by Vowron Prime
“Enemy contacts from the three and nine o’clock riverbanks. I count forty and fifty, respectively, sir,” came Krar’s modulated voice from the primary gunner seat.
“Krar, focus on the nine. Zov’os, you take the others flanking to our three o’clock.”
“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison.
In an incredible display of skill, they fine-tuned the AI targeting computers on the fly, adjusting parameters to account for their exact terrain and enemy abilities at each moment. It was some of the most efficient guide-gunning Vorien had ever seen. Their competence left him free to focus his attention on piloting, monitoring, and calibrating the AI to push the bulky craft as fast as it could possibly go within the tight confines of the brook.
The Ryzel’s heat output continued to build over the next several hours, as Sarek was only too eager to keep pointing out. Vorien had no qualm with the scientists, but their lack of self-discipline became blatantly obvious in situations such as these.
“Vorien, heat output is now at one hundred ten percent of safe thresholds. If this goes on any long—”
“Yes, Sarek, you gave me a report five minutes ago. I am aware. Thank you for your concern.”
“But…” Sarek looked like he was about to argue but wisely refrained when Vorien gave him a stare.
“Very well then. Just thought you should know.” He glanced down at the young ones sitting on the Ryzel’s floor.
Vorien’s gaze softened. So much rests on his shoulders.
The Resistance did not have the luxury of keeping their young safe as the Dyn did, leading to this unfortunate situation. Thankfully, most of the children had made it out. Sadly, the same could not be said for their parents. Now it was up to him to keep the survivors alive.
“They will live on,” Vorien whispered, turning back to the pilot’s station. “Can we make for Nezmeth peak?” he asked the navigator.
“It is far…”
“Come on, you can do better than that.”
“If we are smart about our energy consumption, we should be able to reach there before our systems overheat, but it will be very close.”
Vorien nodded. “Then let us push for the summit. We shall rest atop the mountain just long enough for the Ryzel to cool. Then we will make the final push past the Omnion Cliffs. To the forests of the World Trees. Once there, we will be able to resume our maximal velocity.”
He ignored the daggers that Sarek stared into his back.
The journey to Nezmeth Peak was a grueling one. The forty-degree inclines meant that the vast majority of their pursuers were unable to scale the mountain, but that same difficulty applied to them. The antigravity generators struggled, building heat at a dangerous pace and forcing them to slow to a mere crawl as they circled their way up.
Yet their strategy worked, and just as the heat reached critical levels, they found themselves standing upon the spacious summit.
They positioned the hovertank at the edge of the hundred-foot-wide plateau and deployed its landing gear, killing the antigravity generator and retaining power only for its weapons. Their operators continued to pick off their assailants one by one as they vainly attempted to scale the face.
“We are safe for now,” Vorien announced. “Sarek, how long should we wait for the Ryzel's engines to cool?
“Ideally overnight, but four hours would be the absolute minimum if we truly cannot wait longer,” the scientist replied, stretching his aching bones.
“Then we shall wait for five, if conditions permit.”
The hours passed in fretful silence under the pale moonlight. Vorien had everyone stay within the protected confines of the Ryzel, though he did allow them to come out for brief periods to stretch their legs. To the warriors’ credit, none of the attackers made it anywhere near the peak.
That gave Vorien an opportunity to make the rounds, chatting with every one of his charges, ensuring morale stayed high during this trying time.
He looked up. The sky was grand on this night, the brilliant stars reflecting none of the tension and fear they all felt.
“How are you faring, Krar’eaks?”
“Fine, sir,” the Qephyx orb said. “I admit I had reservations as to our probability of success, but under your leadership, I can scarcely believe that we should fail.”
Vorien chuckled. “It is good to hear you say that, old friend, but I am far from omniscient. To the others, I would hide my fear and project a show of confidence, but to you, to whom I owe so much, I cannot lie. The situation is dire, and I fear the worst.”
Krar extended a mechanical appendage and hovered higher to pat Vorien’s shoulder. “As we have overcome prior challenges, so too shall we overcome this trial. Fear not.”
Vorien’s gratitude knew no bounds. As much as everyone hailed him as a capable leader, he truly was blessed with the best subordinates.
“CHARIOT! CHARIOT INBOUND, CHARIOT INBOUND!” Sarek screamed, running out of the Ryzel, panicking like a mere century-old baby.
Vorien clasped his arm, pulling him close. “Lower your voice! You are scaring the others.”
“H-how does that matter?”
“What would we have, if not for our morale? We are doomed if we lose hope here!”
“I—er, my apologies,” Sarek said. “I panicked. But we need to depart. Now! Scanners have picked up a chariot’s heat signature. The Resistance network confirms. We are not safe here.”
“Estimated time of arrival?”
“It is bearing straight for us. It will be here within the hour.”
“Then we depart. It has been four hours, the bare minimum as you said. It will have to suffice.”
Sarek nodded, hurrying back inside. Vorien recalled all of his perimeter troops. The hovercraft’s landing gear retracted, and they began their rapid descent, far faster than before. The pursuing werebeasts had only been biding their time, and the Resistance fighters soon found themselves beset.
