by Chris Harris
Bricks tumbled down from the building, shattering into dust and clay as they met the floor. Smoke poured out of the ground floor as damaged electric cables met burst gas pipes.
And amidst the smoke and debris, a dust cloud arose as the skyscraper came rushing down to earth.
The quakes had begun.
Chapter 14
Ash 1
Streaks of light dart across his vision, before a bang sounds and he is thrown backwards. Darkness. Specks of light in the distance. So cold. So far away. Darkness. Blurred vision in a busy street, faceless men and women watch him.
He jolted upright as he woke. It was warm here, and the dreams were the only reminder of what cold was to him. His head felt strange, as if he'd been drugged again. Shaking his head, his vision cleared a little and his head felt a bit better. Groaning, he put his head in his hands, before running them through his long blonde mane; it was short before, but his Masters preferred the feral look.
“You okay?”
He looked over to see a slim red-skinned humanoid in the corner of the room, leaning on the sand-brown wall, right next to the iron bars that kept them in their cell.
He sighed, before answering, “Yeah, I'm alright Carnat. Just the dreams again.”
He had never seen another like Carnat or at least, he didn't remember them; all of those in his dreams were white or black skinned humans. But Carnat was no human.
“You should ignore the dreams, Ash.” Carnat stood and walked over to the food tray and ate a pinkish protein square. “Your memory ain't coming back without a good trigger, the last guy said. And that trigger ain't on Rat'hak.”
“I don't want to ignore the dreams; they're my memories.” Ash said, his face falling as he did so. “My memories from before. Otherwise my first memory would be watching the last guy – what was his name again? – fight.”
“Diin. Curious guy. Got a portion of his memory back; we called him Diin anyways, apparently it weren't his real name. Confronted the guards, demanded to speak to the Masters. So they made him fight that...thing. And...well, you saw what happened to him.” Carnat looked haunted at the memory.
“Did you ever have the dreams?”
“No.” Carnat answered firmly. “I've always known my past, and I know how to survive in this place. You do what I say, and you end up living.”
Ash had to agree with him; so far, he had managed to avoid fighting in the pits by sticking exactly to Carnat's orders. And they were orders, not requests; Carnat would fight with him, but he had no intention of doing so. “You'll get us killed,” he'd said, “I'll teach you how to fight.” And he did; Ash was now trained with two types of blade and a crossbow; the short blade was his favourite, but Carnat said that Ash was better off using the crossbow for now.
“Do you know when we fight?” Ash snatched a protein square and shoved it into his mouth, before holding his nose as he chewed; it got rid of the taste.
“We should have had our first about a month ago; they're gonna start demanding soon.” Carnat looked him in the eyes and asked, “Do you think you're ready?”
Ash nodded. “I think so, yeah.”
“Good.” Carnat turned away and banged on the bars. “Oi! Guard!”
A humanoid face, albeit with a crushed nose and giant tusks emerging from its lower jaw, answered him with a snort. The Hak'i were not the most articulate of races, but they were one of the strongest and visually imposing. Standing at about 8 foot high, and about the same width, the tusks and eyes were the only parts of their bodies not covered in matted hair; this one's was brown, but most of it was hidden under armour fashioned from the skin and bones of various desert creatures.
“Tell the masters that we will fight now.” Carnat spoke condescendingly, before waving the beast away. The beast glared and grunted something at Carnat, but Ash only heard Carnat's sarcastic response.
“Now?” Ash's heart was suddenly beating faster.
“While you're ready, yeah.” Carnat smiled and winked. “Don't want them demanding a fight when you're asleep, do you? Now, eat more of that crap before they come.”
“Why?” Ash asked, looking at the pile of protein squares.
“May as well be full stomached if we die.”
Ash smiled in spite of himself. “I really hope that was a joke.”
“Of course it was; you don't want to eat that shit before you die.” Carnat walked over to the table and ate another square. “Unfortunately, we ain't got a choice.”
The room fell silent for a while and Ash sat on the sandy floor, picking up bunches of sand and let the grains run between his fingers. “You say you know your past. Where you from?”
