Stars Asunder

by Tao Wong

  Luckily, passing information only mildly affects his status of non-combatant. It only really restricts his use of Skills, but in this case, his main Skill, Just a Bystander, is actually useful. It makes those targeting us, technologically or mentally, ignore him—and thus the ship itself. It doesn’t stop stray shots from striking us, but by hovering off the ground and not firing anything, we’re avoiding drawing attention for now.

  “I see them. Now, stop bothering me,” Dornalor snaps at Harry. He is focused, staring at the monitors, eyes flicking sideways at times to take in other images that only he can see.

  The Hearbreak is jerking and weaving between drones, laser fire, and the occasional impelled mass as it attempts to keep us in the air, avoid the welcome party, and wait for our turn. Dornalor uses both fingers and mental commands, weaving the entire thing into a ballet of metal and gravitic impellers.

  Bolo, seated in the gunner’s seat, sniffs audibly. He has nothing to do right now, because any attack he could launch would break Harry’s Skill. If Harry’s Skill breaks, if we break it, the War Reporter would face a tremendous backlash. And while Harry’s mostly not a huge factor in our fights, Dornalor can always use a second pair of eyes.

  “Your initiates are breaching the main walls. Entrance in… two minutes for the earliest group,” Bolo reports, having judged their progress. “The Pooskeen’s at seven.”

  I grunt in acknowledgement. Gheisnan is running behind compared to the other initiates. His people are hunkered behind multiple layers of shield walls and projections, shifting forward in a turtle formation. They pop up to attack once in a while, taking out artillery weapons or concentrated groups of attackers. It’s smart and safe, but slow.

  Everyone else will breach in, at most, four minutes, but the Pooskeen is holding back. I’m not sure if it’s because he has less firepower—his lack of personal offensive Skills is clear—or if he’s doing this on purpose. Those lagging behind are more likely to survive, after all.

  “Get us to Freif. I want us behind the sniper’s team.”

  Dornalor acknowledges my order and hits the burners, risking revealing the ship to make it across the compound in time.

  In the meantime, I sweep my gaze over the landed shuttles and their disgorged passengers.

  Magine, the Duelist, is far ahead of everyone else. He’s the first to breach, and even as I watch, he’s leading his team into the gaping hole of a second-story apartment building. Soul Shield on, he jumps in, his tiny swords flashing as he cuts apart the gathered men. Seconds later, an explosion rips out from the wall as they detonate mines.

  I watch Magine’s health drop like a rock and stops about a quarter up. Briefly. Then it rises as Health potions, regeneration, and a Soul Shield trigger. Luckily, the explosion was sufficient to keep his attackers off for the precious few seconds his team needs to catch up. Shield walls slam down around his body while healing spells are cast, fast raising his health.

  Unlike the vast majority of his team, Magine hasn’t changed his style much. If anything, they’ve just doubled down on his Skill and preference. The team uses him as the spear-point, focusing on support, providing health to the damage dealer and keeping him alive while the rest of the team brace and hold the ground taken.

  In contrast, Ropo’s and Anayton’s teams are more balanced. They move fast, using chained Thousand Steps to give the entire team the equivalent of a Haste Skill—without the need to cast the spell individually on the group. Chained Two are One’s keep their tanks alive when damage exceeds the Soul Shields layered on those drawing fire. Ropo’s focus on the defensive side shines through here, unlike Anayton, who has a noticeable dent in her Mana. At the same time, they use concentrated fire from soulbound gun-wielding members to either take out troublesome attackers or provide covering fire.

  Still, the two initiates have their own individual style in this fight. Ropo uses his new stealth Skills, leaving his team to take the brunt of the damage. They’re geared up to do so, while the little Grimsar is making his way to the base of the walls. Occasionally, he reveals himself to launch a series of poison gas cannisters at the wall, cloaking the attackers before he fades away again.

  Once Ropo makes his way to the wall, he stops and switches out for his axe, charging up his new Skill. Combined with Army of One, he waits for a full two minutes, until his team is nearly with him, before he launches the attack. The energy from the attack is sufficient to tear a hole directly through the base of the wall and create a scar a third of the way up.

