Ascension

by Nicholas Woode-Smith

  ‘Charge!’ Viper shouted. His unit shouted their agreement in a roar, as they went over the top to aid their allies. When all enemies had fallen, and others began to rout, they pushed into the settlement. Imperial troops met them in droves, firing volleys like an ancient army, but defended by advanced shielding. Viper’s unit and the Defiant infantry were halted, taking cover behind cobblestone walls, prefab buildings and drop-pod fragments. Viper didn’t like this type of war. He was a sniper. A pinpoint marksman who specialised in ending fights before they could even start. This wasn’t his type of war. It was protracted. A grind. Two tides hitting one another – over and over and over. Neither breaking, until one (or both) just keeled over and allowed the other to wash over it.

  Ahead of Viper’s unit, a formation of Imperials held a civilian building reinforced with metal in the style of the Imperial’s other tech. The Frankenstein of a house gave the Imperial occupants a firing arc across the entire road-way leading into the village. Viper could only be thankful that the civilian owners had deigned to build sturdy walls between their properties. These walls were the only thing allowing the Defiant forces to advance on the village without even heavier casualties.

  ‘We need a shield generator over here!’ an NCO shouted.

  ‘We all need a vokken shield generator!’ another retorted.

  Viper was used to fighting a battle under-equipped. The Grooks had never been at the cutting edge of technology. But he had never fought a battle this dire. Separating the last line of stone walls and the Imperial fortified building covering the road, was a wide dirt field. A veritable killing zone. Corpses from the foolish already littered the expanse.

  Viper peaked to get a shot on the gunner but had to duck quickly as sizzling blasts passed where his head had been a moment earlier.

  ‘Sir, what do we do?’ a private shouted to Viper. He didn’t respond. Drop-pods still fell all around. They just had to hold out…

  The mechanical clunk of a warmachine reverberated over the sounds of gunfire and shouting. Viper risked a glance and saw the culprit. A colossal beetle, carved from what looked like white marble. In its centre, a single eye, glowing red. A hum silenced the din of battle. And light blinded everyone.

  Viper fell to the ground, writing in agony. It was worse than any flashbang. Like being forced to stare into the sun, but for an age. Screams followed. And then an explosion. Viper blinked and eventually came to his senses. First, he noticed that a mere two metres away from him, where there had been his comrades, a stone-wall and a field of green, was now a black scorch trail leading a hundred metres into the distance. Nothing had survived the blast.

  But it didn’t fire again. Still reeling from the pain, Viper managed to look around the corner of the now decimated stonewall. A drop-pod had landed firmly in the carapace of the Imperial warmachine, sending out splutters of blue and white electric energy. The scarab shambled, as if drunk. Imperial infantry retreated out of the way of the scarab as it swerved into everything around it, crushing its own allies. Viper would have ordered his unit to advance – if they had the strength to do so.

  The doors on the drop-pod opened, still lodged in the body of the scarab. Its doors struggled, at first, scraping and sending sparks flying. Then they flew off with a blast. Viper took out his scoped rifle to get a closer look.

  Three figures were inside the pod. A hulking figure dressed in black armour of alien design, a slender female figure dressed in dark grey tactical wear and…the Defiant himself.

  

  James burst the doors of the drop-pods open with a blast of warp-energy. Krag-Zot nodded, approvingly. They were lodged inside a colossal Imperial construct. It was going berserk, making their footing very treacherous.

  Worse than the shaking of the drop-pod from the X59, James reminisced.

  James grabbed onto the railing on the side of the drop-pod entrance. Through his combat visor, he could see projectiles heading towards him from all sides. None found their mark. James nodded to Re’lien in thanks. She was holding up a warp-shield, dissipating all enemy attacks.

  ‘Time to put this beast down, boy-mancer.’

  James didn’t need to be told that. He exited the drop-pod and clambered his way to the scarab’s equivalent of a head – nears its giant red eye. It reeled up and James was almost knocked off, if not for a wave of telekinetic energy shot up from Krag-Zot, who was holding onto the drop-pod railing.

  You can do this, James told himself, and then felt for the warp.

