Contentious Confrontations

[Bishop Morse]

Newhope 
Georgia System, 
Ruǎnmù Outpost
March 2, 2508 
1523 hours

The sun beat down rather hard on the island outpost. It was rather unusual for it to be so warm outside that time of year, but most of those who were there didn’t notice, since hardly any of them were actually from there. In spite of the hot sun, it was balanced by steady, and often rough winds from the sea they sat on. It wasn’t exactly an island paradise, it was mostly deprived of life. Some tree’s, and patches of grass, but for the most part it was all rocky. The island itself wasn’t even all that big, but it was more then large enough to have a trading outpost placed on it for transferring supplies across the planet. The only trouble that came with such a job was that it needed a constant supply of food and fresh water to be sent there. The outpost had originally been set up years ago, but since the war had started the Independents had moved a number of advance units closer to the Central Planets. The best defense being a good offense, and places like this could send out raiding attacks whenever needed.

The landing zone was large enough to hold five or six freighters and several various small combat vessels. But it was a bit rather out of repair. It had been made out of cement, and it was all cracked. Pieces of it were just straight missing. But that didn’t matter, because it was still capable of being used, and just about all of it was. There was a small control tower, and a number of warehouses, all near primary compound where most of the outpost’s permanent outposts were staying.

One of the vessels, a large red Mantis, had its ramp dropped. On its side there was an orange banner with red stripes. There was Chinese lettering on that flag of a planet in the Kalidasa System. Not much was going on near it however, its cargo had been offloaded several hours ago. It sat beside an older gray vessel. The ship itself was rather run down, and there were no distinguishing marks on it. In front of it however there were several men. Most of them were wearing brown uniforms, some with helmets, most without. They were offloading boxes, and working on fixing some large equipment. One of them wore no uniform at all. 

From the main compound came a man with long blonde hair, wearing a dark colored long coat. He held in his hand a flask, from which he took a drink, as he looked over the people around them. Captain Morse, who had recently been promoted from Lieutenant, felt the breeze coming off the sea. He’d lived fairly close the ocean all his life, so he was used to the wind, though this was a bit more then what he was accustomed to. His longer coat kept him warm even as it hit them. It was a rather conflicting sort of day, with a hot sun, and cold wind. One of the vessels on the landing pad began to activate its engines, and lift off. At the same time, a small three man assault vehicle lifted off and headed away over the water. So far as he knew the Alliance didn’t know anyone was using this outpost, and they hadn’t quite managed to break this far, at least not on the planet. He knew that the Alliance had a presence there, but this place looked like a regular civilian trading outpost on scans. He continued to walk down the row of ships towards his own ship, his command.

[Bishop Morse]

Burts


”Your doin’ it wrong yuh stupid fuckin’ idiot.” Burts yelled. He was standing over a man in a brown uniform and red vest, who had brown hair. They were working on a portable jammer terminal. They were makeshift for the most part, but this had fallen in disrepair and right when it had been needed most. He’d been lifting off from a supply transfer as an Alliance ‘Foxbat’ had come into the area. Had they not been stupid enough to mistake them for a civilian ship, they would never have managed to shoot it down before it tore the ship to pieces. And this man was the one responsible for the equipment on Burts ship. 

A set of sparks came up from the large box shaped device, and smoke started coming up. The screen that measured its capabilities suddenly jetted between blue and green, and the smoke began to appear more heavily. ”YOU FUCKIN’ BROKE IT!” Burts yelled. He was fuming with rage. This incompetent troop had just destroyed his primarily line of defense. ”You stupid, squinty eyed, monkey FUCK!!!” He yelled throwing the man to the ground. Of course he broke it, his eyes don’t open wide enough for him to be able see anything. Burts thought to himself. And then he yelled it aloud. The man cowered, and tried to apologize. ”SHUT THE FUCK UP!!” He screamed at the man. His long graying hair, shook as he jerked his body about. He was so angry with the man. And the fact that he looked different then himself, made it that much worse. Burts had a set of beliefs about people that didn’t have light colored skin like his own, and was absolutely unapologetic about it. Once the man was on the ground, Burts kicked him, very hard. He quickly reached down and grabbed him. Brought him back up. ”Maybe this’ll help you see a bit better for NEXT TIME!!” As he finished he struck the man hard across the face, and the man hit the ground. None of the soldiers around tried to stop him, as he was the higher rank, and they were on his ship.

