by Odin Oxthorn
“Very well.” Every inch of her body warned her, the sirens itching across her nerves. She had to ignore them. “There is movement on their front. Abberon is waiting for us to make the first strike. And I think we should give him the pleasure.”
Their smile widened as they shifted their stance. An eager finger rubbed their chin as they considered the proposal. “What, exactly, did you have in mind?”
“Something on our own terms.” She passed them a data file, the map of the Separatist continent entrapped within a meshwork of battlements and structures. “Are you interested?”
Their smile widened as they examined the proposal. While they were never one to antagonize, they were a tinkerer by nature, wanting to gently poke and prod forces to see how far they could get. Nara admired that about them while she was their subordinate. Someone fueled by the simple motive of gaining knowledge. Finding out causation with experimentation. “We can be mobile in less than a few hours.”
“Good. I will be in touch.”
“I will await your call.” Jav’ril bowed and disconnected.
I wonder if the sky will answer. She summoned another call on the line, and to her surprise, the image of Commander Tosk appeared before her.
Nara tsked. “So this line does work.”
“You had my word, Savant,” the commander insisted. “What do you need?”
“Do you want command of your ship again?” A devious smirk morphed her features.
They leaned back in their chair, her enigmatic words piecing together in their brain. “What are you suggesting?”
“An instigation.”
Silence resonated from the channel as their piercing eyes studied her, the soft shifting of fabric breaking the stillness as the commander shifted in their seat. They folded their hands and pressed them against their lips, thoughts speeding through their mind as they considered her words.
“What you are asking for.” Their discomfort resonated from the speakers. “It’s treason.”
“Ötmarr’s Trust, Tosk,” she countered with an open palm. “There is no time.”
They uttered a pointed hum, and the channel went dark.
##9.2##
A dull pounding ache across his entire body stirred Garret awake, sending his head reeling, his guts threatening his throat with acidic spasms. The fuck am I?
He opened his eyes. Black.
He closed them. And opened them. Black.
The colors did not change as he blinked rapidly, surrounded by an ever-present darkness.
Shit.
The pressure in his chest did not cease, and when he tried to turn over, he was startled to find himself immobilized. He twisted and wrenched, every part of him below his neck coated in a metallic carapace. Panic seized his nerves as he thrashed inside his confines, his heart thudding against the constricting barrier.
A bolt of white light lashed through his eyes as he smacked his head against a wall, the dizziness halting his fit.
Stop it. Stop. He forced his eyes shut, restraining his breathing to a tolerable heave. Droplets of sweat streamed down his neck, and he focused on the cooling sensation. You’ve done this before. Use what is around you.
Quieting his mind, he tuned in to the environment. The air was still over his flushed cheeks, the coolness barely stirring around him. A faint mechanical hiss disrupted the hush, a wisp of cycling air. The ambience was reminiscent of the silent processes running inside a constructed domicile cube. While alone in Nara’s apartment, he would take comfort in the sounds. But now the vacancy pressed upon him like an impending doom.
At least I won’t suffocate. No obstacle impeded his movement as he tilted his forehead down as far as his neck would allow. He drank in a slow breath of air, testing the capacity of his lungs against the metal. In a slow, steady stream, he slowly released it through his mouth, the stream weakening. Nothing that broke the cone of air that passed his lips. There is room to move. Now what?
He flexed his fingers, grasping at the smooth material trapping him. The delicate scratch of his nails sent shivers up his veins, and his nerves began to fly away from him. The futility of his situation pressed harder than the restraints, and his heart kick started once more. I need to get out of here.
Clouds of sickly yellow-green crawled over his vision, the air squeezed from his throat by an invisible force. His panting breaths echoed inside the chamber, the erratic pattern dissolving in the distance. Dizziness seized his brain, gravity churning his senses as he struggled to remain conscious.
A sharp sensation rumbled in his pocket, forcing him still. The tremors sent reverberating waves of warmth across his thigh. My NetComm?
The throbs intensified, increasing in frequency. The barrage escalated to a concussive pulse warping around him. Within an instant, a POP shuddered the room, and the pressure on his bones violently released. A gasp forced out of his lungs as he crashed, his forehead smacking against a smooth surface.
What the fuck?! He pulled himself to his feet, his hands shaking as he frantically tore at the air for any obstacles in his path. He stood up on his toes, waving an arm above him. Nothing.
He pulled his NetComm out of his pocket, taking comfort in its dull, familiar glow. With agitated fingers, he pawed through the system for an open operation, but he could find nothing except an inconsequential system check running in the background. Dazed, he raised the device in front of him, illuminating the featureless box that he was contained in.
Running his fingertips along the walls, he walked around the border of the box, the boundaries the size of a reasonable bedroom. There were no hidden seams, no panels that he could reach to extract the room’s internal system.
Distracted by the puzzle of his location, he was unaware of the disturbance beneath him. He raised a foot to take another step forward and felt a leaden weight lick the bottom of his boot. Before he could pull away, the material snaked around his foot, wrapping around his ankles. He gasped as he yanked away, but his balance got the better of him.
