by K A Carter
Nario looked over at a few of the marines taking up seats at weapon arrays. One nod and they proceeded to fire cautiously. Ripples of ballistic guided torpedoes slipping away in silent sequence. There was plenty to fire at, but Lortain focused on giving the Eye of Zi ships clout. The Venture wasn’t big but made for a good smoke screen.
Nario sat back peering over to Lortain at a central console, Gazing down at the readout of the battlefield. That was where Nario felt he should be. Or at least in a weapon suite. But here he was, the semi-old war hero taking a sideline seat and watching as the younger ones played. It felt dismal to think about in such a setting but given the amount of time he had in between looking at Lortain and drowning out Halle. It was minimally invasive.
Her soft voice creeped into his ears again, as though she were sitting next to him. “Captain,” she said.
“Go head.”
“We’re being hailed by an unidentified ship.”
“Is it Rowland?” Nario responded, glancing at the side panel next to his seat to confirm.
“Not a chance, this is a masked signature. Probably cloaked and its further away. Want me to patch it through?”
Nario didn’t answer right away, but instead rubbed at his now scruffy chin. “Is it safe?”
“It’s not Draul so, can’t be worse than that.”
Halle cleared the transmission and patched it directly to the screen. As it showed the video feed. A being appeared frowning and then let it go as though he had seen a familiar face. Its eyes were wider apart and its pale skin was violet in tint. The nose was a ridge with small slits with thin white lines striped down.
“You,” he said.
It took a moment but Nario remembered him too. The ornery being that accompanied J’elan aboard the CPF ship. His name escaped his mind for a moment.
“You’ve successfully impeded a covert mission,” S’tiri said. That was his name as sure as Nario could be that it was. “Are you friend or foe?”
“It’s not obvious? I am attacking Draul ships.”
S’tiri scoffed. “Your species is already on the surface helping them.”
“Orcus? I don’t speak for them.”
“If the Draul ships wanted to destroy every ship you have; they would have done it already.”
Nario’s brows rows and he almost didn’t believe what S’tiri said. “Why haven’t they?”
“I suspect they are close to opening a rift with the conduit.”
First, he looked down and then up at S’tiri on the screen. All of the beings aboard his ship calmly in place while the crew of the Venture could be heard panting and grunting as they shot at speedy targets. It was a lot of information he was sure was too much to know off hand.
“How do you know all of this?” Nario asked.
S’tiri’s pearly eyes shuttered. “I have fourteen ships all of which have made it past the veil. All of which are nearing the planet. We will hit orbit undetected in less than an hour to keep unknown.”
It made sense to Nario, going in undetected. He didn’t have that within his power so he didn’t quarrel with the fact.
“Since you’ve already made yourself known, if you can continue to distract the veil as we make planetside, we can stop them before they free something far worse than their armada.”
Nario could see truth, haste, and friendliness in the cold eyes. He was a different being than the one that had met with him before. It wasn’t something so easily recognized. It was subtle and laid like a blanket over his rough exterior. At the same moment, Nario contemplated in a millisecond - already knowing that he would agree - he also took note of the scars that made themselves visible on S’tiri’s thin cheekbones. Like soft burns that rose out of built pressure. Brands by the looks of them.
“Can you stop them?” Nario asked. He wouldn’t tell it to his crew or Rowland for that matter, but there was a slim to no chance of piercing that veil with the amount of ships combined. At least with S’tiri beyond it, there was a chance. A small chance, but one nonetheless.
“I will do everything in my power to, Nario Dios-Lobin.”
Nario shook his head and nodded. The feed cut off and the alert sounds shot back into the array of noise he couldn’t drown out.
“How are we on weapons?” Nario asked, to no one in particular.
Lortain looked up from the console, “26% of our arsenal is gone. Trying to be frugal here.”
“Damage report?”
Halle reigned over the com link. “hard plating is at 34%. I’m trying to keep us from the big guys but, these fuckers are relentless.”
Nario stood up and walked over to the circular console Lortain was looking down at. The screen displayed dots. Nario recognized the green dot as them. It was the only green one. There were fifteen blue dots, whom were certainly Rowland’s ships. The other red dots still numbered just under around a thousand. Not that Nario was paying close attention to the amount. He didn’t want to see how many ships were lost at the merc’s expense. Or how close to death he was brushing up near. Halle was doing well so far.
As he tried to get an understanding of what was going on out there, more red dots disappeared by a blue dot.
“Rowland’s fired that cannon four times and we have about twenty Draul ships gone to show for it.”
It sounded like progress but with the amount they had, it was barely a fraction. To his surprise many of the ships were actually ignoring the Venture. After examining the layout. Rowland’s ships were just barely battling five hundred ships, many of them smaller dots on the screen. Fighters that pushed to take out the cannon. They were holding but it made sense, attack the most threatening.
In the same moment, part of the Veil hadn’t moved at all. At least a little over a thousand ships stagnate like ornaments in the starry vacuum.
“One of the Eye of Zi ships just went down,” Lortain said.
“Can we cover their position?” Nario asked.”
“No need, the Pelissier just moved to that position. I’m hailing Rowland again.”
