Tales from the Outer Rim: Sierra Onimal

[Chicken Breast]

A short story I wrote a good while ago and recently revised to read better. I think I played this colony on Extreme Random but that was a while ago. A few versions ago, no less. Nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy the story! Please leave feedback I always appreciate it Stupid stoked about that update coming up!

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"Commander, Pirates have been detected by our scanners and they are landing within range of our mortars. Shall we fire?"

"Always, Procene." The commander replied, a calm expression turning to a sly grin as he added, "Our prison cells are a bit empty." then becoming serious again, "Alert Frenchy, Old Ben, and Doug to man the mortars. I don't care if it is raining, we need to thin their numbers before they reach our walls and meet our turrets."

"Yes, Commander." She affirmed, immediately turning to patch herself through the commlinks that Doug had converted from gear picked up from fallen enemies.

The Commander, a well-rounded leader named John Whitehouse, called 'Trigger' for his quick-draw on his pistol and the minigun always on his back, was a man of efficient words. He had a mind for survival and the nerve to do what had to be done. Stepping outside with no rush, he took no shelter from the pouring rain. The fog was a hindrance for most but his bionic eye gave him the advantage, and gave him the sight to help guide the mortar fire.

A seemingly fast four hours passed before Procene's sweet voice rang in the commlink on his ear, "Commander, the Pirates are done preparing and taking losses and are approaching quickly from the East." Trigger responded immediately, his coarse voice ordering back through the commlink to all units, "All units with ranged weapons take positions in the courtyard immediately." And then switching to reach only Mushinto, a Hunter who had been here as long as he had, "Mushinto, bring your sword."

"You couldn't stop me if you tried." Trigger only smirked to himself, always impressed by the sheer gall Mushinto had. He was a hardened man just as Trigger was, and neither of them had ever been bothered by the sight of death or gore.

Trigger himself had been in a battle with Tribals a long year and a half ago when he lost his arm to a warrior wielding a sword. It had been replaced by a better bionic one by Tom, a peaceful Settler, but he missed his organic one. He remembered the moment in which he lost his arm, looking into the man's eyes as he unloaded his pistol into his gut, falling back and fading to black only to wake up in the Medical Ward.

Even though his arm was gone, he felt relieved that the base had not fallen. That would be the last time they would see Pirates for over a hundred days. The last battle with Pirates had been less of an issue with upgraded defenses, and this one would be even less so. In the course of 250 days, they had fought constantly with two different Tribes and two different Pirate Bands. The only allies they had had been bought with gifts of silver, and they were an Outlander Town named Acrobat's Burg. They would assist in any battle if Mushinto was on the Comm, but Trigger didn't like asking for help.

It took the Pirates another ten minutes to reach the walls, and everyone in the courtyard heard the first gunshots over the slowing rain. They took their preferred positions behind cover, half of the eight of them with M-24 Sniper Rifles, and prepared for the first of them to break through the door they could all see. Their gunfire would join that of another five turrets aimed at that door, and if any survivors made it through all of that, they would only meet another six turrets, all the while being fired at by snipers and people equipped with assault rifles. Trigger, of course, was there in the middle of all of it with his Minigun.

The defenses were not designed to physically stop intruders, the original three of them had decided that that was not the best way. Instead, each of the walls had an opening through which one person could walk at a time, efficiently slowing the flow of them as they met the other side. Coming from the East, these Pirates would find an opening in a wall between two parts of the mountain the base was constructed in.

The opening led to a room where two turrets were built into the side of the mountain, a door stopping them from progressing to the courtyard where more turrets and Colonists awaited them. All of the turrets did not face the door they were coming from, but the door they were heading for. Invaders would not even know the turrets were there until they passed them and they were being shot at, effectively trapping them in a false sense of security and a blanket of gunfire.

Finally, they heard two small explosions. The two turrets had been destroyed and now there was a loud beating on the door. The Colonists gripped their weapons and pressed them into their shoulder, trying to mellow out their breathing but failing with quickly beating hearts.

Trigger and Mushinto were not afraid of battle these days, and Doug was next to follow that trend in Trigger's mind. He was a bright young man, and Trigger saw him as the next leader when he inevitably passed. After all, Doug had single-handedly done all the research that had put them here, including the mortars and how to turn the giant rocks into stone blocks properly, and that was all before his eighteenth birthday. Not to say that a scientist was the best leader, but Doug showed promise in many ways.

