The Dawn of the Future

by Jun Eishima

  　The chancellor. Perhaps Niflheim’s fate had been sealed years ago, well before she and Loqi were born. Perhaps the moment Ardyn Izunia had stepped onto their land, welcomed with open arms, this end had been inevitable.

  　“We could use an extra hand in Tenebrae, you know,” Aranea found herself saying.

  　Loqi sniffed. “My place is here,” he replied, “in the heart of the empire to which my life is sworn.”

  　What a time to be harping on that, she thought. Maybe that was what marked the difference between a former mercenary and a soldier born to the role. To Loqi, this was his heritage. House Tummelt had proudly provided Niflheim with generation after generation of officers and leaders. Maybe that was a thing worthy of respect in its own way. Not that it made it any easier for her to comprehend.

  　“If the capital is to fall, then I shall go down with―”

  　“I wanna fight, too!” the girl interrupted.

  　She looked to be about seven, maybe eight. She seemed healthy, and her eyes were bright and inquisitive. Even at a glance, Aranea could easily perceive the confidence and willpower the girl carried within her.

  　“No. Out of the question,” Loqi replied.

  　“But I can help! I’ll beat up the daemons with you!”

  　“Listen to me,” Loqi said. “I am taking great pains to see to your―”

  　“I never asked you to,” she pouted.

  　“And yet I am duty bound to do so. I must give everything I have to see to your safety, and to―”

  　And to the empire’s, he’d undoubtedly planned to say, but this time Aranea was the one to cut him off.

  　“Enough. What is this, a battle of wits, loser takes all?”

  　Both Loqi and the girl turned to look at her.

  　“Tell me, Blondie. How well can you pilot that thing when she’s in there with you, crowding the cockpit?”

  　Loqi fumbled for a response.

  　“And you, kid. Come talk to me in about a decade if you’re serious about killing some daemons.”

  　The girl’s lips tightened. Aranea saw something she recognized in the expression. She’d probably made the exact same face, a long time ago. In fact, she would have been right around the same age. That was when the daemons had shown up. A whole pack of them, ravaging the only home she’d ever known.

  　The children had been quickly herded into the village church and told to hide in the basement. To stay there and keep quiet. Then the adults―Aranea’s parents among them―readied their weapons and prepared to fight.

  　I wanna go, too! I can help! I can fight!

  　She’d shouted after them, desperate not to be left behind. She had felt it in her bones that once her parents walked out that door, she’d never see them again.

  　No. Out of the question.

  　It was exactly how one of the adults back then had responded, tone firm but face betraying anguish. She knew it had been one of the villagers, and she could remember the voice, but beyond that, few details came into focus.

  　Ha. Let’s talk about it when you’re a decade older.

  　It was her father who had said that.

  　Listen to your father, her mother had added. Wait here. The younger children need you. Look after them. Understand?

  　The gentle firmness of their expressions cut off any further protest. As Aranea watched them go, it took everything she had to fight back the tears.

  　“I don’t know who the kid is to you, but I take it she’s important,” she said to Loqi, back in the moment.

  　The girl stood with Loqi’s great mantle wrapped around her, enveloped in its folds. There was little risk of anything penetrating the armor plating of a heavy MA like the Cuirass, but as the suit jerked around, an extra occupant in the cockpit could easily end up being buffeted against the hard interior surfaces. The thick fabric of the mantle was probably Loqi’s way of keeping the girl uninjured.

  　“I am under the direct orders of His Radiance, to be executed with utmost discretion,” Loqi proclaimed. “My duty is to secure this girl and ensure her safety.”

  　“Seems like a pretty good reason to get her the hell away from this war zone,” Aranea responded. “You ever think of that?”

  　When Loqi had lifted the girl down from the cockpit, he’d done it with great care. He held the girl like he was handling a piece of delicate glasswork. Obviously, she was important to somebody for some reason.

  　“You can put your own life on the line, but you shouldn’t bet someone else’s.”

