Reelai whirled and looked up. Specks of light gathered high in the room. Thousands of them began to cluster. Reelai punched Milton in the stomach again. Milton held onto the energy like nothing else. The specks began to swirl.
‘No!’ cried Reelai, ‘Stop this.’
The specks gathered to a point and the gate ripped open to a black endless void. A powerful suction engaged the front of the room without mercy.
Reelai snatched at the rim of the chamber. Monitoring equipment and loose debris flew into the rift followed by the smaller half of the broken computer station. The Xoeloid machine kept Milton fixed in place.
‘Close it now,’ ordered Reelai. Milton tilted his head the other way, staring with black emotionless eyes.
He caught sight of Tazman and Luylla running out and disappearing through an exit. He stretched the rift gate wider. Reelai’s feet slipped off the ground, sending all the strain to his hands.
A heavier mainframe lifted. It caught on the gate edges and held to the opening for a moment. Reelai dropped, but flew up again when the machine buckled and was swallowed whole.
Reelai released one hand and slipped back; his robe flailed. Veins bloated from his tense arm. He reached forward, extending long fingers towards Milton’s neck, struggling against the pull.
Milton flashed a half-smile. ‘Isn’t this what you wanted, a rift gate?’ he asked. ‘Well here you go.’
He widened the hole again. Reelai’s fingers slipped clear. His body flipped and veered up into the black. His form turned into a rippling blur behind the distorted window.
Milton blinked and broke his focus. The gate shrunk to a seal. The light speck residue dissolved.
Thirty
Milton stepped from the machine to a ruined control room. Wires sparked, circuitry dangled from computers, whole workstations had gone missing. Through the chaotic monitoring floor Tazman and Luylla appeared from the back. Luylla carried her severed metal arm and Tazman limped. His face lit on seeing Milton alive and well. The Freegu let out a victorious howl.
Milton smiled and stepped to his friends. His advance was cut by the stinging needle-ended cords lodged in his back.
‘Hang on buddy,’ said Tazman.
Luylla set down her detached arm. She and Tazman took Milton’s hands and pulled. Milton growled and the cords came out of his flesh one by one. The last came out and whipped back against the machine. Milton moaned at the alleviation, freed at last.
His conflicts were over. The newfound emptiness of his mind brought relief. The tingles had left his body. He wasn’t sure if they would ever return but he didn’t care. He slapped Tazman on the shoulder and slid to the floor against a console. Tazman leaned in beside him and grinned.
The front monitoring screen blinked with interference. The image held a fixed view on the Cenyulone sky. A Composite patrol ship exploded into a flaming wreck and dropped nose first, revealing a crumbling defence platform under heavy bombardment. Weapon energy streamed out from and towards most directions. Missiles with streaking vapour trails homed to their targets. The screen flashed and the feed disappeared, replaced by a flicking grey.
‘We have to do something,’ said Milton.
‘We have to get out of here,’ replied Tazman.
‘No,’ said Milton, ‘there’s something else.’ He touched the implant in the back of his head and carefully parted his sore flesh, digging his fingers into its sides.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Tazman.
‘This thing needs to be out of me,’ he said. Milton stood, paced to the front of the room and back, taking deep slow breaths.
‘Wouldn’t you need an operation or something?’ asked Tazman.
‘Well, it’s only a … long thing … like a needle,’ Milton said. ‘It should come straight out, right?’
Tazman nodded, ‘Yeah. That makes sense.’
‘Wait, what?’ said Luylla.
‘All I know is this thing needs to be out of me right now,’ said Milton.
Tazman, easing himself to the floor and leaning on a console, put his fist in the air, ‘You can do it.’
Milton nodded, looked down and gripped the device in his fingernails. He took a few more breaths and pulled hard. His skull throbbed. He grunted. His flesh, having been attached to the implement, began to tear. He stopped. The device had retracted a little. He was then able to get a better grip and pull harder. His scalp gave some resistance. Then something popped. The implant came out with an squishing sound.
