by Z H Brown
Momentarily safe as the pilots reacquired their target, Xandarius quickly formulated a new attack plan. Telekinetically seizing the scrap around him in a wide diameter, Xandarius coalesced half of the wreckage into a sturdy shield, while the rest he kept only loosely bundled together near him. Summoning his energy, Xandarius rocketed towards the Manticor, which quickly angled to intercept him.
As predicted, the Formerly-Golden Imperium pilot fired the stinger-mounted energy beam, which raced towards its target. Xandarius brought his new shield up which the beam collided with spectacularly. The searing energy began to eat its way through the ruined metal, but for the moment it was holding, and that was all the Emperor needed. Reforming the rest of his debris into a massive spear tip, Xandarius telekinetically hurled it at his foe. The projectile, which was half the size of the ship it was aimed at, tore the fighter to shreds which quickly exploded. Taking a moment to savor his victory, Xandarius next turned to deal with the stain on the honor of his empire.
The Dragon Claw pilot had noticed the Manticor’s attack, and had turned to engage, only to witness his mad monarch's tactic. After first changing course to put some distance between himself and his target, the fighter was now once again moving to attack, firing four missiles designed to destroy any capital ship smaller than a destroyer. Rather than trying to dodge the attack, Xandarius instead came to a halt, as though intending to weather the imminent blasts.
In truth, the New Golden Emperor had no such intentions. As the missiles reached what he determined to be an acceptable distance, he formed a massive wall of rubble that took the series of indigo explosions with nothing more than some fresh burns and craters to show for it. Apparently out of ideas, the pilot tried to disengage and vanish in the debris cloud, but Xandarius refused to let any traitor escape. Reaching out with his mind, Xandarius formed a dozen javelins of wreckage each as long as his arm all around the fighter, before jamming them all into the craft an instant later. The wounded ship danced wildly through space before it careened into a chunk of starship large enough to destroy it.
As Xandarius took a moment to metaphorically catch his breath, he made sure to keep his tired eyes peeled on the area around him. As he was looking for his next opponent, he noticed a ship moving not towards him, but instead toward a seemingly random piece of debris. Moving slowly through the cloud so as not to attract attention, Xandarius tried to get a better look at where the craft was going, until it dawned on him, and an ember of triumph ignited inside of him. For the wedge-shaped ship was moving towards what appeared to be a large, mangled figure drifting through the void.
A mangled figure that belonged to one minuscule traitor in particular.
Tread carefully piloted his drone close to Critter’s damaged suit. He had to be careful, lest he bump the damaged machine and inadvertently make the situation worse or jostle the wounded pilot. The magnetic grapplers were deployed as Tread approached his teammate with the steady, incremental patience that only a machine seemed to possess.
The grapplers locked down on the suit.
A bright light surrounded the edges of the drone’s vision.
An instant later, the feed went dead, and Tread was left momentarily deaf, dumb and blind, so shocked at the loss of his last drone at this critical moment that he forgot he was in a control chair, instead believing (for just a single moment of very un-android like panic) that he had been destroyed himself.
Recovering his senses, he ripped himself from the device, heedless of those around him trying to offer warning and support. He shoved everyone aside as he tore from the room for the nearest lift, activating his TIG as he ran.
“Ansaria, what’s happening!?”
As Tread’s drone had approached his paralyzed machine, Critter was still trying to get his suit to respond properly, and the mixture of alarms, comm. static, drowsiness from self-administered painkilling drugs and blood loss, a dull headache and intermittent nausea was not making things easier. He had one working arm remaining on his suit, the other was too ruined and ungainly with the huge shrapnel still embedded in it. Some of his thrusters were working, but he couldn’t do a full test lest he knock Tread away or worse be the final ingredient for his nausea to take hold of him.
Just as he felt the gentle bump of Tread’s ship locking onto him, Critter breathed a sigh of relief that lasted the barest second before his few remaining screens showed the robotic craft vanish in a bright burst of golden light…and in its place was the fiery visage of the New Golden Emperor. A grin of wicked madness crossed his pale face, and with a voice that somehow carried across the emptiness of space, said:
“There will be no rescue for you, little traitor.”
It was apparently exactly what the universe was waiting for. As Xandarius raised a hand to begin slowly vaporizing his wounded prey, a brilliant surge of blinding, blue energy struck the unaware emperor directly in the back.
Critter could hear the cry of agony as the searing energy propelled the tyrant away from his mangled mech. Throwing caution off the branch, the corporal fired up his thrust and flung himself at the momentarily stunned monarch. The two collided together and Critter had just enough strength remaining to wrap his suit’s one good arm around his captive before collapsing back in his seat and desperately trying to contact Ansaria.
Everyone had been so focused on the battle against Xandarius that no one had noticed the Ebon fleet moving into position until they fired on the emperor. The golden fire of the crazed ruler was momentarily overwhelmed by a blinding flash of blue energy; Ansaria actually had to blink her eyes a few times to rid herself of some spots from the blast. Knowing exactly who to thank for the intervention, she had Diamond contact Eberius.
