Taking Prisoners

Narrigil, Present Time

They had been waiting so long that Lyric’s legs had begun to get pins and needles. The Mer around her were so still and attentive that she had not felt that she could squirm or fidget in order to relieve it. She recalled reading about soldiers on ceremonial guard duty doing small muscle flexes and wriggling their toes in order to maintain circulation, and wondered if the Mer used such tricks.

When the order came, it was out of the blue. A single word was spoken, heard in her helmet. She didn’t need translation – it was obvious. “Go.”

Her group of Mer surged towards the wall. Some moved so quickly that Lyric was treated to a view of blood spraying as they carved up the guards on duty – the card players taken by such surprise that they had not even dropped their hands to the ground, and the cards drifted from lifeless fingers.

The guards above were slow to respond, uncertain as to what they were seeing – a liquid-like ripple across the ground, until that splatter