by Tao Wong
“They’re through.”
Ali’s soft words catch everyone’s attention. There was never a way to stop them. Not really. We can only do some damage, make them bleed and hurt as they come in, force them to watch their fire as our ships and theirs tangle. Not even Bolo with his giant hammer can do more than smash the transports around before others dock. As the first good seal appears, the lights change again and a warning klaxon blares.
Now it’s our turn.
Chapter 18
Nothing happens at first. We’re on floor three, subsection seven, close to the inner portion of the station. Close enough that whoever manages to make their way here will be a real threat. It’s an interesting plan, layering the defenses to do damage and wear people down with constant attacks rather than going for kills immediately. So long as we can pile on the damage on a continuous basis, our attackers will lose Mana and health. We’re basically using fixed defenses in place of lives. In turn, watching the various screens, I see two different strategies in play on the navy side.
In one plan, we have the Juggernauts, the tanks, leading the charge. They’re soaking up the damage from the traps, mines, and other defensive measures laid out in the station corridors, pushing through at speed. When their health and Mana fall too low, they switch out, letting the secondary tanks take over, allowing the guys in front to rest and recuperate. Unless they’re unlucky or sloppy, they lose no one as they pass through the corridors. It’s smart but requires a bunch of elites, groups of people who can take the damage and keep going.
Unlike the second group. Here, they use swarm tactics. Whether it’s drones, summons, or just more warm bodies, they throw everything down the corridors without concern. Some survive. Most don’t. And behind them, more people pile up. It’s a wasteful, insane tactic that gives zero consideration to the people or equipment being lost. But they do it anyway—with zeal and fervor. I focus on the leaders, their eyes wide and bloodshot, foam coming from mouths and other orifices, panting in pain and excitement.
“Drugged?” I ask Ali.
“Probably. Looks like they might be Serfs or other bonded Soldiers. Sent to fight and die so that the elites behind don’t have to waste their Mana.”
I shudder, that furnace within me sparking, roaring aflame. I tamp it down, knowing that this is not the time. Control. I have it. My rage does not control me.
Much.
I watch as orders are barked out, a running transmission of where rebel assault groups are needed showing on one screen. On another, a small-scale map of the station shows the real-time movements of our people as the defenders are redirected to tackle and harass the elite groups. Rather than let them regenerate, we send out our people to wear them down. For the zerg swarm, support groups are sent ahead, where they use their Skills to reinforce the pre-laid defenses. Additional drones and other automated defenses are added to their corridors by the support groups, the intent shifting from wear down to slaughter. In another section of the station, I see other support Classes frantically reworking machines and weapons, altering damage types to focus on our opponents’ weaknesses.
Not that the navy isn’t adapting. A new breacher ship hits, its cargo of armed occupants charging out and cutting off a support team as they attempt to retreat after laying down their payload. The fight is over quickly, the support group unable to face the new invaders. And then they pile right back into the breacher ship, ready to repeat their actions.
“Smart,” Spider-Rebel says. “We’re going to… yes. There. We’re shifting routes to deeper in the station. Keeps us safe, but we’ll be forced to give up more ground.”
I grunt, letting my gaze track over the 3D hologram that has taken over most of the space in the room. New orders come, and some of our people stream out. And a familiar pair of faces wander in.
“Where have you guys been?”
“My job,” Harry says, pointing to the projection of the starfield.
“You were out there?”
Harry nods while Mikito offers me a small, tight smile and asks, “We miss anything?”
“Just the deaths of our hopes and dreams.”
“Drama!” Ali crows, throwing a hand to his head. “But we are getting our asses kicked.”
All across the station, we’re being pushed back. None of our people can hold back the invaders. Worse, they’re punching through the station faster than we can keep up, some groups going so far as to tear through walls and floors to shorten their route. Of course, occasionally that works against them as they release chemicals, electricity, liquid Mana, and other nasty, nasty things that keep the station running. Or the occasional booby-trapped room.