“Maybe you could warn me next time before you blind half my bridge crew.”
He laughed. “I suppose that would have been the polite thing to do, but I saw an opportunity and decided to capitalize on it.”
Before they could speak further, Diamond interrupted.
~Forgive me, captain, but Corporal Critter has…‘gotten a firm hold on the situation’ and requests pick up…and a medic.~
Relief flooded through her and she laughed at her teammate’s ridiculous request.
“Acknowledged, Diamond. Have the fighters establish a security perimeter just in case, and bring the Throneship in directly; I want to be there personally when they’re brought on board.”
With a new mood filling the bridge, Ansaria turned back to the dome to watch as they put on a new burst of speed to catch the still-moving pair. However, just as she was about to contact Tread and Slog and fill them in, Critter contacted them again.
Critter’s reprieve was brief, as the captive in his arms came to life with a roar, his aura blazing to life once more and causing a new set of alarms as heat warnings began to blare. Already damaged and exposed bits began to sizzle and fry, while the heat-shielding on his suit struggled to handle the inferno he held; the temperature in the cockpit was quickly going from uncomfortable to dangerous.
The Woodling knew that he had a choice to make. If he let Xandarius go, he would surely kill him, and likely many more before he was either captured or killed himself. Yet, at this rate, Critter would bake to death before his machine reached critical temperature and exploded, which still wouldn’t likely do more than slightly harm Xandarius.
He knew what he needed to do.
He just hoped his friends were strong enough to do their part.
For an instant, the arm pinning Xandarius to his captor was gone. Before the enraged emperor could capitalize on this opportunity, Critter drew the arm back, and, with all the strength remaining in him, drove the prongs on the limb into his emperor’s torso.
A look of utter surprise crossed Xandarius’ face, the golden light left his eyes and his aura all but disappeared so that for a moment he looked like he had when Critter had seen him in person for the first time when they had forced their way onto the bridge of his ship what seemed like a lifetime ago.
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nbsp; The moment didn’t last, though, as the surprise was replaced by pain and rage, his aura exploded to life once more and with a snarl he grabbed hold of the arm impaling him with both hands and began to turn the metal to slag.
Ansaria tried to process what she was seeing; the ship’s powerful camera allowed everyone present to see perfectly as Xandarius sprang to life once more, trying to free himself with his fiery powers. For a moment, it looked like Critter was doing the sensible thing and letting the pyro-empowered emperor go, only for him to stab the monarch an instant later.
But by far, the worst part was Critter’s message.
~Please captain, take the shot.~
There was only one thing left to do.
“Alvara, do you have a shot?”
Her second-in-command and oldest friend was pressed tightly against the firing mechanism of the Throne Lancer, as though trying to squeeze inside the device and escape the situation she had been forced into.
Ansaria was getting desperate and angry. Her hands were shaking.
“Do you have the shot?”
Alvara was stubbornly silent for a few more seconds.
“Confirmed.”
“Then fire.”
Alvara tried to give into her training, to let her body fall into the natural state she had created for herself during this act over the years…but this time was different. There was no calm, no fluidity, no peaceful breathing; only a tenseness that felt like it would break her, like her lungs were drawing breath but getting no air, and like a part of her soul was trying desperately to claw its way out of her before it was too late.
“Sergeant, take the shot!”
Pushing down all of the rage, grief and heartache that was storming within her, Sergeant Alvara took aim, and fired the Throne Lancer.
The mighty weapon erupted with a spear of brilliant yellow energy that raced towards its target.
Xandarius had just severed the arm of the rodent that had wounded him and was about to begin removing the intrusion when he became aware of an overwhelming amount of light coming toward him. He had only a moment to register the massive wave of energy careening toward him and summon his energy to futilely try to ward off the attack before he was swallowed by the beam.
Xandarius screamed silently in the void as the blast seemed to slowly tear him apart piece by piece; within his mind, The Other echoed his anguish and railed against losing once again to animals and lesser beings. What should have taken an instant appeared to be moving agonizingly slowly as Xandarius watched his body disappear around him. As he was obliterated before his own eyes, he continued to feel the power of the Golden Flame, and he allowed himself to slip fully into its warm embrace.
Tread arrived on the bridge just as the beam overwhelmed the viewscreen on the dome, preventing the android from seeing anything. He watched as the attack continued on its path through space, rapidly passing from sight to disappear in the void.
The show on the screen was not over yet, though, as the cameras followed a brilliant ball of golden flame that was apparently trapped in the gravity of the nearby planet. The fireball screeched silently across the dead world’s sky moving rapidly towards the far side of the planet.
Tread was momentarily mesmerized by the event, before concern for his friend returned to the forefront of his mind. He approached Ansaria, noting her slumped shoulders and shaking form, and dread began to grow within him.
“Captain…where is Critter? Is Critter safe?”
Ansaria didn’t answer him, but Alvara rushed past them as fast as her slithering form would carry her, and entered the lift without a word or a look back.
And that was all the answer he needed.
Chapter XLI
Where Do We Go From Here?