  Unlike the upper portions, the base of the wall is thickened and reinforced to provide the foundational supports for the towering skyscrapers within. Even so, the sickly green light from Ropo’s attack spreads, reaching outward and infecting the building material. Which makes no sense, but that’s the System for you.

  Anayton, on the other hand, is working with her team, commanding them and their actions. It’s a surprising turn of events from her earlier solo work. Here, she leads, but not with her face like Magine or Kino.

  In fact, she’s switched out her soulbound chain and sword for an assault rifle. Unlike the others, she actually has two soulbound weapons—a gift from her Title of the Everlasting Light. That both weapons are as powerful as one another can be attributed to Mana Fount. The viewing of the particular boondoggle that got her both Titles and forced her to purchase the Skills to balance her new weapons was rather entertaining.

  Let’s just say that you should never let yourself get dropped into the middle of a combat zone without checking your comms. The fact that she managed to drag half her team across a hostile planet was the main reason she’s on the roll for Paladin.

  It probably also explains why she’s babying her people, even against her personal inclinations.

  “Get moving to the exits, John. I’m not hanging around,” Dornalor calls, snapping me out of my review of the battlefield.

  I stand and follow Bolo, hurrying down to the emergency exit chutes, where we strap in. They’re the same exit chutes we’ve used before, geared to shoot us right out from the bottom. I’m wondering how Dornalor intends to get us in, because from what I’ve seen, Freif is already inside.

  Information keeps feeding to me from the gaping hole in the fourth floor. I see glimpses of light, flashes of beam weaponry as they open up. The constant sizzling crack of lasers and driven masses, with Freif’s figure shrouded in smoke and the glint off his Soul Shield. His team is right next to the man, small dots on my minimap as they bulldoze through the opposition.

  Ever since we gave the man his mass combat Skills, Freif’s taken to the calling of upfront damage dealer with a vengeance. Combined with his team, who have a preponderance of damage-dealing Skills, he’s taken to heart the idea that victory can be achieved by having the biggest DPS.

  My stomach lurches suddenly as the Heartbreak twists, angling itself in midair. Beneath my feet, the end of the escape chute opens, offering a brief view of the breach.

  Brief, because the escape chute triggers, sending me shooting toward the opening. I accelerate at hundreds of kilometers per second, the G forces enough to slam my mouth shut, catching the tip of my tongue and filling it with the copper and salt taste of blood. Just as quickly, the damage is gone as the System heals me.

  I careen past the startled members of Freif’s team, clipping one of Freif’s hovering guns before my feet impact undamaged internal walls. They tear asunder as I bleed velocity and Soul Shield defenses. It takes multiple walls before I finally come to a stop. My Soul Shield flickers, detailing damage taken, even as the crash harness detaches and ignominiously drops me to the floor.

  “What happened to subtle?” I shout over the party chat.

  Mikito drops down next to me, scanning the empty storage room, bits and pieces of reinforced metal cladding still raining down around us. Seeing no threats, the samurai strolls over and taps her arm. “Tick-tock.”

  I start, wondering where that polite samurai has gone. Once, a long time ago, she’d do
ne the entire strong silent type very well. Of course, part of that had been her lack of English language skills. But now, now she’s gotten used to me. And is giving me shit, just like the rest of them.

  Bolo interrupts my musings by jumping through and widening the hole we made. When I raise an eyebrow at his image in the party chat, the Dragon Lord grumbles. “Smashed into a supporting strut.”

  My grin widens as Ali catches up, floating through the walls, cackling all the while.

  “So glad I recorded that. Now get moving, boy-o, before the guards arrive. Donalor got you into the third ring, but we’re going to have to get moving to the keep itself.”

  Mikito’s already moving, running as fast as she can toward the nearest exit. The insides of the wall are utilitarian, burnished steel-gray metal, littered by pale yellow light every twenty feet. Occasionally, graffiti can be seen, gang signs and the occasional drawing of local entertainment shows. Some of the art is startling, graphic in its violence, 3D paint giving it all-too-realistic lifelike properties if glimpsed out of the corner of your eye. Others are risqué, showing anatomically impossible scenes of athletic splendor with aliens of a wide variety.