The door was broken now, and as it fell the Pirates poured into the courtyard in single file. They tried to move as fast as they could through the potato fields to the concrete that would get them to some cover, but the opening of the door had unleashed a round of fire that started a grand firefight. The advancing Pirates were quickly beginning to reconsider their plan, and one of them turned to run immediately.

Trigger counted twenty as they spread out from the perimeter door, and he pulled the trigger on the Minigun with a malicious smirk. He had come to enjoy battle, the rush that he got from the adrenaline coursing through him. The bullets sprayed from his gun, targeting helped through the fog by his bionic eye. The Pirates started to fall quickly, the colonists landing shot after fatal shot.

Eighteen.

Thirteen.

Ten.

Six.

Mushinto was there around a corner from the perimeter door next to a turret. He waited for the last of them to pass and then would go behind them and strike. His skills with the steel were unmatched among Colonists. He had proven that when fighting the previous wielder of his sword, Ol' Walt, in a swordfight. Ol' Walt had since been crushed in a horrible mining accident, and Mushinto used his sword as a memento to his memory.

Mushinto ran through one of the Pirates with his sword and watched him fall to the field of Potatoes, bleeding profusely. Bullets whizzed around him, and he looked to the next victim, only to see the remaining Pirates fleeing. He slashed and stabbed at who he could as they attempted to run South through a small hallway that had no doors leading to what might be their only chance at freedom and life.

There were several that were lying in shock on the ground, but plenty dead, and as the battle finally came to an end the Colonists all cheered loudly. They had suffered no casualties, and that was always something to celebrate about.

Lercha, a previously Tribal man they called, 'Swedish Chef' would be preparing some fine meals tonight. They celebrated through the night, having captured five prisoners and gained plenty of new weapons from the fallen. 'Morticia', a darker tribal woman Trigger had recruited several months ago, would be busy in the crematorium tomorrow. The Colonists had grown tired of digging graves, realizing there would never be an end to the influx of cold flesh soiling their fields.

"Frenchy, come to the main room and update me about the prisoner situation." Trigger said over the Commlink. There was no response, but Frenchy was there in no time, grabbing a meal and sitting down at the table. Trigger joined him, taking off the helmet to his power armor and grabbing a meal as well. The meals were all made of fresh Strawberries and Potatoes, and somehow, the Swedish Chef made it taste good, and kept it varied throughout the week. It was the reason everyone was fine with him doing nothing but cooking, because he was the only one that could work that kind of magic.

Frenchy, whose real name was Jean de Dion was a large man with a clean face and a giant red mohawk. He was previously part of the Pirate band that had just attacked them, and he personally knew some of the prisoners they had captured. Having been an executive before that, he had quite a silver tongue, and had been quite difficult to persuade to join the Colony. Trigger was responsible for that finally happening, as sure as Frenchy was that his companions would come to his rescue. He had not been so lucky.

The only person to escape the prison at Onimal was a Tribal man named Cambiar, who had been lucky to have the prison wall hit by a mortar shell fired by besieging Pirates. That was after Frenchy had already joined them, however. Frenchy had gotten his own room in the prison though, Trigger saying that Frenchy had been a prisoner too long and that he needed to be upgraded to 'VIP' status.

Explained later after the room had been built and nicely furnished with a Royal bed, a table and tiled floor, and even some potted plants, Trigger unveiled his torturous plan when the lights were to be installed. Doug had created colored lights during his research. He discovered that the color blue - due to the sky being blue - would naturally inhibit one's ability to sleep easily. You could still get to sleep, but the blue was the perfect Sky Blue that would fatigue the eyes quickly. Trigger decided that Frenchy would stay in what he dubbed, 'The Blue Room'.

Frenchy stayed imprisoned for almost 11 months. It was 157 days by Frenchy's count, and he was certainly the person that would know. By the end of it, he hated the color of the Sky.

"The new five prisoners are people that I knew personally. They are dedicated members of The Crimson Suns and are not willing to talk about joining us now. They called me a traitor, one of them even tried to swing at me."

"How long do you think it will take?" Trigger was about results.
"I could get at least three of them within the month, we might have to get to threatening the other two with slavery or organ harvesting, I don't think a simple beating will do it."

"Good work. Take Dick with you, let him show them the knife he uses, see if that helps."

