The Last Roundup on Texas-S - How the War Started

RANKED 2nd BY VOTERS IN CHARACTER CREATION CONTEST #83!

Attempting to pick himself up off his backside, the Steerman's voice coming through his helmet speaker sounded pained. "Damn, you kick like a mule. What's your name, filly?"

Without smiling, and with her pistol trained at his head, she answered, "Benefit of being half horse. Just call me Night Mare."

Electricity starting to crackle around his armor, he sounded more confident. "You're dreamin'. Time to get back in the herd. We have to get through City Center before morning."

Ships headed to the auction passed by overhead as they faced each other down. She warned, "I didn't say you could get up, Steerman. I'm not part of your herd, and Centaurs aren't cattle to be rounded up."

The Centaur herd watched intently, murmuring as they backed away, hooves pelting the smooth metal.

"Law on Texas-S says different," he said defiantly, energy still building in his gauntlets.

Firing a laser past the side of his head, she said, "I don't give a damn what Texass has to say about it. I'm a Proxima Centaurian! I'm nobody's property. Now power down before my next shot cuts through that soft spot under the chin of your helmet."

The crackling diminished, but the Steerman's attitude didn't. "'Nobody's property,' huh? So no one's put their brand on your hind end yet?" He tsked, which through the helmet sounded like a static squelch. "Shame."

She sneered.

"You'd fetch quite the price," the Steerman taunted.

The Centaur snorted, taking two angry steps forward, hooves banging on the hard metal. "Yeah?" she said angrily.

"Yeah," he barked. "As dogfood!" and suddenly his left gauntlet powered fully, firing at her feet. She reared up, shooting wide as she did so, giving him time to roll to one side and jump from the ground. As he did, the grav units in his boots fired, and he took to the air. Firing two more pulses at her, he growled, "Maybe I'll just brand ya myself!"

Bringing her gun up quickly, she fired and clipped one of his boots, shorting the grav unit. As he spiraled towards the ground, she called out, "Now who's dreamin'?"

The herd cheered.

As he crashed and clattered across the walkway for the second time that night, he rolled to a sitting position, quickly pointing a gauntlet in her direction. She was already on top of him though, and her right front hoof to his chest pushed him firmly flat on the ground. Grabbing the wrist of the powered gauntlet with her right hand and twisting it away from her, her left hoof stood on his other wrist, and her left hand brought the pistol up under his chin.

The armor protected him from being crushed under her weight, but the immobility was clearly not to his liking as angry breaths came like static over the helmet's speaker. "Well?" he shouted. "What are you waiting for?"

Leaning down further so her face was inches from his, through gritted teeth she demanded, "What's my name?"

They stared each other down for long seconds before he finally spat the words, "Night Mare!"

"Damn right," she said angrily. "Your worst," and she fired.

The Steerman's body went limp. The herd gasped collectively, and they all fell silent.

Night Mare turned towards them, and raised her pistol in the air. "Centaurs! It's time to take back your lives! It's time to fight back!"

The herd murmured. Some agreed, and some sounded panicked.

"Proxima Centauri once belonged to us! It's time to show these Texasshats that it still does!"

The murmured agreement began to grow. The agreement mingled with cheers of support.

"I'll be a nightmare to these people until they agree to live in peace! I live free! I'll die free!"

Throughout the herd, Centaurs reared up and crashed down on the metal walkways, cheering defiantly at the night. The sounds were explosive.

"We need to shut down the auction that sells our people like animals, separating families, and shipping them to other planets!"

Wild screams went up from the herd, as if hearing their plight aloud released years of repressed torment.

"Will you stop being part of their herds? Will you fight with me?"

A long, collective roar went up from the Centaurs, and as one, they turned and galloped full tilt after Night Mare, heading for the auction. The sound of their hooves on the metal combined with their war cries thundered through the city, and cowered all who heard it. War was coming to Proixma Centauri, and those who called it Texas-S weren't ready.

Story and characters owned by Chris Bishop, copyright 2019, 2020, 2021.

The Last Roundup on Texas-S

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