The journey was both slow and harrowing, and Sarek’s hysterics only served to aggravate the issue.
“Ah-aaah! There’s one! A spider one—it’s almost upon us! Get it off!”
“Zov’os.”
“On it, sir.”
He swiveled the energy cannon and trained the targeting AI upon the eight-legged beast. Instead of allowing the gun to fire indiscriminately, he switched the algorithm, prioritizing the gaps between its joints, firing at a steady cadence of once every two seconds to ease the burden on their generators. The beast buckled ten shots later, though its many friends soon took its place.
They finally found the brook, after what felt like ages. The crew’s relief was palpable, though the attacks soon resumed their earlier pattern. The gunners settled into their familiar rhythm, this time under a cloudy night.
“Will we make it?”
Vorien remained silent. They would not, but how could he possibly tell them such a thing? They had no defense against a chariot, and while those craft did not move quickly, the Ryzel was even slower. And with the chariot’s sophisticated sensors, the Legatus would pick up their heat signature without a doubt.
He made a hard decision.
“There are caves in this area, are there not?”
“Yes, why?” replied Zov’os.
“Find the nearest one.”
“Yes, sir. One mile away, to the east.”
“Change our heading and proceed to the cave. Immediately.”
“Sir?”
“That is an order, Zov’os.”
The navigator nodded, shifting the hovercraft off of the stream. The dense trees forced them to fire the energy cannons continually to maintain the same pace, which diverted firepower from the defense against their pursuers. The beasts steadily gained on them.
The hull came under attack more than once, but only one mile remained between them and their destination. Thanks to displays of extreme guide-gunning skill by Zov’os and the others, they managed to keep the animals at bay, for the most part. A few managed to strike
the hull, but the damage was not critical.
Vorien made an announcement when they neared the caves.
“The Legatus’s chariot will soon be upon us, but I implore you not to panic.”
Of course, they panicked.
“Oh no! No, no, no!”
“I suppose there is no hope now.”
“So we die, then.”
“No!” he shouted. “We do not die on this night. We live! You will all live. Everyone is to debark now. Hide in the caves for one hour, during which time I shall divert our pursuers’ attention. The chariot will go after the Ryzel’s heat signature first, giving you the chance to escape to the Omnion Cliffs. With my diversion, you will have little trouble reaching the Grand Stairway by First Dawn’s break.”
“You will die.”
He smirked. “Come now, I am Vorien of Xefadur! I will not be dying, not this night. No, I plan to abandon the Ryzel after leading our pursuers astray. I will regroup with you at the Omnion Cliffs. Now go! We do not have the luxury of time.”
Vorien commanded the absolute trust of his Resistance cell, and it showed. Not one questioned his plan, not even for an instant. They obediently shuffled out, herding the young ones until it was just him, Ayala, Zov’os, and Krar’eaks left.
“Ayala, you too. Zov’os and Krar, you as well.”
She shook her head. “I will not leave my husband to die alone.”
“Neither shall I.”
“Nor I.”
Vorien heaved a great sigh. He’d never convince his wife to abandon him, but Zov’os and Krar were absolutely out of the question. “Krar, if you come with us, who will lead them to safety? You are the only one here with leadership experience. If you care at all for their lives, you will lead them.”
A silence of several breaths reigned. The two stared each other down in a battle of resolve, but Krar’eaks capitulated in the end. Though he’d wanted to argue, he fully grasped the effect his absence would have on the rest, even if he considered himself nowhere near as capable a leader as Vorien.
“Vorien, it has been an honor.”
He bobbed down and up—saluting his friend—before hovering out to join the rest.
“What can I say to convince you, Zov’os?”
“Nothing,” the Qephyx responded. “They will not miss a junior soldier such as myself. Let me join you on your noble mission. Without a guide gunner, you will surely perish before accomplishing your goal.”
“Very well,” Vorien threw his hands up.
“We have much distance to cover before dawn. We’d best be on our way.”
Thirty-Two
Farewells were never easy, but this one felt harder than most. Perhaps everyone knew, deep down in their heart of hearts. They knew that Vorien’s mission was a brave one. A reckless one. His sacrifice might very well become the greatest of all. Perhaps it was why most retained their silence.
Time was of the essence.
The groups split. Vorien piloted the Ryzel northeast while Krar’eaks and his group huddled within the dark confines of the cave.
“Blast it, Zov’os,” Vorien commanded.
The Ryzel’s laser cannons fired, superheating the rock in moments. Some of the rock exploded, and much began to melt, flowing down over the opening, sealing the group in. Krar’eaks’s group would have handheld lasers of their own. With a few minutes of tunneling, they’d be able to reopen the entrance when they chose to depart. Until then, natural camouflage would be their best armor.
Ayala and Zov’os manned the Ryzel’s guns, slaving the secondaries to the main weapons. Though with fewer operators to tune the AI on the fly, their overall effectiveness was lowered. It didn’t help that Vorien had to pilot the craft while also using two of the energy emitters to destroy trees in their path. Weapons that would have otherwise been used to ward off their pursuers. But there was no use fretting now. They had a mission to fulfill, a destiny to accomplish.