‘Eewwww, ohhh yuck,’ said Luylla in a perky panic.
‘Relax, sweetie,’ said Tazman, ‘it’s just a little grey matter. Make sure you plug that hole, Milton’
Warm streaks of blood gushed down his neck. He pressed his palm to the hole. He discarded the blood-covered implement and kept his head tilted forward as he eased himself down next to Tazman.
‘I need a shower,’ said Milton.
‘You need a doctor,’ said Tazman.
Milton shifted his pupils onto his simian friend. ‘Look who’s talking,’ he replied, prompting Tazman to burst out in a hearty chuckle.
A volley of blasts sprayed in and chipped the tapered pillar that Commander Raegar used as cover. He flattened his body and waited for a pause in the bombardment. His squad provided cover fire from somewhere and he ran forward, spraying pulse in the enemy’s direction.
A wind kicked up a cloud of dust; the majestic sound of a dropship engine screamed over the scene. Its front cannons laid cover. Streams of discharge tore away at the enemy’s barricades, forcing the invaders to scurry to new positions. Only one rescue craft had arrived; the other two had been shot down. The ship landed through the yellow gas spewing from the beacon canister. It spun to point its rear hatch at the Raticia breach. The ship’s front cannons, on the underside of its nose, continued to blast in the direction of the enemy. Wailing shouts from officers ordered the crew to take the wounded first.
Raegar’s forces had taken control of the surrounding area. Groups of his crew had gradually increased the radius. The Raticia’s crumpled body lay in a thin corridor. One direction was blocked by a fallen skyscraper, the other by the downed enemy warship.
Making out the enemy position, Raegar took cover behind a displaced section of stone wall. He put the barrel of his rifle through a blasted gap on the edge and shot at another invader. Five more appeared nearby. He ducked and his barricade was sprayed. Pieces of rock and dust bounced over him. He circled around the stone and leaned out, attacking from a different angle. One invader tore down the flank. Raegar swivelled, placing it in his sights. Blasts from several directions hit the stone, forcing him to sink back. He prepared himself.
The invader leapt over his barricade. The fleet commander sprang with his knee joints, tackled the runner in his four arms and hurled it to the dust. With its back hitting the ground, the invader swiped with its arm cannon. The heated orange blade gleamed through the blurry cloud. Raegar caught the weapon and used his additional hands to rip it from his enemy’s grasp. With a roar his tossed the cannon blade out onto the road.
The invader kicked Raegar off. He landed against the stone wall and his enemy sprang to its feet. With an arm flick, a sleek blade lengthened from a device on its other forearm. The invader lunged with a horizontal slash. Raegar flexed the top half of his body, sinking beneath the strike. The blade tip sparked on the rock and cut a deep fragmenting gash.
The invader, with the excess momentum, twisted its arm in the air for a follow-up swing from the other direction. Raegar snatched up his rifle and held it up with two hands to block. The blade embedded into the weapon. The attacker placed its other hand on the blade and pushed down on him. The rifle sparked and cracked under the weight.
Raegar pressed all four of his hands against his improvised shield. He slipped down the wall. His struggling old muscles gave way and the blade cut further into the rifle, over the commander’s nose. Sweat streaked his face. The invader drew close, using all of its weight and strength, and
looked down on him with contempt. Raegar released a hand and went for his pistol. Before he could point it, a hard knee thumped against his laser-sealed wound. He cried out and the gun flew from his hand.
The pulse rifle split apart. Raegar caught the oncoming sharp edge with his bare hands. Blood gushed down his wrists. He tightened his grip and let forth a warrior’s cry, a roar he hadn’t expelled in long time. Veins bulged from his thin, wrinkled skin. He released his lower right hand and snatched the invader’s neck. Raegar bought his hands together in one abrupt feat of strength. The blade thrust deep into the invader’s skull by its entire width. His reflection in its eyes separated like a cracked mirror. He kicked the body to the ground.