“One hundred seven percent scenario fidelity on breach conditions. One oh eight.” Harry shakes his head, reading the information off the screen. “At least we’re doing better in the space battle.”
“But that’s nearly over,” Mikito says, pointing at the few ships that we have left out there.
Wrecks litter the surroundings of the station, a few occasionally bumping into the meteors that still litter the area. Not many of those left—the fight and judicious use of beam weaponry has decreased the free-floating asteroid numbers significantly. Our few remaining ships are retreating, moving to hide behind the fourth ring’s defensive shield. I see a few courageous captains using tractor beams and, in one case, an open mining scoop to grab survivors before they run.
“Bolo?” I ask, frowning.
In answer, I’m directed to a close-in shot of our station. Bolo’s there, swinging his hammer, batting aside nearby transports. Sometimes the hammer seems to displace its attack through time and space, the swing sending another ship hundreds of meters away flying. Due to his Skills, Bolo manages to punch through and damage what’s beneath even when he attacks ships covered by the Admiral’s Skill, tearing open holes in the transports with each attack. He’s managing to delay the transports from coming into our station, sometimes going so far as to destroy them, but he’s only one man. And one whose Mana is finite.
“Redeemer.” The station master’s voice blares through my ears, drawing my attention.
“Here.”
“Corridor 3-21-4.”
Ali flicks up a notification window even as I move, Mikito falling into step with me and Harry a few steps behind. I absently note that no one else is ordered to the same corridor, but we’re both Master Classers. That makes us a tougher nut to crack than most other groups. And it’s a small corridor. A small, reinforced corridor. We’re going to need to that.
***
We get to the corridor first—just barely though. I’ve been watching our opponents on the minimap, tracking their movements, so their arrival isn’t surprising. Nor are our opponents.
“Werehippos. Not again.” I shake my head, spotting the group that turns the corner at a slow trot, shrugging off every attack with a nonchalance that makes me grimace.
Ali taps into their stats, trying to bypass the equipment and Skills that attempt to hide that information. I get a data readout of their estimated resistances, the amount of damage they’re deflecting, guesstimates of their health.
“Not really werehippos. These guys are actually shapeshifters, where the System modified an existing species trait—” Harry shuts up when the hippos let out a growl-snarl that reverberates through our chests. “I’ll be right back here.”
“Yeah, you do that.” I shake my hand, loosening up muscles, then conjure my sword. I debate tossing down a few Shield projectors and decide against it. Those cost money.
Instead, I look at the group and decide to open big. Army of One takes a little time to charge up, but activation is almost immediate. I toss on my Aura, Eye of the Storm, and Vanguard to keep them focused on me as Mikito settles in by my side, ready to add her own attacks. I can sense beside me the fluctuations in Mana as she readies her own Advanced Class top tier Skill. Unlike mine, it focuses on taking out a single person.
When I chop down, the motion is copied by dozens o
f blades. Just the shockwave of the attack is enough to score the corridor, tearing out lights and wiping durable industrial paint. In retaliation, the lead hippo triggers a Skill, covering itself with a shield and glowing black and white. Still, the beams of sword energy impact the lead hippo, penetrating the shielding around his body and piercing his natural armor. Ancillary attacks are deflected off his shield into his comrades, making one stumble to a stop. The lead hippo comes apart in a welter of blood and gore, body stripped of flesh and sinew, burnt away where the blades contact but don’t tear.
I note the XP notification in the corner of my mind, but I’m already stepping aside as my attack ends. Mikito steps forward and thrusts, the enlarged head of her naginata taking the least damaged hippo in the side of its body as they continue their charge. The attack looks simple, graceful even as it slips into the gap between armor plates over the heart and head. Between the momentum of Mikito’s thrust and the hippo’s own charge, it goes all the way in. A quick yank as the naginata shrinks and Mikito has her weapon free, the attack swinging over to take the next hippo in line as the mostly decapitated hippo slides along the floor. On my side, I throw a few Blade Strikes at the other tanks even as healing energy bathes our assailants.
