Emergence (Unedited Edition)

by Chris Harris

  Just before he reached “one”, the cannon fired.

  A barrage of missiles tore into The Dominion's forcefield, flashes exploding like miniature stars in the space around it. Strom veered towards the flagship, as did many of the other Stingers, and they rained fire down upon it. They flew the length of the ship again, and still more and more Stingers were destroyed, but The Dominion was untouched. Strom pulled up, ready for another swoop when he saw part of The Dominion's hull splinter.

  “The forcefield is down!” yelled Admiral Fairns over the speaker. “Concentrate all fire on The Dominion!”

  A surge of adrenaline rushed through Strom as he turned the Stinger around, ready for another bombardment. A missile narrowly missed his ship and destroyed the orbital cannon he had just fixed. Strom felt a pang of annoyance at the fact that all of the effort he had gone to repair it was now for naught; it had helped bring the forcefield down, but now it was useless. He looked back at The Dominion just in time to see two huge panels at the bottom of the ship slowly slide away from each other. Out of the ravine that was left behind emerged a semi-spherical device, with a cylindrical object in the centre. The device was covered in solar panels, which slowly lit up one by one as it absorbed the Solus's light. With a sudden panic, Strom knew what was about to happen.

  A deep growl came over the speakers; a Xaosian voice. “You ignored my warning.”

  The Dominion's Earth-Scorcher fired on the Sea of Oil.

  Chapter 9

  Trexor 2

  Trexor watched the screens as snipers surrounded the Xaosian camp at the base of the bridge; they had regrouped there in the last hour. The snipers moved under cover of darkness, scaling the buildings around the camp, sights trained on the invaders. Trexor's team of soldiers may not even be needed; the Xaosians had very few ground troops left as most stayed in the skies above Tapal. “You ready?” Trexor asked his team; better to be safe than sorry. He waited for them all to nod to him, before he spoke into his com.

  “Go.”

  The snipers fired, but the Xaosians were ready, their own snipers following back the bullet trails to the Raanians in the skyscrapers. The Raanians, however, were not in the open and were barely visible in the dark buildings and more of their bullets hit their targets than the Xaosians'. Trexor turned to his men. “The Xaosians aren't as submissive to our snipers as we hoped; they have their own. So we're gonna go out there, and we're gonna end this battle on land, and hope the others can end it in the air!” The doors of the base opened, and the soldiers rushed out, taking cover behind makeshift barriers; the ruins of the earlier battle. Gun fire cracked through the air as they took the Xaosians unaware. The gun felt light in Trexor's hand and he noted how guns used to have a recoil before the R-Suppressors were installed in the gun's chambers.

  The Xaosians began to fire back, bullets at first. Some tore into Trexor's comrades, piercing the armour and drawing blood. Some died instantly, but Trexor would worry about those later. He fired on one particular Xaosian three times before seeing it go down, weapon still clutched in its hand. At the edge of his vision, he saw something dart past, before the Xaosian camp was engulfed in smoke. Trexor looked up and saw a Stinger fly into the hangar bay. He noticed the white stripe which ran the length of it and knew that it was Admiral Fairns.

  “Everyone, back inside!” Trexor yelled over the sound of gunshots. “Now!” He laid down covering fire as the others ran inside; he didn't hit many Xaosians, but enough to let his soldiers escape. He moved backwards, still firing, until he reached the base, whereupon the thick doors slid shut once again. Trexor left his soldiers and ran up a flight of stairs to the hangar bay, where Admiral Fairns was climbing out of his Stinger. “Sir?” Trexor said, with an upwards inflection.

  “The forcefield of The Dominion is down; it's only a matter of time before Xaos will need to bargain with us.” Fairns said, smiling. “We have won!”

  They went back down the stairs and Trexor headed over to the array of computers and found Tya. He spoke to her, making her jump. She placed a hand on her chest and “Bloody hell, you scare' the life ex' of me!”

  “Sorry.” Trexor said with a smile. “I just wanted to thank you for what you did today. You helped me save Tapal today, and the state will reward you well for this.”

  Tya smiled, but tried to hide it, twisting her face into a faux-neutral expression. “No need at all, just doing my duty.”