This time a video feed popped up on a part of the hologram array that extended above the console Nario was at. It was at eye level and as small as looking at a data tablet.
“We lost the Integrator. That’s ninety people gone,” Rowland said. She sat in a gaudy captain’s chair.
“It’s not for nothing, we received a transmission from an ally that has pierced the armada veil and entering orbit now.”
“An ally?” Rowland said, mockingly. “That’s quite convenient. I’m blowing a whole through that veil and you’re going through it before the rest of those ships decide to make us stardust.”
“We can’t jeopardize our only chance. Those ships landing are our chance.”
“Nario, you’re a smart man” she paused. “But you’re a fool. We can’t guarantee anything, and I for one am not leaving this in the hands of someone I don’t fucking know.”
“You need to trust me,”
In the background of the Vosburgh’s calm terminal rings a slowly elevating hum could be heard. It was the cannon charging.
“Nario gave a frown and said again. “Rowland, we need to keep a distance.”
On the hail link an oddly shaped shipmate strutted over to Rowland’s side. “Cap, the rest of the ships have mobilized.”
“How many?” Rowland replied.
“All of them, thousands of ships moving toward the Vosburgh.”
Rowland looked back at Nario through the link and grinned. “I love no wins scenarios.”
The link was cut off and Halle’s voice yelled through the com link, once again she had been calling for him multiple times.
“What is it Halle?” Nario asked, as he sat back in his seat.
“We have incoming ships dropping out of warp.”
“Are they more Draul?” he said, contemplating the first thoughts of retreating he had ever done in his life.
“Not Draul but I don’t know for sure.”
Nario looked at his s
ide panel.
“Cap, we have roughly five hundred ships about to drop out of warp on us.” Halle added.
Chapter 41: S’tiri
A battle ensued behind them. S’tiri glanced at the crystal image. There was no doubt he wanted to fight. His hands ached with anticipation that crept all the way from his abdomen. He straddled his three fingers against the battle suit that hung in his domain. It wouldn’t be very long before he had to put it on.
Most of the ships had come to a stop just in reach of the planet’s atmosphere. The descent grew harder than it expected for a world with the appearance of a thin atmosphere. No doubt it was due to the intense tectonic rumbles that likely made things impossible for those on the ground.
Each ship pierced the remainder of clouds ahead of the Zeylon. Through each of their apparitions the screen showed a massive base. At the center was a ruined architecture built of unusual stone by appearance. The structure had four pillars the color of the bleached sand like the beaches of Mo’ta he had seen in advertisements for living spaces in E’kh providence. He had never been and didn’t think he was missing anything. He partially felt that he may never see it now. In some way this felt like a one-way trip. Rightfully so, he had experienced firsthand what the Draul were capable of. And had seen what influences they held.
S’tiri never wavered until he was stricken with whatever processes they had mitigated his mind with. Many civilizations kneeled at the sight of Thalus to the point in which no indoctrination was necessary. The Moranthians folded like malleable alloy. As the vermin they were, the Elassi bowed for any means to aid their perpetual expansion. It made no sense to him why so many strong empires would relinquish any power they possessed.
The ship raddled. Anti-Air cannons shot glowing plasmic rounds at the ships. Many of them brushing off. Others slipping through kinetic barriers.
“Where is safe?” Illa said. the Zeylon shifting and turning noticeably.
Nilus stood beside S’tiri in the main room, the examination of the areas below and the base moved within the fluid screen perched in both of their vision.
“Touch down here,” S’tiri said, and pointed to flattened landing dune that was only empty for the purpose of transporting cargo. Utility crates giving away that much.
It had appeared that any ships that aided Thalus that weren’t Draul would be here. None sat on the landing dune. It was clear enough that two silver ships plopped down behind the Zeylon. Large groups wearing sealed environment suits poured out of the loading bays of the ships. S’tiri pointed to a reinforced blast door off the dune that contained a way in. Many of the merc soldiers carried heavily modified blasters only the most experienced splicers and modders would take a chance at fitting. Pyx stopped behind them turning around and walking back. Her battle suit was an intricate red with branded markings she had collected throughout her experiences.
Nilus and Garrek huddled around S’tiri. Pyx finally joining them. Nilus opened a hologram that displayed a land layout starting at the fortified door the others were currently trying to fry though. “This door leads to here,” Nilus said. The image zooming into a large dome that was visible if one were to look up over the door. “If I had to guess, this has to be some sort of operation center. It is directly adjacent to the chamber where the ruins are.”
“Any guess one what the ruins are for?” Garrek interjected.
“It is a conduit, an ancient conduit. The amount of power it is generating is immense. Our problem is these two connecting corridors and the dome do not connect directly. We will have to send a team through here and here.” Nilus directed the hologram to a rectangular part of the base that connected to the ruins opening. On the other side, a longer hall with pods protruding from it, a marker of smaller rooms that possibly housed any of the staff.
“Pyx, I want you to lead the two squads through the main corridor and to the operations center with Nilus. We have to start with taking control of the facility.”
Pyx nodded, “Heading there now.” As she walked away she spoke through her com link giving orders to the two dozen of mercs that were nearly finished penetrating the main door.