  It was there. In the heavy armaments used by the Imperials, in their officers’ conduits, in this warmachine – and in him. James felt for it, grasped it. And then directed it.

  First, he created a bubble inside a hollow part of the scarab. Then, he filled it with hydrogen. And then…

  Bang.

  The scarab collapsed, sliding into the ground.

  ‘Took only ten seconds. Congrats,’ Krag-Zot complimented, or chided. James was not sure.

  ‘Will need to be quicker with your kills now,’ Re’lien said, her voice a tad strained. She was holding a bubble of warp-energy around them, as Imperial projectiles flew.

  No visualising this time. Just do.

  James held out his hand, palm pointed towards a formation of Imperials laying into them with lance fire. And then he closed his hand.

  The ground warped underneath the Imperials, and then consumed them. James swept his hand, indicating the circle of Imperials around them. The roiling soil, mixed with Imperial flesh, blood and shrapnel, moved like a giant worm under the surface, eating up rows and rows of Imperials. But the Imperials didn’t break.

  ‘Now to show you the Reshian way,’ Krag-Zot said, cracking his cybernetic fingers. He reached his hands into the air and then stomped with his metal-clad feet. A shockwave passed from outside Re’lien’s barrier. Charging Imperial troops were knocked to the ground, if they were lucky. Those who had closed the gap shattered, their bones protruding from their flesh and blood spraying onto the ground.

  Re’lien looked impressed, if a bit disgusted, but James noticed that she looked strained. She had not been practicing warpmancy for long. It was a tiring experience.

  ‘Drop the shield.’

  Re’lien obeyed instantly. James followed the dropping of the shield with a volley of warp-shards. Heads were impaled and amputated as each glowing blue knife found their mark. Krag-Zot did likewise, shooting out shards at the rate of a machine-gun.

  The three walked, using their destructive powers on the horde of Imperials who had dared occupy this space. Warp-shards pierced and sliced. The elements were turned on the Imperials, letting loose explosions, monstrous earth and fire. Re’lien did not fire a combative shot. She rather maintained a defensive barrier around the three, changing up to manual telekeniticism to swat shots out of the air like an annoying fly. James noted a pacifist streak in her. No, not pacifism…

  Behind the three, Defiant forces pushed in. Infantry mopped up, capturing and executing the Imperials who escaped the three warpmancers’ onslaught.

  The sun was high in the heavens and James had killed countless enemies. A light-show of blue was met with red and pink. Blue and white skin was revealed as James chipped away at the flimsy armour of his enemies. And then the three stopped.

  Warp-shards flew at them. Re’lien deflected a few, but one hit Krag-Zot in the arm. He grunted as the blue energy shard disappeared, leaving a slit in his artificial body.

  The real fight begins.

  James’ combat instinct kicked into overdrive and he darted for cover, dragging Re’lien by the hand after him. Krag-Zot followed, releasing volley after volley of warp-shards. James landed in a ruined building with an oomph, Re’lien by his side. He was still holding her hand. He looked at it and then quickly let go, shaking his head. Krag-Zot arrived with a clunk.

  ‘Enemy warpmancers,’ James said. ‘Did any of you get their location?

  ‘I…’ Re’lien panted. James could see her face pooled in sweat through h
er visor. ‘Saw an officer on the other side of the one phalanx. It could be him.’

  ‘That was at least three warpmancers,’ Krag-Zot said.

  A boom sounded. The Defiants’ artillery had landed. Hopefully it would counter the other scarab warmachines. James, Re’lien and Krag-Zot would need to counter the warpmancers, however. If they could find them.

  ‘Search and destroy,’ James ordered. Re’lien’s quizzical look led him to explain. ‘We need to find the warpmancers and put them down before the Defiant forces push up. We can’t lose any more troops.’

  James’ expression sobered. ‘I can’t lose any more troops.’

  ‘Lead the way, boy-mancer.’

  James darted out of cover, emitting a constant shield. It was a strain on his own stamina and his warp reserves, but he’d rather be tired than dead. Re’lien and Krag-Zot followed, emitting their own shields. Energy spluttered on them. No warp-shards.

