The Adventures of Tam Denehy Chapter 3

The Adventures of Tam Denehy Chapter 3 The Adventures of Tam Denehy Chapter 3

Status: In Progress

Genre: Science Fiction


Status: In Progress

Genre: Science Fiction


The adventures continue


The adventures continue

Chapter1 (v.1) - Chapter 3

Author Chapter Note

The adventure continues

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: June 30, 2017

Reads: 744

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: June 30, 2017





Chapter 3:


The break-up of Tam's marriage had such an adverse effect on him, that he decided to leave the military after his year of compulsory service. There were a few privately run companies that provided basic medical services to smaller exploration firms. One such service was called 'Em-Med'. Run by an ex-senior military medical technician, whose name was Conall Garrick, Em-Med offered medical assistance for quite a number of famous expeditions.


Although highly regarded, the organisation had recently come under fire for its rather liberal stance concerning the Sylvan. It had been alleged that they had even attached some of their medical teams to the ships known to be transporting Sylvan emigrants, who were leaving Nouthesia to escape the exploitation and abuse that was taking place.


Not only that, but there were rumours of a connection between the members of Em-Med and a pirate television station simply known as 'The Voice'. This mysterious station could only be seen on the internet, and was only available to subscribers. The information as to how one would go about joining was made available via a cover-up video supposedly reporting on environmental issues. Once the would-be member had applied for a subscription, he or she was given a coded message with further instructions.


Tam's father had often referred to the channel, although he had never seen Emon log onto it. Tam had only just joined Em-Med, and had returned from a local emergency, when he saw that one of the other medics at the base was watching a broadcast from 'The Voice'. In order to conceal the identity of their reporters, the station used computer generated characters to replace them. The photographic and film footage, however, was authentic.


The icon simply called 'Mister X' appeared on the screen. In a monotonous, slightly robotic voice, he reported: “It is alleged that the following footage is from one of the planets to which the Sylvan are fleeing in order to escape the mistreatment they are subjected to on Nouthesia.


The first piece is probably also the most disturbing: It is common knowledge that the Sylvan are an extremely spiritual people. Thus it is hardly surprising that one of the first structures they would erect would be a place of worship. This particular site is named the 'Shrine of Vayel' – which roughly translates as the 'Maker'. One of our operatives received a call that there had been an incident at the Shrine, and went to investigate. What she saw when she arrived there was shocking to say the least: It appeared that someone, or perhaps a group, had gunned down the Priestess and two of her curates in cold blood. Not only that, but they had defaced the statue of Vayel by spray-painting the words 'All Sylvan must die!' on the dais upon which the edifice stands.


The bodies were taken to the local morgue, where it was discovered that the victims had been shot using weapons that are issued to Nouthesian soldiers, and are virtually impossible to obtain anywhere else. Are the armed forces directly involved? Or is a renegade group responsible for this horrific massacre? Stay tuned for further updates as they come in. This is Mister X signing off.”


The following day, they signed in for a second broadcast. This time Mister X only said: “This is the second incident on Parethia, the planet that the Sylvan had hoped would be their new home. The video speaks for itself.” What followed was an all-too familiar sight. It showed one of the newly established Sylvan villages burning down. The sub-text sent shivers down Tam's spine. It read: 'Fifteen Sylvan are reported to have perished in the blaze. These include at least four children.'


Mister X's face reappeared on the screen, and he continued: “Eye witnesses claim that a group of five individuals, seemingly dressed in the uniforms of the Nouthesian armed forces, were seen using flame-throwers to set the village alight. Attempts at getting any information from the Defence Committee, either to support or deny these allegations, have fallen on deaf ears. This is Mister X signing off. Stay tuned for any developments.”


More and more reports came in, each of them seemingly worse than the previous one. It became obvious, that whoever was responsible for these attacks - the brutality of which was becoming worse and worse - were determined to wipe out the Sylvan from their newly found home. However, up until that point, there seemed to be no real explanation or logic behind them. Soon, not only did the real purpose of the massacres become apparent, but the identity of one of the masterminds behind them was revealed as well.


