by Tao Wong
I slide backward, panting, as I see the entire room has erupted into battle. Katherine is cowering with other non-combatants in one corner, a series of portable shields safeguarding them. I spot Peter—the Planetary Diplomat—with them, standing at the forefront, ready to trigger his ultimate skill if necessary. Diplomatic Immunity will give him, and hopefully everyone behind him, temporary immunity from all damage. Roxley, Vir, and the rest of the Truinnar are caught in a skirmish with the Movana and their allies, though it seems to be a stalling action rather than a predatory one. Phil, in the small gap provided to him, has actually gained the upper hand on Emven and is literally beating him into the floor with a pipe wrench. And surprisingly, Ali is dealing with both of Fang Lei’s bodyguards while Ingrid stands over Fang Lei’s prone form, her dagger slowly inching its way toward his brain.
“Ingrid…?” I say in surprise.
The First Nation’s woman is bleeding, one side of her body fileted, the bone and a few organs visible. Her foot is half-removed and she’s squinting through a haze of blood, but there’s grim determination on Ingrid’s face. Even as Fang Lei uses his hand, straightened and sharpened with Mana, to slice and stab into her body to throw her off, she attacks.
I raise a hand, ready to trigger Two are One even as I drop out of Haste, but I’m interrupted. Asgauver gets in the way with his bulk, throwing a roundhouse kick so strong it could bring down a building. I do the lambada, dropping beneath the kick and popping back up to stab my sword into the hippo’s body. I snarl, shoving forward as I conjure my other blades, twisting and cutting to get around my opponent and cast my Skill at Ingrid. But even though I’m boosted with Vanguard, the damn hippo is too big and wide and the few glimpses I get of her are insufficient, especially as the smoke rolls back in.
“Can’t hold on much longer, boy-o.”
“Damn it.” I snarl and give up, focusing on finishing this fight.
The werehippo’s massive health pool and passive regeneration is a problem, as is his ability to lock down my Portaling abilities. A punch comes in and I hop upward, landing on a blade that still sticks out of the Kudaya’s body. I cut with one sword into his shoulder to give me even more of a lift before I thrust the sword in my hand. The attack plunges into his eye, blinding Asgauver. As he staggers back, Asgauver unleashes another scream, the sonic attack throwing me into the ceiling.
The ceiling crumples under my body, steel and more exotic metals warping. Phil is distracted for a second, taking a blow from Emven.
As he struggles to his feet, another voice echoes, “We got the station, Commander. Kick his ass!”
Reinforcements pour in, the remainder of the ISS’s crew appearing. Like Phil, they’ve got the Levels and Skills to make a difference, and the moment they arrive, my Skill boosts their attributes. A purple light bathes Asgauver, and I note his Mana bar shrinking visibly under its effects. As the air scrubbers kick into overdrive with a whine, clearing the smoke, the werehippo focuses in on me.
“You will not win!” Asgauver howls.
I release myself from the crumpled metal and get my feet bunched up behind me. I propel myself past the Kudaya, aiming for where I last saw Ingrid. A part of me is swearing, wishing I had her on my party info. But it never occurred to me, not during what should have been a peaceful, even joyous occasion.
“Ingrid!” I slam into the floor next to their prone bodies.
Fang Lei has a dagger stuck in his eye, the victim of a fatal dose of metal poisoning. And real poison too, if I know anything about Ingrid. But it’s the First Nation’s woman I’m concerned about.
I push against her still form. “No!”
I hear movement behind me and my body reacts, reaching backward and conjuring my sword to block the blow. It smashes into my angled sword and keeps coming, the floor beneath my feet buckling as my hand collapses. But even as the blow lands on my body, I hold myself up and away from the charred, flayed, and still corpse.
“You idiot. You should have run…” I swear at the corpse, tears filling my eyes.
Another blow, the physical pain a dull reminder that a fight is going on around me. But it’s distant, a minor ache compared to the loss of another friend. A stupid, senseless loss. She could have survived if she had run. She could have tried again. I don’t even know why she acted, what prompted her to kill Fang Lei. We could have…
Another blow, this one so hard it cracks a few ribs. My head throbs, muscles groan, and I touch her body, dumping it into my Altered Space. As another attack comes, I twist and dodge, rising to my feet. My hand conjures a plunger of Mana Potion that goes into a torn, exposed section of armor.
