Naj-Zero
It was a fine morning the day I saw the Starwolf girl for the first time. On Ymir, that meant the sky wasn't pissing sleet all over us for a change, and the temperature was warm enough for me to unclip my hunchin' ice mask without risking frostbite.
I hated the ice. Raw God, I hated it! Yet here I was, hacking blocks of the stuff out of a starkissin' glacier so Starwolf grunts could swig fresh water while they invaded my tribe's holdings. Being a prisoner-of-war stuck in my craw worse than the ice chips clinging to my face, but there I was, no mistake. So I made a game out of how fast I could whack out a block. Sure, I hated the ice, but I hated it more tolerably with my ice ax. After working up a good sweat I'd feel almost cheerful.
The huge downside to any war with the Starwolf was the miserable planets you had to fight 'em on, most often some polar outhouse where your ass froze solid every time you popped your armor and you couldn't blow your nose without snot freezing all over your face. But bad as it was to fight Starwolf on their turf, it was worse to be their prisoner. The yappers didn't know warm from a blaster shot to the head. I missed the warm things in life: summer beaches, a crackling fire, the kisses of a pretty girl. All the things I couldn't have here on Ymir. Ymir was a yapper paradise, I guess. Everything was just cold.
The Starwolf definitely made POWs earn their keep. We had to fill a quota before they'd pack us in for the evening. Most days we cut ice for about fourteen hours. My orange-striped coldsuit was only warm enough if I worked like a dog, so that's what I did. I wasn't alone. There were a couple dozen brother and sister knights with me, survivors of Shek Two and other places the Queen Bitch DiVaragas had pounded to crap. It was either bust tail or freeze.
They had to feed us plenty to keep us going. At least they didn't starve us. Concentrated Ration Packs-we called 'em CRAP-kept our energy up, but the rubbery glop didn't keep the belly happy. Most nights I barely had enough energy to choke my CRAP down and stumble off to the foam slab that was my bed. Between the work and the exhaustion, I could almost forget how much I missed my freedom. Almost.
So that morning we'd been at it an hour or so when a couple of T-gravs cruised by carrying Starwolf warriors, mostly young fems wearing that sexy bare-belly armor I wish the Blood Eagle would adopt. They tossed us the usual round of curses and taunts as they passed, so I jumped up on top of the nearest ice block, bowed, and flashed 'em my best grin. That bought me more insults from them, nothing too creative. Just a buncha newbloods yappin' off. My grin got bigger as they shot by less than thirty meters off. Yap-yap-yap!
But there was one wolfgirl who didn't yell anything. She even smiled back at me-an honest smile! It was the warmest thing I'd seen on Ymir so far. She was cute, too, from what I saw as they sped by. And there was something else in her face, something sad that stuck with me so I remembered it later. She was different somehow. The grin stayed on my face as I watched her go.
"Hey! Back to work, scrof!" One of the guards landed next to me with a faint hum of armor jets and a metallic thump. He jabbed his chaingun at me. "Keep your eyes off our fems, hear?"
I hopped down and held my hands out in mock puzzlement. "Ayia! Can I help it if you Starwolf are so damn attractive?"
He just stared for a second, clenched a fist like he was thinking about using it, but then he just waved me away. I went back to work, and the memory of the Starwolf girl kept me going strong through the rest of the morning. I wondered if I'd ever see her again. I hoped so. That was a damn nice smile she had, and I wouldn't mind seconds.
Time flew, and before long the guards called the midday break. I grabbed my rations and found a place to sit. I hadn't been there long when the Shank Pig lumbered up and unclipped his ice mask. A Sergeant who'd served in the Skullgrinder Chapter back on Shek Two, the Pig was a mountain of ugly muscle: heavy-set features, beady eyes, and a big black Blood Eagle tattoo right on his forehead. The tattoo's wingtips curved around his temples to just under each eye, kind of like a mask. He was a mean scrof, and he and his dirtbagger buddies had their own little deal going in our work crew. Nobody called him "Shank Pig" to his face, of course. His warnom was "Racksaw."
Right now he looked down at me and sneered. "Gemme yer food bar, Naj. It's yer day to contribute."
Normally we just gave the Shank Pig whatever he wanted and stepped aside. They generally followed a routine, so nobody went hungry longer than a day. It wasn't worth the hurt he and his boys would dish out. So I shrugged and tossed him the piece I hadn't eaten.
"Thanks, pansy." He ripped it open and took a huge bite. "What you think o'them yapper biffs we saw this mornin', heya? Bet they wiggle nice in the dark." Little chunks of food dribbled out of his mouth as he laughed at his own joke. I thought about this pusgut pawing my wolfgirl and something colder than the glacier woke in me. I jumped up and slapped the rest of the rat bar from his paw.
For a second, he froze. Nobody had stood up to the Pig before. Raw God, I could hardly believe I was doing it, but I swear it was like ice burning through me. I was shaking with rage. Maybe it was the ice, the shame, or just that the girl was the one bright spot I'd had since I came to this iceball. Whichever it was, I was done with bending knee to motherless filth like the Shank Pig.
A grin split his face like a slit in a meatball. "Heya, pansy, looks like yer grew a spine somewhere."
"I'm Naj-Zero, Knight of the Shining Fist Talon, no starkissin' pansy," I snarled. "You're a worthless, lard-gutted, scrof-eatin' no-namer who wouldn't know honor from a hole in his a-"
The grin vanished and he swung at me. Now I wasn't reckoned short, but I looked like a kid next to this monster. So when I blocked his punch, it still knocked me tail over pinfeathers. I fetched up against an ice block feeling like my arm had been hit by a hammer.
The Pig was still coming at me, his face red. "Gonna feed you those words along with your teeth, scrof!"
Fight smart, my trainers always taught me. Use the terrain to your advantage. There wasn't a lot to use here unless I wanted to run, and I was in no mood for that. Our Starwolf guards weren't in a hurry to break this little show up, it looked like, so I was on my own. As I rolled up to a crouch, the ground crunched underneath me and I got an idea. I grabbed up a couple good handfuls of ice and squeezed up a nice, hard ball. The Pig reached for me, but I dodged out of the way and slammed my package right into his fat face, so hard I felt the jolt right up to my shoulder. The Pig stumbled, and I kicked him in the spleen. Then I followed up with a quick series of combinations to his face and solar plex. I couldn't hit too well with my hurt arm, but my other shots did count. All these days of hacking ice had put on a lot more extra muscle than I realized. The iceball had half-blinded him, too, so it wasn't too tough to slip his gorilla swipes. I finished it with a sweep that put him down on his fat ass. I felt great… until I saw his dirtbagger friends watching me. Their expressions told me this wasn't over.
The Pig rolled to his side, retching. I waited on the balls of my feet, ready to keep it going. His friends didn't do anything, to my relief. One of the Starwolf guards yelled at us to get back to work. Break was over.
"Yer gonna pay, Naj," was all the Pig said when he could talk again. "Pay hard." He limped off and left me to pick up my ice ax and go back to work. My arm still ached where I'd made the bad block.
Raw God, I thought. What in Seven Hells have you done, Naj? A yapper fem smiles at you, and you go waking the Phoenix! But then I shook those doubts out of my brain. The wolfgirl was definitely worth it.
I wondered if I'd ever see her again.[1]
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