  “And you are proud of it. And so you should be.” Trexor said with a smile, not bothering to hide his mild amusement with her shyness. “You shouldn't hide your smile, y'know; it's beautiful.”

  This time she did smile, but she didn't bother to hide it this time. Her cheeks turned slightly pink as she blushed. “Thank you.” Tya said quietly; Trexor barely heard her. She wriggled in her seat, before saying, slightly louder, “After this is over, do you wan'...do you wan' to go ex' sometime?”

  Trexor smiled slightly; there may be nearly ten years age difference between the two, but he couldn't help but feel attracted to her. “Sure.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Love to.”

  She jumped and threw her arms around his chest; she couldn't reach his neck. Her head was buried in his chest as she said, “Thank you.”

  There was a sudden muttering behind him, and Tya let go as she saw the monitors behind him. Trexor turned and saw The Dominion on the screens. Part of it was sliding open. A growl echoed from all of the monitors.

  “You ignored my warning.”

  “How'd they jack the monitors?” yelled one technician.

  But no-one listened as a red beam shot from the bottom of the monolithic flagship.

  The room froze in shock, before Fairns yelled “Get me a visual on the Impact Zone, now! Trexor, get hold of one of the Space Team!”

  Trexor turned to Tya's console and brought up the Com-Screen. Keying in a 7-digit number on the touchpad, he spoke to the screen. “Space Team, come in.” There was no answer. “Space Team, this is General Trexor. Someone please answer.” Trexor was greeted only by static. “Admiral, they've knocked out our communication!”

  “Try it again!” Fairns roared; Trexor could tell that he was petrified; it was the madness in his eyes.

  “Sir, we have visual on the Earth-Scorcher!” called a young man, his voice wavering. He didn't look a week older than Eighteen; for all Trexor knew, it could very well be his first week here.

  “Put it on the big screens.” Fairns said, deceptively clam; like the calm before the storm.

  The image was put on the big screen and Trexor flinched.

  Chapter 10

  Strom 4

  The sky was ablaze.

  Strom could see it from orbit, the once-black oil sea now engulfed by orange-red flames. He imagined the flames licking at the land and spreading, destroying everything in their way. People burning, animals burning, buildings crumbling, and atop it all standing the Xaosian army, claiming the resulting wasteland as their own.

  He shook his head and dispelled the image. A voice came over his com. “Strom?” The voice was female and the voice shook; Ilisa's usually strong voice was barely recognisable.

  “Ilisa, it'll be okay.” Strom said, his voice cracking. He noticed a sensation is his eyes and at the back of his throat. He fought it back, swallowing hard.

  “No Strom,” Ilisa said. This time, when she spoke, she breathed in short, sharp bursts; she was crying. “It's not going to be okay. You know it's not, I know it's not; don't treat me like a kid.”

  Strom let out a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly, trying to calm down but with no avail. Family, friends, children, all potentially doomed on Raan. Tapal was far away from the Sea of Oil, but there were many cities and towns lining the route. A rescue mission should be taking place, but there would be no point; people near the coast could see the flames, looming over them, breaking the barricades that kept the oil out, and tearing into the landscape. He would help, but he had his orders.

  Xaos can not be allowed to esc
ape.

  “Ilisa, cover me!” Strom yelled into the com, as he veered towards The Dominion.

  “Will do.” Ilisa said. “Olaf, do the same.”

  “G-gotcha.” Olaf's usual jovial voice was cracked and unrecognisable.

  As he neared The Dominion, Ilisa and Olaf laid down fire upon the Reapers surrounding it, staying just behind Strom in a triangular formation. Strom fired on The Dominion, punching small holes in the ship's hull. Concentrating his fire on one area, he felt a warm satisfaction when a few Xaosians were sucked out into the vacuum of space, but it was only a shallow distraction. His chest felt constricted and his forehead slick with sweat, and neither had anything to do with his strike on The Dominion.

  The flagship's engines glowed orange, before it started to move. “Xaos is fleeing!” yelled one of the other pilots over the ship's com. As The Dominion sped up, Strom tried to follow, the Stinger's engines being pushed to the limit as he did so, before The Dominion activated it L-Drive and disappeared into the depths of space, leaving only Reapers behind.