[Bishop Morse]

Morse was coming up on his ship. It was one of the largest there. Its massive engines took up the most space of any of them, and its large rear cargo pod stuck out far. He was very proud of the ship itself. Prior to getting involved in the war, he hadn’t known a very large amount about ships. Actually on his set of batteries for his entry as an officer, he had been shown to know well below average about mechanical and technical aspects of vessels and vehicles. Of course he knew that before he even took it, but that didn’t matter a whole lot, since you could always learned. And he’d learned that this was a very strong and capable vessel. He liked his duty, and since the promotion things seemed to be looking up. He was fortunate enough to avoid anything serious like the loss of the Adamant 83 over Boros until that point, and hopefully that would continue. He’d been extremely lucky for that, and hoped he wouldn’t have to be in a situation like that again. The situations that this vessel were to get into however would make the decision to fight, run, or surrender very easy. It was a very fast ship, so running would always be the first option, and depending on the size of the opposing force, would give them whether fighting or surrendering was a better option. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to make that decision soon either.

”Shut the fuck up” 

Morse turned his head to see a gangly, trashy looking man screaming at one of his soldiers. He’d never seen him before, but he was more then likely the higher rank in charge of that vessel. For the most part, “High Value Transfers” weren’t held to the same standard as most of the others with the Cavalry. It was better for them to be found in civilian looking clothing then in a uniform, if the Alliance ever came around. That way they might get away. Morse kept to a uniform that some of the officers in Red Rock Revenants were utilizing. Dark coats and pants, that could still pass for civilian clothing. He thought at first that this man was just scolding his trooper, not surprising. He hadn’t really ever done that himself, he hadn’t needed to. But some of the older officers didn’t quite share in his relaxed sort of command style. This appeared to be that.

Then he watched him kick the man who was down, which confused Morse. It wasn’t typical to pull that kind of a strike against your own man. Then he lifted him up, and beat him to the ground. ”Shèng tā mā de!” Morse said loudly to himself. He quickly began to move over there. He came up right near the man who had just struck his soldier down. The man on the ground had a bruise forming on his face already, and was clearly in a lot of pain.”What the fuck do you think your doin’ pìgu dòng!?” Morse yelled at the older man who was beating up the soldier, tapping on his arm to get his attention. Morse didn’t know what this was, but he didn’t like it. 

[Bishop Morse]

Burts


Burts kicked the man again who was on the ground. He was furious with the fact that not only this man was so incompetent, but also that he even had to suffer having him on his ship. He wasn’t very heavy on the concept of getting people off his ship, and wasn’t used to the procedures that the military did really at all. He was represented cavalry militia, and was essentially a soldier only for profit. But that didn’t make it any less dangerous, and he hated that this squinty eyed little man was on his ship. He could hear murmurs from soldiers that were around, but all of his attention was focused to just one place. Burts could hear something in the gibberish language, the language that a lot of people seem to say things in that he never understood. He was hit on the arm and his whole focus shifted to who had done it. 

Before him now stood a man with blond hair, which was fairly long, but not the length of his own. He wore a dark coat, uniform sort of look, but no helmet. He was clearly younger then him, but Burts couldn’t tell if he was a higher or lower rank. What he did know is that most of the rank didn’t apply to him since he was militia. Even still this man was getting in his way, and muttering in he same gibberish tongue as all the others. Whats the point in mixing from a civilized language to jumbled barbaric squeaks that came in the other one. The fact that this man in front of him spoke like that made his opinion drop. But also in that he was stopping him from carrying out the order that he liked to keep for people that were on his vessel. This man may have been appointed to him but it was still his ship, registered and set under his name and no one elses.

”Why don’t you back up you twigby fuck.” Burts demanded pointing away in direction that was where he’d walked up from. He didn’t recognize this man at all. He was one of the officers for sure, but there was no way to know where he’d come from. Burts tendencies from prior to the war were starting to go into his mind. This man was getting in his way, and he’d take care of this problem in his own way if he had to. He thought about pulling a knife, but he didn’t need to do that yet.