"Aye, Commander." Despite Frenchy's name, his accent was decidedly not French, but some kind of more Eastern European country Trigger couldn't discern. He wasn't an Earthborn Human and wasn't too familiar with it's geography or culture. Especially not now, considering there was a period of 500 years in which he had been frozen cryogenically.

It was several weeks later that they were having a special lunch for Mushinto's Birthday. He was turning 50. He didn't look as old as he was, admittedly, and Trigger never minded that one of his best friends on the Colony was almost twice his age. The old man in heavy armor with the sword at his side was muscled beyond compare to anyone else on the base. Leaning down with his massive frame, he blew out the candles on the cake the Swedish Chef had made especially for him and everyone cheered.

"Alright, everyone enjoy this rare break and have a slice of delici-" Trigger was interrupted by Procene in his commlink, loudly anouncing Tribals approaching rapidly. Everyone fell silent as he touched his fingers to his commlink to respond,

"From which direction?"

"North, Commander."

That was good news, even though ill-timed. The defense system they would meet coming from the North was a bit more nefarious than the all-out shootout method of the Eastern defenses in that they were meant to slow and trap attackers as much as possible as they were being shot at by other turrets.

"Looks like this party is cut short for now folks. It's just Tribals, so it shouldn't take long. They usually route once they realize the extent of our defenses, but we need everyone with a weapon outside right now. They will be arriving at the first turret any minute now." Trigger was always ready for battle. It was always around the corner on this harsh planet, after all.

They were outside and ready in minutes. On the other side of the courtyard from the main door to the inside of the base, before the Eastern defenses and just North, there was a room cut into the other mountainside where all the batteries were kept. Before that door, there were two turrets aimed at the Northern entrance where another turret was cut into the side of the hallway.

The attackers would always stop and attempt to destroy that first turret, and the turrets would fire upon them the whole time along with Trigger who was there between the two turrets with his minigun, resting it on the sandbag. All in position now, they heard the war chants getting closer and closer, followed by the shouts of gunfire and clanging that meant they reached the first turret.

There were always more Tribals than Pirates, but they only had appropriate spears, swords, slings, and pila. A pang of ominous energy hit him right in the gut, and Trigger wasn't sure what that meant. He hadn't had a feeling like this since...Ol' Walt was crushed. That couldn't be good.

Trigger fired at them, trying to keep them from ever making it through the hallway with suppressive gunfire. This minigun had been hard earned but he was always convinced that it was worth it. As the gun had to cool down, however, he could not keep constant fire and he was forced to watch one run out, then two and three following that one.
The first one tried to hug the mountain wall but ended up running into Mushinto and his blade waiting right there for just that reason. In two swings he struck the Tribal down, and Trigger was distracted for that fateful moment.
Looking back to the hallway just in time, his one good eye opened wide as the bionic right eye locked onto the Pila flying towards him. He had no time to react, and it pierced his power armor, amazingly, and went through his gut.

He heard Mort scream a dramatic, high-pitched, "Nooooo!" from behind him, and fell back. He felt little pain, and knew that he should have been feeling more, but stood back up slowly and looked to that person that had hit him, gripping his minigun again trying not to mind the blood he was losing. In his mind, the object would stop the blood loss somewhat. Finally, he met familiar eyes and realized who it was that threw the Pila.

Cambiar. The only prisoner to ever escape had returned for vengeance. Now he was the one wearing the smirk, and as Trigger opened up fire to wipe that smirk off his face, he moved back into the crowd, retreating as he accomplished his personal goal.

Trigger would kill his friends, then, and defiantly wear a smirk the whole time. He felled four personally, Mushinto killing another two and Mort sniping off one or two with her M-24. There were several dead, and several others bleeding out in shock. Realizing their defeat, the rest of them turned to run, and Trigger collapsed back in some amount of relief and blacked out.

-TBC-

[Chicken Breast]

Upon his awakening, he was surrounded by several people in the Medical Ward. They seemed pleased that he was awake but they seemed grim as well. It was Morticia, Dick, and Mushinto, everyone else had been currently busy.

"Why the long faces? I just took a little nap." He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. At this, Morticia burst into emotion and had to excuse herself from the room, covering her mouth to spare her the embarrassment. Mushinto and Dick looked down, trying to avoid looking Trigger in the eyes. Finally, Dick took a breath and met his good friend, his leader's eyes.
"John." Dick tried to start off, using his first name purposefully to help reaffirm the seriousness of the situation. It worked, and Trigger was serious again immediately. He had never liked the name his father gave him. "I'm afraid the projectile destroyed your stomach. I couldn't save it, and I'm afraid we aren't able to get you a new one. Can't tranplant stomachs..."