  　Aranea glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, there were more daemons inbound. Flying ones, and too damn many of them. They were still in the center of the danger zone, and if Diamond Weapon was going to be stopped, she needed to get the hell out of there.

  　Wedge came in over the comm. “Sorry for the wait.”

  　Perfect timing. Aranea held a hand out to the girl. “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s leave this fight up to our big, bold hero.”

  　She heard the dropship approaching overhead, and then it was smoothly descending to their position. The girl stepped forward, uncertain. Aranea reached out and picked her up.

  　She looked back at Loqi. “Let’s just say you owe me for this one too.”

  　“Thank you, Aranea.”

  　Granted, she was leaving the poor sap and his Cuirass alone with a boatload of daemons. That probably meant they were already even.

  　“She is in your hands,” Loqi said.

  　Aranea turned and gave what was probably the last imperial salute she’d ever give. Her resignation had already been tendered, and she was a soldier no more. If she hadn’t had the comm right next to her, she might have missed Loqi’s next words. They were soft but certain. “It has been an honor to serve with you.”

  　Aranea held her salute, watching him, but made a point of giving him no verbal response. The dropship hatch yawned open, and she leapt inside, still clutching the girl. She saw Loqi returning her salute.

  　“Tenebrae,” she ordered Wedge. “Let’s go!”

  　Aranea closed the hatch and put the girl down in an empty seat. No more deaths today. Not the girl, not Biggs or the kids on the train, and not a single one of the people going about their lives in Tenebrae.

  　Their craft shot forward. The last thing she saw below was the Cuirass, firing machine-gun rounds wildly into the oncoming wave of daemons. She thought she caught Loqi’s voice blaring over the MA’s speakers. The sun will rise once more. Glory be to the Niflheim Empire!

  　She turned her attention forward. “Wedge, we’re gonna beat that monster into the ground.”

  　It was the only way to save everyone. They couldn’t afford to fail.

  　“This will be our final mission,” she added. “So let’s make it good.”

  　The dropship accelerated into a sharp climb, shaking off the last few daemons hot on their tail, and they were on their way.

  Once the ship was out of Gralean airspace, they set a straight-line course for Tenebrae. They passed over the white monotony of snowdrifts for a while, then the vast expanse of the sea, until finally they were above dark earth and forest.

  　They skillfully dodged or shot down the occasional flying daemon. Fortunately, the things were few in number, so they couldn’t cause too much trouble. Most of their disgusting friends were probably still busy tearing up the capital.

  　Wedge was uncharacteristically talkative during the ride. The man usually didn’t say much, but every once in a while the words came rushing out of him like water from a busted dam.

  　“Wouldn’t have guessed it from him,” he said. “Loqi, of all people, signin’ off like that.”

  　It seemed that Wedge had caught the commander’s faint message, too.

  　“Sure isn’t something we’d ever catch you sayin,’” he added.

  　“Damn right. Who talks like that?” she replied. “And to people you serve with every day. Honestly.”

  　That
was reason number two why she hadn’t responded when Loqi said it. Reason number one was a bit more macabre.

  　“Stuff like that’ll jinx you,” Aranea continued. “It’s the kind of thing people say before they up and die.”

  　Considering the situation they’d left Loqi in, letting his message go unanswered and presumably unheard seemed the optimistic response.

  　Wedge started to say something else, but she cut him off, eager to leave the topic behind. “Wedge, how many times have I told you to cut it out with the garlic already? Could you please not eat that stuff when you’re aboard the ship?! It reeks in here! And not just of garlic! You smell like a half-empty beer bottle that’s been sitting out all day!”

  　Normally, and in no small contrast to Biggs, Wedge was a man of few words. He was cautious and apprehensive by nature, but there were two things that could flip his switch: a situation that was looking dire, or a couple of drinks down his throat. Either would loosen his tongue and embolden his actions, the former in particular being exasperating―once he was going, he wouldn’t shut up.

