by Chris Harris
“Signing off sir.” Retlin then turned his own off.
The tension on board the ship was palpable, like some sort of invisible fog. The silence was what started it, but then no-one wanted to say the first word. It seemed to last an age, so Cinradahs quickly check the ship's vitals; all was good for now.
“We're here, sir.” Tarib broke the silence as the ship dropped out of L-Space.
“Good.” Cinradahs went up to the front of the ship and saw the Warspheres swooping towards the planet, but they couldn't see any of the gas creatures Keinam mentioned. “Let the ships loose.”
All around the ships, pilots leapt into their ships and took off, hangar doors opening with a red warning light, before they swarmed around the flagship. “Adjeti, are you ready?”
“Our first priority is to find Keinam's ship, and drag him aboard your ship. Then we will join you in the fight.” Retlin's voice was firm, even over the crackling com.
“The com's gone funny.” Cinradahs seemed worried. “That's what happened to Keinam.”
Cinradahs watched Retlin's ships disperse over the area, hunting. “Empire fleet. Move out and engage the enemy.”
Affirmative replies came through, before they went into action, missiles launching at the Warspheres, which didn't seem to notice or care. The Warspheres were firing at something else entirely.
“What are they doing?” Cinradahs muttered.
Then they all saw them.
Both Saiun and Cinradahs took a step back as cloud-like ships erupted out of Narcsia. Constantly shifting, the green masses crackled with static electricity as they slowly moved towards the Warspheres and Cinradahs's fleet. His hand found Saiun's, and he gripped it tightly, before glancing over to him; Saiun was transfixed until Cinradahs squeezed his hand, at which he point he turned to him and gave a sad smile. Cinradahs disengaged his hand and walked back over to the centre of the bridge.
“Scan those ships!” Cinradahs pointed at the ships in question with a shaking finger. “See if they have any weaknesses!”
“On it commander!” Tarib ordered her team to do so.
Cinradahs opened up a new com channel. “Retlin, your crew know anything about these?”
The Adjeti commander barked something to his crew. “Not at all, sir. We've never seen any sort of...Cloudships? We've found Keinam though, and we're bringing him to the flagship.”
Cinradahs nodded. “Fine, hurry it up.” He heard the docking bay seal around something, and the hiss as a ship's ramp lowered. He turned to Saiun. “Keinam's gonna be here in a moment.” He turned to his crew. “You got anything yet?”
“They're like clouds,” Tarib looked at the screens, not believing what she saw, “but more dense, which could be what enables them to travel in space.”
“Sir!” Cinradahs picked up the com. “They've got an electric weapon of some sort; we're fucked!”
Cinradahs looked at the screens; flashes of lightning shot from the Cloudships, annihilating all it touched. Ships were blown apart, Warspheres shattered. Even the Adjeti fleet wasn't safe; the Wing-Ships went down just the same as the others. There was some hope; the Warspheres seemed to be able to smother some of the Cloudships, but more kept coming. “The Warspheres are making vague progress; hold the Cloudships off until the other Warspheres get here. Try and find a way to hurt them.”
The door slid open and Keinam limped in, dragging a broken leg along the floor. “They nearly got me,” he gasped, “nearly got me.” His leg twitched and buckled, and he fell to the floor, still conscious.
“Get a doctor!” Saiun yelled to a crew member, who rushed off to the medical bays.
Cinradahs bent down to speak to Keinam. “What happened?”
Keinam coughed and clutched his chest. “Followed Corlens...to Narcsia.” This time when he coughed, there was blood. Cinradahs looked, open-mouthed at him; the invincible Adjeti, grievously wounded before him. “Clouds alive,” more blood came out on the next cough, “attacked. Lightning injured my ship. Corlens fight,” a barrage of coughs threw up a lot of blood, covering the floor, “they fight against clouds. You can't stop them with guns. Get Orbans.”
“Orbans?” Cinradahs was puzzled. “Why?”
“Telekinesis,” Keinam sputtered, “move particles around, move gas particles.” He coughed again, before falling to the ground.
“Get a medic now!” Cinradahs roared into the com. Two came running in, and lifted Keinam by his shoulders, dragging him to a medical bay.