"What?" Trigger seemed confused, "Is this a joke? You can transplant a heart, a liver, a lung, even kidneys, but not a stomach? I don't even feel any pain!" He was panicking, though he didn't mean to show it.

"John, I know this is hard to understand, harder to accept...but...-"

"But what, Dick? What are you going to try to tell me to make me accept this?" Lashing out now out of anger, Trigger suddenly felt bad but couldn't take it back in time. Dick didn't have a response, and after bowing his head slightly, promptly left the room after whispering just loudly enough, almost choking up,

"I'm sorry, John. I can't save you this time."

"Fuck me...I didn't mean that..."

"I know, Trigger." Mushinto hadn't said anything before then, and the way he said it took the anger right out of Trigger. "I know it is difficult to hear, but we all had to hear it. Dick was the only one who had the balls to say it and even that cold bastard got choked up. To hear that there is nothing we can do, to know that all hope is lost..." He looked up to the ceiling, trying to blink back the tears. He failed, wiping them away instead and trying to shake himself from the grip of his emotions.

"You know," He started again after a brief silence of thought between the two of them, "It's one thing to be a warrior, to kill people for land or food, to lose people and take lives in battle. To lose a friend who is an integral part of you, especially one younger than you, that can really kill people on the inside. Mort was broken up more than anyone, I didn't know you two were close."

"Neither did I." Trigger felt like he had missed a lot in his role as leader. "Did Dick say how long I have?" Maybe he could rectify that.

"The only thing you can't do is eat or drink, and that means you'll starve to death if you don't take the...other option." They both knew what the other option was.

"So about three days, then?" Mushinto nodded in response grimly. "Then would you please bring us some cake, so we can enjoy some of it together for your birthday, old friend?" Mushinto looked surprised at his request at first, realizing how selfless his younger friend was being in the face of death, and nodded.
As he stepped out to go do as he was asked, he paused outside the door to shed a tear of frustration. It was certainly a shame to lose such a brilliant man. He was certainly a very bright light that illuminated the Colony even in the darkest times. It didn't matter that he was a cold asshole sometimes, he was the leader they needed, the one who had made them see hope from the very beginning.

While Mushinto got cake, Trigger reached to his commlink to reach out to Morticia.
"Mort?" It took a few moments for him to hear a shaky response.
"Y-yes, Commander?"
"Why don't you return and join Mushinto and I for some birthday cake?" She didn't respond this time, and he wasn't sure what that meant exactly, but the thought process was interrupted by Mushinto's return and he gave a weak attempt at a smile even though it was difficult.

They both enjoyed their cake in silence. Trigger was able to eat, but not digest food. So, he just chewed and tasted the food, then spit it back out. Mushinto paid this usually disgusting act no mind, enjoying his piece of birthday cake with one of the only people he cared about on this forsaken rock. Somehow, Mushinto was overcome with peace, feeling as though everything was going to be okay. He couldn't explain it, and didn't try, but it was somewhat reassuring.

After eating in silence, they began to chat for a while. They hadn't spoken casually in a while, and they shared some stories they had neglected to share previously, some particularly exciting and dramatic ones that they usually saved for special occasion parties. The time never felt right to share these kinds of stories with colonists out here on this world in the outer rim.

After a while, Trigger decided he wanted to get up and walk around the base. For the first time in a long time, he was walking around in casual clothes, complete with his favorite duster and cowboy hat. Everyone he passed had heard the news. They gave him soft smiles of sympathy. It wasn't what he wanted, but he understood where it came from. Mushinto walked with him, and they enjoyed a nice walk outside the safety of the walls.

"I have to say. I'm gonna miss you being around."
"I know. Don't mourn for me, but carry on and keep all those knuckleheads in line." Mushinto smiled at this, almost beginning to tear up but fighting the urge to let loose. Instead, they hugged in a manly way and then continued as if it never happened.
"I want you to take Doug under your wing. I know you already have taught him a good bit, but I really need you to mold him into the leader that can take my place." Mushinto nodded like a sage, agreeing that this was the best path to take in securing the colony's future hierarchy.

"You're really going to have to be tough on him, you kn-...what is this?" They were both now looking at what had Trigger confused. They were looking at a cliffside, but they both noticed that something was off. They approached and felt the surface of what was supposed to be a rough mountainside. Instead, it was much smoother. Trigger was quick to sound off over the commlink again.