  　During their escape from Gralea, when Wedge had found himself stuck between a rock and a hard pack of daemons, he’d probably thrown back a few spirits to lift his own. You know, the normal thing to do when being chased by enemies, weaving through a dense cityscape at high airspeeds. And of course, no drink was complete for Wedge without his favorite snack: pickled garlic.

  　But her lecture didn’t have much effect.

  　“Wooo! Feelin’ pretty good right now!” he exclaimed.

  　“Oh for gods’ sake.”

  　“Yeehaw!”

  　“Wedge, shut up. I’m serious.”

  　Aranea looked over at their young passenger. The girl sat rigidly in her seat, her mouth firmly shut. It might have been unease or lingering shock or maybe just an attempt not to breathe in the stink of garlic and booze. With her mouth shut tight, at least there wasn’t any worry about her biting her tongue with a sudden movement of the ship.

  　With her hard, blank expression, and wrapped up in Loqi’s mantle, she didn’t appear to be a typical cosseted little noble girl. Still, she was used to being picked up and held. Aranea had felt it when she had taken the girl in her arms. Whoever raised her had clearly doted on her.

  　And what was it Loqi had said? Direct orders of His Radiance. What was that supposed to imply? Just as the threads were beginning to draw together in her mind, Wedge interrupted her thoughts.

  　“We got ’em now! Tiny and the airship, dead ahead!”

  　He glanced over his shoulder at their passenger. “Hang on tight, little lady!”

  　Wedge slammed on the throttle. The force of the acceleration pressed them all back into their seats. As the speck of the dreadnought quickly grew larger on the display, Wedge started rambling. “The core on its head. That’s what makes it go. Which means all we gotta do is punch a hole in the core. The whole thing’ll go down. But there’s a problem. Up here it’ll be like throwing pins at a thumbtack. So we’ll have to knock the dreadnought outta the sky. Could pin ’im down for us. Keep things nice and local. And if we’re real lucky, we might get the whole ship to blow up in Tiny’s face. Wouldn’t that be a real show?”

  　He didn’t seem to notice whether Aranea was following or not.

  　“Wedge!” she yelled. “Focus! What’s the plan?”

  　He sniffed. “We take down the ship.”

  　“Got it.”

  　It was all she needed to hear. She got on the autocannon control and started shooting, finger hard on the trigger. But the dropship’s firepower was no match for the dreadnought’s armor―Aranea could have fired the cannon for days and left not a scratch on the other ship’s thick hull.

  　Wedge pushed the dropship into a nosedive, and then, with their stomachs still in their throats, burned into a steep ascent. It looked like he’d reached the same conclusion.

  　“Lady A! Target the ship’s engines!”

  　“I’m on it!”

  　The second the dropship’s nose came up far enough for a target lock, she had the cannon on full blast. No need to worry about retaliatory fire for the moment. She could leave that up to Wedge. He’d be able to evade it well enough. Her job was to rip the dreadnought a new asshole.

  　“Straight down the tailpipe!”

  　“That’s what I’m doing!”

  　They were in a race against time to stop the thing before it reached Tenebrae, and now, more crucially, before they ran out of fuel and ammo.

  　Crash, damn it! Crash! she screamed internally as she continued firing.

  　“Crash!”

  　Or rather, she’d meant it to be internal.

  　“Crash!” Wedge joined in.

  　“Crash!” Now all three of them were chanting it.

  　“Bad news, Lady A! We’re almost out of fuel!”

  　She heard the panic in his voice. The ship jerked violently.

  　“Crash, already!”

  　“We’re going down!”

  　They were slowly losing altitude, and now she was out of rounds. But luck hadn’t forsaken them quite yet. Not entirely, anyway.

  　The dreadnought’s cannons fell silent. The incoming fire ceased. And then the mammoth ship was listing. Metal screamed and flames burst from the superstructure as the craft began its downward spiral, Diamond Weapon still dangling in its harness below. The lush forests of Tenebrae lay ahead of them.

  　They watched as Diamond Weapon slammed into the ground. Dust geysered into the air and hung suspended, blocking their view. It was impossible to see what had become of the airship―or of the monster.