Tarib watched him go. “I've sent a message to the capital, requesting the Orbans.”
Cinradahs nodded, still looking at Keinam's blood. “Thanks.”
“How screwed are we?” Tarib looked at him with wide, terrified eyes.
Cinradahs looked out at the electrical bursts, the ineffective missiles and the Warspheres' smothering technique. “So, so much.”
What he didn't say, but thought, was: I don't think we'll make it out of this battle.
Chapter 51
Maron 2
At first, Maron was annoyed at Cinradahs's decision to leave him and Rals behind. He knew he'd be no use in a space battle, as he was a ground trooper, but he could have at least witnessed it or, better yet, manned one of the guns. But instead, Trexor and Admiral Fairns had put them both on a patrol of Tapal while they spoke to Otor. Maron hated being on Raan now; the ground moved beneath his feet, and sounds came from everywhere. Tumbling, crashing, rustling. There was no wind, which gave a silver lining; that always complicated things.
“We going anywhere in particular?” Rals was handling the terrain poorly, not being as sure-footed as Maron.
“I think Fairns just wanted us out the way.” Maron could be cynical when he wanted to. “Let's go round the city once and call it a day.”
“Yeah, that sounds fine.” Rals agreed enthusiastically.
They walked through the ruined city, looking all the while like a pile of parts at a building yard. All that was missing were the builders and the machines. Some vehicles were scattered around, but Maron didn't see any that were intact.
“Glad I wasn't based here.” Rals muttered.
“Why would you be?” Maron said dismissively.
“I was tempted to come here when I left Prauw rather than New Orbus,” Rals looked around, “but I'm glad I didn't now.”
“Yeah, I get you.” Maron took an Ukafa stick out and lit it. The taste of it, the exhilarating feeling contrasted entirely with the landscape of Tapal.
Rals tutted. “Really the time?”
“It relaxes me,” Maron explained, “just like beauty relaxes you, remember?”
“As I said, there are better ways.” Rals insisted.
Maron smirked. “You see any beauty around here?” He gestured around, arm wide to illustrate his point. “You can close your eyes, pretend to see beauty, but in doing so you'll just associate it with this shit-hole of a city.”
Rals rounded on him. “Shit-hole of a city? It's been destroyed, thousands dead! And you disrespect them all like that.”
Maron turned to him, inhaled Ukafa, and exhaled again. “Shit-hole then, shit-hole now. You can try and be respectful all you like, it don't change anything.”
Rals watched him in what he assumed was disbelief, as Maron casually continued walking. Maron didn't care what Rals thought; he was a nice guy to have around, but a bit too liberal for Maron's liking. He had no time for beauty or respect; he had his own ways.
He stopped and listened.
“Why have we stopped?” Rals annoyance was evident in his tone.
“Listen.” Maron was silent for a moment, but he was sure he could hear voices. “Voices.”
“Let's go then.” Rals stood, and was ready to jog over there, before Maron grabbed him and pulled him back.
“Might not be friendly.” Maron crouched down, and led the way, hiding behind piles of rubble.
“There!” Rals pointed at the three figures.
Xaosians.
<
br /> “Bastards.” Maron stubbed his Ukafa out and threw it over his shoulder. “Kill them.”
Maron got the first shot, bullet going straight through the Xaosian's weak neck armour. It collapsed to the floor, still alive. The other two put their hands up and called to them, “Please! We're just trying to leave.”
Maron looked at Rals, who shrugged. “Leave?”
One of the Xaosians pointed to something black in the wreckage. “We're trying to fix this Reaper and-”
“You have the cheek to just go, leaving all the innocents of Raan to suffer?” Maron roared, aiming at the Xaosians.
“It's not our faults.” The Xaosian continued. “Xaos he's... there are these things he puts in our heads. They take over our thoughts. Look,” he held out a silver egg in his hand, “ours broke when we crashed.”
Maron walked up to the Xaosian, extended his hand to take it.
“Yours.” The Xaosian on the floor croaked his words, blood poured out of the hole in the armour.
Maron looked down at the dying Xaosian. “What did you say?”
“Just yours.” He looked at the other Xaosian, right before the third shot shot the other in the back. A look of surprise crossed his face; an emotion similarly expressed by Maron as he ran back after catching the silver egg as it fell.
