by Will Crudge
Her attention turned to the troop formation to the front of the dead mech, and they’d turned to see what had just happened. A few of them screamed in shock, and a few others began to relay commands to the others. After a moment, the bulk of the troops went from being frozen from astonishment, to downright tactical.
They’re as good as dead. She knew that none of the red armored soldiers had any weapons that could stop her. But she didn’t wait to see them try.
She switched the gun mode again to a fully automatic armored penetrating ballistic cannon and opened fire. The concussive recoil of the heavy rounds was the only thing that could be heard. Between shots, there was only the clanging of spent cartridges bouncing off the corridor’s decking.
They had nowhere to run. The relatively narrow corridor was just big enough for two mechs to walk side-by-side but offered no source of cover or concealment. The remaining three hundred meters of open corridor were impassible due to the onslaught of heavy rapid fire.
Three platoons of red armored soldiers were now just a fifty-meter-long pile of wrecked metal armor and mutilated flesh. The civilians ahead wouldn’t have any idea how close to being slaughtered they had come.
By now, Kara had already set the self-destruct sequence of the mech and retreated her awareness elsewhere in the substance-less firmament. Time and space were now merely a plaything. Matter itself, and the energy it was comprised of was nothing more than an extension of herself.
***
Do not lose yourself, Kara. Some faceless voice flooded into her mind. But it wasn’t a voice, nor was it a thought. But it certainly was another entity trying to express his or her intensions.
Who’s there? Kara asked. She didn’t fear for her safety. She had no anxiety whatsoever. Only the boundless curiosity of sentience drove her intensions now. She must learn more about this new entity.
I am from your realm. I passed through this plane of existence once before… but now I am in another place, the other entity explained.
Where are you? I can’t see you, she said.
I am still in a physical place, much like you. But you may not realize that you’re still flesh and blood. I felt the Primal Rage of a War Master, and I am trying to reach out to her.
Kara didn’t understand. What was this entity trying to say? Was he in a physical world, but just communicating to her? She also didn’t understand what he meant by I am still in a physical place, much like you.
I am not in a physical place. I am energy. I am light. You must be mistaken. The physical has become my plaything. My power!
And so your delusion will prove to be your downfall. My own brother began to relish in the boundless energy of this place, but he was consumed by it. You must focus on who you are. You are her only hope.
Kara didn’t know who she was, or who this other entity thought he was. The disembodied Kara was a deity, for all she could gather.
Who is this person you are talking about? Is she here with me? Kara asked.
Yes. I was able to stop her from consuming herself in the energy she tapped into, but I am in a separate physical world from both of you, and I can do nothing to bring her back into your reality.
Why should I care? Kara said, but this time she caught herself by surprise. That response was smug, and seemingly uncalled for. That didn’t feel natural to her at all.
The energy is lulling you into its temptation. Your thoughts are being corrupted, but you can fight it. All you have to do is decide.
Decide? Decide what? Kara was now growing irritable. She felt frustration for not knowing what he meant by any of this.
Decide that the energy is not yours. Decide it’s not something separate from you. Decide you are one with all energy, and thus the illusion of trying to control anything will fade to nothing.
Kara suddenly understood. It snapped into reality just as fast as soon as she pondered it. She never controlled the grenade. She never sabotaged the turret. She never controlled the mech. She just decided to focus on her intentions and it occurred. Kara did it by letting go of limitations. She let go of the friction that was caused by trying to control anything. She succeeded in those things by merely accepting them. Being them. Now she knew what to do.
I decide then. She asserted.
What is your decision?
I decide to offer no resistance. To just be. I decide not to control, but to create. I decide to just be. Kara instantly felt a wash of warmth permeate her entire being. The being to whom she spoke was one and the same with her, but merely anchored to different reality. She knew he was mortal, but merely in this dream-world with her. And if that was the case, then she’d need to find her purpose.
It’s not too late to find her before she fades. Help her. Please.
Who is she? Kara asked.
She is a War Master. You know this already, but you’re not thinking with your physical brain. You are thinking with your astral self. You are here in this plain because her Primal Rage has pulled you in. You must have a War Master’s blood otherwise you would be nothing but a corpse.
The words of the other entity were spell-bind to Kara. She didn’t know what a war master was, and she most defiantly didn’t know what a Primal Rage was. But she trusted the other entity. She could feel his benevolence. What is your name?
I once was known as a War Master in your reality. But now I am elsewhere. I am Kaylen.
Kaylen! The name struck a chord with her. That name was significant. Important. I know who you are. You are the Mighty Kaylen. I know who you’re trying to save. Her name is Jimma Alba.
Jimma Alba. The entity who called itself Kaylen repeated. I am Kaylen Alba. Jimma is my blood then.
Kara didn’t quite sure if it was a question, or a statement. But she replied all the same. She’s of your blood, yes. I’m not sure how she is related to you, but she said that her family is known to be the blood of Kaylen. But you died. You’ve been dead for more than three centuries,
I am not dead. My physical form was transmuted into another physical realm. Here we live.
Who is ‘we’? Kara asked.