Carnat opened his mouth to answer, but faltered slightly before hesitantly uttering, “Far away from this place.”
“I'm sure I am too. What place in particular?” Carnat's question-dodging had only piqued Ash's interest.
“You ever heard of the Oblivion Gateway?”
“You never told me about that, only the eleven planets in the Empire.”
“There are twelve planets in the Empire, and the twelfth is beyond the Oblivion Gateway, in another solar system.” Carnat gave a short laugh, as if remembering a good time. “That's where I was born. But I wanted out of that planet, so I came here,” he shook his head, “Here! In search of a better life, a more fulfilling one. I helped the Hak'i for decades in the ancient wars; humans, Corlens, Pyrkagia, they all attacked Rat'hak at some point. And look at me now; thrown in a fighting pit for all of Rat'hak to see; entertainment, a slave.”
There was silence for a beat, before Ash said, “That's a bit shit.”
Carnat sighed. “Yeah, it really is.”
“So,” Ash asked, curious, “What are you? Species-wise?”
“It really doesn't matter anymore; I'm the last of my kind. Nothing else quite like me.” Carnat paused and smiled a sad smile. “When I die, so will my entire species. That's why I never bothered to tell you about my kind, only the others. But, if you really want to know, you can call me an –“
Footsteps approached from outside, distracting Carnat for a moment.
“Call you what?” Ash could see the silhouettes of Hak'i approaching their cell.
Carnat moved away from the door as the Hak'i opened it and whispered to Ash:
“Adjeti.”
Chapter 15
Trexor 4
“T-1, come in!” Nothing.
“T-2, come in!” Static.
“T-3, come in!” A brief hiss.
Trexor strode across the wreckage of the skyscraper, not knowing where to start digging. At the ruins' high point, it would still be about half the size of the monolithic structure it once was; Trexor could not search through the entire mountain, and his infrared readers detected no life, or they could not penetrate through the thick rubble. He continued walking, sensor pointed at the ground. Bricks shifted and clattered beneath his feet as if he was walking on snow, and, more than once, he nearly lost his footing. The screams of those elsewhere in the city were alien to him; his first priority was to those in this building, that was his job. All around, other skyscrapers were still falling. Looking up, he saw one building shaking, before breaking in half, the top half carving a deep gash through the adjacent building as it fell. He saw people fall to their deaths, flailing like ragdolls as they fell. But he felt nothing for them. He felt nothing for anyone right now, just the emptiness of failure.
To his right, bricks moved and he heard a muffled cry. Throwing himself down, he tore bricks and wreckage away from the source of the sound, jagged edges reaping blood from his palms. Bricks, plaster, metal, wood, before finally skin. A hand. It clasped around his own, and he pulled up hard. He clenched his teeth and grimaced; he was using his left hand to steady himself and his right to pull, but this twisted his right side and made the blade inside him pain him again. With a roar of pain, he pulled a black-haired woman out of the ruins. In her other arm was what Trexor thought was a bundle of blankets,
before realising that it was a small child. The woman looked at him, blood pouring down her face from a gash across her forehead. At least one leg was broken; she couldn't stand. The shirt she wore was torn across the back; obviously she had bent over the child to shield it from the debris.
Trexor bent over to catch his breath again and rubbed his side; he'd have to get that checked out. “Do you know if any others survived?” Trexor panted, barely able to get the words out.
“None on my floor, no.” she said softly, unable to pry her eyes away from her son's scared face. “I was in the hallway with one of your troops and a few other families. Then the ceiling came down and...and...they're gone!” She looked at Trexor now, before she said, “And I would be too, if it wasn'' for you. Thank you.”
While the words sounded sincere, Trexor knew that the woman did not want to praise him, but wanted time to grieve. “Can you stand?” he asked.
She nodded. “Jus' abou', I think.” She tried to stand, using one hand to steady herself, but her legs faltered as she cried out in pain. Trexor caught her before she fell and put her arm around his shoulders.