They got behind some stacks of rubble and crouched behind them. Rals looked terrified and, while he'd never admit to it, so was Maron; that was close. “We using your patient method?” Rals asked.
“Fuck it, kill the bastards.” Maron leaned out and shot the dying one on the floor, finishing him off.
Just one left.
A bullet nearly hit Maron's head; he regretted leaving it at the camp.
Rals shot once more, hitting the Xaosian in the leg as it moved out of its way. The Xaosian retaliated. Rals yelled and went down, blood on his face.
“Rals!” Everything seemed to be in slow motion as he picked up the young man, moving his long hair out of his face to see the wound; it had grazed his forehead, narrowly missing the eye. Still bleeding, but not a serious wound; obviously the shock made Rals go down.
While that calmed Maron down, he wanted this Xaosian dead. Now. He didn't care about any mind-control egg things, he wanted revenge. Gun in front of face as protection, he leapt out from behind the rubble. Expecting surprise from the Xaosian, he was sorely disappointed when the Xaosian started firing straight away. Bullets hit Maron's gun, almost tearing it from his grip.
Maron fired.
Keeping his finger on the trigger, he was glad of the recoil-softeners new guns had. Most bullets went awry, but enough hit his target to tear his helmet to shreds, and its face with it. Maron went up to the corpse, made certain that it was dead and walked away from it to Rals. Picking Rals up, he spoke to him.
“Come on buddy.” Maron carried Rals away from the scene. “We'll get you some help.”
Something – felt like a bullet – hit Maron in the back, making him drop Rals on the floor. He turned to see what he least expected.
The two hostile Xaosians were up on their feet again, wounds still as bad as they were. But they were more sure footed in death, more agile and more accurate. A bullet whizzed over Maron's head before he shot the faceless one in the face again. A bullet hit his cheek, and he felt a tooth come loose; not his first. Biting back the temptation to scream in agony, he leaned round rubble and emptied a ton of ammo into the functioning corpse before it fell.
The other one was starting to stand up, and Maron was at a loss of what to do and how to kill them. Crouching behind the rubble, he could hear its footsteps getting louder and closer. Trying to rationalise this, he quickly delved into his mind. Three dead, two alive. Differences? One nice, two bastards. It dawned on him. Two egg things... gotta get them out.
As the Xaosian poked its gun around the corner, Maron avoided the shot, grabbed the gun, and dragged it from the dead hand, smashing it into the Xaosian's face. It stumbled backwards, and Maron watched it carefully, before spying a glint of silver in its ear. He grabbed it, and twisted, pulling it free, and a chunk of the Xaosian's ear canal and brain with it. He looked at it in horror; an egg, with stalk embedded into the grey, now gooey, mass of the brain. Feeling repulsed, he flung it away from him, hoping that that was the end of it.
The other one rose. Maron kicked its gun away, and it leapt at him. Maron froze for a moment, before remembering that this was an all-assault weapon. He brought the blade edge up, stabbing the undead Xaosian in the chest. Slamming the corpse to the ground, Maron stomped on its head again and again and again until his armour was splattered with the Xaosian's blood, and the egg could be easily extracted. He looked at the thing with disgust, before putting it in his armour's utility belt with the other one.
Rals was coming round now, and he looked around, and at the blood-covered Maron. “What happened when I was out?”
“I killed them both. Twice.” Maron explained the whole thing to Rals.
“How did they come back...why?” Rals had his confused face on; Maron disliked it.
“These.” He showed Rals the eggs. “They must control the body after death somehow. Maybe they reactivate and control the brain or something, I'm no biologist.”
“But there could be hundreds of dead Xaosians in this city alone.” Rals said, having his concerned face on; Maron thought that this face didn't suit Rals's head, but he didn't hate it.
“Exactly.” Maron nodded. “Soon, Raan could be facing an army of the dead.”
Chapter 52
Irin
They saw the Xaosian ship arrive.
Overnight, they had made a plan. Kivina had made the plan, and the others just agreed; it seemed easier. Unfortunately, they had no idea if it was succeeding until Kivina returned. If she didn't, Tors could say goodbye to his freedom. Pandora, Emola and Cane sat with him around the fire, all looking as nervous as he felt; there was a chance that they would be killed if this went wrong. A huge chance.