“Face me, you coward. I’ll show you why the Fist are not to be angered!” Asgauver swings again, his hand burning with power.
“Ali, have everyone leave.”
Then I let it loose, the anger that sits in my soul. The pain I keep hidden. He took my friend away. If he hadn’t blocked me, I could have saved her. He cost me a friend. So I’m going to take his life. And his friend’s life. And his city.
The world turns red as Asgauver learns what it means to deal with the fury of a Paladin.
***
Frenzy. It’s an old Skill, one I rarely use because while it reduces the pain I feel and the amount of damage I can deal, along with increasing my Stamina regeneration, my Mana regeneration drops. With the huge drain on Mana most of my Skills have, Frenzy isn’t as suited for me as it would be for like someone like Asgauver. But there’s a much more important reason to keep it off—the damn Skill doesn’t let me retreat or back off until all my enemies are slain.
Interestingly enough, the first time I activate Frenzy after my Master Class upgrade, I realize I’m actually able to think. Previous usages of the Skill reduced my conscious decision-making ability significantly. Luckily, for one reason or another, I have a little skill at fighting and so much of my unconscious decision-making is correct. But against a Master like Asgauver, reacting rather than thinking might be deadly.
All of these thoughts flash through my rage-filled mind in the time it takes to slip his punch. I’m inside his guard, my sword cutting sideways and moving. Because now, I’m no longer fighting him alone. A half dozen others are here, individuals who are part of the Fist or chose to act when they did. The Chinese bodyguards are my first target, a Blade Strike catching one high while I dash toward the next.
Vanguard of the Apocalypse thrums through my body even as my Aura of Chivalry works on them all. I can feel the attention that is drawn to me, the anger and focus targeted at me, and I find myself grinning. Grinning wide.
A cut, a punch, then I grab and toss the other Chinese guard at Asgauver. The giant hippo bats the man away, his body flying into the windows and causing a spider-web of cracks. The hiss and hum of over-worked ventilators surround us, as does the acrid smell of urine and spilt blood. I open fire at other fighters with a newly conjured beam pistol, using the attack to disrupt formations rather than for pure damage. A shot takes Emven in the back of the head, giving Phil the opening he needs to put his fist through his opponent’s chest.
Ali is cajoling, pulling, and at times throwing people out of the room. Lana is guiding out Katherine and the other non-Combatants, Shadow and Roland somehow having made their way up here. I’m curious how that happened, but only in an abstract, clinical way. I’m too busy with kiting Asgauver and annoying everyone else, jumping, sprinting, and sliding across the giant room, blades cutting and pistol firing.
Blood flows and Mana drops, my body feeling the strain of my actions even as I push as hard as I can to stay ahead of Asgauver. I don’t always succeed, the hippo being larger as well as fast and smart enough to know when to use his ranged attacks. And as I attract more and more attention, the attacks pile on. I bleed health points and suffer actual damage. But the cracked ribs, the dislocated shoulder, the torn hamstring are nothing compared to the anger in my soul and the pain in my heart.
“We’re out! Phil is closing down the
observatory. You’ve got until he’s done with Emven out here.”
So. Emven’s still alive. Surprising. But that’s more than enough time.
I skid to a stop and turn, holding both swords I conjure in front of me. Muscles creak and my hands tremble as I cross the weapons to soak up the most recent series of attacks, my legs buckling and tearing up the floor beneath me. A pause, a fraction of a second to clear my mind. Time enough to conjure a Skill.
Light explodes from nowhere, filling the room via the windows before the Beacon tears through the ceiling. Metal vaporizes and bathes all of us in the raging inferno of the Beacon’s attack. The Advanced Classers in the room die, pain ripping through their bodies as the Mana-based attack ignores their defenses. Air rushes out, picking up and throwing debris into the endless void, while the thumps of blast doors through the soles of my feet inform me the station is taking steps to protect itself.
