by Z H Brown
Critter immediately came about to once again avoid being instantly destroyed. The other Imperial and Starlite fighters instead pressed the attack, and to Critter’s surprise, one of Tread’s drones continued to race forward, joining in the attack. Tread’s wedge-shaped fighter joined a Dragon Claw and Venomous making an attack run, all three of them opening fire.
Xandarius held his ground, his blazing aura protecting him from the despicable, colluding traitors, though the effort was definitely more taxing than it had been before. Reaching deep into the rage that filled him, he hurled a large fireball at the incoming fighters.
The attack struck the Dragon Claw, obscuring the view port with bright, golden fire. Focusing on the other false Imperial, Xandarius summoned the energy within him and visualized what he wanted to happen; as he did, twin beams of pulsating golden energy erupted from the emperor’s eyes, slicing the drone into three uneven pieces which continued forward with their momentum before disappearing in an explosion. Xandarius relished his kill for but a moment before moving to intercept the disgusting insect craft.
Xandarius collided with the Venomous ship, using Golden fire and telekinesis to destroy both pincer-shaped missile ports before swooping up to fry the stinger energy emitter. Now bereft of weapons, the Golden coward tried to shake off his passenger in order to escape; Xandarius instead took careful aim and fired into the cockpit, incinerating the pilot in an instant.
The monarch pushed off from the empty craft which was quickly destroyed as other fighters opened fire on him, their wayward attacks finishing off the damaged ship.
Despite the exhaustion creeping through him, a new wave of bloodlust filled the emperor. He threw himself at whatever ship came within reach, pouring out waves of withering fire that cooked ships and their occupants alike. The allies now had to be careful of striking their fellow pilots, lest they accidentally kill their new friends.
Xandarius grappled with a mech suit that he had speared with a piece of metal before he was struck repeatedly in the back by another opportunistic Venomous fighter. Xandarius whipped around, before disengaging and putting distance between himself and his doomed opponent. Sure enough, the fighter heedlessly continued to fire, hitting the Imperial mech and finishing it off with a barrage of yellow plasma.
Xandarius destroyed the Imperium craft before chasing after whatever fools happened to next attract his attention. In the space of a few seconds, another three fighters disappeared beneath gouts of golden flame. One by one, the fighters swarming the battlefield were reduced to clouds of scorched debris, with Xandarius bouncing to and fro, annihilating anything he came across.
As their forces decreased, Ansaria’s dread increased; Xandarius’ defenses appeared to be weakening, but his second wind was providing him with the motivation to decimate their offense. At this rate, there wouldn’t be enough forces left to cover Critter when he made his move.
As Ansaria was trying to formulate a new strategy, another source of hope appeared.
Just as Xandarius finished off another Manticor, he was suddenly buffeted by a wave of plasma. The source of the attack quickly became evident: Gamesh-Gil’s personal ship, the Golden Rebirth. A dozen energy projectors emitted a continuous stream of searing, superheated gas. Xandarius’ bright golden aura was like a lantern in the orange and yellow firestorm that surrounded him.
For a split second, the ship’s guns powered down before a new volley was launched at the mad emperor. It took Ansaria a moment to see exactly what the prince was doing: he was firing half of his weapons, while keeping the rest in reserve, that way, when one set of weapons overheated or ran low on ammo, the second set could take up the fight and keep a constant barrage on their adversary.
To Ansaria, this was exactly the opportunity she needed.
“Diamond, patch me through to the Imperium flagship, and then tell Critter to get in position to engage on my mark.”