"Miners, report to my location: One Kilometer Northeast of the Northern exit."
Three Miners assembled at their location, curious to what they were summoned for. Trigger related his suspicion about the nature of the smooth wall and asked that they mine it down.
"If it's a wall, don't you need a construction guy to tear it down?" One Miner, Ox, asked. The others present just looked at him with varying degrees of dissappointment, shaking their heads.

"Just tear the damn thing down, smartass." Trigger was in no mood.
Like a well-oiled machine, they had a section of wall mined down in no time. With their flashlights, they peered in to the dark room that had apparently been mined out before. It was a tiled room that was fairly sizeable, about the size of a barracks with several strange devices within that none of them knew how to describe. Trigger and Mushinto dismissed the Miners and summoned Doug and DIck over the commlink now.

"Any idea what these things are?" They were surrounding one of the devices of mystery, the four of them, speculating its purpose.

"I discovered things like this in my research. My model was a little different, but this one looks operational, if unpowered and quite old."

"What is it, though, Doug?" Dick was curious now.

"It's a Cryogenic Stasis Device. You should have seen one before, right Trigger? I thought you came out of one?"

"I didn't spend a lot of time looking at it once I woke up."

"You know..." Hope was in the air as Doug suddenly seemed to have an idea, "We could put you in one of these, Trigger. We just have to power it up by connecting it to our power grid and we can freeze you until we can devise a way to save you." Doug seemed excited at the idea that he had saved the day, the mood, possibly his leader's life. Everyone looked to Trigger for his reaction, and he seemed thoughtful, contemplative of the possibility of another period in cryo. Did he want to extend his life or end it on a high note?

He was certainly a successful man. He wasn't going to be remembered a failure. Did he want to take a chance that he would wake up in 100 years to Explorers or worse, Raiders of some kind? There was no guarantee that they would survive here, and he'd have no control over being woken up. He was at the mercy of chance, by that point. Sure, they could save him, but could they keep him safe? It was usually him keeping them safe.

"I could likely have something worked out in less than a month. I can clear out my workspace and do research again. I'd be happy to."

"Fuck it. Let's do it, then. Just let me have tonight to myself, okay? We'll get everything done tomorrow. For now, have them install the power conduits to reach out here and set up some defenses around the building." They all nodded and headed back to base. Mushinto went to lead the construction team in doing as commanded

That night, Trigger found the person he wanted to talk to currently more than anyone. Mort was in her room, one she had decorated herself with delicate flowers and a sculpture she had made in her spare time. He had never noticed her skill in sculpting before, amazed at the detail in the bust. He knocked on the frame of the open door, leaning against the opposite side as he watched her sitting there at her desk, writing. He had never seen her writing before or heard anything about it, but he wasn't concerned with that at the moment. It was likely just a diary.
His knock had startled her, and she turned with a relieved expression to see that it was him,

"Commander..."

"You can call me John, Morticia." She didn't respond, obviously still upset. "They found a possible way for me to live." She perked up at this news, curious. She was about to ask when he answered her question for her, "We found some cryo things or whatever in a room we discovered. They're gonna put me to sleep for a while until they figure out how to fix me." The same concerns that Trigger had ran through Morticia's mind and she looked to his eyes to see if he was lying. Trying not to burst into tears again, she smiled through a quivering lip to embrace his chest tightly in a hug.

This took him by surprise. He had not had this level of contact with a woman in quite some time. He reciprocated, softening from his usually firm, serious self into the man that she needed right now. He rubbed her back and after a while, she pulled back, sniffling slightly, and looked up to him after starting to speak,
"I thought you were going to die before I could tell you how much I admired you. I always thought..."
"What?" Trigger had an idea of what she meant but he needed to hear it.
"Ever since I first met you on the battlefield, still a Tribal, I could see something special in you." He remembered seeing her. He came close to turning to fire on her but had gone for a closer target instead. "I let myself be captured because I had to find out more." This took Trigger by surprise. He had never heard of someone doing that before. Perhaps even he had underrated his charisma.
"When I first spoke to you as a prisoner, I knew I wanted to work with you. I had to fake resistance for the sake of my fellow captured Tribespeople, but I was tired of being held back by them. I always studied with people from the other colonies instead of just learning the ways of the tribe. I knew you could help me grow. I was always afraid to say anything, afraid that you would reject me for who I was and never understanding who I really wanted to be."