Asgauver shoulders his way through the pain, grabbing me and lifting me to slam my body into the floor. A part of me is thankful for his actions, for I call another Beacon down on us. I’m sheltered from the direct effects of my own attack by the hippo’s leaning body, close enough to see his eyes widen as skin flays and burns away, exposing bone.
When the Beacon dies off, Asgauver has one hand held over me, the other pinning me. He’s bleeding, skin burned away, flesh cut and muscles chopped apart from our repeated clashes. The Kudaya is in pain, conscious through a sheer exertion of will. But I’m not much better. I drop all my other Mana-intensive Skills, staring at the bar of my Mana pool. Not enough. But that’s okay.
“Any last words to pass on to your friends when I bring your corpse out?” Asgauver taunts, slamming me back into the floor when I twitch.
I cough, feeling something snap in my back. “Yeah. Army of One,” I whisper and activate the Skill, watching my health plummet as the Skill takes from my body what it cannot from Mana. Another ‘gift’ from my time away, an understanding of how the world, the System works.
Blades appear around my prone body even as I conjure the original in my hand and stab upward. Blades, glowing with ethereal power, launch into Asgauver’s body with such force he is ripped from my body. I stagger upward, staring as the giant Master Class is pushed outside of the range of the artificial gravity that holds us to the station.
My head throbs with a pain that would probably cripple me if I wasn’t in my Frenzy state. I stare at the helpless Asgauver floating in space, his blood frosting over as the giant hippo twitches. Even the Master Class’s monstrous health pool and his numerous damage-soaking Skills aren’t enough.
“Should have taken their advice,” I whisper then gesture, pulling a beam rifle into my hand. I open fire, just in case.
Chapter 23
When I’m finally done, I find myself standing in the silence of space. Ali is darting back from Asgauver’s corpse, having flown over and stripped the giant hippo of his gear. A part of me is surprised to note the Spirit’s already done the same for the various other corpses, but I shake off the thought as my senses return to me slowly with no additional threats around me.
There’s no hiss of escaping air any longer, just the throb of warning sirens beneath my feet and strobing red warning lights which indicate the room has been depressurized. My lungs ache from the lack of oxygen, eyeballs burning and frosting over under the cracked helmet. My body aches with the lack of oxygen, my lungs clawing for much-needed sustenance as my Skill flickers off and pain returns.
I look upward, seeing the gaping hole I created when I called forth the Beacon of Angels, melting armor and damaging the Galactics within. If not for the floor being reinforced by the Commander and an unconscious flexing of my own Skill, it might have torn through the floor too. For a moment, the silence of the vacuum consumes me, the unhindered view of the stars and Earth below bringing with it its own sense of peace.
“Eh, boy-o. I can keep throwing Heals on you, but you’re running out of health here either way.”
“Sorry.” I tap the helmet and toss it back into my storage then pull out another one and clip it on. It’s not as good, but for a spare, it does its job perfectly.
A second later, it covers my face, the warmth from my body heating up the tiny sealed space. Oxygen, stored in a small reservoir within the helmet, pumps in, filling the emptiness in my lungs. It’s barely enough for a minute of normal use and my body consumes it hungrily.
“Not even the sense to put on a helmet in vacuum.” Ali’s mental grumbling is comforting in my numb state. A familiar refrain.
With a shake of my head, I walk toward the exit. At the door, I frown, realizing I have no idea how to get in without depressurizing the rest of the station.
“One second.” The Spirit darts through the door, phasing right through it before his vision is impressed on me.
A moment later, I Blink Step into the warm, oxygenated corridor. The sudden shift in temperature is comfortable at first then painful, as dead nerves regenerate and cold flesh warms. I grunt through the pain while Phil stands in front of me, blocking my friends.
“Mr. Lee,” Phil says. “Take a moment to gather yourself. Say goodbye to your friends. Then I expect you to leave.”
“You’re banishing him?” Lana says, her eyes wide.
“He continued fighting after he was ordered to stop. He caused significant damage to the station. Be grateful I’m only banishing him for a period and not permanently,” Phil says.