Hot gusts blew on his face. The occupied dropship lifted. The remaining members of his group, numbering somewhere between ten and twenty, had scattered in small parties. Streaks of pulse shot through the dusty field, with their origin and destination unclear. Raegar glanced out from his cover. In the hostile direction, he made out groups of moving bodies — more than he expected — a lot more.
A contingent had amassed down the path. Their formation purposely blocked the road. These ones were new to the battlefield, the crash survivors. Glowing blue stems spanned the front line, tri-blades of some kind. Almost in unison they began to spin, forming blurry circles of light. The army charged.
Raegar whipped forth his sledge pistol, turned his body side on and pulled the trigger in quick succession. His blasts unnaturally veered off their targets, with no visible effect. One of the blades stopped spinning, folded forward and ejected a blast. The round soared into a vehicle wreck beside him, blowing it knee-height into the air.
Fleet Commander Viceon Raegar sighed. He had decided a long time ago he wouldn’t die on the run. He holstered his pistol and stepped out of cover. Eyeing the enemy, he marched to the middle of the dusty road.
He clenched his bleeding fists and scanned the stampede. The army bounded over rubble and wrecked vehicles without breaking formation. He wondered how many he could take out before he went down. He would expect at least two or three; four may have been wishful thinking at his age. They slowed. Raegar spread his stance and twisted his feet into the dirt. But they continued to slow. Raegar was about to charge … then they stopped short.
The glowing fans whirled through the rising silence. Swirls of dust kicked up and glided freely across the battlefield. Raegar breathed calm. His antennae twitched atop his sweaty skull. Pre-death adrenaline laced his veins — the beautiful intoxication of the Kharla race. He stared the enemy down. They did not move.
They looked past him. Small bright speks shone in their eyes. A reflection. Raegar turned his head to find a wall of swirling dust light behind him.
The floating substance twinkled from one side of the road to the other. A horizontal crack of white tore across the phenomenon. The fabric of the space peeled back, unleashing an intense blinding light. Raegar’s pupils shrank. He blocked the light with his hand. Shapes dwelled inside. Tall and sleek shadows moved towards him … at running speed. The commander braced himself. The front lines of a different army burst forth.
Large-bodied, brown-skinned creatures passed the commander on either side, moving in a blur. Their tall forms were built much like the other invaders. On some, their black eyes brimmed with bright specks. Like the kid, he thought. Their full body armour glowed at the edges and they wielded staffs with ends that burned with flaming energy.
They ignored the commander, brushing past him with focus on the others. The grey invaders resumed their charge in perfect unison and the forces collided. Energised explosions cracked the front line. The grey ones were blown apart. Their spinning blue shields flying off. Combat staffs whistled though the air. They parried and stabbed, cutting down the mirror-eyed. Raegar drew his sledge pistol, checked its ammo level, and joined the charge.
The Composite defence vessel formation had thinned into ineffective pockets. Frantic voices laced the comm waves with reports of more glittery matter strewn across the sky.
With thinning air support, the Nimbus was vulnerable. A clump of invading warships gathered and proceeded to lay waste to the platform. A pouring rain of burning energy fell on the mechs scurrying below. Another section of the platform crumbled away from the hovering ring. It tilted off to the side and flipped into the ruined city, taking one of the last defence batteries with it.
The twinkling sheet above the warships grew dense and clustered. The floating anomalies cracked with loose electric sparks, fizzling with scattering speks. The sky ripped open. Black hollow voids expanded like bleeding puddles over the enemy fleet. Waves upon waves of powerful shield-and-armour-piercing firepower rained onto the invading warships. The invading force struggled to turn and accelerate from the strain, but their hard mineral bodies chipped away, deteriorating in the downpour. The smaller fighters simply blinked out in relatively tiny explosions.