His name was Elal Kun-Datto, and he was a wealthy mogul who had a reputation for some very shady business practises. His primary focus was mining and minerals, and he had been implicated - although nothing was ever proved - in the forced removals of many of the Sylvan in the Northern forests, an area found to be rich in essential raw materials. It was initially thought that the attacks on Parethia were for the same reason. Whatever the motive, it soon became clear that Kun-Datto was not operating alone, and that he had the sanctioning of at least some of the influential members of the Nouthesian Government. This was why any attempt to contact those who should have put a stop to the massacre proved to be futile. In fact, one of the highest ranking officers in the Defence Force had also been implicated as being in command of the forces who carried out the attacks. His name was Commodore Blaine Rutha.


It was under Rutha's command that the troops had rounded up the Sylvan to the North, and driven them off the land they had been forced to settle on during the first campaign. Now it seemed that the greedy Nouthesian industrialists and business leaders had determined to rid the galaxy of the Sylvan race completely, and that there was nowhere safe for this ancient race to settle down. There was nothing else for the beleaguered Sylvan to do, but to try and launch some sort of resistance, a movement that many thought was doomed to fail without support, both from among the humans on Nouthesia, and from somewhere beyond the Charter's boundaries. The fledgling revolutionary movement was known as the 'Quarye', meaning 'Fist'. The identity of the movement's leader was a well-guarded secret.


As was to be expected, the first encounters between the Quarye forces and those under Commodore Rutha were nothing short of a slaughter. Casualties were heavy, and it soon became apparent that the resistance would not last very long. Something needed to change. And part of that change came from within the human population of Nouthesia. It soon became clear that not all Nouthesians agreed with the government's draconian attitude towards the Sylvan, both off-world and those still on the planet. The latter's population was fast diminishing as more and more of them were leaving in an attempt to escape the abuse.


The situation had become such that some of the humans that sympathised with the Sylvan's plight began forming a resistance movement of their own. Unlike the leader of the Fist, it was no secret who commanded the human forces, that is if one was connected to the right channels. Naturally her identity was kept from the authorities, or else she would soon be rounded up or would disappear under suspicious circumstances. There was a link from the Voice's site for those who were interested in finding out more, or perhaps even joining the movement.





One Saturday, when the base was quiet, Tam and one of his colleagues, named Rhys, had just watched yet another broadcast from the Voice. It reported that there was yet another onslaught on Sylvan 'Rebels' by Nouthesian forces. This had in fact been covered by the state-run N T V, but what they failed to show was that the armed forces were the aggressors, and that the members of the Fist were defending a village. The settlement was razed to the ground once the opposition had been eradicated.


“You know Tam, those poor bastards don't stand a chance.” Rhys remarked angrily, “Every time I watch this channel, it makes me fucking sick! I mean, the Sylvan were here before us, right? So we humans arrive, and the first thing we do is run them out of their own villages. We re-settle them in places where we ourselves can't even survive. And then we discover that some of these places have minerals that we need. So what do we do next? We chase them off the land that we gave them in the first place. And now we're busy wiping them out because we want to mine on the only planet they have left to call home! Like I said, it makes me fucking sick!”


“I know what you mean Rhys.” Tam replied, “But the way I see it is, that if we want to do something about it, it's time to choose sides. I for one am with the Sylvan.”


“Me too.” Rhys agreed, “It makes little difference though. I mean the trouble is on that world, and we're on this one.”


Tam explained: “My point exactly. There are those among us who have gone to help the Sylvan in their struggle. All we need to do is to join them.”


“But I'm no soldier.” He protested.


“What do you mean?” Tam asked, “You did your training in the armed forces just like me, didn't you? And in any case, I'm pretty sure that they're in need of medical officers that side too.”


“I get your point.” He responded, “So what do you suggest? We quit our jobs here, and put our lives on the line in some revolution?”


“That's it.” Tam said, “I for one did not bust my ass, so that I can go and help Mrs Jones down the street whose catheter has just come out. I'm itching for some real action. Not only that, but I want to go to sleep at night knowing that I've made a real difference. You know what I mean?”


A strange glint came into Rhys's eyes as he pondered at what his partner had just said. Then he leapt to his feet, and went over to the computer's touch screen. At the bottom left of the monitor was a link. This he pressed, and some information came up, followed by a section that one had to fill in. One's identity could remain a secret as one could use a false name on the form, and the registration number was not a prerequisite. All that was needed was a contact address, which had to be private so as not to attract the attention of the authorities. At the end of the document was a message to say that the applicant would be notified and given an address where he or she would meet with a contact from the Resistance, along with the date and time of the meeting.