Our alpha strike complete, the remaining invaders pause and return our stares. I can’t help but smile a little. Perhaps they see it as taunting, because a growl rolls through the group as the secondary tanks push forward, no longer afraid. And then…
Well, then things get messy.
***
Black chains erupt from the smoking, damaged deck, rising from the shadows, drawn from the flickering light of burning fire and the occasional still working lighting strip. There are gaping holes in the deck and walls where even reinforced structures, Mana-driven repair, and Skill hardening have been unable to keep up with the damage of our fight. The chains grab the glowing, semi-solid figure that darts toward me, holding it at bay. Even then, my damage counter ticks up as the irradiated being’s very presence harms me and my equipment.
Spotting the danger, Mikito steps past me and swings Hitoshi, the naginata bisecting the monster and parting the Abyssal Chains. The creature screams, two-thirds of its remaining health disappearing with that single strike. A return spin cuts the creature apart, sending its body falling. But the body continues to glow, irradiating us all. Worse, I see Mikito stagger as a trio of blasts catches her, throwing her back as they tear at her Ghostly Armor. If not for the health Hitoshi stole from the radioactive Galactic, she might have died. I feel part of the impact too, Two are One sending some of the damage to me.
“Back!” I snarl, putting myself in front of her even as I layer a Soul Shield on her while dropping Two are One.
Like Mikito, my Mana pool is down to a quarter, even after using multiple Mana injections. We’ve been fighting for over thirty minutes now, holding the line, but there’s only so much we can do.
The shapeshifted-werehippos went down first, their tanks soaking up a ton of damage. It was only when we had finished killing them that I considered whether it would have been better for us to have kept them alive. After all, tanks generally have low damage outputs. In either case, after the shapeshifters came Elite Soldiers, a platoon of them that sat behind shields and fired at us. A simple Blink Step put me in their midst, and after I’d soaked the trap damage they’d laid for me, the ensuing carnage actually gave us ground. Mages, healers, and more melee fighters followed, wave after wave.
Over in his corner of the corridor, Ali’s hovering, hands held outward as he adjusts the angles of beam attacks and spells as they fly toward us. Each change is only a small variation of the angles, but it’s enough to make a portion of their attacks miss entirely. While it requires only a little of his strength, the strain of doing so for over thirty minutes with multiple attacks each second is showing on his face.
Together, we fall backward, away from the glowing rocks that were a sapient being. As we back off, the tanks and ranged fighters facing us leapfrog forward, tanks rushing upward while ranged attackers, some of them literally clinging to the ceiling as they scurry after us, lay down covering fire. As they near the glowing rock, black stone mixed with lead and other metals bubble up from the floor, covering the body.
“Damn it,” I snarl.
We’ve been losing ground over the course of the fight—part of the reason why the entire location hasn’t been entirely destroyed. We hit the end of this corridor and take the turn, my hands flicking as I add my own portion of mines to Mikito’s. Not that it’ll do much to slow them down, but the repeated use of these has ensured that the group don’t rush headlong.
“Time to go, John,” Harry says over party chat. “They’re nearly at the connecting branches and the station core. If you don’t leave now, they’re going to block you.”
“We can still hold them.” I glance at the map, noting at least one more turn before we hit the station core itself. If we fall back past this corridor rather than try to hold it, we’ll be able to help intercept the other group.
“Not worth it, Redeemer. The other teams are down to thirty percent effectiveness. They’re waiting on you to get them out,” Oi cuts in, his voice tight.
“What are you doing on here?” I frown.
This isn’t Oi’s station. Thus far, it’s been the fifth ring station master making the calls.
“Assassin team got Yuve Yu,” Oi says. “We took them out before they could take the station, but it’s time to go.”
