Emergence (Unedited Edition)

by Chris Harris

  “Fight!”

  *

  “Lock and load! We're going in!”

  The commander's yell broke Maron's stupor, and he realised that he must have been staring gormlessly at the floor for a good ten minutes. Feeling like an idiot, he picked up his T-18 assault weapon from where it stood next to him; the T-18 was not classed as a melee or ranged weapon, because it did both oh-so well. The weapon itself appeared to be a greatsword, with one edge being replaced with a cylindrical barrel. The hand-guard on the weapon's hilt acted as both protection and the trigger, and a bullet-belt was fed into the the barrel, with the belt itself being tucked into his armour. Belts were present on both of his arms, with a point to attach the T-18, meaning he could switch hands or even dual-wield. As he stood up, he noted that the weapon was strangely light for what was packed into it, but then he remembered about the small anti-grav chip within it, which negated its weight, allowing him to use the blade part of the T-18 with both ease and speed.

  He mingled in with the others as they made their way to their combat-pods. As he approached his own, marked with his delegated code 098764, he remembered how much he hated them from the drills. Closing his visor and air-locking it, he stepped into the pod, forcing his way through the impact gel. A small light came on, reflecting green off of the gel. The inside of the pod was a dull grey; a stark contrast from the red and gold colours of the Orban fleet.

  And the grey was too damn close.

  His breathing, naturally shallow from years on the Ukafa Sticks, was even more so now, as the walls themselves seemed to be closing in around him. Cold straps snapped around his waist and shoulders, shocking him as if an enemy had attacked. The pod squealed three times, before it shot out of the Liberator it was housed in like a bullet from a pistol. Regaining his composure, he managed to turn on the com and ask which flagship he was going to be boarding, only to hear the response he dreaded.

  “The Dominion; Xaos's flagship.”

  *

  Along with the numbers, actions and words that the voices whispered to him, Xaos heard the battle outside from a thousand perspectives. Reaper pilots cheering, or dying. Troops landing on New Orbus, some still zooming towards it, before the impact set them free. But right now, he had one main priority.

  FORCEFIELD DOWN

  Alarms should be going off but they weren't; Xaos figured that the Orban pilots had hit something controlling them. Odd that they reacted with strange composure after the allies arrived, Xaos noted. Not human at all. They would make good additions, if he could slip an Inducer on them. He sensed the Pyrkagia Primary in the Inducer network and the whispers made him smile; that was an easy victory, just a quick sleight of hand and the entire race, bound to the Primary, was his. He now understood the Pyrkagia Swarm more than ever. If he concentrated, he could see allies around the Empire. Irin, Buun, Rat'hak, Prauw, he could see them all.

  But that mattered not.

  Through the web, he beckoned his guards to him; it was time to leave.

  *

  The weightlessness of space gave Maron a brief respite from his claustrophobia, but the silence was all too eerie. Then the sound started again with a smash. Maron was thrown forward, the straps constricting around the armour. He placed his finger firmly on the T-18's trigger as the pod opened like a rosebud. There were two other comrades with him, slowly getting out of their pods. He walked briskly over to them, forcefully pulling them from their pods; they had to hurry, before the Xaosians got here. Together, they broke up the pods, turning the individual “petal” elements on their side to act as makeshift cover. Using the sword, Maron made an incision in the metal in which to steady it, ready to fire. His heartbeat sped up; he could feel a vein in his neck pulsing, and he wasn't sure if he was excited or terrified. Looking around, he saw the nervousness in his allies' movements; the juddering, sharp motions, coupled with the anxiety at every sound gave them away.

  The room they were in was practically empty, and he was glad that this ship had auto-repair functions; a wave of molten metal had already smothered the hole made by the combat-pods, and the metal was beginning to harden and seal itself. There were a few boxes in the corner of the room, and some plastic containers, but he could tell by their size that there was nothing of use. From outside the room, he could hear gunfire: Xaosian guns; the X-46 Devastator had a very identifiable sound to it.

  He ran over to the door, beckoning at the others to follow. They did so, taking up positions on the opposite side of the door to him. He pressed a button and the carnage outside was displayed to them. More Empire troops littered the ground than Xaosian. Much more. Evidently the Xaosians were actually trained for war, rather than mostly ceremony, hence the lavish red and gold. He could hear footsteps coming, and voices shouting.

