by Vi Voxley
He had thought they were alone, but the sound of footsteps made him turn around. Worgen had been very quiet, almost impossibly quiet to cheat his hearing. The other general approached, his spear already drawn, a mirthless smile on his lips.
"You survived," he stated. "Very careless of me."
Corden turned, his eyes looking for Lana, but finding no evidence of her. If he'd gotten her, if he'd hurt a hair on his gesha's head...
"That is what happens when you send your men to fight your own battles," he replied, drawing his spear. "Where is Lana?"
Worgen stopped a little way from him, the black eyes glaring a hole through Corden.
"I expected better from a general, you know," Worgen said, ignoring him. He was slowly beginning to circle Corden, keeping him firmly in sights. "Briolina has clearly lost its way if even you don't see the truth."
"The truth of what?" Corden asked calmly.
The battle focus had settled, his enemy was in his sights. Every sense he possessed was now narrowed down on Worgen, taking in the other general, trying to discern a weakness. So far, the mad general didn't seem to offer any. He was an intimidating opponent—Corden was ready to admit that. About as tall and powerful as he was, not to mention damned quick and agile.
The way Worgen had killed the Toron had showed Corden that even more so than their first skirmish had. He couldn't underestimate him. He couldn't even assume Worgen had put up a real fight on the Raptor. The man opposite of him was dangerous, if only for being made entirely out of lies.
Worgen's black eyes were watching him as well, impossible to read. The burning armor was red hot, but an issue only if he got too close.
"The truth of victory," Worgen said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You think I am a coward for not returning to the little ship to face you myself?"
"Of course. I am a Brion. I would never send another man to face my enemy."
"Didn't you?" Worgen asked, pointing to Yarel.
Mentioning the Palian made Corden's valor squares flare to life, bathing the lab in crimson. In the light of it, he noticed the scientists had run, as they should. Yarel's body was still lying on the floor.
"He was not supposed to face you. Not in actual combat."
"But he did."
Corden laughed, getting the first real reaction out of Worgen. The mad general growled, his easy demeanor dropping for a second before he regained control. They were still circling each other slowly, trying to figure out their opponent's weak points.
"You think that is an insult," Corden said. "You think I sent him to fight you. I assure you, I did not. He chose to confront you himself, knowing he'd die. It makes him a thousand times braver than you are."
"How dare you?!" Worgen boomed then, the armor almost engulfed in a bright red flame. "You would compare me to a Palian?"
"No," Corden said. "I wouldn't dishonor the Palian by comparing him to you."
Worgen's roar echoed back from the high walls of the lab, but Corden merely grinned. If the other general wanted to hand him the advantage by getting furious, he was welcome to.
"He was a fool," Worgen hissed when he saw that Corden wasn't about to say anything more. "And so are you."
"I am Brion," Corden said. "What are you?"
"I am the man who will remind you what true victory is. I will remind all of you."
"I know my brothers and sisters," Corden said proudly. "No matter what happens here today, they will never side with you."
"Then I will kill them all."
"That would make you a very lonely victor."
"That is fine with me. The Last Brion. It has a ring to it, don't you think?"
Corden smiled, raising his spear on guard. "The last Brion would die fighting against you. Where is Lana?"
Worgen's own grin returned at last and he answered by assuming a battle stance.
"Her?" he asked. "She is on the Abysmal."
Only seconds after thinking that Worgen was about to hand the victory to him by losing his temper, Corden growled in unrestrained fury.
"If you hurt her—" he began, but the mad general cut him off.
"She is fine, for now," he said. "Waiting for me in my bedroom. This is what I was talking about, boy. True victory. You don't simply kill your enemies. You break them to pieces before they die so others will never even try. And you will draw your last breath, knowing that I will fuck your gesha's wet pussy after I hang your corpse on the wall for her to see."
All his life, Corden had relied on his mind to show him the path to victory. Almost always, it entailed a well-crafted plan that he executed without a fault. In that moment, listening to Worgen defile everything he held dear, his mind and body were in accord.
Kill, they said. Kill him.
Corden let the rage consume him, the red curtain of anger falling before his eyes. He charged, striking a blow right at Worgen's chest. The mad general dodged a reckless move like that easily.
In his heart, Corden knew he was playing into Worgen's hand with his anger. The other general was nowhere near as stupid as Corden wanted to believe he was. He'd told Lana that himself—that Worgen always had a plan behind those black eyes of his.
Thinking of Lana didn't help him, though. It brought up images of his gesha in Worgen's bed, helpless and alone without him.
The rage was unfamiliar to him at first. It had been a long time since Corden let his emotions get the better of him, but no Brion could listen to his gesha being mocked like that. That was what Worgen had counted on, of course, but Corden found himself not caring.
Instead, he dug deep, into the violent, bloodthirsty core of his Brion soul. The rage was there, waiting, ready to take over. Corden seized it, letting it flow through his body, but staying in control, using it.
Like the eye of a storm.
Worgen had managed to cut a deep gash across Corden's thigh while he was still overwhelmed by his fury, but Corden pounced back. He jumped out of the other spear's way, twisting in air as he did, landing in a battle stance of his own.