  “Let's ge' back to the ground.” Strom said to Ilisa and Olaf. “I imagine they could use all the help they can ge'.”

  Strom turned the Stinger around and shot back down towards Tapal. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the flames from the Sea of Oil engulf the coast, presumably destroying coastal towns such as Grist and Jheak. He forced himself to look away. “Strom!” Olaf yelled, “We got Reapers on our tail!”

  Something hit Strom's ship, and he knew Olaf was right. Going in to a barrel roll, he avoided more of the Reapers' attacks. As he rolled to the left, he cast his gaze back and saw the two Reapers, each firing from the chain-gun on their nosecone. The nail-like bullet in Strom's Stinger exploded, taking out one of his thrusters;only four left now. The screen blinked a brief warning before Strom slapped it, swiftly dismissing it. “Olaf, Ilisa, how are you faring?”

  “One wing's been taken out!” Ilisa shouted quickly; panicked. “I've got it under control for now though.”

  “They've split up now,” Olaf said, the slight waver in his voice suggested to Strom that he was trying to keep a level tone. “One's following Strom, and the other...I think we've lost it!” Strom could imagine Olaf's smile at that point.

  “That's great, just one to worry about.”

  “Olaf, the other Reaper's behind you!” Strom heard Ilisa yell, a sense of desperation pouring off of her voice.

  “Damn!” came Olaf's reply. Strom veered the Stinger around as Olaf continued, “They taken out a thruster...two thrusters, they're right on me, I can't get around them!” Strom saw the Reaper carefully storming after Olaf; it was a good pilot. Strom locked the Reaper in his sights and fired on it, but the pilot did a barrel roll as they it on Olaf. One bullet took out another thruster, another the right wing.

  The final pierced the cockpit, draining the air out of it, before it exploded, launching Olaf into space. Strom pushed the Stinger's four remaining thrusters to the maximum for what seemed like an age, his heart beating against his chest as if it, too, wanted to save Olaf faster than he could. His fists were clenched, but he didn't notice as his nails bit into his skin. It was mere seconds before he got to Olaf, but Strom knew that it had taken a lifetime as soon as he saw Olaf's body; the bullet had punched a hole through his chest. Throwing on his spacesuit, he got out of the cockpit and, with tears in his eyes, cradled his best friend. “Olaf!” he called, but no-one could hear.

  Olaf smiled at Strom briefly, before his eyes closed forever.

  Chapter 11

  Tors 2

  The bottom-most floor of the house was rather bland, Tors thought. There was nothing on the whitewashed walls that could be seen as decoration, only a sheet of mould above Pandora's screen; obviously caused by the damp in the air. Winds continued to buffet outside, illustrated by the few remaining signs and trees pointing the wind forward. The rain had subsided slightly, or at least, Tors thought it had; the pounding on the windows was not as loud as it was before.

  “Rain's easing a bit now.” Tors turned to the others and gave them a half-hearted smile; their house was almost levelled now and they all knew that if the winds got any worse, the house would cease to exist. Acknowledging his smile, Pandora raised her eyebrows and gave a brief nod whilst comforting her hair; it felt her fear. Emola stood at the screen, trying to turn it on but to no avail. “It's not turning on, Emola.”

  “God dammit all!” Emola's scales flashed briefly to a darker blue and he kicked the base of the screen. Tors heard his one of his toes crack as it met the base and Emola winced and grimaced. “Power's out still.”

  “Course it is,” Pandora muttered. The power had been out for about an hour now, shortly after the two higher levels were destroyed. “No-one to fix it.”

  Emola looked round at her and fixed her with a scathing look. “Don't be sarcastic with me.”

  “Why? It was obvious it wasn't going to work.” Pandora rose from her chair, hair bristling as if it was challenging Emola.

  Emola sighed. “Yeah...”

  Pandora sat back down, and her hair wrapped itself around her chest. “Why did I come here?”

  “I don't know,” Tors said non-committally, “Something history based?”