  “More troops have breached the hull!”

  “Swoop in on both sides, cut them off!”

  Maron listened closely, and readied his weapon. It was time to fight.

  *

  The Xaosians fired on them, and bodies dropped, twitching. Cinradahs watched the bodies go down, noting the use of stun ammunition. Cinradahs ran at a Xaosian, smashing the beam into the Xaosian's head, slightly cracking it. The Xaosian rolled with the hit, before smashing the gun into his face. Cinradahs fell to the ground, blood seeping from his temple. The Xaosian fiddled with the dial on his gun, aimed briefly, and shot him through the shoulder. The bullet passed through muscle, skin and bone until it embedded itself in the floor and Cinradahs screamed. The Xaosian ignored him and continued its march towards the Spire, changing back to stun ammo, taking down person after person. Even the Hak'i went down after several hits from several soldiers; the Xaosian army seemed invincible against the standard citizens. Too late, Cinradahs realised that he should have called troops to the surface. Saiun smashed another beam into a Xaosian, knocking them back, before he was shot down by another. Cinradahs tried to move towards him, to check that he was just stunned; being a water-breathing creature, the Quarens were more susceptible to the stun ammo.

  A strange sound filled the sky, some kind of scraping sound. He looked up, his vision blurred from the pain, and saw several boomerang-shaped vessels shoot by. Brow furrowing in confusion, Cinradahs watched them closely; he had never seen a ship like that.

  When they began to fire on the ground, he shielded himself, even though he knew it would be futile. Dust and dirt flew up at him, and he felt the impact of the ships' projectiles, but when he peeked again, he realised that the ships were firing on the Xaosians. The Titans moved in to fight the strange ships, but they were too fast and well-armed for the ships to stand a chance.

  From the ships, red humanoids clad in what appeared to be a armour made of bone dropped to the ground, landing powerfully on knee, foot and hand. The Xaosians shot at them, but the beings were too fast for the slower stun ammunition to hit and even it did, the alien was only knocked back slightly. Without warning, their armour twisted, with what Cinradahs had assumed were gauntlets, becoming cylindrical barrels. Some had the barrels, some had blades up there arms.

  The Xaosians switched from projectile-stun to projectile-kill ammunition and began to fire, while the beings with the barrel-arms shot red bullet-like pellets from their armour, laying down covering fire for the charging group of warriors. Cinradahs couldn't help but feel a sigh of relief when he saw one of them slice through Xaosian armour, cleaving what was inside in two.

  The tide of battle was turning.

  *

  Maron thanked the lords that the doorway was narrow and tough; it meant that he was a harder target, and the likelihood of the doorway breaking and leaving him vulnerable was reduced slightly. He saw a Xaosian emerge from cover, and everything seemed to slow down. He took aim, steadying the weapon. Pulled the trigger, and watched the Xaosian's helmet shatter; he was still alive, but it made the next shot easier, which hit the shocked Xaosian between the eyes. Dead. Maron felt some satisfaction; he hadn't had a chance to practise his marksmanship for yea
rs, not since the shooting range was closed down.

  A bullet narrowly missed him, but the perpetrator was taken down by the other two on his three-man team. He shook his head; they wasted bullets like there was an endless supply. Amateurs. Patience wins shoot-outs, not the amount of bullets or weapons, but patience. Maron reckoned that he could take out all of the Xaosians in the corridor on his own, if he had the time. A bullet was fired towards him, and he ducked back behind the frame.

  An explosion sounded from further along the corridor; more of his comrades had broken through. The Xaosians were forced out of their hiding places, and as they backed away, Maron changed position in the doorway, allowing him to aim at the Xaosians easier. He counted twelve of them. Two bullets for each. Three if they move too much. Thirty six bullets in total theoretically.

  One: cracked helmet.

  Two: in the throat. Dead.

  Three: cracked helmet.

  He was better than he thought when he killed the second Xaosian, and he silently congratulated himself, until one of his team fell loosely onto him. He pushed his comrade off of him, ignoring the bullet-holes in his face. Maron didn't know him, so he'd grieve later; he was busy. He went over to the body and unclipped the corpse's T-18, clipping it into his own left hand as backup.

