Wednesday Briefs - In Enemy Hands # 2.1

Welcome to the Wednesday Briefs flash group (click to go to the site). The short stories have a maximum of a 1000 word count plus links at the bottom to the other flashers. If interested in joining us, drop me a line and I'll tell you how. :)Prompts for this week:
“As unbelievable as this it…”

“The longer you leave something, the harder it is to fix it.

“It’s never the wrong time.”

“You went too far.”

“Help whenever you need it.”

“There’s no way to tell the good from the bad.”

“You kept me up all night.”

“Now, that’s a good morning.”

“We need to sell it.”

“That was not my idea of fun.”


or use: pool, bullet, floor

or use: wood, ball, plant

or use: couch, plate, straw

or have your character play ping pong

or use: paint, water, foot

or have a character giggling

or have a character pulling up nasty carpet

or use popcorn, hair dryer, scarfor “Put that tongue back in your mouth!”or use biscuits and gravyor make a Peter Pan referenceor “You can’t always get what you want”or have a character with a black eye

or use a Chicago hot dog



Chapter 2.1
Varo squatted down next to Haus, mediunit already scanning his officer. Varo touched Haus’ arm. “Okay, Haus, talk to me.”
Haus grunted. “That certainly was not my idea of fun, Captain.”
Varo’s lips twitched. Several strands of long dirty blond hair had come loose from the braid he wore. Soon, Haus would be griping about the curls he called untamable. He was one of the few Yesrians who didn’t have straight hair.
Varo scanned Haus, and the bruises already blooming across his face, one of Haus’ moss green eyes starting to swell shut. “The fun isn’t over. Now stay still until I know you haven’t damaged anything.”
Varo finished checking Haus. “You’re okay too.” Varo turned to Sarik, who was already staring at Varo, waiting. “Your turn, Sarik.”
Small particles of debris covered Sarik’s golden blond hair, but his azure blue eyes were clean and calm, even if he was slightly pale. All of their people had darkly tanned skin, thanks to the abundance of sunlight their planet received.
Another quick check, and Varo was satisfied. His men were beaten up and sore from the crash, but alive. Nothing was broken or damaged. Thank the goddess, none of them had serious injuries, which was a testament to Artan’s piloting skills.
“Okay, look lively, men. I’d like to hear suggestions before I decide on a course of action.”
That got their attention. Harnesses were unbuckled and moved out of the way. Each stood, moving uneasily in the confining shuttle, staring out the main window into the dim jungle. There was muted lighting, but it was light.
“Did we know they also had jungles?” Sarik frowned at the landscape. “It’s beautiful, but it’s so… Is it daytime?”
“I assume so, such as it is.” Varo glared into the twilight. Daylight here didn’t remotely resembled daylight on his planet. They had twenty-two hours of beautiful, warm sunlight.
“So, what do we do?” Artan asked.
“Well, we can stay here and wait for them to arrive. Or, we take what supplies we can, and make them hunt us.” Varo glanced around the shuttle. “Not that there’s much to take.”
“The shuttle has several survival paks.” Haus walked to the back of the shuttle, opened the storage area, and retrieved them. Returning, he tossed one to each officer. “Here you go. The pak employs a retractable mesh strap. There are places to attach the weapons to the outside as needed.”
“Huh.” Sarik handled the pak. “It’s heavier than I thought.”
“It has dried prepackaged foods, minor medical supplies, and weapons—some of which are not electronic.” Varo removed the mesh backpack, put the pak inside it, and slipped in on his back.
“That reminds me, I also need to check the stunners to see if they’re operational.” Haus removed his stunner from his belt and started running check on it. “Hmmm, they’re not working, thanks to the net.”
Artan tapped the computer console. “We have the same problem here. There’s no way to access information about the planet, so we don’t know what’s dangerous and what’s not.”
Varo scanned his body with mediunit. He felt fine, but better to make sure, especially if they were going to try to make a run for it. There was no chance to escape, but they certainly planned to make a stand. With any luck, before they’d take out a couple of Helkans before things ended.
“We’ve all had survival training, remember that.” Varo looked at each man before him. “The only question left is if we stay together or split up.”
Artan had his pak on. He’d strapped the knife that came in the pak on his thigh. “I say we split up.”
Haus nodded in agreement. “That means they’d have to split up too.”
“I love this little beauty.” Sarik grinned at the personal brass knuckle weapon he slipped on his hand. The contoured rubber-coated action grip handle squeaked as he tightened his hand. In the tip of each knuckle there was a sharp point, a deadly metal, razor-sharp tip. “I agree. One male is harder to take down than a group.”
“Okay, we split up then.” Varo held out his hand. “May the goddess lead your weapon truly.”
“May your strike be deadly,” Artan added, placing his hand over Varo’s.
Haus and Sarik covered Varo and Artan’s hands. “Let the blood of our enemy flow freely.”
Varo looked each male fully in the face. “It’s been an honor serving with each of you. Good hunting.”
Varo stood guard while his men left, each spreading out in a different direction. Glancing up at the sky—the smoky gray sky filled with even darker fluffy clouds—he shivered. His black uniform jacket was sleeveless, made to show the various tattoos on his arms. Instead of medals given for awards, his people tattooed their success on their body.
Needless to say, he displayed his arms with pride. Now he wished he had sleeves. The lightweight material of his uniform wouldn’t be much good if the temperature dropped much more. At least the dark pants would blend in, and his black boots were sturdy. The bloodred sash around his waist, that signified his title as a Yesrian prince, had to go.
The ground around the area where they crashed was a mess. The shuttle had left a trench as it slid, roughing up the grass and throwing mounds of dirt. He surveyed the area, an idea forming. Yes, indeed, that would work quite nicely. Quickly, he dug a hole. Unwrapping the cloth from his waist was harder than he imagined, but he did it.
Odd how he now felt… stripped. A strange chill caressed his body as he stared at the sash. The feeling he would never again wear it settled deep within him—it scared him to the darkest corners of his very soul. Hands trembling, he buried the proof of whom and what he was, then arranged the messy soil to appear undisturbed.
Stars, he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d just buried part of himself in that shallow grave. 

TBC


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