  　“Did we get ’im?”

  　Wind gently tugged at the veil of dust, and the dreadnought was slowly revealed. It lay on its side, half-demolished.

  　In its shadow, something moved.

  　They heard a piercing roar as Diamond Weapon rose from the wreckage.

  　“Oh for the love of . . . ”

  　Aranea slammed a fist against the gun controls. They had no ammunition left, and at this point they were running on fumes. Wedge was managing to keep the ship on a stable, if low, flight path, but there was no way he could coax from it the kind of mobility they’d need to fight a daemon-infused superweapon.

  　“Wedge. I want you to head for Tenebrae. Stop Biggs’s train. There’s enough fuel left for that, right?”

  　The fight against Diamond Weapon wasn’t over yet. She still had one card left to play.

  　“Get the civilians out of the area. Evacuate whomever you can.”

  　She stood.

  　“What about you?” Wedge asked, his eyes wary.

  　“I got a date with Tiny.”

  　“Huh? But we’re all outta rounds. We don’t have any weapons left to shoot it with.”

  　“Still got one left.”

  　She slung the Stoss onto her back. “This helluva big shot right here.”

  　Aranea patted the spear, her longtime companion of so many battles past, and offered up a silent plea. Don’t let me down now.

  　She opened the ship’s rear hatch. The howling wind ripped at her body. They were close enough to Diamond Weapon now that she could make it. At this range she wouldn’t have to worry about being blown off course.

  　She tuned the comm to the 87th’s general channel and wondered how many were still alive to hear her message.

  　“Attention, all units! This might be the last thing I ever say to all of you, so listen up. I’ve resigned my command and the squadron is disbanded. As of today, we’re no longer in service to the empire.”

  　From the cockpit, Wedge was yelling at her to come back inside, but she ignored him. She kicked off from the lip of the hatch, into a dive straight at Diamond Weapon’s head. The dropship, Wedge at its helm, continued to speed on toward Tenebrae.

  　As she plummeted, she uttered one last quiet line into the comm. “I just want you all to know . . . It’s been
an honor to serve with you.” And then her spear was out, and she was closing in on the target. Just a hair off her intended trajectory. Well within tolerance.

  　“Hey, Tiny! I got a present for you!”

  　The monster’s massive head was directly below her. The disgustingly colored tumor of a core on its brow was dull and lightless, thank the Six. She didn’t want to have to deal with the same lethal crimson beam that left Gralea’s ground forces a smoldering heap.

  　The Stoss struck true, right into the core’s center. Diamond Weapon roared in reaction. At such close range, the sound was unbearable. It felt like it might rattle her skull apart. But with both hands on the spear, she had no way to cover her ears. The only thing she could think to do to get her mind off the pain was scream back. She fired the Stoss’s thrusters to dig in as deep as she could and yelled back at the monster until her throat was raw.

  　She’d hoped that one dive might be enough, that she’d take out the core and be done with it. Unfortunately, the empire’s giant pet seemed to be engineered a bit tougher than that.

  　Diamond Weapon twisted its giant body and tossed its head from side to side. Aranea clung to the Stoss, still lodged deep in the core. She flicked its controls, changing the spearpoint into a hook shape for an extra bit of anchorage.

  　Even with that, she was barely hanging on. Her body was thrown up, down, left, right as the monster thrashed, the force of its movement making her as nauseated as a cadet on a maiden airship flight. It took all of Aranea’s effort to keep clinging to the Stoss’s shaft, and so her guard was down when Diamond Weapon swiped one huge arm up toward its head, as if swatting away an obnoxious fly. She was hurtling downward before she knew what hit her.

  　She landed right in the guts of the downed dreadnought. Her back slammed against the hard armor plating―the same armor that had deflected all her earlier cannon fire. Her vision went white. The back of her head throbbed and burned. She thought she might vomit.

  　But she couldn’t just lie there. She had to get up. Aranea gathered her remaining strength, trying to jump back to her feet. Instead, all she managed to do was to roll to one side.