The following day, Rhys, Tam, and a young colleague of theirs, whom they nicknamed 'Spikes' on account of her hairstyle, received an invitation to a club in the city centre. On the face of it, the message looked like just another advertising gimmick, except that there was a foot-note that read: 'Beware the shadows behind you'. All three of the recipients knew that this was the notification they had been waiting for.



Very few of her associates knew this, but Spikes - whose real name was Jessica - was actually half Sylvan. Her father was human, and her mother was a she-elf. This accounted for her short stature and slender build, but her tomboyish attitude was all her own. Anyone who had taken the time and effort to study the half-Sylvan might have guessed her heritage by the colour of her eyes. It was thought that certain hair and eye combinations would indicate whether certain people had Sylvan blood in them. Although this was never proved, many held to this belief. Otherwise, the only way to be certain was to perform a D N A test.


These combinations were: Auburn hair and green eyes, and the extremely rare variation, which was black hair and pale blue eyes. Jessica had jet black hair. Her eyes were grey with the slightest hint of blue.


The trio arrived at 'Smokey's', a run down club a few blocks from the city centre. At the door stood a burly man with tattoos all the way down both arms. He was wearing a leather jacket with metal studs that came down over his shoulders until his chest. His task was obviously to check the people that entered the club. He hardly budged as Tam and his companions approached, but nodded his appreciation of Jessica, with a half-hearted attempt at a smile.


Tam and his friends sat at the table where they were instructed to wait. They hadn't been there for very long when a hooded figure approached and sat down in the empty chair. He removed his hood, revealing the distinctive pointed ears of a Sylvan. Before anyone could caution him against such a move, he raised his right hand and assured them: “The owner of this club is a close ally of the Resistance. I am quite safe here.”


He then went on in a very matter-of-fact manner: “I go by the name of Gabriel. That is what we call my 'Handle'. It prevents anyone knowing my true identity. I have been sent as a messenger to inform you that all three of you have been accepted into the 'Fist', and that you are to report to our superior for further orders. Already your com-links have received a message as to where this meeting will take place, and when. Once you have memorised the details, you must delete these messages immediately. Do not let anyone else see them. Until then, I suggest that you think of your own handle, because from now on, you must remain anonymous.”


As he was speaking, all three communication devices bleeped, indicating that they had received the message. Gabriel concluded: “Any questions can be answered in private when you report to the address as indicated. Namaariye.”


Having bade the still rather bewildered trio, he covered his face once more, and left the club. As mysterious and abrupt as the meeting had been, one thing was certain: There was no turning back now! They had to see their plan through, no matter what the consequences.


The following morning, they went to the old air force base, thought to have been closed down almost fifteen years ago. There they were met by a woman, perhaps in her mid-thirties. She wore a dark grey and black jacket and green combat pants. Her hair was long, and she wore it in a tight plait that was pinned in place at the back of her head. Her face was stern, and one could see in her eyes that she had witnessed such things as were the stuff of nightmares. And yet there was still a hint of compassion, albeit hidden behind the scars.


She did not even smile as the trio approached, but in a professional tone, she greeted them saying: “Mae govannen comrades. I am called Sharna. As you have been informed, we do not use our real names to prevent the risk of being identified. This is Norsa, my second in command.” She pointed to the giant of a man standing behind her, who just nodded. Sharna continued: “No no, please do not salute. We are all equal in this rebellion. Only our responsibilities differ, but none are more important than others. Have you decided upon what your handles will be?”


Tam went first: “I thought of using the name 'Thane'. It is an old title given to a young noble. And besides, it's not too far from my real name.”


“Very well.” Declared Sharna, “Thane it is then.”


Rhys followed. His chosen name was 'Zen'. He chose this name because of the faith that he followed. Apparently it was the lowest rank in the many monastic orders in which the faithful could be trained to eventually become priests. The title was the equivalent of the 'Curates' of old.


Jessica stuck to the nickname she had been given when she joined the emergency services, and continued to be called 'Spikes'.


Sharna instructed: “Now, if you have any business to conclude, then you have a week to do so. After that, report to the space port, bay number twenty five. And bring whatever you can carry with you. From there you will be deployed wherever you are needed. There's a shortage of operational medics on Parethia, so you'll have your work cut out for you. Remember, you will be enlisted as combat medics, so be prepared to do some fighting too. Until then, you're dismissed. Go and say good-bye to your families, there's no guarantees you'll ever see them again, so be respectful, and don't expect them to understand. According to many of the people of Nouthesia, we are nothing but traitors.”