Worgen was right on his tail, mid-air, with his spear ready to pierce Corden's heart. He blocked the blow, knocking Worgen out of the air. The other general rolled on the ground, almost meeting his end when Corden's blade struck the ground inches where his head had just been.
The mad general jumped to his feet, a disappointed fury in his eyes. If he thought Corden owed him an easy victory, he was dead wrong. They traded blows faster than the eye could see, the long blades of the spears cutting into flesh and bone, marring the ground red beneath their feet.
It was not as easy as I thought it would be, he thought, not for either of us.
Worgen had a century of experience on Corden, but he was better, Corden knew that after long minutes. And there flashed the look of fear in Worgen's eyes, the man who thought victory was being the last man standing. Corden knew it was not.
Victory was fighting tooth and nail for a triumph of your own, a prize that you carved out of life with your own two hands. And it had to be won for the right reasons, not for the victory itself. Brions didn't hate their enemies, didn't look down upon them. On the contrary, the more difficult they were to beat, the more they respected them.
Corden was willing to make an exception for the mad general. He deserved nothing like that. Respect was wasted on him.
Worgen was getting slower now, but his every move still posed undeniable danger. Corden knew he had to concentrate to win, but it was within his reach. All he had to do was remember that no opponent was beaten until they lay on the ground. The mad general was desperate, but a quick blow to Corden's shoulder that nearly dislodged it showed he wasn't out of the fight yet.
The end came, but not how he'd thought it would.
Alarm bells began to sound all over the Flora. A confused voice spoke over the intercomm.
"There... there is another Brion ship here. Captain Cormac, could you come to the bridge? Commander Yarel?"
In the fraction of a se
cond where the Claw's arrival had caught his attention, Worgen took his only chance. The blow he delivered was at an awkward angle for Corden to catch and it knocked him on the ground. He was up instantly, spear at the ready, but the other general was no longer there. He'd disappeared, like into thin air.
The fury raged within Corden. He couldn't believe Worgen had run again, but after all, he'd said he would, hadn't he? If he couldn't achieve victory on his own, he'd let the Abysmal handle it.
Corden ran, pushing his righteous anger aside. Everything was a matter of time now. The only good that had come of the whole mess was that back in the hangar, he hadn't seen the shuttle of the originals. Which meant his three warriors had left like he'd told them to. Corden had to trust them to have succeeded in their duty or he'd die very soon, never reaching Lana.
The name of his gesha hurt. He'd sworn he wouldn't let any harm come to her, but Worgen had very possibly made a liar out of him.
He reached the landing bay, only to find Worgen's fighter was gone as well. So the general was back on the Abysmal. Behind him, the Torons gathered, furious and determined.
"Board!" Corden bellowed over the bay, watching as the beasts climbed into the shuttles and fighters that the originals had left behind.
Everything teetered on the edge of a knife. Outside, the Abysmal turned toward the Flora and the Claw moved between them. The legend was facing the executioner.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Corden
The world held its breath.
The fleet around the Abysmal most certainly did. Corden had boarded his fighter and taken his impromptu flotilla out of the Flora. In the shadow of the Claw raising its shields, they emerged from the carrier and headed toward the enemy flagship.
The general observed the standoff with a thudding heart, knowing that his every action might bring Worgen's wrath down on Lana. He had no choice but to take his chances. They had come too far, revealed their hand, and now he and Worgen were playing for the win.
The shuttles and fighters with the Torons were dutifully following him, letting Corden take the lead. Their flight routes were awkward and clumsy, the Toron claws not used to the controls of Brion ships, but they were handling them well enough. It was a small victory on its own that they were even able to fly. Corden had ordered his three recruits to open the ships with their genetic codes before leaving.
His new warriors were on the Abysmal now, since Corden didn't see any sign of their own vessel being destroyed. Whether the three had succeeded in securing the control room that monitored fighters was another question. One that would be answered soon.
The situation was on the verge of escalating to another massacre and Corden hoped his warship would handle it while he rescued Lana. And dealt with Worgen once and for all. He wouldn't let the mad general escape him a third time.
He had just found himself thinking that it was too quiet, when suddenly the Abysmal opened fire. The Claw took the barrage full-on, but the shields held. Corden scanned for damage and found to his relief that the Abysmal's weaponry at least wasn't beyond his own ship's capabilities.
He ached to test the Claw against the Abysmal, but the fleet still stood in the way. Ever since the Abysmal started firing, they had been almost paralyzed, not daring to move one step out of the line-up they were in. Any uncoordinated route might have meant getting caught in the crossfire.
The Claw didn't fire back, remaining staunchly between the other warship and the Flora, which had been keeping a bit farther away due to its size. His fighter's scanners were receiving signals of the carrier's warp drive firing up in preparation of a jump.
In the next second, the Abysmal broadcast a message to every ship nearby.
"Flora, if you jump out of the system, we will destroy the fleet."