“Hold onto me and use this,” he passed her his sword, “As a crutch for the other side.”
Holding the child with one hand and supporting the mother with the other, Trexor walked slowly and carefully back down the mountain. The son watched him with wide blue pools of curiosity, but gave away no other emotion. “What's his name?” Trexor asked; it's a long walk, he thought he may as well try to interact normally with someone.
“Cane,” she said, “After his daddy. And I'm Disa.”
“General Trexor,” Trexor said, acknowledging the hidden question in her upwards intonation. “Shame we couldn't meet in better circumstances.” He dreaded to ask the next question. “And where is the father?”
“He went to Narcsia to get some real money for li'l Cane. Got caught up in the storms, and can't leave the planet yet.” Disa forced a weak smile. “Probably for the best.” She coughed; the dust must be getting to her.
“General!”
Trexor recognised that voice, but he knew that it shouldn't be there. He turned to see a slender man dusting himself off. “How are you still alive, Trem?”
The hatred was obviously clear in his voice, because the assassin put his hands up when he walked over, before he pointed at a vial of green liquid on his belt. “This is some good shit from Quarus; heals you right up.” He took a blade out of his pocket. “This is what you left in me earlier and this,” he turned and showed them a faint scar on his shoulder, “is what's left.” He nodded to Disa and proffered the vial. “Here, take it; two drops is all you need.”
Disa dropped Trexor's sword and took the vial, before unscrewing the cap. Under the cap was a dropped-like opening, and she squeezed two drops of fizzing green liquid onto her tongue. Trexor faced Trem. “Why are you helping? Doesn't seem like you.”
Trem took the vial back and smiled encouragingly at Disa, who thanked him. “I'm helping because I don't want to see these people die. Despite what you may think, I have morals. I just put them aside for the money that keeps me alive. I'd like to think that we could work well together, you and I, Trexor.”
Trexor thought about for a bit, until Disa supported herself and moved away, taking Cane back. “Thank you, Trexor. For everything.”
Trexor nodded to her in recognition of her thanks. “I guess we are kind of even, even if you could just heal yourself up. But we could use all the help we can get, by the looks of it.” He turned to Disa. “Get somewhere safe. I don't know where, probably the fields on the Tapal border. Now go.”
Disa looked at both Trem and Trexor. Her face was covered in dust and scrapes. Her clothes looked as if they had been mauled and blood covered most of her skin. And yet she smiled thankfully; not a happy smile, but one of relief; she and Cane had both survived. “Thank you.” She spoke softly, almost a whisper, before turning and walking away.
“Do you think she'll be ok?” Trexor asked.
“I do hope so.” Trem replied solemnly.
Silently, they ran towards the next building. On the ground, there was silence aside from the moving debris. In the sky, buildings scraped against one another and fell, but not near Trexor; those had already fallen. He looked up and saw none of the skyline that he had once despised, only a gaping void where nothing would live.
When they reached the next building, they began to dig.
Chapter 16
Ilisa 1
The city of Sutib was very similar to Tapal in its north/south divide, as well its skyline and structure. However, it was a much smaller city and many Raanians probably wondered why Raan needed such a city so close to Tapal, as if it was acting like a little brother. Right now, no-one cared about that.
Ilisa watched Strom's eyes close as she cradled his head. She felt her face fall and her shoulders droop backwards as she collapsed to her knees. Her red eyes tingled, but she could not cry; her tears had all been spent on her brother. Instead, she buried her head in Strom's chest with her eyes closed, desperate to be close to him for the last time.
A crowd was forming a circle around them now, keeping back at a respectful distance. Ilisa paid them no mind; she couldn't care less whether they were Raanian or Xaosian. Her hand found his and she held it tight. She opened her eyes suddenly.
There was a pulse.
Disengaging herself from him, she tore his shirt off and placed her hand on his heart; a slow, but definite beat. “Please, I need a doctor!” She called to the crowd, relieved to see that they were Raanians rather than the enemy.
One man came running forward and took Strom's pulse. “He's alive, but only just; he's gone into a comatose state; his body is near enough dead, but his mind is very much alive.”
