Tales From Dis

The smoldering scent of burning starship filled the nostrils of the unconscious woman, her face having two thin slits instead of a nose, her body muscular, her skin green and her eyes a solid blood red except for the black slitted pupil in the centers. Her unconscious body was draped head-to-toe in a blood-stained ghillie suit that fit poorly with the desert backdrop of the planet outside the wreck.
Slowly, she came back to consciousness, hastily trying to remember what was happening before the crash. And quickly, she did remember. She was on her way to a city planet in search of paying work when pirates raided the transport ship. Accordingly ensued pitched battle that ended with her on the command deck and examining the malfunctioning controls that warped the vessel who knows where. When the ship was entering the desert world's atmosphere, the resulting shake made her hit console and accordingly, black out.
As more and more of her analytical mind restored itself, she realised that the ship was standing straight rather than being buried in the sandy ground with a huge tilt like the crash would have suggested. Not to mention she was pushed away from the console into the base of the late captain's chair.
As her eyes opened, they ached from the sudden burst of sunlight, prompting a reflexive left hand over her face as she stood back up. Within time her blood-colored eyes adjusted to the sight and she surveyed her surroundings. The ship had indeed been towed out of the sand, the corpses of the pirates and crew also having been moved.
And looking behind herself at the bridge entry door, she saw the blue spark of a blowtorch ripping open the steel. Not knowing how hostile, or friendly, the welder in question was, she bolted to the corpse of one of the pirates, patting him down for any melee weapons, as ranged weapons were usually rigged to explode if the trigger was pressed by anyone not the original owner.
The pirate's body was athletic and male, of dark green scales and a sharptoothed snout frozen in rigor mortis. Attire consisted of black baggy pants, a blood-stained wife beater with a gaping bullet hole in the heart area along with a red do-rag on the head and a bandolier with countless pouches lined diagonally across the chest.
But the pouches did not catch her eye. It was the large mono-machete with an awe-inspiring jagged spike at the end of the blade that caught her eye. After pulling the blade out of the holster on his right hip with her left arm, she quickly ran to the bridge doors, taking cover against the wall to the door's right in order to surprise whoever was behind it.
A clank emanated from the door as the welder finished welding and the next few seconds were filled with what sounded like a heavy boot kicking from the other side. Then, a loud bang and the doors blew themselves open.
Making a ducking sprint the xeno women sprinted past the two men, one a muscled anthropomorphic shark, the other a very skinny grey, both dressed in baggy black pants, pouch bandoliers and large metal shoulderpads.
The shark, holding an assault rifle about half as big as himself, startled and opened fire, the hasty burst missing the woman and hitting the metallic doorway instead.

“We must give chase!“ Asked the pale alien clutching the welding equipment.”

“Nah. We got the ship to our selves. One live one don' mean much.“

„But someone of that speed could fetch a hefty fee on the market!“
„Oh yeah…“ Quickly he turned behind himself only to find the survivor having long since run off. „I hate bein' dumb sometimes, Jorj. Hate bein' dumb.“

Sighing the alien next to the shark dropped his equipment then pulled out a walkie talkie, speaking. „We have a live one. Ghillie suit, gender unknown, really quick.“ Lowering the device, he then spoke to his companion. „Let us go, Rexxx.“
The ghillie-suited female bolted out of the command deck and into the elevator, violently punching the button for the entry floor. As the elevator began its descent she then proceeded to swing her monomachete at the console, eviscerating its circuits so the two she bumped into would have to take the stairs.
After a few seconds, the elevator stopped and the door opened with a ding to reveal a with short blonde-hair human of muscled physique and a body armored almost entirely in hockey masks. Fittingly, he gripped a large hockey stick wrapped in barbed mono-wire, and it was quickly bearing down on her.
A resonating clang and the stick was parried by the blade, the strong metals of the barbed wrapping keeping said stick from being chopped in half.
Due to the distraction of the hockey man, the elevator started to close before she could get out, the man rushing in before it closed.
This would prove to be his undoing, as the woman ducked under and delivered a sweeping slash to the human's legs, the perfectly honed edge severing them, quickly followed by a loud scream and gushing of blood from the two stumps.
Not wanting her opponent to suffer, the greenskinned alien placed the machete in a guillotine position, gripping the side of the blade with her right fingers, then descending it on the downed opponents neckline. Needless to say, the man's life ended.
And then, the elevator shook and began ascending, the two no doubt having called it.
Grabbing the legless and decapitated body of her assailant, she lifted it easily with a mixture of her muscled body and an apparent lack of psychological barriers.