To Xandarius, the sensation of being in the nova of destructive energy was a multitude of nearly overwhelming stimuli. The heat was catastrophic, and it was only thanks to his protective aura that he hadn’t been incinerated. The kinetic energy that he was attempting to suppress was like telekinetically holding back a tidal wave that stretched from one horizon to another; even someone as experienced as himself would have pushed his body past the breaking point if not for the incredible energy that he now wielded. Somehow, even in the silent vacuum of space, a rushing, roaring sound filled his ears, but he couldn’t tell if that was from his powers, the onslaught he was under or the rage that still permeated his entire being. A coppery smell filled his nostrils, and his mouth and tongue were course and dry; a small part of him wanted to surrender then and there, if only to quench his parched throat, but the incredible anger he felt, compounded by the goading of the insistent inner voices and rush of his powers through his veins quickly banished such notions.
Even if surrender was not an option, he had to admit that the situation was turning against him. The seemingly never-ending attack was taxing his waning strength, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he was rendered unconscious and captured, passed out and died in the void, or was overcome by one of his pathetic adversary’s attacks and obliterated. Just as he was attempting to formulate a counterattack, the assault finally died down. Before Xandarius could recover, however, the next one came.
From four different directions, four piercing beams of energy from four different Imperium fighters collided with the Xenlongian ruler; to Xandarius, it felt like someone was trying to drive four, searing metal pokers though his body and it was only thanks to the Flame that he was still alive. Still, the attack prevented him from doing anything more than staving off the worst of the damage. Even his fury, which had yet to abate, wasn’t enough to give him the burst of energy he needed to turn the tide.
Through the haze of pain and strain, he was able to make out a figure rapidly approaching him. It wasn’t until it was almost directly on top of him that he recognized the bipedal form: a mech suit bearing a garish teal and purple color scheme.
The suit belonging to the disloyal witch’s Woodling underling.
Not even flying into the face of the Star Eater had been this nerve-racking for Corporal Critter. The guns of the flagship of the Golden Imperium of Infinite Starlite ceased firing, leaving Critter rushing headlong into a proverbial oven, which his mech was only just barely equipped to handle.
As his tiny heart beat furiously and he expertly maneuvered his suit toward his target, Xandarius was still trying to hold off the energy beams of the Imperium's fighters, but Critter decided to take some…extra precautions. As the distance between them vanished, Critter fired point-blank in Xandarius’ face.
The emperor’s cry of pain went unheard by his attacker. At Critter's signal, his allies cut their attack, freeing the Emperor from their onslaught. However, distracted by his pain, Xandarius failed to see the rebellious runt’s follow up.
As soon as Xandarius had grabbed his face, Critter reached for the stun device attached to his back. Dashing forward, he slapped the restrainer on his mad monarch; it clamped shut around his torso like the talons of a huge bird of prey, pinning his arms in an awkward manner, before delivering a dose of icy-blue bolts of high voltage electricity.
While Critter was unable to hear Xandarius’ howls of anguish, the look on his face was clear. The small soldier fought down a wave of guilt as he saw the torture he inflicted on the one he had been trained nearly two years to serve and protect faithfully.
Xandarius became still and the current died. The emperor was left floating in space, his protective aura resembling a flame near the end of its wick. Critter approached slowly, almost reverently, as he radioed back his success.
The bridge of the Throneship was strangely silent as they watched Critter move in to collect the emperor. Ansaria hadn’t really expected anyone to be cheering or anything, but she had expected to feel some kind of relief that this insane ordeal had finally come to an end. Instead, she felt
like despite all of this, even after everything they had lost – had been too easy.
Just as Critter had taken Xandarius inert form in his mechanical grasp, the power-mad ruler’s eyes snapped open, and his aura blazed to life once more.
“You didn’t think I would be subdued by a spindly clamp, did you!?”
Despite both of them being in the vacuum of space, the corporal did hear that.
The restraining vest delivered another surge of electricity, but the energy seemed to be unable to pierce the Emperor’s flames. Xandarius gave Critter a grin that seemed to the tiny pilot to be one devoid of sanity, as though the savior of Xenlong had been completely incinerated by his pilfered power and replaced with something terrifying and alien. Straining against his binding briefly, Xandarius’ powers flared even more brilliantly. An instant later, the shock vest exploded off of the Emperor in a wave of electrically-charged shrapnel.