The trio cut a difficult path through the unending horde. The operators guided their guns with astounding skill, easily outmatching what an average Dyn warrior could accomplish. With each passing second, another mutated beast lay dead. Yet in that second, two others would take its place. They killed hundreds, but there were thousands more.
The mutated creatures’ onslaught of hardened blades sliced the Ryzel’s armor, bit by tiny bit. Though the damage from each attack was negligible, the hundreds of incisions began to add up.
After thirty minutes of travel, they finally broke through the armor plating. It was the least of their worries.
The chariot had arrived.
Vorien locked eyes with his beautiful wife. He nodded to his loyal compatriot.
“Zov’os. It has been an honor to serve with you.” Vorien stopped the Ryzel. The muffled sounds of metal scratching and cutting into the hovering APC’s armor served as a fateful backdrop to his heavy words.
“No, Vorien. The honor has been mine. These past decades have been the highlight of my life. You gave me purpose, and for that, there are no words,” Zov’os responded through his synthesized voice.
Vorien nodded. “Overload the core. With luck, the Legatus’s forces will be fooled into believing that the creatures’ attack triggered the detonation and killed off the entire cell.”
With the sea of creatures surrounding them, escape would be utterly impossible. This fact, they all knew. Had known, when they volunteered to accompany him.
Vorien turned to Ayala. He brushed away the tears in her eyes.
“Ayala, I wish… I wish you—”
“Shush, my Amshalur. None of that now,” she whispered, the tears flowing freely down her face. She served as a graceful complement to his own heavy visage.
She stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on him. Their last kiss. They held each other in a tight embrace. They whispered their last words as a creature’s claw broke through the armor.
“The last century of my life has been filled with unparalleled wonders. On this night… on our last of nights, I reaffirm this vow. I thank you for a century of happiness. Of joy. Of fulfillment.”
“I found myself only after we met, my Amshalur. To you I owe a hundred years of life, for what came before was not life at all, but something less. I love you.”
They held each other in silence. Words were no longer necessary. Through their bond, they shared something more.
Zov’os triggered the particle buildup—the opening act for a core overload. He looked on at the two in joy, loath to interrupt their moment and content that he was able to give the ultimate sacrifice for his people.
The creatures’ blades finished cutting through the hull. They pried the opening wider. Their glistening maws burst inside. The antigravity core went critical, overloading in a catastrophic chain reaction.
The world went white.
The ensuing explosion vaporized all matter within a half-mile radius. Not the flora nor the swarm of creatures survived. All fell in the wake of that destruction. No trace remained of the three heroes who gave their lives. Only their memories would survive, carried on by those who still lived.
Vorien, Ayala, and Zov’os died believing that their deaths would buy their compatriots a small glimmer of hope. A small opportunity for the remainder of their Resistance cell to escape.
They were wrong.
“Confirmed destruction of Resistance cell leader RT-335705-λ, concubine KS-904198-μ, and deserter ML-777839-σ. Confirmed absence of the remaining heretics,” the Ultimator monotoned its report to the chariot hovering overhead.
A pause ensued.
Another Ultimator spoke. “Your will is our command. Initiating search and destroy protocols.”
The four Ultimators armed their heavy microwave emitters and made for the west, the confirmed location of the remaining members of the Resistance.
“How much longer to the Omneon Cliffs?” Krar’eaks’s stress levels continued to rise.
“Another forty minutes should put us in the vicinity,” Sare
k replied, heaving from the exertion of running nonstop.
Their respite had been short. The creatures had not yet found them, but it would only be a matter of time. The adults carried their young on their shoulders, fleeing as fast as they could through the forest.
The explosion that lit the dark night told him all he needed to know of Vorien’s fate.
While the others may have been naive enough to believe Vorien’s story, Krar knew there was no chance that they would return alive. There never was. Vorien must have triggered the core overload to mask their diversion. Yet another tactic to give him and the rest a small measure of time.
But their tactic had worked. None of the mutated beasts had pursued them, and while it was still too early to be optimistic, Krar could not help but hope. He did not know whether to feel joy that Ayala was there beside Vorien, or to cry for her loss. He chose to do both.
“The true Dyn shall remember your names, shall tell tales of your bravery for millennia to come,” he swore to himself as his sphere hovered over the terrain, carrying a pair of Zevan-type Dyn children atop his smooth metallic shell. Their little legs would not have lasted long at the group’s current pace.
“Krar! Creatures! Behind us!”
Krar’s blood ran cold. He transferred the young ones to another before floating to the back line. His warriors had already opened fire, felling several of the mutated beasts. A dozen enemies registered to his infrared and thermal imaging sensors. They were accompanied by a writhing mass of objects immediately behind them.
Hundreds—no, thousands.
“More arrive from the south!”
The attackers forced the group to divert their course, running northwest instead of due-west to avoid them. The map projected onto Krar’eaks’s HUD showed the enemy’s plan in crystal clarity—the Legatus meant to herd them. And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