My Dearest Ansaria,
I will keep this brief, as I know exactly what you are going through; I have in the past been in situations that forced me to make the same decision you had to. I can only say that I hope I will get one last chance to see you before we leave, but I understand if you simply can’t handle…this right now.
Until we meet again,
Eberius
The next few days passed in a haze for Ansaria. Thankfully, Ranyor had stepped in to handle the messy details of recovery, clean-up, casualty and damage reports and the little matter of about a fifth of their forces being held under armed guard. Truthfully, though, there wasn’t much clean-up or recovery going on, mostly just fighter patrols going through the motions while casualties were tallied and everyone tried to figure what to do next.
The squad spent this time apart, which was the second worst pain Ansaria had felt during... recent events. Alvara had locked herself away in a remote corner of the ship, while Tread buried himself in work, analyzing battle data they had gathered. As for Slog, he spent his time either in the mess hall, accepting whatever sympathetic drink was offered to him, or flittering from one task to another.
Ansaria could have especially used their company yesterday, when she had been jumped on the way to the lift. She had just left the mess hall, having stopped in in a vain attempt to muster up an appetite. After a few unsatisfying bites, the captain abandoned her meal and set off out the exit with the least amount of traffic. Just as she had turned the corner, she was telekinetically hurled against the wall, driving the air from her lungs and smacking her head painfully against the bulkhead.
There were four of them, two Xenlongians in full Royal Guard armor, a Packmember in standard gray armor, and a bot that rolled about on treads and had a different weapon on the end of each of its eight, spindly arms.
“Time for you to get yours, traitor,” snarled one of the Xenlongians. “Just like that vermin trash of yours.”
Fury overwhelmed the heavy shroud of grief, sorrow and guilt that she had been living with since that horrible moment, and she reacted with her own mental powers, sending a shockwave at her attackers. The Xenlongians blocked it with their own abilities, but the other two were not so fortunate. The lupine soldier was sent flying back before crumpling to the floor; the battlebot was sent tumbling end over end down the hall before it crashed to its side.
The Xenlongians went on the offensive, both of them sending a wave of mental energy at her. She held back the psychic onslaught, but only just barely; she was exhausted, mentally and physically, and the assault was quickly becoming more than she could handle. As they continued to press their attack, they slowly advanced on her, never letting up while closing the distance so they could physically get a hold of her.
Summoning the last reserves of her strength, Ansaria reached out, and wrenched one of the weapons off of the battlebot; the machine had just gotten itself back upright with some help from the Packmember, and the two were coming to aid their co-conspirators. The blaster flew into Ansaria’s hand, but she was dismayed to find that it did not have a trigger, instead the weapon having been built directly into machine, and therefore useless to her. Thinking quickly, she flung the weapon back toward her attackers, waiting until it was directly between them, before crushing it with her mind.
The volatile power source for the weapon erupted like a hand grenade, and the two cried out as they were engulfed in a sphere of green energy. As the glow of the blast faded, Ansaria saw the pair sprawled on the ground, their formerly pristine white armor now half seared black.
Ansaria didn’t have time to rest though, as the remaining two tried to avenge their fallen comrades. The battlebot was now unleashing an array of red, green and yellow energy bolts in her direction, forcing her to telekinetically redirect the barrage. As it rolled toward her, it began to scream madly.
“Death to traitors of the Empire! Long live Xandarius!”
The Packmember meanwhile let out a howl of bloodlust, and raced toward the captain, intent on killing her with his own claws. Ansaria telekinetically sent one of the many bolts flying toward her back into his direction, and caught the enraged soldier in the leg, sending him tumbling to the floor.
Before Ansaria cou
ld deal with the machine, it was engulfed in a torrent of electrical energy, which caused it to spin about wildly on its treads before coming to a complete stop. For a moment, the smoke-filled hallway was silent, but that quickly ended as a multitude of heavy boot-steps came toward her from every direction. Ansaria found herself surrounded on all sides. More hands than she could count reached down to help her up, while others moved to check on the attackers.
“I'm fine, I’m fine,” she said, answering the most frequent question. “Who stunned the bot?”
“Me, Captain Dormus, ma’am,” said a long-limbed ship security officer, who had his weapon levied against the immobile machine.
“Well, good shot. How are they?” she asked, gesturing to the two fallen guards.
“One of them is just barely alive, the other, not so lucky,” said a pink-skinned crewmember.
“Take the wounded to med-bay, and post a guard on all of them, ‘round the clock, understood?”
Half of those present scrambled to carry out her orders while the rest insisted on accompanying her back to her quarters. Ansaria saw the sense in this and allowed it, though she found the extra company more stifling than helpful. Once they reached her room, they again insisted on doing a thorough sweep of her cabin before allowing her to enter.
Ranyor came to see her later that day, when the pain of her fight was just beginning to set in. She allowed him to enter, but he remained standing rather than sit.
“From what we got out of them, they had wanted to join the uprising against us in the very beginning, but had seen they didn’t have popular support and so decided to wait. They were probably tailing you as soon as you left your quarters; looks like they underestimated you, though.”