When Lana opens her mouth to argue, I shake my head. It’s more than fair. And I’ve got better things to do on Earth anyway.
“Where’s Rob?” I ask.
“He’s back on Earth, under serious guard,” Lana says. “I dispatched Roland and Shadow to join them too. He should be safe enough.”
I nod. I know his security detail, and while they might not be Master Classes yet, they’re not that far away. If it weren’t for their need to constantly guard their charges, with the talent and dedication those men—and women—have, they’d be much higher Leveled. “Roxley?”
Lana shakes her head. “He had to leave. The Truinnar are busy reorganizing and discussing the fallout and keeping an eye on the Movana. There’s a lot of fighting going on on Earth now, with the Indian and Chinese settlements mobilizing and the Galactics getting ready to pick off anyone still left standing.”
I grunt, closing my eyes, then open them. My voice, when it comes out, is cold and aloof, the emotions shoved aside for now. “Ingrid’s dead.”
“I know.” Lana’s voice is laced with pain but carefully controlled.
“Katherine, can you liaise with Phil? Let’s see what we can do to help him fix up the station. And make sure this never happens again,” I say, and the older woman gives a short nod. I turn to Lana, my voice growing colder as my mind turns. “Get an occupation force ready.”
“John…”
“Don’t worry. I won’t do anything stupid. But they’re down a Master Class and are stretched thin. I’m going to take back those cities,” I say firmly. “And then, I’m going to take one of theirs.”
Lana’s brows furrow, but she nods as I knew she would. I turn to Phil, giving him a grateful nod. He didn’t need to give me the few minutes.
A second later, Phil engages the station’s teleportation matrix and I’m gone to another blood-soaked battlefield. War may be an extension of diplomacy, but it’s also what happens when greed overcomes diplomacy.
***
Days later, we’re gathered once more, up north. Not Whitehorse, because she didn’t come from the city. No, we went further. It took us hours to fight our way up, hours of dealing with creatures that once were a deadly threat and now are nothing but an excuse to vent.
We find ourselves at the remnants of the old cemetery a few kilometers upriver of the settlement. The cemetery is part of the Tr’ondëk Hwëch’in’s gathering place, a cultural center that is now barren and desolate, the few buildings shattered and grown over. The cemetery itself is on the top of the hil
l, overlooking the frozen Yukon River, older headstones and the white picket fence hidden beneath the snow. It takes a little time to clear the snow off the ground and form the grave. Afterward, we deposit her body within.
In minutes, I have a Portal open and friends stream in. People whose lives that quiet, sarcastic, and jaded woman touched. Jason and Rachel, Andrea and Mike, Vir and Capstan. A few of the champions. General Miller. More. People that I don’t know but who have requested an opportunity to say goodbye. And so, I open Portals and people stream in. Some who weren’t able to reach the waypoints I have available port in.
I have no words, no way to speak of the loss of another damn friend. But luckily, I have friends and they know what to say, what to do. And so, when the grave is closed, people speak.
Some of fond social times. Others, so many others, of times when Ingrid appeared in battle to save them. And some, a select few, of the woman behind the mask. Of the times when Ingrid let her guard down and laughed, when she smiled. When she forgot about the loss of her people, of all her friends and family. And then it’s my turn.
“I’ll miss her bannock,” I say, feeling the weight of the crowd’s attention on me. But I ignore them, staring at the small mound of earth that holds my friend. Such a small amount of space for a woman who had been larger than life. “I’ll miss her ribbing me, her attempts at keeping me grounded. I’ll miss her practical approach to problems…
“I’ll miss my friend. But I know, I believe, she died doing what she wanted. I believe she died because sometimes, some things can’t be accepted. She died giving us a chance to make Earth better.”
There’s silence before someone else speaks. I listen half-heartedly while staring at the grave. It’s strange. I’m not exactly sure why her death has hit me so hard. Perhaps it’s because after coming back after so long away, seeing my friends became more important than I thought. Perhaps it’s because I was stuck in hell for so long, and till now, I’ve not yet had time to relax. Or perhaps, perhaps, I miss what could have been.