  Beneath our feet, the floors are worn, scuff marks showing in even System-regenerated pathways. It says something about the amount of wear when the System is unable to complete regeneration. It’s quite possible there are even worse areas, places that have broken down further.

  We race down corridors, led by Ali and Mikito’s summoned horse. It’s not a real animal, the spirit horse. Recent Level-ups have allowed her greater control, and now the creature rushes ahead, playing both scout and tank. Not that we need one. Not just yet.

  “No guards,” I say.

  It’s not a call for them to appear, or a raised flag, just an indicator of my concern. There should be guards. Should be personnel blocking us. And even if my minimap glows with dots, most of them are pale gray. Marked by Ali as non-combatants, probably via a quick surface scan of their Statuses.

  Mikito grunts, slowing her headlong rush. I note the sudden drop in her Mana at the same time. “Barrier.”

  “How many?” Bolo asks as he moves up.

  Rather than wait for Mikito to inform me, I borrow Ali’s sight. Arrayed just before the exit from the wall is a good score of the missing guards. Led by a pair of elite members—Erethran nobles with Advanced Classes. One’s a Trick Shooter, the other a Baronet. Beside them, the others of the group block the way, reinforcing the exit and creating a chokepoint. Almost as if a signal was given, additional dots appear, hemming us in.

  Between the layers of force fields, the personnel, and the in place firepower, it’ll take us a few moments to break through. I frown, glance at the map again to ascertain that this is the fastest way in. We could go through the walls, but these are reinforced. Especially the exterior wall.

  “Bolo, Mikito, punch us through,” I command them. “I’ll be right along.” Already, my hands are filling with toys to slow our pursuers.

  My friends charge ahead, Mikito reconjuring her steed and jumping on it. She has to duck low so that she doesn’t knock her head, but that’s fine. She levels Hitoshi over the horse’s ears, ready to use. Bolo just starts running, conjuring his hammer.

  I’m not worried that they’ll be stopped. I do, however, have concerns about the initiates. Even out here, drawing the majority of fire, they all have their own targets. Unfortunately, the moment we entered the wall, communication between us and them dropped. I can only pray they don’t die.

  Traps in place, the sounds of Bolo and Mikito meeting our enemies resounding through the corridors, I hurry after them. Not a moment too soon, for a cluster of dots cross the line of installed traps.

  The Galactic equivalent of a bouncing betty goes off, releasing enchanted shrapnel into the air. To my surprise, I get experience notifications almost immediately. And while I’ve filled the corridors behind us with equipment, drones, mines, and automated machine guns, I’m still surprised.

  Are these guys that weak?

  My answer appears as I reach the exit, stepping over broken bodies and shattered pieces of equipment. Yes, they are. I’m once again grateful that my helmet filters out the smells of battle. I’ve fought without it before, or when it’s been damaged, and the smell of cooked flesh and viscera from torn-apart bodies is haunting. It leaches into everything, coats your mouth and stains the food you eat for days on end.

  Once out of the internal wall corridors, the grounds open before us. A vista of pale green and purple grass and shrubbery. Even as we run, Mikito and Bolo are swinging their weapons, projecting energy at the emplaced artillery and defensive grid that breaks up the peaceful view. Temporal enchantments in the ground slow us down. Increased gravity weighs every action, draining Stamina. None of the defenses or artillery last longer than a single swing, but they keep popping up. Even the weapons on the walls have swung around, aiming at us with the ships grounded.

  Even through our defenses, our health continues to drop as we enter the kill zone.

  My Soul Shield shatters, metal around Hod’s outer layers boiling away. Rather than let it continue, I trigger the next skill in the armor. Mirror Shade lets me hide among my doppelgangers as we split off and run in different directions.

  Bolo and Mikito use their own Skills and equipment to lighten the load, adding purchased automatic weaponry, a conjured summons, and moveable shielding to the mix. Ali floats above, hands held apart. A semi-transparent dome forms around our small team, curving beam attacks, breaking apart mass projectiles, and weakening the bonds between them.