The other team’s inching forward down the corridor even as Mikito and I back off, Ali popping up beside us as he darts through the walls. As he comes to hover beside me, I note that Ali’s form is wavering slightly, shifting in solidity, arcs of electricity dancing along the edges of his form. The Spirit’s losing control of himself, his concentration shot.
“Baka. Follow the plan.” Mikito says, her voice weary.
I swear but end up agreeing. The whoosh of shutting blast doors close behind us as we fall back. Even as we arrive in the station core room, the other teams are streaming in, many of them running low on Mana after having spent it on flashy and powerful top-tier attacks to give themselves space to retreat. A Space Mage standing next to the station core slaps his hands together, twisting the space further and sealing us off for a few minutes. Like my Sanctum spell, it can lock down the area for a few minutes, so long as the Mage has the Mana.
“Redeemer. The Portal!” A four-armed cyclops hurries over, the pair of his friends in his arms barely having a sliver of health left.
Rather than answer directly, I pull the Portal into being. The cyclops offers me a quick nod as he ducks through, followed by the remaining teams. I watch, unconsciously doing a count as they keep going. When I hit sixteen and there’s barely anyone left, I twitch.
“That’s it?” I knew it was bad, I’d glimpsed the dots disappearing, but…
“They hit us harder than we expected,” Bolo says as he appears from the corner. The Dragon Lord is smoking, steam and wisps of smoke coming off his body as blood and other viscera burn off. When he sees my raised eyebrow, Bolo shrugs. “They dropped a molten core on me.”
“I… don’t know what that means,” I admit. As a Mana-low headache pushes against my temple, I wave him through.
“Move. They’re cutting through,” the Space Mage says.
“I thought that wasn’t possible,” Mikito says, frowning as she backs off.
Bolo heads for the Portal and steps in without hesitation, the Samurai standing right next to it.
“Anything’s possible in the System. Just unlikely. The leaves turned early for us,” the Mage snaps. The next second, he screams and the world snaps back into normal space. We don’t move, not really, but our inner ears and that seventh sense that tells us what dimension we’re in trembles, forcing all of us to stumble as space stops contorting around us.
“Time to go,” I mutter, grabbing hold of the Space Mage and throwing him through the Portal.
The
struggling Mage catches Mikito with one flapping hand, and rather than stop him, the Samurai steps in as well, detaching the grip the Mage has on her arm. As I get ready to step through the Portal myself, the blast doors protecting us blow apart.
I’m backing off to the Portal, only to find myself thrown aside as a blur hits me. Even as I crash into the wall, I feel more blows pummeling me as the blur keeps up the pressure. The first surprise attack shatters my newly regenerated shield from the armor. The subsequent ones strike body and armor, cracking the armor and penetrating to pile concussive attacks on my body.
I curl up slightly, trying to focus and block the attacks that are moving faster than any Haste, Blur, or speed Skill I’ve ever seen. I’m a giant punching bag, abused and hammered as my Mana bottoms out. The strain of holding the Portal open is making me wince, even as I hear the distant thump of approaching feet. But I can’t even get my feet on the floor, the blows coming in so fast that I’m literally being pummeled into the reinforced metal of the security room.
Then, suddenly, the attacks stop as the blur slams into the wall beside me. I glimpse Ali looking intense, and my Elemental Affinity tells me he’s adjusted the friction coefficient on my attacker’s feet, throwing him off. But Ali’s shimmering, splitting apart as he combats the System and the Skill that my attacker is using. Even now, I feel the System reasserting its influence, allowing my attacker to surge back to his feet and continue his attack.
I glimpse the Portal and Mikito’s turning form as she tries to get back here. Rather than protest, I trigger my Blink Step even as I release the Portal. The world blurs and my body tears apart as the fading, unstable Portal interacts with my Blink Step as I pass through it. I fall to the ground, throwing up blood and the remainder of my breakfast.