  An explosion rocked the ship, and Maron fell to the ground, slamming the back of his head on the cold metal. Red flares lit up his vision briefly. The ship shook again; something was firing on it. The Xaosians had steadied themselves, and began picking off Maron's comrades. Knowing that he'd be next, he ran further into the room, hiding behind the combat-pod's petals; more of a difficult target when they come after him. Making another incision, he readied both guns in their slots.

  If he was to die, he wasn't going to make it easy for them.

  *

  A squadron of the boomerang-shaped ships flew over the Xaosian ships, firing on the flagships to disable; the life-scanners told Keinam that there was not just Xaosians aboard. Even in his role as Warchief and Commander of the Adjeti fleet, he hadn't expected a space battle so soon, least of all one which combined both of their enemies. He broadcast a signal to another ship to scan the Hive-Ships while he concentrated on disabling Xaos's fleet; he'd already sent some of the Wing-Ships to head off the larger ships that had made their way down to the dead world.

  Keinam's ship was larger than the standard Wing-Ships, but pretty much the same proportions overall. It just housed nine Adjeti instead of the usual three, and most of them were on weapons duty. Four on each side, with Keinam in the centre. Although each of the eight would have controls for their weapon posts, Keinam ultimately had overrides for all of them, and preferred to pilot his ship on his own. On his own, he used both motion controls and voice commands to control his vessel. He pointed at a small Xaosian ship and said “Cannon L3. Destroy.” The cannon proceeded to do so, tracking the ship until it disassembled silently. Keinam always imagined the explosion sounds; he wasn't sure why, but he assumed it was his way of holding on to his inner child, however deeply buried it was.

  He swooped in over the third Xaosian flagship, opening fire on it; he could tell that the forcefield was down, as the bludgeons were powering through the hull. Unlike modern vessels, Adjeti preferred primarily to simply attach a rocket to a massive weight and fire it through an enemy ship; space warfare didn't need explosions, but Keinam still imagined the crashes and mini explosions.

  “Sir?” An Adjeti voice came over the com, as clear as if he were standing right next to him; Adjeti tech was always far more advanced than the rest of the Empire's, and were still even after hundreds of years.

  Keinam motioned to the ship to close off voice commands, before answering the com with an authoritative tone which did not come naturally to him. “What is it?”

  “I scanned the Pyrkagia's Hive-Ships. You'll never guess what!”

  A level of excitement crept into Keinam's tone, which he tried to kill. “What?”

  “The Primary's here! In just a standard Hive-Ship! This is our chance to take him out!”

  Keinam nodded, accidentally moving the ship at the same time. “Yes. How many are on board with him?”

  “Three, commander. Four in total.”

  Keinam chuckled. “Excellent. Mark the Hive-Ship on my screen.” Every Adjeti ship had a small screen which displayed the area, mapped out by vibration technology; an adapted version of sonar or radar for space. The ship was marked with a bright yellow, and Keinam was initially confused by the colour choice, before choosing to ignore it and move on. He turned the voice commands back on. “Ship. Follow the marked Hive-Ship, and prepare for boarding.”

  *

  Xaos rushed away from the gunshots and shouts, two guards flanking him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw no-one coming, but was sure that someone would. He pushed on the guards' back, urging them to hurry up, but not wanting to talk in case people were listening. He wanted to cry out for more help, but the whispers forced him silent. They also told him to take the small ship in the centre of The Dominion in order to escape; namely, the ship that was actually part of the flagship's structure, and contained the vault of Inducers. He opened the vault and climbed in, before pushing a button that closed the ship up, and ejected it. The ship whined, before falling away from the main flagship. Xaos set the L-Drive to maximum, and entered the co-ordinates for Rat'hak. Time to leave. He glanced at the guards, neither of which had Inducers, but were looking at the ones littered throughout the vault. Without hesitation, Xaos pulled out a pistol and shot them both dead; they could not be able to know the truth about them. Xaos fell to his seat, but the voice in his ear told him not to feel bad about the murder; emotions were for the weak.

