiting arms of unconsciousness.
Setzer was aware of a poking sensation on his chest. Something hard and cold was being pushed into him. He made the instinctive warding-off gesture of one who has been awakened from a very deep sleep, and the next poke was harsher and more insistent. His next realization was that the warm, muscular body that had been snuggled against his when he fell asleep was no longer there. That was when he realized that something might be quite wrong indeed. He opened his eyes… and found himself looking straight into the face of a Russian soldier. He immediately grabbed for his gun and was not surprised to find it wasn’t there. He reached for his pistol and his service knife and realized that they were gone too.
Gods, they took my pistol right out of its holster and I didn’t wake up. Was I out that cold?
“Well, well” the Russian crowed in heavily accented English. “A Snake. What’s the matter Snake, your long night of assraping tire you out? Get up.”
Setzer rose to his feet. He was surrounded by five Russkies. They looked at him with the expression one might have when regarding a particularly disgusting venomous insect. He recalled what he’d heard from innumerable officers and companions by now. The Americans take prisoners, the Russians just shoot everybody. Jake Setzer felt terror weaken his knees as he understood very profoundly that his lifespan from here on would be measures in minutes.
The worst of it didn’t hit him until a moment later. By his gross incompetence he’d condemned Decurion Kelly to death. He had the blood of another Citizen on his hands for no other reason that his own sheer stupidity and lack of willpower. He swallowed heavily and held back a hot tear of shame. He was a disgrace to The Race. His fear of his own personal demise warred with the acid shame blooming in his heart like a spillage of some rancid fluid. He deserved to die for this. But it wasn’t just him who would be punished. A perfectly decent Citizen would die-quite probably had already died-for his mistake. And he found he no longer wanted to live. He was still afraid to die, but it was the only thing that would partially absolve him.
He allowed the English-speaking Russian to lead him out into the open, hiding his terror and disgust with himself. He was still a Draka and he would never show weakness. He would walk calmly and proudly to the very end. He refused to give the commie bastards the satisfaction of seeing him weep. Even in the most degrading and terrible situations a Draka always had to remind the world that he was a different type of man, one who would not be bowed by suffering.
Standing not far from the door of the shack was Decurion Kelly. The Russians made them stand by side. Then they made them kneel. It was obvious what they were going to do next.
“I failed you” he whispered to her, unable to meet her eyes.
“Yes” she said. The word was delivered without resentment, but it still pierced his heart like an icicle. “And it was stupid of me to think you could remain awake all night after you had spent sixteen hours on the move, and four of those in a storm. We’re both idiots-and failures. To each and to The Race.”
Setzer was astounded by her attitude. She thought she had failed him! “I didn’t have the willpower” he said. “I’m a disgrace.”
“And I lacked basic common sense. Hard to say which one was worse.” She turned to look straight at him. “Are you scared?”
He opened his mouth to deny it, to tell her that the Draka did not know fear, but to his horror a single word came out. “Yes.”
“Good, so am I” she extended a hand, palm outward. Setzer hesitated for a moment, then slid his hand into hers. The two hands convulsed around one another with the desperation of a drowning man seizing a lifeline. The shadow of a man fell over him and he had just enough time to hear the deafening boom of the gun before a bullet shattered his cranium and destroyed his brain. The last thing he felt was a peculiar relief at being the first to be shot, at not being left alone in the last moment.
An instant later the shooter repeated the operation with Decurion Leah Kelly.
The Russian commander walked over to the cooling bodies of the two Snakes. He thought of the horrors these… things in human form had wrought upon his country. Of what they had done to his own wife, his children, years ago in the Georgian Incursion. At the time he had struggled to understand how any human being could be so low, so bestial, as these Draka. He was almost ready to believe they really were a different type of humanity, some debased strain born naturally fiercer and more vile than all other races. As he bent over the remains of Junior Monitor Jake Setzer he realized that he understood them even less than when he’d started out. The man looked too ordinary to belong to this nation of devils.
He straightened and turned to his men. “Dispose of this garbage, then continue the advance. We have more Snakes to belt!”