Nilus zoomed out of the image and showed the full layout of the facility. From where they were, the base was even larger on the other side, which only meant that anyone not already coming to resist them, would surely be sent to their side of the base soon.
“If possible, I can see what I can do with their defenses,” Nilus said, and began jogging toward Pyx. He handed the node to S’tiri
S’tiri paused looking at the image, his mind pacing itself. He’s here, he thought to himself. Thalus was somewhere on the base and waiting. Part of him could almost still feel it all slithering in and out of his mind. It wasn’t back to normal in any sense of the word. He reveled that he would meet him here and now, undeterred by any mind-altering techniques. Clear enough and resilient to the thought of killing him where he stood. Whatever the conduit meant to unleash. The Banished. It meant no good for the galaxy. Even the parts yet unreached by the worlds of this quadrant.
“You okay?” Nuri asked.
He nodded back.
“You and I,” S’tiri said to Garrek. “Will escort the elder along with the troops they are providing. We have to get to the ruins and keep him alive at all cost.
Garrek nodded his horned riddled head and looked up. Two more ships touch down further away. Above, the uncontrolled streams of fire and destruction ensued. The sky a goldish tint as cannon blasts and torpedoes danced away at each other so far in the distance that S’tiri couldn’t tell who was who.
Moments later Z’oni had approached with a small group of armed soldiers. No more than fifteen of them accompanying the elder in a floating chair covered in his own armored suit that was thinner and more maneuverable. He spared his movements for when he’d really need them.
“Wasted no time?” Z’oni said, looking past S’tiri. The doors were blasted open and Pyx had already begun to lead teams.
“There isn’t any to waste,” S’tiri responded. “Is your group ready?”
“Have you the route?” the elder said, “I must be the one to shut the conduit down.”
“I do.”
S’tiri and the others entered through the left corridor. From each direction radiant green bolts shot at them, bouncing off of shields and scraping against the cover. S’tiri handed his blaster clipped aside him to Z’oni. Attached to his lower back was his sword folded in its sharp place. A firm grip of the sword unfolded it into a keen blade.
“Follow me,” he said.
S’tiri relished combat. The sweep of the blade through the air. The feeling of countering a subject’s moves. Most importantly, the belief that it was justified. In his years spent as a soldier, it was obvious in the oaths he had taken. Though no longer a soldier of the Irinan Republic, now was no different. His strikes were justified. Every single flurry of his sword and stroke that penetrated the soft parts of the draul armor. He slowly became entrapped in fighting, the aid of his partners going unnoticed for the initial moments of battle.
Z’oni pulled out her slickblade, holding it deadly side down, and gripping a hand cannon in her left hand. In between shots, she ducked and maneuvered in between the brutish Draul that approached with bladed staffs. Many of them were stiff and lacked agility. Still each was more difficult to kill than the next.
Garrek blasted a heavy weapon shot at the group oncoming, more Draul behind them.
Before he could lift his head up from killing, the last of his slain lay in front of them. The rest of the soldiers attacked, flooding up the front line. Blaster fire shot across, the exchange hitting both Draul and Irinan.
S’tiri’s suit node sprung to life, on the other end a clear and loud blast of gunfire and small heavy weapon explosions. “S’tiri come in,” Pyx said. Her voice was strained and discombobulated. “We’ve gained control of the operations center. Receiving heavy enemy reinforcements.”
“Can you make it to the other side
? We can’t get to the ruins without a coordinated break of the main door codes.”
“Negative,” she yelled. “We won’t survive that. There were more of them here than we thought. Bastards are smart, mounted a delayed assault to pin us.”
The delayed assault only meant that more may have been waiting up ahead. It also meant that more were likely coming up behind them. It was far too late to turn back.
“We need to keep pushing forward,” Z’oni said.
Five out of fifteen soldiers left. Garrek posted up adjacent to the corridor, peering around a corner with his heavy machine gun, shooting out controlled bursts. The onslaught had dwindled. Likely only to the fact that there was still an ongoing war in the skies and beyond. S’tiri didn’t know what would be the result of that. It wasn’t something that could be easily answered. For all he knew, the battle was ending and the Draul had won with the armada that could blot out the suns of Sarjana if all of them decided to land simultaneously.
Z’oni stood examining the large door that separated them from the ruins. It was some sort of dense alloy meant to withstand intensified blasts.
The elder hovered in his chair motionless. It had been only five minutes, with no probable cause to assume that Pyx was still alive to open the door, S’tiri had begun to wonder whether he would be able to continue on. Pyx had been com silent. The operations center was too far to travel backward and come back in time. By the sounds of the other side, whatever was going on was likely to end soon.
In the span of the minutes that hung in pace, the growl and hum that vibrated from the door picked up, elevating in pitch and had only now just begun to dwindle which meant some sort of cool down. S’tiri knew the conduit was meant to unleash the shackled beings that waited and it curdled his blood to think he couldn’t stop it. It felt like the mind trance all over again only he could feel his anger this time.
S’tiri tried at his com. “Pyx,” he said. “Pyx are you still there? We need you, we need this door open.”
Nothing responded, the static feedback dancing subtly on the other end.