[Bishop Morse]

Morse had a heavy confusion about the whole thing. He didn’t quite grasp the idea of why officers would completely tear their people down. He never did that, probably because he hadn’t had any prior military experience, or maybe the idea that he was the same age as a lot of the people that were under his command. But what probably went into it the most was that he didn’t think that given what they were doing that being high strung to the point of insanity was the healthiest way to hold yourself. A more relaxed variation of his command. This man however almost seemed to be in the exact opposite of his way of thinking. He wasn’t just tearing his man down, he was beating him, and this apparently wasn’t something so out of the ordinary that the other soldiers there were going to try to stop it. He on the other hand wasn’t going to watch this guy get beaten down by his officer, there was enough danger from the Alliance coming through.

”Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?” Morse said. He suddenly got a bit of a scent in his nose. He wondered if the wind had pushed it over towards him. But at that moment the wind had gone down. He was close to the man, and he realized, that the terrible smell was coming from him. ”Jeses!”Morse said. ”What the fuck is that?” It was really bad. Morse had developed a taste for the ‘homebrew’, but that only smelled like grassy mud water. This was something far worse. It was as though he was bathing in something that was just composed of pure sweat. He had trouble believing that just a lack of bathing could cause this. 

He took a step back to get away from it, as he didn’t want it to be clinging to him, or anyone to think it was coming from him. It was really something terrible. Either way he didn’t want to have to be breathing it in. ”What are you beatin’ him down for, the fact that he isn’t keeping your lack of hygiene? Fuck!” He’d lost most of his train of though over the horrendous scent. 

[Bishop Morse]

Burts


Burts eyes narrowed with anger. This man was giving him trouble over the way hen conducted his ship. And now he was directly insulting him. The thing that went into his head the most was that the circumstances were extremely different then what he was used to. He couldn’t just rightly go after this man with the knife, or kill him. He’d never get away with it. The number of witnesses, and the risk that he might be of a more serious rank. Especially since he was militia. A militia officer killing an officer of the regulars? That was a serious offense. But since this man was defending this little worm, it was removing a lot of ease in Burts mind. He hated most people that looked like this one, but he almost hated more the ones that would defend them. Either way he was developing a severe hatred for this man.

”Whaju…” Burts started, but he’d heard what was said. He knew what this man in the dark coat had said. The rage was evident on his face, and it was filling within him. The muscles in his fingers all twitched. This man would dare say this to him. It was a severe insult to him, and he would never suffer it. Not from anyone. His whole face started to twitch. He was absolutely enraged with this. 

With a flash his left arm went out, almost in a fist, but not fully closed. He shot quickly to hit the mans head, and he hadn’t quite had enough time to match the length of his arm with the distanced to the mans face. But he moved it quickly, and he’d ready another one. ”Hows that fer hygiene!?”Burts yelled after the hit. The actuality was, he didn’t quite know what the word ‘hygiene’ meant. The hit he’d made had collided with the top side of the mans head. Burts was taller then him, and had misgauged the hit by quite a bit, but he’d still be ready for another one. 

[Bishop Morse]

Morse hadn’t seen it coming, but then how could he. It had come so fast he didn’t have any idea it was going to happen. He didn’t feel anything when it happened, and all he’d heard was the knock against his skull. But he did feel it getting very warm at the side of his skull. He wasn’t quite sure how to react to it. He couldn’t really recall a time when he’d been facing a person that just took a swing like that at him. All he knew was that it was a very strong hit. His eyes almost seemed to roll in his head. His body hadn’t quite been prepared for such an attack.

However his mind and his body weren’t exactly communicating consciously at that moment. He’d moved backward a bit as it happened. But it was moving forward, quickly. He was moving to attack. His arms had moved out though keeping his elbows in so he wouldn’t take a hit to his stomach. He reached his arms out to grab the one who’d attacked him. But as he was he was also moving to hit with right. He was closing the distance quickly. 

In spite of the quick, carnal sort of thought that was forcing this movement, he recognized he was at a serious disadvantage. Whoever this man was he was a scrapper. He was built larger then Morse was, he was taller, and had more muscle mass. And he wasn’t exactly the ‘academic’ type quite like Morse was, who had joined the war knowing the politics behind it. He was probably some deep rim type, who had been told the “purple belly’s are commin to take your land.” And given that, he was no doubt more capable of fighting then he was. Either way, Morse knew that this wasn’t right, and wasn’t quite letting it go. But he’d have to think of something fast, to either end this quickly, or get away from it. Right at the moment he’d made a hit to the mans face, and he had his arms. 