“Thank you ma'am.” The trio replied.


As they turned to leave, Sharna said: “Don't thank me yet. It's hell out there, and we're in the midst of it.”


Tam, now called Thane did not have much to settle before he reported to the rendezvous. There he met Zen and Spikes. They did not wait long before Sharna and Norsa arrived. This time they were greeted with a bit more enthusiasm as they had in the first encounter. The officer even managed a smile, albeit a small one. Norsa remained as stern and as serious as he ever was. One got the impression that he was somewhat overshadowed, if not enamoured with his superior. In a professional sort of way, Sharna was very attractive, and her figure showed that she took very good care of herself. She looked tough rather than muscular, from what one could make out beneath her uniform.


She said: “The three of you are travelling on the ship called the In-Com Star-flight. Officially she is a freighter owned by the Interstellar Commerce Corporation. Her cargo, however, is something quite different, as you will discover when you embark. Just be careful. I will not be joining you just yet, but we will see each other on the other side. Namaariye, and good luck.”


The three of them thanked her, and went to board the ship. She had been made out to look old and a little worn, but anyone who knew space craft could see that the Star-flight was no normal freighter. Her lines were sleek, and it was obvious that she had more than sufficient power to evade any unwanted attention. She had twin engines that were bigger than even some of the military frigates. There was a turret jutting out midships, with two rail-guns mounted onto it. This had a three hundred and sixty degree arc of fire. The flight deck was separate from the rest of the ship, so that if it came under attack, the deck could disengage, and the crew could escape. None of these features were found on the normal freighters, only on exploration vessels.



When they embarked, they realised that what Sharna had told them was true indeed. This was no cargo of merchandise. Stashed away in secret compartments, some still open as people were still stocking them, was an assortment of weapons and other implements of war. Once the hold had been fully packed, the trap doors were closed, and various boxes and bins were piled on top to conceal what was inside.


The problem was not leaving the port, but the officials on the other end of the journey were given strict orders to randomly search vessels that landed there. The excuse was that it was a conflict zone. To avoid this, much of the contraband weaponry had to be carried by the seven shuttles that the Star-Flight was equipped with. These would land at various secret rendezvous points in areas close to Sylvan villages and strongholds. Contacts in the nearby settlements would come and pick up the merchandise, as well as any personnel that were not part of the ships' crew. In this instance, these included Thane, Zen, Spikes and the rest of their team.


The other members were: 'Snow' - so-called because of her ash-blonde hair, 'Vet' - the oldest and most experienced member of the team, and 'Lanky' - almost as tall as Rhys, but much thinner. Snow was a half-elf like Spikes, and was also one of the first Nouthesians to join the resistance, and Vet was involved in founding the movement. Lanky was a new recruit, just like Thane and his comrades, although his brother was already on Parethia.


The journey went without a hitch, and soon it was time to enter the shuttle craft and head for the planet. The craft landed in a remote area, not a building in sight. It was a small clearing in the midst of a dense rain forest. This made the landing difficult enough, but what made it worse is that it took place during a thunderstorm. The pilot said that it was actually to their advantage, because there was less of a chance of meeting one of the patrols that often went through this area. The invaders knew that there was a Sylvan rebel base somewhere in the vicinity, but despite all their sophisticated equipment, they had as yet failed to find it.


The shuttle landed with a dull thump on the soft ground, and the crew and passengers disembarked. They were busy offloading the equipment, when a small group of Sylvan, all dressed in combat gear, appeared from out of the jungle. The person in command was unlike any of the rest of her troop. Normally, the Sylvan from Nouthesia were shorter than the average human, seldom being taller than one and a half metres in height. The officer was well over that limit. In old measurements, she would have been about five foot eight or nine. The other difference was that the Nouthesian Sylvan were somewhat dark in complexion, typically with olive skin. The officer was fair by comparison. She introduced herself as Raedan Eredil, the former indicating her rank as 'Captain' among the Sylvan.


She said: “I hear that three of you are medical orderlies. Good, we have great need for you, especially those with military training as well. I am afraid that no-one is exempt from combat, there are just too few of us still. But, with the recent events, that is sure to change. Of that I am certain. But come, we must make haste before a patrol passes through here.”