No time to explain. Jimma is fading fast. You need to focus your intention on her essence and pull her back from the abyss before she is lost forever.
But isn’t she there with you? Why did you come through to another physical world, body and all? Kara said.
No time. Focus! Kaylen’s disembodied energy scolded. Kara didn’t understand what the rush was. He had already learned the physical universe is merely an illusion formed of energy, and space-time. Why should she be bothered to rush anything?
You may manipulate time, space, and matter in your current state, but Jimma’s consciousness has been reduced to a more primal state of being. Time and space for her are still limited to the three-dimensional reality that her life-force is still clinging to. She cannot do it herself. You MUST pull her back into herself!
Kara understood. Jimma’s mental state was too weak for her to know who she was, or that she even needed to return to her physical form at all. Kara realized that had Kaylen not interceded, that she herself would have become drunk with the limitless temptations of her current state of limitless energy.
I decide to embrace Jimma and pull her back into the world from whence I came. Kara set her intentions, and without delay, she embraced the formless primordial life-force of her friend. She merged her own energy and love with that of Jimma’s, and then the disembodied War Master grew denser. Jimma was now whole with her physical form. And now it would be Kara’s turn to breathe again. She felt her own energy begin to build in density, and even the frequencies of her own astral presence were beginning to slow down.
She placed her intention on her physical form, and in a flash the image of a matte silver set of armor lying on the deck filled her awareness. She knew right away that the occupant of the suit was her physical self, and she allowed herself to retreat back into the chemical-based awareness of the human mind within.
Then the ethereal pla
in began to fade into darkness. Kara struggled to maintain her awareness, but her memories were fleeting. She knew she didn’t have the spiritual training or experience to pull her astral awareness into her physical mind as one homogenous being, and she simply accepted the fact that when she woke up into the physical realm once more, she would only have scant memories of what had occurred. Perhaps she could revisit this wondrous place in her dreams.
Perhaps, she would remember enough of her conversation with the legendary War Master to tell his family he wasn’t dead. Only perhaps, she figured.
Only perhaps.
Pirate McPirate-Face
Location: UAHC Sloop Foehammer, CIC, Tangine Interstellar Port
Date Time: Post Interstellar 08/04/4201 1823HRS UAHC Standard Zulu
System: Sol System, Mid Region
“Against all odds, I see the pods taking back off,” Steve said with an exuberant tone.
“See? Sometimes even a pirate can come up with a good idea.” James gave out a wink. He was studiously pecking away at holographic interfaces that surrounded the command console, and Steve knew the pirate’s old habits were laid bare for him to see.
Steve supposed James wasn’t accustomed to working with an AI and was forced to calculate his own firing solutions and vector telemetry for navigation.
“Hold up, James.” Steve said abruptly. James just stopped, and a look of confusion flooded his face. “Let me help you.”
The displays instantly populated with completed equations and targeting data. James just smiled and rubbed his stubbly head. “Wow. I guess I’m redundant, aren’t I?”
“Don’t sell yourself short, buddy,” Steve retorted. “It was your crafty knowledge of missile systems that saved our hides, and it was your escape pod plan that allowed our friends to retrieve their families and save all of those people.”
James’ face flushed. Steve supposed the young man wasn’t accustomed to acts of altruism. Even though his initial efforts may have been out of self-preservation, he would have still probably avoided execution or serious prison time by his missile-loading actions alone. No. Steve decided. James was good people, and he deserved recognition. Perhaps this young man held value in the battles to come—if they lived to see another battle that was.
“OK, I’ve got the main internal weapons magazine doors opening,” James stated. “It’s not like escape pods are designed to re-dock with their launch tubes, so that’s the only way to get them back on board without making them suck vacuum.”
Very smart, kid. Very smart, Steve thought. “I guess it’s a good thing that you and Griff got all those missile racks broke down and loaded. It would have been really crowded in there.”
The visual feed from the port-side magazine door came on the main screen, and James could see both pods glide gracefully through the energy shielding. A moment later, James sent the command to the door mechanism, and the heavily armored blast doors retreated to seal the hull once more.
“Now let’s get the fuck out of here, and follow those L-R… What are they again?” James spat.
“LRF-90’s, you mean? The most powerful series of near-indestructible capital-ship-killing fighter spacecraft ever built?” Steve’s ability at spiteful sarcasm would not be hampered by the fact that they would likely be dead any minute.
“Yeah. Those thingies.” James just rolled his eyes and went back to pecking away at the display interfaces.
“Dude, chill. I got this,” Steve spouted, and the NAV data command to execute was entered automatically.
“OK, then I guess I’ll head back to the magazine.” James labored to stand up from the seat. Steve noticed the stress in James’ body was stiffening up his musculature.
“There are towels, blankets, and pillows in the last closet on the left before you get to the main berthing. I’m initializing the mess automaton to prep some meals. Just worry about getting them settled in, and I can take the helm from here,” Steve said.
James nodded, and then made his way out of the CIC.