Critter’s mech was skewered by multiple metal pieces. One large chunk went clean through at the hip, and another embedded in the upper thigh, leaving one leg useless. Two pierced the arm he threw up to (unsuccessfully) shield his compartment. The most devastating was the one that had punctured the cockpit; this lucky shot on Xandarius' part had taken Critter’s leg below the knee with it. The suit’s comm. was only partially functional, but those on board the Throneship still picked up some of the screams of pain from the suffering Woodling.
On Critter's end, he heard what sounded like his captain pleading for him to answer her, but her messages were so garbled that that was only what he assumed she was saying. He was too busy bandaging his wound to do so, however. In the back of his mind, behind the haze of anguish and the annoying cacophony of alarms and system warnings was a vague curiosity wondering why he was still alive considering he was effectively a stationary Crete’s-eye.
In fact, Critter’s survival was due to a new wave of attacks that had been directed at Xandarius the instant it was clear that the plan had failed. Before the golden Xenlongian could follow up on his attack, a pair of missiles collided with his back, followed by the sting of an energy beam and a barrage of plasma blasts. Xandarius, his power now more spent than ever, was forced to focus on defense, and only able to attack when he was sure of landing a hit. Still, too many over-confident pilots got too close and were vaporized by bolts, balls and blasts of golden energy.
A brave mech pilot zipped toward Critter’s stranded suit. The pilot discarded their weapon in order to devote all of their energy toward the rescue. They managed to reach the wounded soldier, but before they could do more than reach out toward him, twin beams of golden energy pierced the middle of the rescuer’s torso, and they were went flying back before they exploded; the golden destroyer would let none touch his prey.
Xandarius was once again prevented from claiming his rightful vengeance by a powerful volley of gold, orange and yellow plasma: one of the Golden warships had dived back into the fray, unloading with its forward weapons. The emperor was forced to evade the attack, dodging through space at speeds that paled in comparison to his earlier acrobatics.
The monarch went on the offensive, spraying the cruiser with twin fistfuls of golden fire; the pyrotechnics washed against the shield, which held back the assault. Xandarius’ counterattack was short lived as the ship’s defenses quickly targeted the attacker, unleashing searing beams of yellow-white energy and swarms of small, but powerful, micro-rockets.
Xandarius expanded his burning aura with a strain of effort in order to protect himself before changing tactics. Focusing not on the Flame that was his to command, but instead reaching out telekinetically, Xandarius mentally grasped four of the plasma turrets that were giving him so much trouble, before crushing them with the power of his mind. The gun emplacements exploded violently swiftly followed by numerous point-defense lasers and missile turrets. One by one, the burning warrior de-fanged the warship before him, gouging telekinetic furrows in the ship here and there as he went; finally, he severed something critical, and the shield flared to life briefly before fading into nothingness. With another savage grin, Xandarius poured a raging inferno into one of the holes left by a destroyed turret. A chain reaction began to fill the ship, and the Emperor quickly sped away before the vessel exploded in a golden nova.
Ansaria was horrified by what she had just seen; after everything they had thrown at him, Xandarius was still able to single-handily destroy an entire warship, and what was worse, one of her squad mates was stranded on the battlefield, possibly bleeding to death. Alvara’s face was filled with a mixture of venomous anger at Xandarius as well as concern for her friend; Ansaria was certain that if she'd had above-average strength, Alvara would have warped the firing interface of the Lancer given how tightly she was gripping it. She couldn’t even imagine what Slog and Tread were thinking right now.
Trying not to let the situation overwhelm her, Ansaria contacted the teleporters.
“Get a lock on Corporal Critter and get him back on-board immediately.” It was a few moments before the reply came.
“I’m sorry, captain, but that’s out of the question; teleporting a damaged vehicle in the middle of battle risks catastrophic damage to the ship. As for just picking up the corporal, unless we know the extent of his injuries, we could potentially harm him even more, if not kill him.”