  “I could have gone anywhere else,” Tors did not know if she had heard him, or if she was even listened him. “But instead I find myself on a dying world, just to see a glimpse of Adjeti technology. And all it was was the wrecked engine of the world-burner! Nothing interesting! I expected satellites, weapons...”

  She continued for a while more, but Tors had stopped listening by that point and he wondered over to the window. He watched the winds whip up everything on the ground and throw it into a whirlwind which powered through the streets, growing larger and larger as it went. Tors watched it in silence as took down a street-light and picked that up too, swinging it like a club at any victims it could find. But there was no-one outside. There never was anymore. People would rather starve than risk the wind and rain.

  The twister of debris stopped abruptly and dropped to the ground with a clatter. The street-light landed on its base, before it teetered briefly and fell with a clang. The few remaining trees fell back to a resting position and the windows stopped rattling. Silence.

  “The wind's stopped.” Tors observed. “Odd.”

  Emola and Pandora approached the window and checked that Tors was right. “Huh.” Emola said, “All it needed was your moaning!”

  Pandora reluctantly smiled at the jibe. “Shut up, you.”

  Emola smiled back, and Tors could see a sparkle in his eyes and a brief paling in his scales as he looked at her. Emola dragged his eyes away and looked out of the window again, craning his neck so as to look at everything. Naarl's house was still ruined, but most of it was scattered through the street. Tors was not upset with the old man's demise; he had already gone through that anguish a thousand times as everyone he knew was slowly killed by the storms.

  “Tors!”

  Tors turned to Emola, who was tugging on his shirt and looked terrified. Pandora also looked over abruptly. “Over there,” Emola pointed over to where another house stood, mostly intact. Tors could see the outlines of the inhabitants moving inside. “What is that?”

  Next to the house was swirling green whirlwind, similar to the one which had been carrying the debris. It moved closer until it reached the middle of the street. It was then when they realised that this was not a natural phenomenon; as they watched, the winds unfurled into a serpentine form comprised entirely of the green, always moving gas. Tors stepped away from the window, and so did the others. “The hell is that?” Emola seemed breathless; presumably out of fear, Tors dared not look away from the creature just to check Emola's scales. He knew that his own would be the darkest they had ever been.

  The gas at one end of the entity shifted itself into an ovoid shape and Tors saw something bright red within it; an eye perhaps? The ovoid opened into four pieces and let
out a scream that echoed around the street, bounding off of the walls. It was impossible to aptly describe what it sounded like, but Tors knew what it felt like; pure fear injected into his ears, complete with the pain.

  “We're going to die, aren't we?” Emola's question remained unanswered as the creature's head closed up again.

  The red light from inside the creature's head seemed to scan everything around it, before it faded again and the creature disappeared. Tors let out a sigh of relief and the tension in the room was shattered.

  In their rush to comfort each other, neither Emola nor Pandora noticed that the winds began to pummel the street as soon as the creature disappeared.

  Chapter 12

  Strom 5

  “Olaf?” Strom slapped his face but Olaf could not respond. Ilisa floated next to Strom now and was cradling her brother's head in her hands, stroking his hair with shaking hands. “No.” Strom breathed the word as he ran his scanner over Olaf's body once more; still no pulse.

  “Help me get him to my ship,” Ilisa's voice seemed thicker than normal, all vitality drained from it. “I have a reviver pack there.”

  In the anti-gravity of space, Olaf weighed nothing, but the logistics of moving a limp object in three dimensions was never simple. Eventually, they carefully placed Olaf in Ilisa's cockpit; for a moment he looked peaceful, like he was sleeping. Ilisa sealed the cockpit and removed her helmet, before heading to the back of the small craft, taking care not to lean on Olaf; difficult in the small space of the Stinger. Strom took his helmet off too, and looked upon Olaf properly. His face was deathly pale and, as Strom put his ungloved hand to his cheek, cold as ice. Moving to Olaf's stomach, he slowly and carefully eased Olaf's shirt off. The shirt itself was stained with blood, but as Strom removed it, he saw that only traces of blood had made it on to the stomach. And as he moved the shirt up past the chest, he retched; even though the hole seemed clinically placed (a small cylinder carved into the chest), it was coated in dry blood; not much of it was liquid now.