Remembering well the atrocities visited by the Drakan demons on their country, in some cases on their own families, the men were only too eager.
Gods, they took my pistol right out of its holster and I didn’t wake up. Was I out that cold?
“Well, well” the Russian crowed in heavily accented English. “A Snake. What’s the matter Snake, your long night of assraping tire you out? Get up.”
Setzer rose to his feet. He was surrounded by five Russkies. They looked at him with the expression one might have when regarding a particularly disgusting venomous insect. He recalled what he’d heard from innumerable officers and companions by now. The Americans take prisoners, the Russians just shoot everybody. Jake Setzer felt terror weaken his knees as he understood very profoundly that his lifespan from here on would be measures in minutes.
The worst of it didn’t hit him until a moment later. By his gross incompetence he’d condemned Decurion Kelly to death. He had the blood of another Citizen on his hands for no other reason that his own sheer stupidity and lack of willpower. He swallowed heavily and held back a hot tear of shame. He was a disgrace to The Race. His fear of his own personal demise warred with the acid shame blooming in his heart like a spillage of some rancid fluid. He deserved to die for this. But it wasn’t just him who would be punished. A perfectly decent Citizen would die-quite probably had already died-for his mistake. And he found he no longer wanted to live. He was still afraid to die, but it was the only thing that would partially absolve him.
He allowed the English-speaking Russian to lead him out into the open, hiding his terror and disgust with himself. He was still a Draka and he would never show weakness. He would walk calmly and proudly to the very end. He refused to give the commie bastards the satisfaction of seeing him weep. Even in the most degrading and terrible situations a Draka always had to remind the world that he was a different type of man, one who would not be bowed by suffering.
Standing not far from the door of the shack was Decurion Kelly. The Russians made them stand by side. Then they made them kneel. It was obvious what they were going to do next.
“I failed you” he whispered to her, unable to meet her eyes.
“Yes” she said. The word was delivered without resentment, but it still pierced his heart like an icicle. “And it was stupid of me to think you could remain awake all night after you had spent sixteen hours on the move, and four of those in a storm. We’re both idiots-and failures. To each and to The Race.”
Setzer was astounded by her attitude. She thought she had failed him! “I didn’t have the willpower” he said. “I’m a disgrace.”
“And I lacked basic common sense. Hard to say which one was worse.” She turned to look straight at him. “Are you scared?”
He opened his mouth to deny it, to tell her that the Draka did not know fear, but to his horror a single word came out. “Yes.”
“Good, so am I” she extended a hand, palm outward. Setzer hesitated for a moment, then slid his hand into hers. The two hands convulsed around one another with the desperation of a drowning man seizing a lifeline. The shadow of a man fell over him and he had just enough time to hear the deafening boom of the gun before a bullet shattered his cranium and destroyed his brain. The last thing he felt was a peculiar relief at being the first to be shot, at not being left alone in the last moment.
An instant later the shooter repeated the operation with Decurion Leah Kelly.
The Russian commander walked over to the cooling bodies of the two Snakes. He thought of the horrors these… things in human form had wrought upon his country. Of what they had done to his own wife, his children, years ago in the Georgian Incursion. At the time he had struggled to understand how any human being could be so low, so bestial, as these Draka. He was almost ready to believe they really were a different type of humanity, some debased strain born naturally fiercer and more vile than all other races. As he bent over the remains of Junior Monitor Jake Setzer he realized that he understood them even less than when he’d started out. The man looked too ordinary to belong to this nation of devils.
He straightened and turned to his men. “Dispose of this garbage, then continue the advance. We have more Snakes to belt!”
Remembering well the atrocities visited by the Drakan demons on their country, in some cases on their own families, the men were only too eager.
Well, if it makes you feel better this is the short story in its entirety. I don't really feel comfortable enough with the background of the Drakaverse to do a more extended fanfic. Was it any good?Setzer wrote:Jeez. Two chapters in, and already my brains are staining the Russian tundra. What did I do to you?