With a yelp, he pitched to the ground, landing on the bone of a shoulder blade as he crashed. A sharp tear seared his ankle as the room maintained its grip on him. The pain intensified as he desperately struggled. His incoherent whimpers of terror filled the room while his tendons screamed for him to stop.
The voracious cold material reacted to his struggle, speeding up his legs and engulfing his calves. He pulled against the metallic mud, only to trap his hands inside the murk. His fingers seized as he scratched at the goo. It relentlessly migrated up his arms, curling around his torso. It gave him a gentle squeeze across his ribcage, making sure he knew he had no control.
A feral sense of self-preservation lashed over his skin. Shrieks of panic echoed across the chamber, his own voice deafening him. He panted for air, beating back the virulent liquid with erratic futile beats. Pops crackled over his ears as the room squeezed, a lashing pain through his heart as his bones gave way.
His screams reached a violent crescendo before his body could take no more. The air no longer sustained him. Ringing across his ears added to the cacophony, and he could no longer hear his own voice. Soon, there was nothing, a brutal tear into oblivion.
Chapter 10
##10.0##
“I have the report from my Shadow units,” Kestra announced to the assembly. Their digital form, along with Jav’ril and a few reliable officers, gathered in a circle around Nara.
“Were any of them compromised?” she asked.
“If they were, it was not made obvious.”
An orb manifested in the center of the congregation, inflating to the image of a rotating globe of the world. It slowed to a halt, a blob of red sweeping over the western hemisphere.
“If we assume by the reports of our scanning drones, the Separatist forces are centered on this continent. Given the short notice, the Shadows weren’t able to gather much on the outposts, but we can assume similar training grounds as Savant and I had observed last week.”
The proj
ection panned in to focus on a central continent. A satellite view of the landscape displayed a scattering of fortresses throughout the mass.
“The majority of the structures are barracks, command centers, farms, and training grounds. No reports of weapons manufacturing facilities, research bunkers, or even hangar bays, save for the ground vehicle storage of reasonable size.” Kestra shifted their stance. “At least on the surface. We were unable to dig further.”
Nara pressed a finger over her lips, leaning into the projection. “I am willing to bet that there won’t be any.”
A pensive silence fell over the officers, the gentle hum of the projection acting as a soundtrack for their thoughts. Glowing yellow lines sketched over the continent, connecting each highlighted base with strands of travel possibilities.
Jav’ril swiped a finger over the globe, enabling a filter that displayed the foliage covering the earth. Green dots of glitter sprayed over the image. Population densities and colonies of the common flora illustrated the landscape. The warlord analyzed the structures, emitting a hum of intrigue. “I agree. Life signs of major forestry appear undisturbed. You know exactly what Abberon is aiming for, don’t you?”
“Absolutely.” Kestra nodded.
The poor, defenseless refugees need to be saved from the violent despots controlling the government. Nara let a scoff out of her nose. Go and cry for help from bigger fish.
“Then our priorities haven’t changed,” Jav’ril agreed. “Expect little resistance.”
The officers in the room nodded in agreement.
“All teams are on standby,” Kestra reported. “I am sending everyone signals to the secured communication channels. Team leaders will give updates on operations as needed.”
“Understood.” Nara fastened her armor badge on her throat, initiating the command to cover her. “Good luck to all. The first sign of trouble, evacuate. We are running on a lot of assumptions.”
“Agreed. Over and out.” Kestra disappeared from the congregation, along with all supporting officers. Only Jav’ril remained, looking down at Nara with expressed concern.
“You really should not be down there.” Their voice hinted at a soft plea. “Far too much is at risk.”
She cast the remark aside, configuring settings on her HUD. “A leader needs to provide support.”
“An advisor needs to be kept out of danger,” they countered, folding their arms sternly. “Or else their wisdom is lost to generations.”
Nara hesitated, the warlord’s caution grating against her nerves. “That is not who I am.”
“I know.” The warlord bowed before their avatar flickered away. “Please be careful. Jav’ril out.”
The breeze caressed her cheek as she stared out beyond her modest encampment in the woods. She tried to ignore the warlord’s warning while she fidgeted with the shelter, attempting to redirect her irritation with the controls. After a few choice obscenities, the tent snapped into itself, reducing to a pocket-sized card before dropping in the weed-coated earth. She fished it out from hiding and placed it in a compartment in her armor.
Her armor guided her with prickled palms as she climbed a tree to survey the horizon, taking in the fortress below her. The HUD enhanced her vision, greying out the foliage and saturating the base with amplified colors. A plain three-tiered domicile. No barricades, no obstructions, no patrols. Wide open.
Apprehension forced her to hesitate, and she dragged a finger across the screen, centering the map on a blinking waypoint nearly five thousand kilometers away. The coordinates Syf had given her. A pang of guilt teased at the back of her mind. She promptly shook it away, returning to the task at hand. No point in dwelling on it. Come what may.
##10.1##
Khuul’Ren stared toward the horizon, watching the twinkling aircraft flutter across the sky. A sense of lacking cloaked his thoughts, dissatisfaction for his actions against the timeline. He thought he was entitled to at least a shred of vindication, but all that remained was a quiet glimmer of guilt, a numbness that overwhelmed.