  James charged towards the Imperial lines. He didn’t think he could measure up in a melee against a Star Horde veteran, but the edal wouldn’t know that. As he had hoped, the edal phalanx backed off, revealing an edal wearing a winged helmet.

  Very flashy.

  James let forth a volley of warp-shards. Multiple hit edal infantry. The rest were deflected as the figure slapped the air.

  ‘Cover me,’ James said. He didn’t give his comrades time to argue. He charged forward, sending a shockwave outward, knocking over the Imperial combatants. One jumped to its feet and charged, James ducked under its hastily drawn dagger and responded by gripping its head with his left-hand. He let out a point-blank blast and blew the warrior’s head off.

  A thud sounded behind him. James turned and saw a shredded knifeman right behind him. Re’lien stood in a combat stance, her face pale and sick, but determined. James nodded in thanks and proceeded on his query.

  The Imperial warpmancer was calm. Dignified. It was an ulyx, James noted. Tall. No pointy-ears. James lit a fireball and threw it. The ulyx caught it and extinguished it. It drew a sword, entered a combat stance and charged. James propelled himself into the air with his warpmancy. From his birds-eye-view, he could see that all the Imperial troops had given them a wide berth – either watching or entering into combat with the Defiant Forces, who did not relent just because a duel was on. Re’lien and Krag-Zot were engaging other Imperial forces, including another warpmancer. James looked for the ulyx, charging up a blast of warp-energy. The ulyx was nowhere to be seen.

  In a flash, the ulyx appeared right in front of James and swiped with his sword. James kicked off just in time but began plummeting towards the earth. He formed a cushion of warp-energy underneath him. He still landed with a thud.

  The airborne ulyx loomed above him.

  Visualise.

  James put out his hand.

  Ignite.

  A stream of fire burst forth from James’ hand as he mixed the air particles into a stream of super-heated gas. The orange spire blocked his vision, but nothing could survive…

  The point of the ulyx’s blade missed James’ head by a centimetre. He rolled away, covering his retreat with a flourish of warp-shards. A cry signalled that at least one had hit. James sprinted, fuelled by his intense use of warpmancy, and arrived back where the duel had begun. Defiant forces were in a cacophonic firefight with the Imperial holdout. Re’lien and Krag-Zot were tag-teaming against a warpmancer holding them off with lightning strikes and shockwaves.

  James’ warp-infused senses kicked in and he dove forward just in time as the ulyx’s sword strafed the air above him. But as he fell, he felt a sizzle in his left-shoulder. A fire in his joint. He had been shot, and in his Conduit arm.

  The ulyx looked disappointed. It walked casually towards where James lay, clutching his burnt arm. James reached for his Aegis pistol but as he aimed it, its barrel was shattered by the ulyx’s sword. And now, he stared at the tip of the blade as it was levelled between his eyes.

  Then the ulyx fell. First, a splatter of pinkish-red. Then another. The ulyx dropped its sword and began vibrating as it was eviscerated by countless warp-shards. And then it burst like a silver-armoured watermelon. Flecks of white flesh and blood stained the dirt.

  James looked around. Defiant troops were storming the village, securing buildings and eliminating the final hold-outs of Imperials. Re’lien stood a few metres from him, still holding her arm out towards the now demolished ulyx.

  A medic helped James up and immediately began patching his wound. Re’lien rushed towards him. Through her visor, James could see sweat, tears…and a smile. A beam of unparalleled grief, exuberance and relief. James smiled back. A deranged abandon that could only come with the relief of victory and the indignity of taking the life of another.

  “Orbital-deployment changed warfare. Without a constantly roving fleet and fully-armed orbital fortresses, no area is safe from invasion.” – Argyle DuTrois, 36th Century Warfare.

  Chapter 16.

  Butterflies

  The last Imperial occupier, a Star Horde edal, surrendered in a far-flung homestead deep in the Sekai countryside. Nestled in the green rolling fields and pine forests, Sekai locals took advantage of the Defiant invasion and cut down their Star Horde occupiers. When Defiant forces drove by, patrolling for surviving Imperials, an elderly couple was holding the edal at gunpoint. His blue face was positively reddening with the shame. To add insult to injury, he was not allowed to drink the sake that was served in celebration of his capture.