“Is there anything you can do?” Ilisa feared the worst.
The doctor took a deep breath, before hesitantly saying, “I'm sorry my dear, but the hospital is full to bursting point; we literally cannot help him.”
Ilisa stood, slowly and deliberately until she looked into the doctor's eyes. “You cannot help him?” The doctor shook his head, brow furrowing in confusion. “He helped you! All of you!” She gestured to the crowd with one hand as her voice grew louder and more shrill. “My brother died for you! I fought for you! And now Strom here has to die too?” Many members of the crowd began to look uncomfortable. “I didn't have to fight today! They did, but I didn't; I, as a woman, fought in the air and in space, alongside my male comrades to try and save you all! And now you damn him?”
The doctor backed away from Ilisa slowly. “We're not damning him, but we're not damning anyone else either. Especially with the quakes.”
“Quakes?”
The doctor briefly looked down, before looking back up at Ilisa. “Yes, the quakes. There have been a bout twenty earthquakes across the continent in random areas; we could be next. Tapal has been hit pretty badly; the North at least has been levelled.”
The doctor continued talking, but Ilisa heard none of it. The North was where Strom had lived; his family and friends were likely dead. Ilisa's friends, mainly in the South, may be okay, but she wasn't going to head back to Tapal just to see them. She looked down at Strom at her feet and, with a tugging feeling in her chest, realised that he was all she truly had anymore.
She turned to the doctor. “Are there any interplanetary ships I can use here?”
The doctor shook his head. “I'm sorry, but we're using all that we've got to evacuate the coasts.”
Ilisa had almost forgotten about the burning Sea of Oil. “Damn it...” She clenched and unclenched her fists in frustration; she had never felt so helpless.
There was a bustle in the crowd. “Excuse me”, “hey”, “watch it, you”. One man stepped to the front of the crowd and approached Ilisa. “You looking for an interplanetary craft?” He asked Ilisa.
Her heart began to beat faster again. “Yes, I am.”
“They got some ancient ones up on Viran.
We don't use them because apparently they're structurally unsafe,” Ilisa heard the implied quotation marks around the words, “but they still fly. I reckon you could get as far as New Orbus if you're a good pilot.”
The Viran; Raan's moon. The Stinger could take her that far, or she hoped so anyway. “Are you sure about these ships?” Her heart was still racing.
“Certain, yeah.” The man nodded.
Ilisa picked up Strom and carried him to her Stinger, where Olaf's corpse was waiting. She placed her hand to her mouth at the sight; she had forgotten how disfigured it was. Setting Strom down, she opened the cockpit and pulled Olaf out, placing him gently next to Strom. She turned to the doctor. “Do you have a morgue nearby?”
The doctor nodded. “Is that your brother?”
Ilisa looked down at Olaf's thin and once-tan features. Now they were gaunt and pale, a ghastly incarnation of her brother. “He was my brother. Olaf Cahdun.” She looked up again. “Please keep him in the morgue until I return.” Her voice took a more pleading tone, and it wavered as if she was going to break down. But she had to be strong; for Strom's sake.
The doctor nodded. “We will, don't worry.”
“Thank you.”
Without looking at the crowd, who were slowly backing away, she carefully placed Strom's body into the back of the Stinger, bending him into a slouched seating position. She climbed into the pilot's seat and closed the cockpit, signalling to the crowd to back away.
And with a throaty roar, the Stinger lifted off and shot into the night sky. Her heart raced; there was still a chance of saving her lover.
Chapter 17
Foton 2
Hangar bays in any building are usually rather drab and dreary; they don't need to be fancy and the only thing that cleans up the dust and dirt from the floor are the boots of the pilots walking that short distance from the door to their ship. The Lord's Hangar, however, was rather extravagant. To match the Lord's robe, the walls had spiralling patterns set in red and gold plating atop polished walls. The lightbox-ceiling replaced the strip lights in the standard hangars, and the light reflected off of the polished walls and the heated floor tiles.
