Connections

Shouts filled the bailey of the Slate Sepulcher. Several squads and numerous cohorts of soldiers and militia engaging in training or preparation work for their coming trials.

A rapid heave of air escaped Meryll as they were driven to the floor by a single-leg takedown from Excelsior. She wasn't expecting the big lug to be as quick as he was.

“Thought you said you've fought before,” jawed Excelsior with a grin. “It's okay, feints get the best of us from time to time!”

Meryll scrambled, attempting to gain her footing before Excelsior could control the grapple. With expert maneuvering, he deftly pinned her shoulder to the ground and swung a leg over, transitioning his hold into an arm bar.

“Give up?” He asked, exerting perhaps a bit too much force on the joints of her prosthesis.

After a few seconds of struggle, Excelsior’s eyes bulged in surprise at the loud pop of Meryll's arm detaching. “Fuck no,” she sneered, scrambling to her feet. One swift kick to the jaw dazed the large man, giving Meryll ample time to snatch the ceramic prosthesis from his loosened grasp.

Excelsior raised a hand defensively, the other cradling a sore jaw. “Alright, alright, you got out, I concede!” Once the surprise wore off he cackled, grinning ear-to-ear. “Just don't beat me with that thing. What the hell was that?”

“A desperate move. And maybe not a wise one. But could get me out of a tight spot.” She mimed smacking her sparring partner with the limb, before settling down on the ground next to him. “Here, help me with this. We can remount it now, but I'll need help getting the wiring back in place…”

“Shit, did I break it?”

“No. With the right maneuvering and enough force, I can get myself loose from it, but pulling away breaks a lot of the leads… stops working as a limb, but luck willing, makes a hell of a cudgel. Ya know, like lizards, but with more steps and perhaps a bit more violent.”

“How often have you done this?” Excelsior did little to hide the baffled expression on his face.

“Enough to make it more than dumb luck. First time it happened, I would have been dead with the rest of my ce-, uh, squad.” Meryll steered quickly from the self-interrupt. “Enough to piss off Septus, too.”

“Still a fighter, eh?” He paused, awkwardly gesturing to her limbs. “After surviving everything, eh? Not to be rude, but what happened?”

Meryll grimaced, mentally recounting the lie they've told many times. “Job gone wrong out in contested ERI space. It was a long while back, was still a kid, scrounging cash where I could. Just a courier job, but I was at the wrong place, at the wrong time. The shareholders decided to pull out, abandoning the outpost. So when the enemy fleets arrived expecting resistance, I was caught in the crossfire, delivering goods to no-one.”

Meryll’s expression soured, despising her own shitty lie to hide the truth, as if they were still toiling under the oppressive rat-race that ERI called ‘society’. The truth wouldn't hurt her, yet she didn't want to be perceived differently than she already was. Explaining that you were a genetic experiment in cloning gone horribly awry isn't the greatest feeling, and the pity was worse.

Excelsior readily read her expression as discomfort and changed the topic. “Will y'all be good without us? I hear y'all got something coming through the pipeworks soon.”

“Yeah. CeCe and Cunningham will be in the front. And I can probably hunker down in whatever machine Mila manages to steal or salvage…”

They both paused, before speaking in unison. “And there's that creepy fuckin’ drone.” They cackled together, taking a moment to catch their breath before Meryll continued.

“We’ll be fine. The docs need you. Y'all need this, too.”

“Yeah…”

They sat quietly for some time, Meryll guiding Excelsior through the steps of getting several out-of-reach leads connected. Before they could finish, an exasperated swear from Septus drew their attention.

“What the fuck, Meryll? Again?”