A flicker lashed across his vision and a familiar heat seized his throat. And then it was gone. Like the times before. He looked at his shaking hand, squeezing it into a fist until the sensation left him. He leaned back on his desk, bracing his weight on the structure.
“Loremaster?” He turned to the voice, spotting Prism in the doorway, hands folded at their waist to suppress their apprehension. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, Chief. I was just going over the last Council recordings before turning in.” He summoned a warm smile, hoping to ease their concern.
Prism’s expression turned morose, their gaze sinking. “Understood.”
A sparkle of pride lifted Loremaster’s spirits. The scribe was astute, but he should not have expected anything else from an officer personally appointed to this position.
“You do not need to worry. There is time,” he assured.
They nodded meekly, raising their head to address him. “I am sorry. I do not have any more information on the human. I can’t help but feel responsib—”
“Silence.” He hushed softly, raising a hand. “You are not their keeper, only their teacher. We are in a tumultuous reality. Misfortune such as this is bound to happen.”
“I know.” Their shoulders sank and they let out a disappointed sigh.
“You should try to get some rest. There will be a lot of reports incoming this next cycle. Savant’s work is just starting.”
“Yes, Loremaster.” With a bow, they headed to the door. They turned to look over their shoulder, the words of well wishes dissipating from their lips as they spotted the aged librarian staring vacantly at a pair of books resting on the desk.
Prism knew the covers well, bindings ten generations old. The Book of Immolation, and The Black Annals. The only books forbidden to anyone except Loremaster.
Khuul’Ren met their prying eyes, and they quickly turned away, promptly leaving the aged librarian to his duty.
##10.2##
Mirrors melded into a liquid halo, wrapping its reflective embrace around Nara’s body. She took a delicate step forward as they concealed her inside the trees, dipping her toes into a gap of leaves, taking care not to rustle the greenery. Her soft hesitation was only partially influenced by her apprehension.
The hangar bay attached to the citadel was wide open, revealing technicians performing their maintenance duties in the shining daylight. Pops of light and arcs of energy illuminated the room, showering the metal floors. Automated couriers zoomed around the warehouse, carrying components and tools to the workers on the trays on their backs.
Nara slipped into the warehouse, her gaze on the reflective surface of the floor. Light bent around her image and concealed her presence. Not even a distorted projection of her shadow matched her steps. Satisfied with her digital cloak, she traversed through the work room, listening to the shouts that competed with the mechanical hammering. Progress was nominal, commands issued to workers attuned to their tools. Empathetic care was taken when handling the machines, like a stable attended by individuals bonded to their animals.
Farewells crossed her ears from behind. A worker had finished their shift. Their nose was buried in a tablet, signing off for the night as they strolled into the locker room. Nara loomed over them, mimicking their footsteps like an invisible predator. They raised a hand to the door and yanked it open, giving her plenty of room to slither around.
Casual conversation burbled with the fall of pressurized water. Hissing steam fogged over her helmet as she tuned in. The lessons of that day’s training, the new creations people had made, and how their new recruits were getting along.
Nara crept into the common grounds. Soldiers drifted idly by and discussed events from duties of the evening and their plans for the next rest cycle. Deeply personal tales of longing for their comrades beyond the neutral zone. Consolations and hopeful wishes lightened the spirits, giving a promising consolation to disheartened spirits. Assurance th
at these times will pass.
This is how the Ara’yulthr staged resistance. Waiting. No ill thoughts of the opposing faction, no discourse of sworn fealty. Just waiting.
“Cinder Team approaching your position, Legion Commander.” The voice scratched inside her ear.
“Understood. Countermeasures at the ready.” The motion of squadrons snapped her back to reality, and she found herself deeper into the complex.
This was perhaps the easiest infiltration she had ever done. No cameras, no need to hack into systems to gain access. No one on high alert. It was unnatural. Off. She was used to the technological monoliths of Arcadian research facilities, every employee trained to protect their secrets with their lives, their souls inconsequential to the cause.
Abberon functioned with similar demeanor, but he was also wise enough to not let his intent expose his morals. Everyone gave the benefit of the doubt. Greed was a foreign concept.
Her mind wandered as she climbed the stairwell to the command deck. The bright glow of the step markers brightened the metal walkways.
“Charges set, unloading in 3… 2… 1.”
Tremors tore at the walls of the complex, a flash of lightning that licked through the metal in blinding tongues. Darkness engulfed the stairwell with an electronic sigh, the life signs of the station reduced to an eerie stillness.
“Communications locked down. All units reporting blackouts in all sectors.”
The building blinked a dull warm glow in reaction to the interruption, emergency trails of light leading to the exits. Nara peeled herself off the wall, steadying her steps as she continued up. And so it begins.
Chaos took its toll on the inhabitants. A soldier burst through the doorway on the top of the stairs. She took the opportunity and leaped in, sneaking inside before the door slid shut.
Everyone was on guard, running back and forth through the complex, checking on their comrades’ status and locations. Quick exchanges of concern quickly dispersed as everyone focused on their duty.