"Wha-...who is it that you really want to be?"

"I want to be your wife." His heart nearly stopped.

"Listen-"

"No. You listen." She wasn't so firm that she was disrespectful, but she got his attention. Trigger was actually pleased to hear her speak up for herself this way. He had never met this Morticia before. He had never really taken time to know any of his people this deeply. If he did make it back from cryo sleep, he'd have to work on that.
"I've been here too long sitting in silence as I work, holding back my feelings. Now, I've realized how much time I've wasted and I want to make up for it." Trigger saw where this was going, and suddenly, words were no longer needed.

________________________________


"You ready, Boss?" Doug asked, accompanied by Dick in operating the device that would put him in cryostasis. The rest of the colonists were here as well, Trigger looking to all of them proudly.

"Let me have a minute. I want to speak with everyone." There had been some chatter around the room, but it fell silent at this announcement. "Being realistic, I may not ever see any of you again." He didn't have to explain this concern, they all understood, "That being said, I have known many of you for some time now. I've worked with you, argued with you, fought with you on the field of battle to keep this colony safe and prospering, fighting every obstacle that has come our way. I've been an ass sometimes too." He chuckled slightly, "I've been neglectful of my duties as a leader to truly know and appreciate fully my people. Because of all of you, this colony runs smoothly like a well-oiled machine."

"You're part of that machine too, Trig!"

"God damnit, Ollie, let me finish!" The room laughed lightly and Ollie looked sheepish but still was smiling anyway.

"As you all know: Mushinto, Doug, and I were the first three to land here. We made a lot happen with just the three of us, including converting all of you to a better way of life." Even in an emotional speech, he had a way of keeping the mood light in some ways. "So, while I'm gone, Doug will be the one in charge, advised by Mushinto as I was." Dick started to open his mouth to say something, "And Dick, of course will be advising him in some ways. We all know I'm a fan of seeing all the points of view. No matter who is in charge, we all do our parts, don't we?" Trigger looked to Morticia as he asked this rhetorical question. She smiled softly towards him, both of them thinking about the magical night they had shared.

"Keep up the good work, boys and girls, I couldn't be more proud to see how far we've all come together." This sparked a flood of emotion from the crowd and collectively, she shed several tears. As he climbed into the machine, Morticia couldn't resist approaching him and giving him a deep kiss. Everyone was astonished at this development, but said nothing, instead only cheering for them. One leg in the casket-like device now, he took one more look around the room with a big smile and saluted with two fingers from his eyebrow, They all waved and said a collective goodbye. After laying down, he extended a hand to Doug, then Dick, they each performed their secret personal handshakes they had developed with Trigger and said their personal goodbyes. Mushinto was the next to do this,

"See you soon, my friend." They smiled at each other, and said no more. Morticia then approached again and kissed him one more time. He caressed her face softly as he looked into her eyes overlooking him.

"You certainly are a rare gift on a merciless world." This evoked a tear from her and she covered her mouth. She couldn't speak, she had nothing appropriate for how she felt. Her feelings crushed her heart inside her chest as she watched him smile at her, then nod to Doug. The windowed cover closed over him, and he put his hand to the thick glass, palm open. He kept that soft smile as she put her palm against the glass to meet his. They locked eyes and he mouthed the words, "Be strong for me."

In moments, he was frozen, and Doug and Dick left the room after attempting to console Morticia with reassuring pats on the back. She ignored them, looking into Trigger's frozen eyes with despair she had never known. She had to do as he said and be strong now, though. Sierra Onimal was now a man short and they had plenty of work to be done after the time they had taken off today and yesterday.

With a heavy heart, Morticia steeled herself for the days ahead and left, hoping that this woulnd't be the last she saw him alive.

-FIN-

[Thane]

That was an impressive read. Reminded me of my earlier pre-psychopathic colonies where I wasn't so worried about min-maxing and instead only concerned myself with the well-being of my colonists and how I could keep each one of them alive.

[Chicken Breast]

Thanks Thane! I appreciate the feedback

Yea, it has an aspect of the relationship system even before it was implemented. I played this colony like a year or two ago now. Fucking Cambiar though, am I right? I was so pissed when that happened lol

[Cryogeni]

Man this almost made me cry

[linkfanpc]

At first when Trigger went to Mort's room i was like "Aw, a romantic moment!" :3

Then later when they both "thought of the magical night they shared", i was like,

0_0

Also, plz make a fan-fic sequel where Trig wakes up and somewhere in gets to blow Cambiars face off.