Colossal craft of a different kind appeared throughout the sky. Their surfaces were like clumps of elaborately weaved metal strands that were then immaculately rounded, edged and sharpened. A portal tore open to the side of the battle; another such vessel flew out from the warphole into the Nimbus airspace and expelled a giant blinding ball. Its blazing glare struck every Composite unit still functioning. The molten ball drifted slowly through the air crashing into the side of an enemy warship, which instantly broke out in explosions. The ball continued ripping through the crumbling body, coming out the other side and then slamming through another ship, before finally dying with a third.
One of the original invading ships accelerated away; the defence batteries unloaded on the craft to prevent the escape. More of the new vessels appeared and mercilessly bombarded the lone enemy from three sides. It twisted and began to drop over the Nimbus at a tilt. The mechs caught in its shadow accelerated hopelessly, their pilots knowing full well they were not going to get clear. In the space between them and the object of their impending doom, a massive rift peeled open. The enemy warship plummeted through and in an instant its shadow disappeared, leaving confused but relieved mech pilots to admirably finish their duties.
Milton stared at the floor. Tazman lifted to stand.
‘Time to go,’ said the Freegu.
‘Wait a quanut,’ said Milton.
As Milton half expected, the shiny matter appeared again. He had nothing to do with the occurrence. The pre-warphole specks swirled anticlockwise at the front of the control room. The window stretched open. A gust of escaping pressure blew against Milton’s hair. A blinding light lay before him. Two tall, armoured shadows holding staffs stepped out.
Luylla tensed and Tazman bustled to escape.
‘It’s okay,’ assured Milton. ‘They’re the good guys.’
The shadows went to either side of the gate. The one on the right had twinkling in its black eyes, the physical indication of the one who had opened the rift gate. Holding the back of his head, Milton stood and stepped forward, ahead of Luylla who backed away.
Tazman came to his side. ‘They kinda look like the other ones,’ he whispered. ‘Are you sure they won’t kill us.?’
‘Not really,’ replied Milton from the corner of his mouth.
Another figure appeared from the light. At first its features were concealed against the glow, then the gate disappeared and Milton made the recognition.
This Vellnoa was older, much older. Its face was withered and it walked with aid of a smaller, thinner staff. Its wrinkled body was draped in a brownish cloak.
‘I know you,’ said Milton.
It looked back with widening eyes that seemed full of emotion. It pressed against its cane and stepped closer. Milton offered his hand in assistance.
The elder took Milton’s hand and curled its fingers around his wrist. The touch was warm and reassuring. The elder shifted its weight onto Milton in trust and leaned in, looking over Milton’s form.
‘It’s been a long time,’ said Milton.
The creature blinked and rea
ched for the back of his head.
Milton reluctantly let the elder push his hand aside. Tingles washed from the Vellnoa’s fingertips. Something crawled against the back of his head. He felt his skull cap twitch and throb. Then his pain faded and disappeared.
Milton looked up with a start and carefully reached to his wound, which had vanished. He felt hard skull under a patch of perfect hairless skin, surrounded by bloody matted hair.
The old one backed away. It stood shivering with a down-turned head and suddenly lurched forward. Milton stepped towards it but the soldiers were already there.
After another small convulsion the elder opened its eyes wide and looked back at Milton. It spoke, not vocally. Milton heard the voice in his mind. He wasn’t sure what it was saying but he felt an intense reassurance. Everything was going to be okay.
The eyes of the soldier on the left began to flare with stars. A swirling rift gate peeled open behind them, casting their forms into shadows.
The right soldier guided the old one though. The other looked over the trio and gave a respectful bow to each before stepping into the gate. The opening collapsed with a splash of speck residue.
Milton turned back to his friends, who stood, stunned, in their places. He smiled and shrugged as if to say, ‘your guess is as good as mine.’
‘Ohhaah you should have got him to heal my leg,’ cried Tazman.
Luylla chuckled. ‘Here,’ she said, sliding next to him. ‘I’ll let you lean on me if you fix my arm.’
‘Done deal, darlin’,’ he said, throwing himself around her, wagging his tail.
Epilogue
Blazing torch beams ripped through darkness. Composite Special Forces spread tactically into the control room.
Rift Breaker Page 25