***
“Looks like we’ll have to fight off incoming fighters before we can cut through this exterior bulkhead, Darius,” Doom said. Darius looked on his tactical display and saw what he meant. Red icons of at least three dozen enemy fighters were swarming and heading straight for the two LRF’s. The Doom-Raptor was stationary and was facing the bulkhead they intended on blasting through. Blood-Reaper was mobile, and Val was in a continuous figure eight maneuver to maintain enough velocity to repel an attack on his vulnerable wing-man.
“You boys need any help?” Captain Ives chimed in on the audio net.
“Yes. Yes, we do. Can you, and the Foehammer stave off these pesky fighters?” Darius replied.
“I’m already on intercept,” Jep responded on the open channel. Darius saw the Death-Nail was already adjusting its vector to flank the incoming horde of fighters. The HUD indicated that the fighters were within twenty seconds of being within effect weapons range of his fighter.
“I’ll need you to come with me, Jep,” Darius said. “One soldier, two gigantic panthers, and a super-human monk with wardrobe issues can do a lot of damage, but we’ll need your steel in the end.”
“As you wish, Darius,” Jep replied. “I’ll keep them busy long enough for our two warships to get targeting solutions on them, and then I’ll split-S back to your position.”
“Good,” Darius replied. “Captain Ives, how long before you’re within effective range of the fighters?”
“Sir, we can range them now, but only with missiles. We have another fifteen to twenty seconds to clear the vertical horizon of the station, and then we’ll have clear line of sight for rail shots and energy weapons,” she replied.
“Good copy, captain,” Darius said. “Steve? Are you in agreeance?”
“Roger that, Fleet Marshal,” Steve responded, but with an ambiguous tone that could have either been sarcasm or authenticity. Darius didn’t care either way at this point.
“Give them hell. Once we’re inside, the LRF’s will clean up any stragglers, and then move to the extraction point.” Darius noted. Icons of acknowledgment flooded in from all four of his allied vessels, and Darius just let out a breath that he just realized he was holding in.
“Doom, time for arts and crafts!” Darius said with a crooked smile, and then he sent the neural signal to his helmet control. The combat helmet emerged from his bulky shoulder armor, and within a second, assembled itself completely around his head and neck.
His helmet’s HUD interfaced with his own optical implants, and he could see the atmospheric seal had been established. The big man rotated his pilot’s seat one hundred and eighty degrees and was facing into the berthing area within his fighter. The sight of two massive panthers filled his view, and he recognized that the two predators were exuding a terrifying body posture.
Zodiacs. Always ready for a brawl, he thought.
“Hell, yeah. Of course we’re ready to fight. We weren’t bred for petting zoos,” Shadow replied. Darius knew the cat’s mind was deeply melded into his own… far beyond what was normal for a pairing of a human with a Zodiac. He could also feel a near equal connection with Sheba. Shadow’s mate was already deeply linked with him by their close-knit marriage already, and Darius seemed to be merged with her mind by proxy.
“These red armored wearing bastards won’t kill themselves I suppose,” Darius chuckled. “Doom, let’s get to it!”
“Already got the laser cutter primed,” Doom replied. “Here goes nothing!”
***
Peterson casually walked through the lines of spec ops commandos, as they remain stacked in a clearing formation. The men remained silent and seemed to just be calmly awaiting the order.
The commander of the elite troops had his own agenda, of course. The bulkhead door had already been breached by his prey. The War Master, known as Jimma Alba, had breached the door only minutes before. The sounds of shooting and explosions have since gone silent, so extra caution would need
to be observed. No comms updates likely meant that the Crimson troops and automatons were likely wiped out already but the vulnerable HAL launcher generators were still online.
Peterson knew the STC was long since destroyed, and that the HAL’s could be remotely operated. Taking out the HAL’s was the obvious objective of his sworn enemy’s daughter. He knew something odd had to have happened. Either the opposing forces had somehow managed to kill each other entirely, or there was a trap being set.
Either way, he asserted, he would send his troops through the ruined bulkhead doorway.
But before he could give the order, he heard something strange. The smell of ionized atmosphere began to flood the room, and he noticed his men were exchanging confused glances from within the concealment of their full-faced helmets.
Peterson instantly hit the switch on his arms interface pad, and his own helmet materialized to cover his head. By the time his manual HUD could initialize, he dove behind a cluster of stacked soldiers, and rolled to a kneeling position.
If only I could have a neural interface, I wouldn’t be so blind right now! He cursed himself. He knew he couldn’t accept Nano-tech, or a neural interface. His own genetics would just reject it, and he’d likely die from the attempt. But it also meant, that every time he donned his helmet, it took about ten full seconds for his helmet sensors to calibrate with the internal HUD, and it left him vulnerable. Which is why he never saw what was coming until it was too late to respond.
***
The lasers did their job, and a flawlessly cut square-shaped door. The emergency hull-breach shields came to life, and now there was nothing more than a thin film of energy that kept the station’s atmosphere within. Darius didn’t waste any time. The Doom-Raptor was already positioned within a few meters of the station’s outer wall, and the port-side stubby wing tip was dangerously close to making contact with its surface.