Thane and his comrades loaded their belongings into one of the transports, and soon they were on their way to their base. Since the attacks, these bases had become small to medium sized villages, with civilians seeking succour within their high permacrete walls. The biggest of these in this region was called Lymen. This later became the capital of Ytheon, the nation formed after the war.


As they drove, Thane asked the Raedan: “You mentioned recent events that might change things. What has happened? I'm afraid we're a bit out of the loop back home. The media have been silenced with regards to the struggle on Parethia.”


“Just over two weeks ago, our enemy launched two attacks from orbit.” Eredil explained, “They were supposed to be on villages and settlements on the coast of Ytheon, where we are now. Just across a small channel, is the neighbouring state known as Eudia, which was, up until recently, neutral. But something went horribly wrong, and the attack destroyed a Eudian village, and nearly wiped out one of their major cities as well.


Immediately afterwards, the Nouthesian Government tried to pin the attack on us, but that didn't stick because we don't have the capacity as yet to launch an attack from space. The Eudians know this, so they didn't buy into the bullshit. As we speak, the Eudian armed forces are busy mobilising and preparing to join the fight on our side. They also have allies off-world as well, and if they throw their weight with us, then things will become very interesting indeed.”


“They will indeed.” Zen concurred, “I know that the Nouthesian authorities tried to fool us - or more like themselves - into believing that the attacks on Parethia were carried out by corrupt rogue elements within the military, but even they did not have the kind of fire power that you're talking about. I mean - an orbital bombardment? That's some serious shit!”


“It definitely is.” Responded the Captain, “I'm afraid that your first three cases are going to be difficult ones. Not for the feint hearted, that's for sure.”


These are the events that she related to them as they drove towards the settlement of Lymen: About three months before, the Nouthesian militants, as they had been labelled, captured three Sylvan youths from one of the villages they had raided. One of them was male, and the other two she-elves. The three were dragged to a bush camp close to where they had been taken, and there they were brutalised and assaulted in the most atrocious way.


The male was stripped naked, and tied to a tree, his legs wide open and his knees raised. One of his captors then force fed him a foul-tasting liquid. It was some form of drug or stimulant. Almost immediately, he felt a sort of heat building up in his loins, and when another began to fondle with his penis, despite his will to resist, he became very aroused.


In the meantime, another of his kidnappers positioned himself behind the youth, and shoved his erect adult member into the Sylvan's butthole. Even though the youngster cried out in pain, the pressure against his prostate caused a steady flow of pre-cum to ooze out of him, and trickle down his aching shaft. As his attacker drove himself in and out of his bleeding orifice, the youth felt himself reach a massive climax. Each time his rampant member throbbed, ejecting streams of almost clear semen from his body, his anus contracted painfully against the rod that was inside him. The pain was excruciating, but the man continued to fuck him relentlessly until, with a grunt, he filled the elf with his own offering, that even trickled out again onto the ground below.


Even after his attackers had dragged him back to the cage where they had held him captive, the effects of the narcotic substance they had given him did not subside. His whole body went into convulsions - over and over again - and his still swollen member ached as his semen came gushing out for about half an hour after his ordeal. When at last the drug had worn off, his stomach and leg muscles ached, and his balls felt as if they were lead weights.


After that he was dragged to where the two she-elves had been held. One of them, his sister, was strapped to a rough wooden table. Four naked men stood around her, two on either side, one at her head, and the fourth one between her thighs that had been forced open by her bonds. All four of them began to jerk off. As soon as the thug between her legs became fully erect, he thrust himself into her virgin quim. The she-elf screamed as a searing pain overcame her and the engorged member penetrated her untried honeypot. As the brute's excitement grew, he thrust harder and faster.

His victim tried to scream, knowing full well what was about to happen, but her cries were soon muffled. She felt her attacker slow as he came inside her, but as she opened her mouth to cry out, the other thug standing above her head shoved his cock into her mouth, and soon she was gagging as his seed flooded down her throat. She coughed and spat out the foul-tasting fluid. She now feared what was to follow, but luckily the pair on either side of her could not control their urge much longer, and she felt them shower her with their secretions.


Without even loosing her bonds, the four left her lying on the table, weeping and clutching her violated maidenhead, and trying to wipe the stickiness from her body. Her back smarted too as it was full of splinters that testified to the brutality of the attack.