[Chicken Breast]

This story has been updated and is now on Tapastic!

https://tapas.io/series/Tales-from-the-Outer-Rim

Feel free to continue reading it there, or just look below:

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"How dare you?"

"Mort, I'm just-"

"You're just a monster that has unveiled itself now that it has power!"

A tense silence struck the room in that moment. It was just the two of them: Morticia and Doug. They stood across each other over a small dinner table on the other side of the kitchen from the one exit. It was three in the morning, which meant nobody else was up, and the situation got more dangerous the longer they silently contemplated violence.

Times had been rough for the colony since Trigger's departure. He had been a crucial component of many dynamics in the base, and though the celebration honoring him had spanned many days, the grief was still present. Doug, for one, had changed. Many had changed in the last fifty-seven days. But Doug...

Behind his back, they used to call him Doug the Rug on occasion, to belittle how easy he was to walk all over. He was just a scientist, after all. But those qualities that Trigger had seen in him were really the many faces of a lurking monster.

Now, they talked about him in hushed, venomous whispers. He had heard all about it, and was in fact counting on it. He was far smarter than he let on, and he played them all like chess pieces. He knew they were not all pawns. He respected their powers, their abilities, their roles. But he knew how to play them perfectly. The discordant notes coming from the composed orchestra now were planned.

He knew they would crescendo, but finally there would be a harmonic release. A reset in the form of an implosion. The new start after that would be the vision of spring, thriving to the symphony of flutes and cellos.

Doug had anticipated this, too. The proposition to isolate and, essentially, bury Trigger by building a wall again where the new door was had upset Morticia, and for good reason. Doug had swayed many to believe that it was for the best, that it was more efficient energy-wise to keep Trigger on a self-sustained power grid, that he would be "safer" that way, isolated where nobody could "tamper" with his cryopod.

Morticia felt otherwise. She felt that he was trying to erase Trigger from existence so that he could better take his place. She had an intuition for such motives. She had always known this, but could never truly imagine at this time to what extent.

"I think..." Doug started, then cleared his throat to clear the air, "I think it is..." He glanced at his watch, "3:17 in th-oh..." He looked back up to see her revolver pointed at his face. She had been given the Earth relic as a gift from Trigger just before he had gone to cryo. She hadn't wasted any time since getting good with it. She had to earn a place by his side, and she had to make sure he came back.

Doug had not  anticipated this.

He knew better than to try anything. He'd seen her in combat, and she was no slouch. She had become refined since her acceptance of modernization. From tribesperson, she had ascended to the Mortician, which had earned her the nickname Morticia, and thus, 'Mort'. The name she had been given at birth was hers to erase, and she did so with no regrets.

"I think, it's time for you  to listen." Morticia was too calm now. The ever-observant Doug felt something very different than usual in the energy in the room. It wasn't the tension that had been building to this moment. It was something he couldn't place.

The thought unnerved him just as much as the gun aimed at his face. She was too far for him to reach manually, and he wasn't fast enough to get to his own pistol since she had beaten him to the draw.

"You're going to step down from your place as leader and-"

"WHAT!?"

"Shut up!" Her agility in rushing forward to knee him in the stomach was impressive, and due to his shock at the demand, he had been ill-prepared to block or absorb it. The blow left him winded clutching his torso. He was not a fighter. He was barely a shooter.

The next blow was the cherrywood handle of the revolver to the back of his head, and it was practiced. He was on the ground, and she was on top of him like a Black Widow in seconds, revolver no longer necessary. She had grown up grappling.

Her arms were around his neck in little time, and he struggled to cry out for help. He was silenced by an increase in pressure to his airway, a simple matter of a twist and flew of her arms.

"Listen here you little shit, I have evidence on you. I know you were behind Ollie's 'accidental' death in the mines. I know you have been manipulating everyone. I know you're a snake. You're going to step down, and you're going to do it tomorrow morning. You're going to leave the spot open for an old-fashioned vote to choose who to replace you. Is that too much to ask in exchange for me not having you thrown in prison for life? I could just end you right here..." He seemed to struggle harder at this point, but it wasn't noticeable.

"You're not going to keep my love from me. Not you. Not after all you've already done in your short tyranny."

--------

8:17 am, the following morning.

"...and for those reasons, I have decided to step down. I believe it best that a vote is held in order to choose my replacement. All in favor, say 'I'."