Corden waited along with everyone else, the forced inactivity of their slow approach eating him up inside. They had to be careful not to get in front of the Abysmal's guns, which blessedly had yet to target them. So far, Worgen seemed to think they were clone units, returning to the flagship.
The Flora didn't jump, but the warp drive remained active.
It was going to be close. Corden knew that Worgen needed the fleet for cover, from the Claw, and anything else that might confront him. But he didn't doubt for a second that the mad general would carry out his promise if the precious carrier slipped away from him. All the Abysmal had to do was jump, and then find another hostage.
They were slowly but surely nearing the landing bays of the legendary ship. Corden felt no fear, only a passive anticipation. His own possible death meant nothing to him compared to the danger Lana was in. His gesha was the only thing on his mind, the light of his life that he wanted back no matter the cost.
If Worgen had thought he gained an advantage by kidnapping Lana, he'd made a huge mistake. From the beginning, Corden had thought that his enemy severely misunderstood the bond.
Putting Lana in danger didn't make Corden weak, nor did it hinder him. It freed him, wiped every doubt and every reservation from his body.
No man would stand between him and Lana, not even a living legend.
He turned his eyes to the monitors in front of him, judging the distance to the bays. The moment of truth had arrived for him and the flotilla following on his trail. They were close enough for the Abysmal to scan them and see what they were.
Corden alone would have been a bit suspicious—a lone Brion in a fighter meant for an entire unit. But the Torons were a dead giveaway. The Abysmal's guns were firing all around them, but remained blissfully unaware of the enemy coming at them.
Seconds ticked by and Corden knew he'd made the right call. His three warriors had done their duty. They had brought him one step closer to claiming the legendary warship.
Corden briefly considered destroying the landing bay. The Abysmal may have been impenetrable, but its interior was not. It would have been easy to do some secondary damage, but the bridge would have shut off that section of the ship immediately. Not worth it.
Besides, Corden thought with a smile, he didn't want to destroy the precious ship. He was going to take it from Worgen, along with his life and everything else the other general valued.
After another minute, he landed his fighter smoothly on the obsidian deck of the Abysmal.
He was in.
***
The deck shuddered beneath his feet as Corden stepped out of the stolen fighter, waiting for his allies to land. The Abysmal was clearly intent on destroying the Claw before it could find a way to deploy troops.
Corden had warned his flagship that the enemy would be able to take heavy fire without a problem, but it was not out of the danger yet. He had no way to communicate with the Claw, but trusted his second-in-command Captain Soren to know what had to be done.
In the meanwhile, the Torons would have to do and he knew they'd relish the prospect.
All that went through Corden's mind within a second, and by then the general was already moving, pulling his battle spear free. He and the Torons were in the Abysmal, but the trick would only work once. Already he saw the crew coming to meet him, realizing he was the enemy. No matter what he did, Corden couldn't get to them all before one managed to signal the bridge.
In a minute, Corden knew, the Abysmal would shoot down everything that tried to approach. And right on cue, the bay doors behind them were starting to close, sealing the warship and trapping everyone inside.
Bringing his spear on guard, Corden grinned, knowing that meant Worgen had cut himself off from any warriors still remaining on the fleet ships.
He hoped his three warriors had the good sense to get out of the control room before the mad general realized that was where his weakness lay.
Corden met the Abysmal's crew head-on, buying time for the Torons to land and exit. The general's spear twirled in his hand as he charged to meet the first enemies foolish enough to face him. Nothing but simple guards, but elite units were to undoubtedly follow.
Seeing hi
m was having an effect on the enemies, that much was obvious. Corden's blood was boiling, the valor squares pulsing out a fierce, demanding challenge.
Come and meet your fate. You've delayed it for far too long.
The bay was bathed in haunting red color like it was on fire and Corden was the flame in the middle of it. The general roared, a clear call-sign for all the guards to target him and not the Torons already appearing from the shuttles. He cut off their approach, standing like a dam that didn't let a single clone through.
The floor around him was wet with blood, slippery and treacherous. That was Corden's purpose, cutting the guards open and spilling their life out on the deck. The stench of death rose, driving everyone but him mad. Behind his back, the Torons came forward, their revenge finally there for the taking. And the guards were witnessing what they were up against.
Corden barked a hollow laugh, seeing how it drove them on with stubborn, reckless abandon.
There is some Brion spirit left in you after all.
Only he didn't miss how they looked at him, approaching like an unstoppable tide. They tried to hide it from him, oh how they tried, but the failure was almost sad. The valor squares on the necks of the clones, the marks of victory that weren't their own, were finally showing signs of life.
One after another, they made first steps at becoming real Brions, but it was too late. Corden was already upon them, slicing them open and cutting them down. The only real emotion they ever got to feel was fear.
By his side, the Torons were as unyielding as Corden himself. The beasts roared their defiance in the face of the enemy that had hidden itself behind the Abysmal's walls for so long. They charged into the fight, claws and fangs first, tearing at the clones. Corden saw a few of them brought down by the Brion spears. Their opponents weren't exactly helpless, but it didn't stop them. With great, stomping steps the Torons advanced, trampling over everything in their way.