“If I don't survive,” Cane started, “then-”
“Don't say that.” Emola hissed.
Cane gave him a look. “Then find Disa and my son. Tell them I love them.”
“Loved.” Pandora muttered.
Cane shot her a disapproving look. “Not really the time for perfect grammar, Pandora.”
“So, are we doing this shit?” Tors looked around and only Cane made a movement to suggest that they were. “Fine. If I don't survive, then...” His speech fizzled out. “I can't think. There's no-one I want you to speak to, nothing I want you to finish or do...I've wasted my life; I've got nothing.”
“Hey...” Pandora put a hand on Tors's arm. “You got good friends, and you've had fun; that's all that matters really.”
Tors sighed. “Yeah, I guess so. It'd just be nice to have something material to cling on to.”
“I get you.” Emola nodded. “If we're doing this, here we go.” He took a deep breath; Tors had never seen Emola nervous before and it intrigued him. “If I don't survive, then...” He looked into Pandora's eyes. “I'd like to tell you this Pandora; I love you. I have for ages.”
Tors smiled to himself. Knew it!
Pandora seemed taken aback. “Really?”
Emola's face fell, and he spoke quietly. “Yeah. Don't you feel the same?”
Pandora opened her mouth awkwardly, before closing it again. Tors looked at Cane, who gave him a knowing look, simply conveying “oh dear”.
When Pandora finally got words out, it was obvious that she'd thought about it well. “Emola. I like you. I really like you. But I don't love you, I'm sorry.” Emola's scales turned darker. “But, I'd be willing to go on a date with you, if we survive.”
Emola's smile and exhale almost broke his face, Tors was sure. He didn't say anything, nor did he need to.
Pandora turned to them all. “If I don't survive, find my family on Tras, and tell them that I loved my work on Narcsia. Tell them I died in the storms, doing what I loved; researching the h
istory of the Empire.”
Tors nodded, but Cane did not share his sentiment. “You want us to lie? About your death?” He shook his head. “Give me one good reason.”
“I want my family to remember me for what I enjoyed. Not as a prisoner in a Xaosian camp. I don't want them to think I suffered.” Pandora looked at Cane, who nodded once, accepting her words.
“Well,” Tors spoke to them all, “now that's done, we need to wait for Kivina.”
*
Kivina was still a Xaosian and, with her helmet on, no-one could see the lack of her inhibitor, or the dodgy stitches in her ear. So, in the camp, she could still be one of the indoctrinated, which suited her just fine. As they milled around, preparing for the movement of the newly delivered inhibitors, she sneaked off to the armoury. It was called an armoury, but it was just a glorified hut, the same which the prisoners lived in.
The conditions inside were better than any of the prisoners' huts, which disgusted her; evidently they viewed weapons to be a priority over life. But, she realised as she looked around, they were pretty damn good weapons. Different sorts of guns, knives and blades of all sorts were hanging on the walls, while explosive charges where stacked, probably precariously, on the shelves.
She clipped a bunch of charges and grenades to her belt, and slung some of the guns over her back; she didn't care which ones, they were all deadly enough to cause serious damage. She left the hut, looking around for any other Xaosians; she assumed that they were all fitted with the inhibitors.
Her heart was beating quickly now; she was nervous as hell right now. She crept over to the Xaosian camp; it wasn't really a camp, just a larger and nicer hut than the prisoners had, nothing glamorous. She crouched down next to the wall and unclipped a charge from her belt. Carefully, she clamped it to the wall, activating the inbuilt adhesive to stick it to the wall. Setting the charge to blow in three minutes, she got up, ready to go.
“Kivina!”
“Ah...” Kivina froze, trying to identify the voice. “Yantae!”
“What are you doing?” Yantae sounded suspicious.
“Just chilling back here.” Kivina smiled at him, hoping that it wasn't too fake.
She had two options, because she knew he wouldn't believe her; knock him out, or kill him. She didn't want to kill him, she wanted to save him. But if she knocked him out, he could wake quickly, possibly before she could get the weapons to Cane and the others.