  *

  Maron held the Xaosians off on his own, and he was starting to amass quite a collection of corpses. Although he had been shot more times than he'd liked, the only damage so far was to his armour, but there were so many near misses. His visor was cracked, another bullet there would shatter it. His patience was what got him through, and kept him alive. The Xaosians that had entered the room were dead now, but he knew there would be more to come. As he sat with his back resting on the combat-pod's petal, he felt the vibrations from the bang of another bullet denting the thick metal; those things can survive most impacts, bullets were never going to do much, merely a scare tactic.

  Nodding as he did so, Maron counted the bullets and listened to the footsteps; too close, he'd kill them regardless. The X-46 had a standard ten-round clip of each ammo, but could be expanded to anything up to fifty. Most, however, didn't expand, due to the bulk of the weapon; it was easier just to carry more clips.

  Nine.

  Ten.

  Grabbing trigger of both T-18s, Maron took aim and fired at the Xaosian, one after the other, shattering the helmet and putting the second bullet in his forehead. He was getting bored of the tactic, but he couldn't deny that it worked; one misfire and he was as good as dead.

  More gunshots from outside as more of his comrades fought back. He even heard armour cracking, before a squelch; someone was using the blade. Maron couldn't be bothered to use the blade; he was good with it, but rushing to use it could get you killed. Better in one-on-one combat.

  One of his comrades stopped by the door, looked at the Xaosian corpses and then at Maron's makeshift gun emplacement. “Damn mate, you did well.”

  Maron nodded in thanks of the compliment. “Better than well; most of the one's in the corridor were me too.”

  “Well, you'll be glad to know that we've scared Xaos off; he fled in a small vessel. We've won!”

  Maron breathed a sigh of relief.

  It was over.

  *

  Keinam shot out the Hive-Ship's thrusters as he reached it, pretty much stopping it in it's tracks, before donning a spacesuit; most Hive-Ships didn't bother with oxygen supplies, the Pyrkagia don't really need it. The Adjeti spacesuits actually had a hole in the centre of the chest, where the subject's exoskeleton is relea
sed from sits, allowing him to activate his natural armour while still being able to breathe. Opening a hatch on his ship, Keinam caught his breath and, despite his fear, managed to keep his heartbeat stable; he hadn't done a jump like this in decades.

  He jumped.

  The experience was dull compared to his memories; maybe it was because the ships were so close, maybe it was because he was older. Ignoring disappointment, he activated his exoskeleton, unable to feel the usual warmth as it spread over his body. His hand twisted into a blade, and he sliced the top of the Hive-Ship open like a can-opener.

  Dropping through, he took the Pyrkagia by surprised, grabbing one of the Hive-Stones, shifting his skeleton's material and crushing it. One down. Ducking under a panicked punch, he reached up and crushed another stone, before slamming his other fist into another, cracking it. The Pyrkagias roared in pain, and lashed out at Keinam, who was hit this time, and knocked to the ground. He groaned; he was too old for this shit. The Primary came over, silent, and reached down to him. Keinam threw himself to the side, and reached up to the Primary's Hive-Stone; he was too old and slow to resist and fight back as Keinam crushed him, turning his enemy to dust in his hand. The other Pyrkagias stopped dead in his tracks, and screamed as the Swarm network broke down in tatters. The bugs became unruly, and the stone dropped to the ground. One by one, the bugs dropped to the floor, dead; the race would survive, but the ones close to the Primary felt the shockwave of his death more than those on Buun. The Secondary would reconnect the threads of the network and ascend to be the new Primary. Keinam cursed; victory was a long way away. As he turned to leave, he noticed a small, cylindrical object on the ground. Picking it up, he recognised as what he had assumed was a Xaosian earpiece. But the way it was made and shaped made him think otherwise. Pocketing it, he headed back to his own ship.

  *

  Saiun woke from unconsciousness with a strange amount of energy, and bolted over to Cinradahs, who was just about conscious. Noticing his shoulder, Saiun tore a piece of cloth from his shirt and wrapped it round it as a makeshift bandage; it may be able to stop the blood loss for now. Cinradahs looked up at Saiun, and then at the strange beings that had saved them. He nodded in thanks to Saiun, too tired and drained to speak, before gesturing at the beings. Saiun told him to save his energy.