When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, the ghillie-suited woman immediatly threw the body at whoever stood in front of the door. The flying desecration managed to floor the shark, who attempted to spray the inside only for his bullets to end up in the ceiling.
Quickly grabbing her machete,she raced out of the elevator only to feel a bullet hit the back of her left rib, adrenaline keeping her from keeling over or losing speed. She could hear other gun shots as she beelined for the stairs, but those either had no luck, or were narrow misses.
When the stairs were reached, she hurled herself over the safety rail and landed front-first onto the stairs, followed by her delibaretly tumbling down. Thud upon thud echoed through the stairway as the green alien used her acrobatics to safely roll and flip down each flight of stairs in one of the most unusual displays of fleeing one could see in life.
Ground floor reached, the traveller found herself in the passenger entry lobby only to find herself staring down another woman, reasonably muscled, four-armed figure, a blue and white full body suit of plasteel coupled with large metal shoulderpads and and some large breast-shaped bumps on the chestplate. A full-face helmet hid her elongated face and she had two katana's in the upper row of arms , which, in a surreal display, hastily transformed themselves into machine pistols and pointed them selves at ghillie-womans’ face.
It seemed over for the green woman, until the sword-wielding one spoke.
„Youre not one of them, yeah?“ Came the voice from the helmet, a soft and sultry tone to her voice,
„I uhh…“
“Yeah. You dont have the same dress code. Get up and let's get outta here.“
“Yes….“ With a groan and the help of the other aliens' lower row of arms, she rose up and they began to speed walk their way out via the blown open airlock into the desert outside.
Outside, past a decapitated-and-slashed-in-half canine scavenger, a heavily-armored dune buggy waited, plating very crudely duct-taped onto it, obscuring its inside.
As she said this, she loaded her rescuee into the front passenger seat of the buggie, via the window. After that, the woman holstered her pistols then grabbed the roof of the vehicle and acrobatically vaulted to the other end, hastily opening and getting in via the front left, slamming the door behind her and activating ignition.
A rumble and a vroom, and the buggy was off. In the back, the green woman reach behind herself to where the bullet struck. With expert touch she ripped the round out of herself, even as the vehicle jostled and jumped. She did not mind the pain or the blood oozing from the wound, having been through this scenario several times before.
As she flicked the blood-soaked round into the black carpeting below the seats, she could hear the many-armed woman in the front row ask her.
„So, Ms.Ghillie. Whats your name?“
„O-Ofisa. Ofisa Moren.“
„Officer Moren? Some worlds so poor they dress their cops in leaves? Jeez.“
„Nah. Its Ofisa. Oh-feh-sah.“ The correction was followed by a groan as the alien woman rose up to sit normally, only to see a steel wall separating her row of seats from the one in front.

“Ah, in that case. I give you, Ofisa, a welcome to this hellhole!”
„And do you know this hellhole’s name, by chance?”
„Dis.“
„This?“
„No, Dis.“
After a moment of befuddlement, she began to quickly contemplate her situation, before asking. „I take it this is not a luxury world?“
“Deeefinately not.”
“Then give me a sitrep.”
“If you wanna stop the assholes that bother you, youre gonna have to cap them yourself, folks sell other folks in broad daylight and there is a big-ass city that you don’t go in without an armored cab.”
“Why a cab?”
“Cause tanks don’t grow on trees, Ofisha. Mind if you I call you that?”
“Nah, Ive been called much worse. What’s your name?
“Folks just call me Mac.”
“After the burger?”
“…Yeah lets go with that.”
“And uh, where are we going?”
“A safehouse, old bunker to be exact.”
“Lead the way, then.”

The rest of the trip was followed by silence as the armored dune buggy made its way to the safehouse, nothing but the thumps and bumps of vehicle across sandy dunes, until Ofisa suggested they turn on the radio.

