"Well?" Robinson asked as he looked pointedly at the Orc woman. The psycho had decided she’d had outlived her usefulness and seemed to be itching to remove the complication of a prisoner.

"He's breathing," I indicated, pointing at Westcott. The kid was still unconscious, but she'd kept him alive, for now at least. That had been the deal that we'd agreed.

Sarge jerked his head in a terse nod. "Make sure she's unarmed. Peters, she's your responsibility from now on."

"Not a problem," I lied, as Sarge turned and spoke more quietly to Robinson.

"Keep an eye on her." That’s a vote of confidence, if ever I saw one.

I looked at the Orc woman trying to decide how to proceed; she stared right back at me.

It was obvious we were studying each other, trying to ascertain some ground rules. After a few moments Kuwta flexed her muscular arms and grinned, apparently satisfied with what she’d seen in me. In contrast, I felt totally out of my depth, not even certain if I wanted to keep her alive. She looked dangerous. How the fuck do I manage to get myself into these situations?

--

Kuwta looked at the pale-skinned humans with interest. It was nearly unthinkable that such weak soft-skinned creatures had defeated Orcs. The Blind Cruelty clan had been heavily weakened. Ultimately, though, it had been Deepstorm's leadership that had caused the clan's defeat. She would document his downfall in the journal. His record would be an infamous one, an example to be avoided.

While she lived, the clan lived. It must be re-established. It must survive. A clan was bigger than an individual Orc. Each Orc lived their lives hoping to go down in their clan records, in this way they could live forever. The clan was the history of its people and both their past and their future.

She must be cautious, she was among an untrustworthy species. The stories indicated that humans lacked the Orc code of honor. There did appear to be some structure within the group. The old, grizzled one was issuing orders and seemed to be in charge.

The scriptures dictate that we must adapt and survive, and that is what Kuwta intended to do. It would take time to gain their trust and regain her position of power and influence. She was patient, though, and knew that Blind Cruelty would rise again from the ashes.

She smiled, purposefully baring her incisors. Her grin grew wider still as she watched the small bespectacled one flinch. Such a weak individual would have been culled from the herd in an Orc tribe. Still, she required allies, and such a weakling was likely to be the most receptive to a friendly overture.

--

I tried to keep a professional demeanor as I frisked her as quickly and efficiently as possible. Despite this, as I patted her body down, I felt my cheeks heat up from embarrassment. Kuwta didn't seem bothered at all as my hands roamed under her clothing, checking for contraband. The large vicious knife strapped to her inner thigh, and the holdout pistol tucked into the back of her pants, demonstrated the necessity of this search. There was no doubt that this woman was dangerous.

"Is that everything?" I enquired.

She inclined her head submissively, and her jet black hair cascaded down over her face as she grinned. "You're welcome to check again, soldier."

I did what any socially awkward bookworm would have done in the circumstances, I blushed and stammered, "I'm good."

“I am Kuwta Eagerbinder.” The Orc woman indicated, her voice soft.

"I know," I stated absentmindedly, still lost in thought, then I stupidly attempted to clarify. "I've read your journal."

That got her attention fast, but not how I'd hoped. Her brows knotted in consternation, "You had no right!"

Robinson stood behind her, his M-16 aimed at her back. He nodded as if to say, I can make this problem go away. The pulsing vein in Kuwta's forehead testified to her anger. Yet she restrained herself, keeping her protest purely verbal. This wasn't how I'd envisioned Orcs behaving.

"War has no rules." The adrenaline from the fight had worn off long ago, and I was tired and tetchy. The last thing I needed was to be babysitting a prisoner. "Kuwta. You were the enemy. Did you think twice before telling your chief to attack us in our sleep?"

She continued to glare at me for a long second, then broke eye contact. "No," she admitted.

"Well then," I fished in my backpack and handed her the journal. "This is yours, I believe."

Kuwta looked surprised, "Thank you. Orc prisoners don't get to keep their belongings."

I shrugged, "We're not Orcs, and Marines do things our own way."

"He's soft." Robinson helpfully clarified.

"Only around you, Robinson. You're just not my type."

Kuwta looked at us both, blinking rapidly as she tried to follow our banter. "Neither of you are my type. You are both soft and an unhealthy pink."

Robinson couldn't help himself. His face split into a wide smirk. "Wait and see, darling. I might grow on you."

I decided to try and move onto more important things. "Can you keep an eye on her for a while?" I asked Robinson.

"No problem."

A snort of amusement escaped Kuwta, and she raised an eyebrow quizzically at Robinson. He frowned back at her, and I could almost feel the tension between the two of them. I was starting to understand why her warchief had almost killed her earlier. The woman had an attitude problem and seemed almost instinctively to push boundaries to their breaking points.

Still, I had more important things to do than watch the two of them get acquainted.

The Orcs had been tough opponents, and much of their technology, while crude, was better than our own. If it hadn't been for their poor tactics, the battle would have ended much differently.

Scavenging from among the remains of the dead was stomach-churning work. The mines had been viciously effective; there were unidentifiable chunks of Orc scattered across a wide area. I managed to salvage various guns and pieces of armor, which might be useful to us. I hoped that Kuwta would be able to repair some of the weapons.