  James and the Defiant drove into New Kyoto, capital of Sekai, hours after their arrival. Re’lien wore her combat mask and helmet, lest someone think she was an enemy – but could not hide her ears. James made sure to keep her close. Even Krag-Zot kept close to her, watching for any over-excited Sekai or Defiant soldiers. They drove in on the few rovers that could be kept on the now landed transports. Sekai vehicles were procured for everyone else. James’ division was picked up by the Tundra Tribals, a company led by now Captain Gre’sse, a man who seemed to command much respect among the now endangered Tribals of Zona Nox’s Southern Hemisphere.

  New Kyoto had been spared much of the fighting. It seemed the Imperials thought sallying forth and fighting in smaller settlements and open fields was safer for them than fighting in the urban sprawl. Perhaps they were right, but it did not make much of a difference. James was given the honour of tearing down the Imperial banner erected on top of New Kyoto’s hilltop temple. He denied the honour and indicated for Kumichō to have it. Without the Ganru boss, the Defiant would not even be here. Tears filled the old man’s eyes then. Tears of an insurmountable joy. James watched from the steps of the temple, surrounded by blue and black clad Defiant troops, and the Sekai militia who had quickly risen to aid the liberation. In the capital, the smell of scorched earth, blood and decay was lessened. It was replaced with a cool breeze, and pink cherry-blossom petals dancing – like spirits.

  Kumichō summoned all who desired the honour, including Grugo and Leroy, to his side and they ascended the temple steps, scaled the building together and tore down the silver/white banner of their oppressors.

  A cheer erupted throughout the city. It carried. First, a wordless cry of incomprehensible fervour. Then the motley cries of ‘Victory’, ‘Banzai’ and ‘Thank the void.’

  But one cry rose above all the others.

  ‘Defiant!’

  Sekai had been scorched. Its people enslaved. Blood ran in the streets of villages and homesteads. Livelihoods were destroyed. Drop-pods and crashed ships littered the planet.

  But Sekai was free.

  And all Defiant knew they had done it. And in a way, that made the sacrifices worth it. The yet uncounted dead. The fear. The loathing. The pissing terror that comes when you stare your inevitable demise in the face.

  James stared on, unable to keep a smile off his face, as cheers racked the city. He turned to Re’lien, who was also smiling. And that smile made him smile even more. They looked at each other, and the Defiant soldiers lo
oked at them. But there was no ire at her race. No hatred for her pigmentation. And for this moment, James could not see her pointy-ears or blue skin. He saw Re’lien, a friend, a comrade. Re’lien was hoisted up on Krag-Zot’s shoulders. Her eyes whitened with surprise, but her expression was soon replaced with joyful mirth. Covered in grime, blood and sweat, Re’lien joined the cheer. For they cheered for her, they cheered for their freedom and they cheered for the breath they still drew.

  No Defiant or Sekai militiaman even glared at Re’lien. They saw only her uniform. They saw only the girl who had saved them with warp-shields and annihilated the enemy with shards.

  James gazed up at Re’lien, tall on Krag-Zot’s shoulders, and let the songs and cheers consume him. She was already singing, but James could not hear the words. And she was smiling, more than James had ever seen her smile before.

  It was worth it. Because they had freed a planet that was not their own.

  And as a new banner was hoisted, the Defiant Forces looked upon the black banner with blue crossed stripes and knew that they were heroes.

  

  ‘I am glad the soldiers appreciate Re’lien. If only our people back home would,’ James lamented, leaning back in the mozar-leather armchair. The click-clack of typing filled the obsidian room. Krugar, once dedicated to intelligence gathering for the Xank Empire, were now analysing and gathering data for Smith and James. The room was cold. The cold of an office. It was the command room of the Word Lectorate ship, docked in a Sekai orbital shipyard.

  Aven Smith, the ex-Word Lector of the Xank Empire and now James’ god-maker and spymaster, sat at his desk, across from James, with his fingers steepled and a rare grin on his pale face.