[Bishop Morse]

Burts


Burts could feel his strike hit the man. He knew how hard it was, but had originally intended for the shot to be lower and more forward. Instead he’d hit at the top of the mans skull. Either way it was quite a hit, and he would be ready to deliver another one. He was bringing his right arm up to deliver another swing, but he hadn’t gotten it up fast enough. He was feeling the effects of a short, but heavy right hook to his face. It cracked in hard and his head jerked when the full force of the attack had come in. He’d been hit with far worse in the passed. It hurt a bit, but not that much. He’d managed to keep his focus. Right now the only thing on his mind was beating the hell out of this idiot who’d dared to cross him. He considered grabbing something off his belt. His ‘shock rod’, his knife, his pistol? Or maybe to lighten himself up he should just take the whole thing off? That was going to take too much thought and time. His own hands were good enough for this guy. 

He reached his arms out to grab the man as he’d come in. Closing the gap was something he’d been used to, and it normally came from people who weren’t used to fighting. This moron clearly hadn’t fought people like this very often. He’d never pull off a strong swing from where he was, and this sort of thing was perfect for using tools. However the man had gotten a hold of one of his arms, and was holding it fairly tight. He wanted to swing back and get a big hit in, but he’d be leaving himself too open. His focus was only on where he could get a shot in, and it was more then likely the stomach was the better place for that.

The collection of soldiers around them had backed up a bit as it started, and some were closing in from other places. No one wanted to get in the middle of this, especially since it was two officers. Burts particularly was a rather ruthless sort of commander, so his men getting in the way could be a big problem for them. But none of this went into Burts head. He didn’t care what the others thought, or if they were looking. He took his right arm and began to work at hitting his opponents stomach. He could feel the blonde man was guarding with his left, but he could probably over power him, or at least hit somewhere else. Being taller he couldn’t see down where it was he was hitting, but he knew he could win this easy if he just got one good shot in. 

[Bishop Morse]

Morse had gotten the brutish officer across the face. He was proud of the hit he’d managed to get in, but he couldn’t exactly celebrate. This man was used to fighting and was much larger then him. He seemed to bounce back from the hit very quickly. This put quite a bit of fear into him, as he knew that he wouldn’t be able to recover nearly as fast from a hit like that. But judging from this man he was now engaging, the hit wouldn’t be quite so weak, but would instead be much harder, and hurt far more. He knew that such a strike would make this end fairly quickly, and no doubt with his loss. In an odd way it reminded him of the Adamant 83’s battle over Boros, knowing full well that a shot from a cannon, or a missile against his tiny Remorawould make that trip end very quickly. He was holding the mans left arm back to keep it from striking him again, as well as the right one, but he didn’t exactly have a grip to match the muscle and drive of his opponent.

He lost his hold with his left arm, and was holding it close to his stomach. A hit to the chest he could probably take, but to the stomach? He’d be on the ground easy and fast. He was flexing his stomach, and his left arm was close. But to make sure the smelly ogre of a man couldn’t get a full swing in, he had to keep the distance close up. Formal fighting training didn’t appear to be something that either of them had, but experience was the big difference here, and he was severely lacking in it. A number of hits came in on his left arm. This trashy officer must have had just solid bone coming from his arm, because it hit rough. Fortunately for Morse though, his coat was thick, and managed to absorb a decent amount of the blow, while deflecting the rest of it. But it still hurt like hell, and might have been bruising. He needed a way out, and fast.

Looking around, Morse began to quickly think of any options he might have. Perhaps he should pull his gun, and end it that way. But then his opponent would do the same, as he could see the pistols there, and this guy might be more relentless then he was. Just running was probably not going to solve this at all. His eyes facing towards his opponents stomach, and he managed to take in what he had in his possession. Suddenly Morse’s eyes hit something of use. A stun rod. Morse couldn’t imagine what use one was on a ship, and why its commander would have one. Either way it was something he could use. He didn’t work the plan almost for even a moment in his mind. As his right hand went forward, releasing his opponents left arm, in came a number of soldiers to break them up. But not before Morse got a hold of the weapons grip. He could feel the activation button on his middle finger and clicked it. He thrust it forward, intending to hit the mans stomach. As it so happened, he struck low and center.