  And all the while, we run.

  A rumble starts without warning, and the ground beneath Mikito’s horse gives way. A trench nearly six feet wide and twenty feet deep appears, dropping her into its depths. Bolo falls in a few inches before he kicks off against the crumbling ground, driving himself forward with a flip to land on stable dirt on the other side. I just keep running, triggering the hover options built into Hod.

  From within the depths, Mikito rides up the steep wall of the trench, flames chasing her, catching me as I run. Massive shields spring into existence, pushing Bolo back before he smashes them apart. And we keep running.

  Only our Health is down to half and our Mana is still dropping. Previously destroyed defenses pop back into existence as the defenders spend Credits like water.

  “Where are they?” I snarl, spinning around and tossing my knives at an emplacement. I slip Blade Strike into the daggers. Otherwise, the tiny weapons would do nothing to the emplaced weaponry. But their ability to penetrate shields, added to my own Penetration Skill, gives me the oomph needed.

  There’s no answer to my question. I growl again and eye our health. In the end, I give in and trigger the Evolved portion of my Penetration Skill. Penetration’s Evolved ability flicks on, and I throw Blade Strikes with abandon, sliding more of them into my daggers as I cast them at oncoming shields without regard to effectiveness. It all piles on, making the Evolved Skill Shield form around me, bolstering its hit points.

  “Let me be the vanguard!” I call to Bolo. At the same time, Vanguard of the Apocalypse and Eye of the Storm are used.

  Bolo glances back, only for his eyes to widen as the majority of the attacks switch to target me. The storm of fire lights me up, such that it’s impossible to see my form within. But the Penetration Shield holds. In the meantime, with Bolo stopping his attacks on the defenses, I get a chance to replenish as I rush ahead and start cutting.

  “I need an Evolved Skill,” Bolo mutters.

  I don’t have time to listen to him, knowing I can’t keep all these Skills running forever.

  A few last automated emplacements—too dumb to be affected by my Skill—target my friends, but for the most part, I am in the Eye of the Storm.

  “What took you so long?” Bolo grumbles as his health slowly creeps up.

  “Uhh… I don’t like using things when we don’t need to.” And truth be told, I’d never really
wanted to use it so soon. Or have a reason to remember to use it. It’s not as if I’ve often needed this Skill.

  The secondary effect of my Penetration Skill has a duration of eighty-five minutes, and the cooldown on it is variable. Unfortunately, it seems cooldown for the Skill is affected by several factors outside of my control, including System resources, ambient Mana levels, and—I think—my own Intelligence and Willpower. What that really means is that once used, I often can’t reuse the Skill for at least a day or two. Which is why I don’t use it very often.

  And that means I forgot.

  Thankfully, there’s no way for Bolo to know any of that, or my forgetfulness. Instead, the Dragon Lord stays a step behind, focusing his attention on emplacements while I forge ahead, tossing my knives out whenever they return and taking down shields. Even so, three quarters of the way in, we slow to a crawl as the sheer number of automated defenses and shielding systems block our way.

  When I hesitate, Bolo snaps, “You want me to take it down?”

  “No.” I shake my head, glancing at the plethora of hostiles showing on my map.

  Ali’s shrunk down the size of his shield, the strain taking its toll on the Spirit. Mikito’s dismounted, using her steed and her weapon to play rearguard. Even as we gather, our enemies are tightening their encirclement.

  If things don’t change soon, we’re going to end up as just so much carrion. Bolo knows this, so my refusal makes his hands tighten on his hammer. But…

  It’s time for the kids to show us they have what it takes.

  “Now or never, children,” I mutter into the open comms, hoping they can hear me.

  Silence greets my words as the air sizzles, the ground melts, and the acrid tang of ozone filters into my breathing.

  Silence.

  Chapter 18

  “Redeemer!” Bolo’s voice is growing frantic.

  As more time passes, the greater the resistance grows against my taunt Skill, allowing more and more targets to switch over to my friends. Add the fact that a good portion of the defenses are automated and Bolo’s health is dropping again. Mikito’s not doing much better—in fact, her health is even worse.