With a frustrated snarl, she killed her comm. before turning to Diamond. “Comm. Chief, can you contact him personally, find out what’s wrong?”
At first, Diamond was still; then, he began to turn one way, then the next, as though he was fidgeting about. Just as Ansaria was about to ask him what was going on, he spoke.
~Forgive me, Captain Dormus, but I am unable to establish a proper connection with the corporal; I believe my presence is merely one sensation amongst many others at the moment.~
That didn’t sound good at all. Critter could be burnt and mangled in his cockpit, floating out there, waiting for either his injuries, his damaged suit or his attacker to finish him off. Deep sadness and concern warred with frustration and rage inside of her.
~However, I was able to ascertain from his scattered thoughts that Corporal Critter is attempting to both repair his wounds and maintain control of his battle suit, so he is at least somewhat coherent.~
Ansaria clung to this good news like a bit of debris in a tumultuous sea. If Critter had any sense left, she knew she could depend on him to take care of himself as best he could given his situation.
“Diamond, I want you to keep checking on Critter at regular intervals. The instant you make contact with him and get a status report, you alert the teleportation crew and get an ETA on rescue immediately, understood?”
This still left the problem of how to keep Xandarius off of Critter until they could save him, and really at this point there was only one option.
Walking over to her friend, she said, in a quiet, but authoritative voice that everyone on the bridge heard despite the commotion filling the room.
“Alvara, power up the Lancer.”
Her trusted second-in-command looked at her intently to make sure she was completely serious, before beginning to activate the primary weapon of the Throneship. She paused in her work to look at Ansaria again.
“What should I set the energy levels to?”
Ansaria considered the question very carefully: at this point, Xandarius had survived multiple volleys from multiple warships, as well as salvos of missiles and swarms of fighters. The Emperor’s reduced aura and more restrained energy usage indicated that he was at least weakening, but they really had no idea how much more he could take. Too low of a setting might be enough to stun him, or he could dodge or redirect it; a full power blast would undoubtedly vaporize him, powers or no, and she wasn’t yet ready to completely give up on the chance of bringing Xandarius back to Xenlong.
Really, at this point for all of us, it’s fifty/fifty. She had her answer.
“Fifty percent power: either this will be the knockout blow, or the final act of treason
that gets us all reviled in the history books…and let it be known to everyone present, this decision, and its consequences, were mine alone.”
No one said anything, in truth because most of them were far too busy with more immediate concerns, but Ansaria knew that her words would ultimately amount to little: they had all participated in an act of insubordination against their rightful ruler and commander; she doubted anyone would be debating technicalities pertaining to rank, orders and distribution of guilt.
Moving away from her friend, she returned to her place in the center of the bridge where she could see the events unfold on the dome-screen. As her hand moved to its familiar place on the hilt of her sword, she took small comfort in the fact that, one way or another, this was all about to come to an end.
It was the thought of what was to come after that now filled her with fear.
Xandarius fired a blast of golden energy that pierced a Venomous fighter through one end to the other, before turning away from the resulting explosion to scan the battlefield for his lost would-be captor. The area around him was thick with debris of all sizes, and the constant attacks meant that Xandarius was frequently forced to stop his search to either attack, defend or flee.
He was beginning to get frustrated, which fed his burning rage of betrayal, but neither emotion completely abated the exhaustion creeping over Xandarius. Likewise, he had noticed a need to reach deeper within the Flame to perform his feats, which only added to his fatigue. Not helping things was the constant droning from the Other Voice that just made everything else he was trying to do that much more difficult.
Another pair of vermin came out of the trash heap surrounding him; an Imperium Manticor and a Xenlongian Dragon Claw. The Manticor came at him with its energy emitter on full blast, while the Claw unloaded with four rapid-fire streams of purple energy. Xandarius’ aura blazed outward to protect him, but only extended a few feet from his body. As such, Xandarius felt the impacts against his shield more forcefully than he had before, which caused him to be buffeted about through the debris field.