[Bishop Morse]

Burts


Burts was struggling to get the finishing blow he was looking for. He was hoping that his opponents arm would just collapse as he hit him, or maybe that he would let up with holding his left. However that opportunity wasn’t coming. He was about ready to break the mans grip on his left arm, and come across his teeth with his elbow. However, he could almost tell that the arm he was hitting was about to give away. And then he’d get a good shot in at the mans gut. And then after that he could bash his teeth in. It was an easier, more manageable tactic. He may well leave an opening on himself if he just tried to break the mans grip, so this was preferable. However he could see the soldiers coming from behind his opponent, and likely from behind him. In that moment he knew he had very little time to accomplish this. And as it happened he felt the mans grip on his left arm slip. ”Perfect” He thought as he prepared to pull this planned attack. He started getting his arm back, back looking down only at the man. He the man in the dark coat was doing, he really didn’t care. This was it, he was about to pulverize him. 

Then there was the pain. A massive shock and zapping sensation at his groin. It came like lightning. He could almost feel independent waves of mixed voltage coming through, but at the same time it was like one single blast of electrified pain. It was like the entirety of his ‘man parts’ were on fire and about to explode. Such pain he wasn’t used to, and hadn’t expected. ”BAHHHHHHHHH FUHHHHHHHHH!” Burts screamed out, but he couldn’t form his mouth around the words. The shocks were going through his whole body, but particularly brutal on the point where the rod was pressed against. He couldn’t hardly move his arms, his legs, it was like everything was just seizing up because of the volts that were rocketing through his entire body.

Then the two were suddenly pried apart. A large number of soldiers were coming between them, and tugging them away from each other. Some were lower ranked, some were officers. Their combined power was more then enough to get the two away from each other, and they kept dragging them until they were far enough away. There were several men grabbing each of them, Burts must have had at least four, and there were more still between them. They pulled him back towards his ship, and the other man was being pulled the opposite way. It didn’t matter though, all of Burts focus was on him. ”I’LL FUCKIN’ KILL YOU, YOU LITTLE BASTARD FUCK!” Jumbled curses was all that seemed to come in his mind and that’s all he needed to say. The immense pain in his lower regions was starting to come in as the adrenaline stopped flowing through his veins. But he was still focused on the man. He was a thousand times as angry as he had been minutes earlier. This was a fight that shouldn’t have ended like this.

[Bishop Morse]

Morse knew what he was doing the second he saw the rod hit. His original intention had been to get the man in the stomach, sort of an ironic revenge for being pelted in the stomach so many times. However likely being hit at the same time, as he was going forward with the rod, threw his aim off a little. Even still Morse himself wasn’t sure if he just subconsciously going for the point that he knew would hurt the most. He couldn’t even recall if he’d actually hit his stomach or if he had hit the lower portions. It didn’t particularly matter to him though. He’d managed to get that last hit in against the abusive officer, and he was being pulled back. They weren’t likely going to continue, and Morse was satisfied with know that he’d gotten the last hit in, and that it was a hell of a strike.

He then in that moment started to wonder about the stun rod in his hand. Why would any officer need one of these? Morse thought to himself. Unless this son of a bitch was using it on his own troops which was absolutely unacceptable. Either way Morse had still managed to get the better of him, and hit him with his own shock stick. ”Hey, want your stick back asshole!” Morse said holding it up. He then tried to throw it on the ground, but his arms were restrained. As it bounced on the ground, he stomped on it with his boot. He hit with the heel of it several times quickly. It snapped in two and some sparks sputtered out. But it was broken. Morse had his smile back on his face. ” Bèn shūshu chī le nǐ tā mā de zhū biǎo zi!” Morse yelled out. But he was too far back now. They’d dragged him back fairly far, and he wasn’t even sure if he could be heard at this point.

The soldiers holding him began to release their grip. Morse adjusted his coat and fixed his hair a bit. He was starting to feel a bit of sting on his head and arm. ” Tā mā de húndàn man.” He said looking at the nearest soldier man. ”I want him put up on charges. Tell the Lieutenant Colonel I wanna talk to him.” Morse said as he started walking towards his ship where he’d been heading in the first place. This might have some rather rough fall out, but he could handle politics better then he could a fist fight. Either way it would be ended another time, for now, he just needed to take something to offset the large headache that was beginning to form.