"Took your bloody time, didn't you?" Robinson asked belligerently as I staggered back with my arms full of scavenged junk.

"Missing me, were you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I dumped the items in a pile.

"No, just don't want to have to babysit all evening." He nodded towards Kuwta, who sat cross-legged on the dirt near him, a bored expression plastered on her face.

"Just the lady I wanted to see," I smiled and beckoned her over. "Is any of this salvageable?"

"Junk, Junk, Junk." Kuwta discarded many items quickly. As she moved to pick up a long, crude-looking rifle, there was a sharp click.

Robinson had taken the safety off his M-16. "Not so fast, little lady. You can look, but don't touch." He turned to me, "What the fuck do you think you're doing? You don't give the prisoners weapons, you might have book smarts, but you have no fucking common sense."

I understood his point, but if the woman had wanted to kill us, then surely she wouldn't have surrendered to us in the first place?

Kuwta sighed melodramatically. "If I'd wanted to kill you, then I'd have thrown the grenades from the top of the hill. I decided my life expectancy was better if I joined your group. Trust me; if I'd wanted to kill you, then you'd be dead already."

"Sure." Robinson said, "Go ahead and examine the rifle. Just know that I'm watching."

The Orc disassembled the rifle in seconds. It was obvious that she'd done it a hundred times before. Then she reassembled it just as quickly, slotting the components together. Finally, she sighted down the rifle's barrel, being careful not to point it at anything that might make Robinson twitchy.

"This seems to be in one piece. It should still be operational." Next, she picked up a huge dented piece of metal. "This might be of use."

The panel had once been the chest piece from one of the mechs. The paint upon it had been burnt, and there were holes rippled within the outer casing, but removing the outer casing revealed a wafer-thin metal insert. She slid it out, bracing herself carefully to take its weight. This piece appeared to be completely untouched.

"Adamantium," she indicated. "It's superconductive, nearly indestructible, and weighs a bloody ton. That panel there is worth a small fortune." She pointed to my knife. "Try and damage it."

It resisted my attempts to saw at its edge with my knife, not even leaving a scratch. This metal wasn't anything that existed on earth. It was too heavy for a human to wear easily. Its weight would have burdened even someone like Robinson. If we ever made another robot, however, then it might come in useful.

"The Scrael," I blurted out. "Their armor is made from this?"

Kuwta looked at me. One eyebrow quirked upward. "Yes, their suits are far more advanced than the ones which I cobbled together for my squad." She admitted.

Speak of the devil, and he will appear. The hologram of our Scrael overseer shimmered into being in front of us. As ever, he wore an identical plain white tunic, and I wondered if it was a uniform.

"Your mission timer has expired. It appears that you have completed the mission objective. Congratulations." Once again, the voice sounded dispassionate and bored. "Nourishment will be served in one hour. In the meantime, if you connect to your consoles, you will be able to continue your individual evolutions. You have now completed your training cycle. All hail the emperor for guiding you in your journey." He inclined his head and waited.

"All hail the emperor." We repeated dutifully like recalcitrant schoolboys forced to attend church.

The figure looked up and for once smiled at us. This was more terrifying than his normal dispassionate demeanor. It wasn't that the smile showed bloody fangs or anything like that. It was the satisfaction he seemed to be taking from controlling us. "Your unit will be part of a battalion deployed at oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow."

Then speech completed, the figure faded away, leaving us alone once more.

We trooped back to the familiarity of our barrack-room, and I sank back behind my console; an unexpected prompt appeared.

Your acquisition of Psychic energy has opened new skills in your branch. Would you like to see which Psychic skills are now available?

Hell yeah, that is what I’m talking about!

A list of skills appeared, my heartbeat faster as I read the titles - Extra Sensory Perception, Telekinesis, Astral Projection. I was going to be a freaking superhero.

My excitement faded as quickly as it had peaked when I read the actual descriptions.

Telekinesis I (Psychic)

Allows the user to manipulate a physical object using his Psychic power instead of his Strength.

Warning: The user will become mentally tired after this feat in a similar manner to physical exhaustion.

With a Psychic power of three I was likely to be able to turn pages in a book clumsily, while remaining balked by such terrifying challenges as removing bottle tops.

The other powers didn’t get much better, they were all limited hugely based on the level of my psychic characteristic. Extra Sensory Perception would grant me the feeling of an individual's emotions for ten seconds or leave my body for a few seconds. Astral Projection would only have a three second duration.

Very limiting, however these all could have practical applications. A person's emotional state might help me spot someone lying and I might only be able to leave my body for a very brief period - but during that time I’d be the perfect scout.

It was a start and most importantly, it was a skillset that no one else on the team was likely to have available. The powers were limited, but that didn’t mean they were useless. Besides, it had taken Doctor Strange years to train and unlock his abilities, I’d gained some limited power in just a handful of days!

I quickly interrogated the system choosing Telekinesis (I) for my skill upgrade and assigned another point to Psychic. That was four points now, putting my Telekinesis strength on a par with a small human child's strength.

Upon confirming the upgrade my mind fragmented once again, light flickering in my vision as knowledge flooded my cerebral cortex. This time I embraced the pain, enduring it, confident that it would pass in time.

It did, eventually the lights stopped strobing so brightly and I was able to think clearly again.