“Hey, couldja put on something? Make the ride less boring.”
“I thought youd never ask, ‘Fish.” Approved the lady drake as she switched it on with her lower left arm. The interior of the vehicle was filled with some of the most loudest, screechiest noise “music” known to sentient lifeforms. Even for a hardened galaxy trotter like Ofisa, the volume had to be lowered lest she risk deafness.
“Yeah, its’ pretty ass. “ She pointed out as the volume dial was lowered.”Hope you brought a mixtape.”
“Actually, I did.” Rebutted the green xeno, reaching into hidden pocket in her ghillie and pulling it out.
“Well pop it in.”
The cassette was slotted in, and some peppy eurodance-sounding music began to play.
“…You don’t look the type.”
“Oh trust me, there’s metal on there too.”
“Ah, variety tape, awesome.”
After a few minutes, the buggy pulled over at what appeared to be the entrance of a bunker.
“Well, here we are, Officer.” Pointed out Mac as she opened the vehicle door in order to step out. “Bunker, sweet bunker.”
Ofisa followed suit, grabbing the machete she had tossed to the bottom of the seats with her right hand and holding it by her side.
And so, the two women walked to the bunker, Mac stepping up to the console and pressing the power button. A green grid appeared over the black screen and a vaguely masculine green face composed of wireframe emerged from it, asking.
“Please, type in the password.” in a soothing, butler-like voice.
The four-armed woman quickly punched the sentence “Rackmeister” into the machine.
The machine replied with a “Password accepted.” and the screen turned itself off while the bunker door unsealed and opened itself.
“Really, Mac?” Asked Ofisa.
“What? Racks are fun.” She responded, chuckling.
The steel gateway opened to reveal a darkened stairway leading downwards.
“Yeaaah, I need to install some bulbs, but I can’t wire my way out of a paper bag.”
“I might be able to help you with that.”
“You an engineer?”
“Yup.”
“AWESOME!”

The green woman was the first to begin descending into the blackness of the stairway, Mac activating her helms’ flashlight and following after. After a bit of gentle descending, they reached what appeared to be a small blast door held in place by a valve, while at the same time, the door behind them closed itself.
Gripping the valve hard, Ofisa spun it counterclockwise and it unsealed with an audible hiss, creaking open to reveal a short stairway leading into what could only be described as a post-nuclear bachelorette pad, complete with couch and stereo system.

“Well, Ofisha, makes yourself comfy.” She stated as she walked down and unsealed her helmet, pulling it off to reveal a dark-grey reptilian woman, eye color a mismatched green and blue and hair a giant blonde mohawk that she somehow managed to stuff in her helmet.
Ofisa followed suit, pulling down her leaved hood to reveal that she had dark green tentacle dreadlocks instead of hair.

“You dont happen to have some spare clothes, do you?” She asked Mac, knowing that foliage is not the best attire for a desert.
“I do. Matter of fact I have an entire closet’s worth of rags, all purchased from the finest bandit corpses.”
“Much appreaciated. You don’t mind me undressing right here?”
“Not at all.”
A few minutes later and Ofisa was dressed in a pair of black cargo shorts and an equally black yet bust-accentuating t-shirt , with some oversized combat boots placed by the couch and a leather jacket slung over her shoulder for later use

“How do I look?”
The reptilian-looking woman on the couch grinned and gave an affirming nod. “Metal.”
After a short pause and a slight smile, the green woman asked. “So, what’s the plan?”
“We chill. You’ve been through a lot and I don’t want my murderbuddy getting stressed out.”
“Alright. “ Replied the greenskin as she sat down beside Mac. ”What’s your story?”
“Used to be a metal singer.”She stretched out her arms in bombast. “Now I AM the metal.”
“That can’t be all…”
“It ‘aint. But I don’t feel like telling boring you with my life story. Instead. I wanna know about YOUUUUUUUU!” She pointed both her left arms at Ofisa.
“Former CosmoSov engineer-“
“Already interesting as fuck! Continue.”
“Ended up sold into slavery when I tried to gather evidence of my captain selling powerdz.”
“Was it like, sexy slavery?”
“Nah. Gladiator slavery, though I did show some skin for the crowd.”
“And then?”
“The authorities slipped me and a couple other fighters notes on how to break out.”
“So…you killed your way out?”
“…Yeah?”
“And the authorities basically encouraged you to do it?”
“Yeah?”
“GOD THAT’S FUCKING METAL!”

Ofisa just stared at her companion with a dumbfounded look, then put her right arm around, staring into the wall in front of them.

“You’re scary Mac. Scary in a charming way.”
“Aww shucks!”

The rest of the night went smoothly, Mac showing her new friend a few acoustic covers of her bands’ tracks before the two went to sleep. Little did they know that they would soon get a third member added to their little group.

TO BE CONTINUED

 

To relay to the audience that she isnt a human. Though now that I think about it. Her odd physical description relays the same thing.

Fixed.