A resounding call of 'I' echoed through the meeting room. It was populated by new faces and some old faces had passed for better or worse.

Morticia was happy for the first time in a long time, feeling like she had some modicum of control over the chaos that had taken over their lives.

In short order, Dick had organized the colonists into groups so that they might more efficiently cast their votes. Given paper, they manually wrote their votes and folded them to be deposited into a closed box at four designated tables. All counts would be double checked by two different sets of hands to make four total counts for accurate numbers. They had time.

As the votes were counted, those that were no good with numbers spent the time socializing. They hadn't taken this kind of time off in weeks, and it was good to be able to have a drink and unwind for a while, not to mention sit down.

Once the group was called to order again to announce the new leader, there was a silence that had goosebumps showing on some and others waited with bated breath.

"The new leader is..." Dick flipped the card over, "Morticia!" A grin was stuck to his features as soon as he read it. It was a shocking development, but Morticia had been playing her own game of mastermind behind the scenes. The thing was, she was better at it, using good energy and motives to bring people together under a cause.

This had been recognized in her practical leap into leading the growing numbers of dissenters under Doug's command. She was the mouthpiece for the people, the one to articulate the problems and express the passion to demand that something be done to fix them.

Now, her plan was coming into order. A steady bass line and drum sounded in her heart, and it had been infecting the other colonists. Now, all but those most loyal to Doug danced to her tune instead of his. Still, she had been surprised that she was the one to be picked. Downright unprepared to accept the role, as it stood. She had always suggested someone like Dick to do it. He was level-headed and experienced.

"I don't know what to say, you guys..." Morticia blushed behind the podium at the front of the room. She started to falter, the weight of the situation pressing down on her, but as she started to sweat she understood that she was losing it. Calming her breathing, she steadied her mind and summoned memories of how Trigger had been when speaking to them. He had always been so...commanding. His reputation as a respected member of the colony was undisputed. His presence was enough to soothe, intimidate, or motivate, depending on what you needed.

She had always admired him for so many things. Nobody else ever seemed to notice, in her eyes. How could they miss it? They obviously just didn't understand how much they should appreciate him. She could never imagine taking him for granted. Not again. She'd made that mistake and now she was without him. When she got him back, she vowed to never lose him again or take him for granted.

"I guess I should start with, 'thanks'!" She kind of laughed, trying to break the somewhat awkward air, even though there were plenty of smiles around the room. "I appreciate that you all have given me the chance to be a bigger part of the colony. I will never forget my roots, where I came from, and how all of you played a part in shaping me into the person you voted for today. I hope that I can do everything you hope for and more." With a short bow, she hurried off the small makeshift stage and merged back into the crowd, just like she wanted.

She didn't want to be above them.

-----



As time passed, things gradually got better. Morticia ended up putting forward the evidence she had on Doug, condemning him to prison where he would slave away at research under the threat of torture by instruments and methods of his own twisted design.

Once the extent of his monstrous nature had been revealed, this was the softer side of what some had wanted to do to him. Ollie had had a pregnant wife, after all.

Dick, Morticia's newfound right-hand man, was incredibly good in fulfilling his role. That role was summarized as filling in the gaps where Morticia was lacking, and they complimented each other perfectly for that system.

Her first plan of action, of course, was to figure out a way for Trigger to live.

"Dick...we need ideas. What have you got?"

"I've got some whiskey, some glasses, some ice, and some marijuana I save for such sessions." This had Morticia raising a questioning eyebrow.

"What, you've never...?" He already had a joint in his mouth, lighter in hand, eyebrows up pointing towards her.

"I don't know-"

"You DON'T KNOW!?"

"I...-about what?"

"All the time you've been here and...wow."

"Dick, please." She covered her face with her hand, massaging her temples and feigning frustration, unwilling to show that she was having actually having a good time.

"Marijuana!"

"Mari-what?'

"JUA-NA!" He lit it as he said it and suddenly, the smell hit her.

"Ooohhhhhhhh!"

"Ohhhh?"

"You mean Ogra's Bush?"

"Ogra's Bush?"

"I guess that's not what you guys call it. It's what they called it in the tribe."

"So you...?"

"Sure. I mean, typically, it was reserved for rituals and stuff, but I always felt the feeling to be more pleasurable than something that should be wasted like that."

Their meeting lasted several hours, and by the end, a plan of action had been formed.