The male victim was not even allowed time to console his sister, but was forced to watch the abuse of the other she-elf, who was a friend of theirs. She had been thrown to the floor of one of the shelters in the camp. As she lay there dazed, she noticed that her attacker stood naked in front of her, and knew instinctively what was about to happen to her. She protested, and told the giant of a man that she was still a virgin. But instead of causing him to think twice, the statement seemed to make him even more determined. He grabbed her and picked her off the ground. He was immensely strong, and held her in place with one massive hand, threatening to strangle her with the other.


She gasped and pleaded: “I can't breathe. Please stop!”


The brute smiled cruelly, and whispered something in her ear. Her face became a picture of disgust at first, but reluctantly she nodded in agreement. He dropped her so that she fell onto her knees in front of him. So close that she could smell his sweat. He guided her hands to his member, and ordered her to stroke it until it became hard. Then he grabbed her at the back of her head and shoved his member into her open mouth. It went so far in that she was almost sick as it brushed the back of her throat. She was already fighting back the urge as she tasted the filthy organ, but was able to control herself.


Soon afterwards, he threw her onto her back, and began tearing at her panties, his cock still throbbing. She tried to resist, but he was much too strong, and soon she had to give in. He forced her legs open, and entered her with such force that she felt as though she was being torn in half. Every time he drove himself into her, she was sure that his huge member was rupturing her from inside. He slouched over her, and she smelt his putrid breath as he panted into her face. She turned her head away, trying to catch her breath. Suddenly she was aware of a change in his movements. His thrusts drove even deeper into her, and they were more rapid than before.


“No don't!” She pleaded again, “Oh please don't!”


Alas, her cries fell on deaf ears! Her attacker grunted loudly one more time, and with a growl, released his load into her. He fell on top of her, his cock still inside her. The terror of the ordeal, the stench of his sweaty body - as well as its immense weight - were all too much for her. She slipped into a semi-conscious stupor.


But she was just alert enough to hear movement off to one side. The brute was awoken, and he slapped her so that she lost consciousness completely, picked her up, and carried her to a small room that acted as a cell. When she awoke, however, she was lying in a hospital bed, being treated by doctors and nurses. Next to her was her friend, much in the same condition, and on the other side lay the young male elf. When she tried to enquire as to how this all happened, she was told not to worry for the moment and just to relax.



What actually took place was, that she and her companions were rescued by none other than Captain Eredil herself, along with members of her squad. When they discovered that the trio were missing, Eredil and her fellow rebels began to search for them. The louts that had captured them had not the sense to attempt to cover their trail, and soon the rangers were able to track them.


The first skirmish was between some of the Captain's troops and the pair that had sodomised the young male. They were outnumbered, and soon overpowered. Two of them tried to flee. One was captured, and the other foolishly turned a weapon on his attackers. He did not survive very long. The third one surrendered and joined his comrade in captivity.


The second battle took place inside one of the camp buildings, where the first she-elf had been gang-raped. It turned out that all four of her assailants were drunk at the time. They were rounded up even before they could put their uniforms back on. A third encounter occurred when the Captain saw two opponents trying to rape a rather uncooperative and feisty victim in a courtyard. Eredil shouted at them to gain their attention, as well as give the victim a chance to run away.


The officer appeared to be unarmed from where the two were standing, so they began to make their way towards her. Just then she took a grenade from her belt, and lobbed it just behind them. This made them stop as they did not see where the explosive had landed. Neither of them lived to find out. This meant that the only opposition that remained was the ogre who attacked the friend. It did not take long to find him. He was hiding in the building close to where he had raped his victim. At first he threatened to kill her, but realised that he was doomed, and gave himself up.


Once Raedan Eredil had completed the account, she said: “All four of the victims need supportive treatment. Their wounds are extensive, and require constant monitoring to avoid infection. This will be your first task. Although they are receiving trauma counselling, they also need special treatment. The second she-elf has already attempted suicide once, and requires constant support and surveillance. The other two seem to be less traumatised, but one wrong move, and they too could try something. So be careful how you approach them. Gain their trust, and assure them that you're there for them. This will go a long way to stabilise their mental state. Like I said, not the easiest of tasks.”


“And here we are.” She declared as the vehicle drove through the tall iron gates of Lymen Settlement, “Your new home, for the time being. You might be assigned to other squads later on.”






© Copyright 2021 Tristan Biggs. All rights reserved.


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